Windsong & Requiem of a Great Deep VBT

Blurb:

The year is 1716. The world is in the Golden Age of Piracy and fabled ships sail the seven seas. One such vessel is the Requiem, captained by the young but wise, brave but dubious Nabopolassar “Bo” Travis. Alongside his first mate Ghassan, quartermaster Winter Burke and navigator Glover, Travis seeks treasure, female company and good drink. The Requiem’s legendary adventures are filled with tales of monsters and myths - all of which are true. Now, someone or something is sailing the seas in search for a treasure chest – a chest that holds unknown riches which only promise to change the world forever. Captain Travis, his crew and a beautiful young map reader must brave the dark and the deep to find the treasure. Will the Requiem find the X on the spot before the infamous Captain George “Bloody-Face” Fiddick does? Will Travis uncover the secret behind the cursed black ship which changed his young life forever? And will the treasure chest truly be full of riches or does something far more insidious lie in wait? Ready your flintlock. Sharpen your sword. The Requiem awaits.

Excerpt:

Lights flickered.  The wind would regularly wheeze its way in enough to play with the candles that kept the hidden lair bright enough for reading, for planning and mainly enough to keep George Fiddick's men from walking off cliffs and cavernous drops.

George Fiddick or George "Bloody Face" Fiddick as he had come to be known, sat on a chair that was long since stolen from some ship long since raided and sunk.  The tomes and books, art and items that filled the room in heaps here and there were also all pieced together from adventures on the seas long ago.  No particular details rang clear in Fiddick's mind.  Everything seemed to lump together.  And that was life now for the aging man more so than the exactness of details remembered in his younger days.  

A mountain of a man, Fiddick filled the whole chair as he leaned back into it.  The wood and upholstery of the pirate's throne groaned under his size.  His brown coat and dark pants matched the massive beard that covered his chin.  The hair on his face was still smooth and wavy and mostly dark, unlike the thinning and graying hair atop his head.  Of all the colors that comprised Fiddick, most focused on the red that regularly gushed from his nose.  It darkened on the handkerchief in his bear-claw hand.  It was not battle wounds and swords slicked in crimson that had earned him his moniker.  "Bloody Face" was pejorative and it stuck.  Now Fiddick let it be what it was - a terrifying legend to all who sailed.  When captains and crews, privateers or navy saw the Crimson Lady, it was unmistakable. The mighty ship ruled seas and oceans with her black flags each with a red insignia shaped of a Great Deep woman.

 Welcome aboard the Requiem

Meet the crew (from the personal journal of Captain Nabopolassar “Bo” Travis)

Well, we be having a look at ye.  Old Ghassan has vouched for ye’ but I gotta’ meet ye’ and give ye’ the layout of the Requiem and her crew.  Truth be told, these people are family through and through and at the same time, they can run ye’ through and be amongst the fiercest on the seas.

Make sure ye’ meet Ghassan, me true first mate.  Many a fool has thought him too long in years to be dangerous and found out wrong the hard way - at the business end of the Arab's sword.  He's saved me' life more than I can count and I dread – one day - setting sail without his wisdom, his mentoring and his friendship.  The old desert rat needs to retire and be an old man but in as much as he is the soul of this crew, he is as stubborn.  And beloved.

The Requiem’s quartermaster is one Ms. Winter Burke.  Irish Sass and fire sit behind those emerald eyes.  The lovely Ms. Burke is as fierce a sailor as I've ever seen.  She be skilled with a blade and can outfight, out-curse and drink under the table any man twice her size.  Burke would hand deliver me to Davy Jones himself if she read this but in as much as the crew fears her wrath, they look to her mothering and nurture.  Aye, she'd wedge me in a gibbet herself for that one...

Well, the soft side of the crew be over.  Meet Mr. Glover, our navigator - Young, gruff and full of more piss and vinegar than any other pirate I've met as of late.  Except for myself.  The son of a Caribbean sailor, Glover has his father's brains but none of the old man's patience and wisdom.  He be brash and while having much to learn, his skill at navigating is uncanny.  He's never seen a map he couldn't read and he could steer the ship out of fog with his eyes closed.  He sails with me as a life debt I owe his pa. Daddy Glover thinks one of us may teach the other something...

Then last but not least, allow me to formally introduce me’self.  Captain Bo Travis – the son of Rossio Isles and captain of the Requiem, damn ye’ eyes.  I run the best ship to ever sail these waters and my rules be few but absolute.  Never call me by me full name or ye'll find a flint and a blade under ye' chin fast.  

Jaysus and Jack Ketch, by God, leave me rum alone. 

It ain't me fault ye’ lass will leave ye’ for me. 

And keep the wind at ye’ back, devils be all about.  They walk on land, hell sure they swim the seas.  

Something is out there, mind ye’ me, bucko.  Like a big snake of coils and scales, a worm no less, fat and wanting, moving under these waters we all call home.  There be whispers of men dying at the hands of a black ship with a captain ghostlier than a full chorus from under the waves.  I fear few things, pirate.  In part because I have the greatest crew a captain could ask for, in part because I be Bo Travis and finally, mostly, because there be a steady strain of foolishness about me ways.  But I feel fear in me and its grip is icy cold, same as the grasp of terror that nags at old Captain Bloody-Face Fiddick.  That old salt seen more than his share of crossed swords and cannon blasts.  Yet something in old George is different and as of late, his ship - the Crimson Lady - seems more coffin than ship.  

So, listen, keep ye’ eyes open from the crow’s nest to the ship’s tip, for there be trouble brewing about.

If ye’ be the religious type, do some praying.  I can smell death all around us. 

I may not get to Heaven so the Requiem will do.

For more of Captain Bo Travis and the Requiem, read Windsong & Requiem – Of a Great Deep!  Available now!!

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Author Bio and Links:

Chad Hunter was born in East Chicago, Indiana. Raised by a single mother in the city's Harbor section, he is the youngest of four. Growing up in the Midwest and a proudly self-proclaimed "Region Rat," Hunter has written and published several books and novels. He has written for magazines and newspapers throughout North America and has been published in several languages. His writings have been called sophisticated yet humorous, sharp witted and unrelenting.

Most often, Hunter's writings have been considered so wide and diverse that they span a scale that would include multiple writers with multiple forms.  In addition to being a published author and journalist, Hunter is also a professional speaker.  Having presented to high schools, colleges and various other audiences, his talks and discussions center around the positive impact of literary and creative presences in one’s life.  A large portion of Hunter’s focus is on the uncanny strength of human connectedness which is emphasized via the lens of writing and creativity.

Working in genres including dark fantasy, memoirs, science-fiction and anecdotal collections, Hunter weaves tales of monsters, heroes, zombies, wedding planning, technology, pirates and even black parakeets.  With over ten books under his belt, If anything binds his varied styles, it is Hunter's theme of the human condition, humor and family closeness - all to the backdrop of romantic love, vibrant remembrance and even monsters themselves.

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