The Garrison's Corsair

It never rains when it can pour.

I'd thought I had a handle on things. Sure, my life in this medieval city hadn't been great, but I'd been making it work. I'd been helping the local Elves, doing good for our Garrison. For a while, things had even started to improve. I'd met someone else who'd gotten dragged here from Earth, just like me, even if we didn't exactly get along.

And then the Grand Tournament came around, and it all went to hell.

My friend and greatest supporter was dead for reasons I could only guess at, and my resulting mental breakdown had unlocked some power within me that I didn't understand.

I needed to get away from it all for a while. Needed to have some time to think, to grieve, to just get a handle on my life, to start trying to find the best route home. To find any hints at how I could even begin to start that long journey, preferably in a way that didn't involve giving up more of my soul to the demon lurking in my dreams.

I just wish that it didn't involve piracy.