Out in the Great Sea, between the Maelstrom and the outer isles of Pandaria, a weathered old frigate

Out in the Great Sea, between the Maelstrom and the outer isles of Pandaria, a weathered old frigate with a dark crimson hull fought against the raging winds of a brewing monsoon, the crew waiting wearily for their honey-bearded captain to return with news - whether it be good or bad, they cared only for a report, after which they’d be relieved of their struggle against the gale and able to turn back to safer shores.Beyond the waves, just visible through the spray and fog the winds had stirred up, a beach lined with wreckage and skeletal remains was being briefly occupied by a group of hired buccaneers, shaking off the downpour as best they could while trying to keep their beaten dinghy from being swept back into the churn by the tide. The proprietor of their treacherous expedition had promised to pay them handsomely for their service, and only the rattle of coins in their pockets paid upfront kept them at their posts. It was the very same man who lined those pockets that had slain all of their previous employers to ensure they had no prior obligations to his request.Further still, the jungle met with the beach early on, and a narrow game trail was the only visible entrance into the thick brush and foliage that covered the whole of the unnamed island, barely discovered and hardly explored despite so many ill fated attempts to investigate the isolated environment within. It was down the game trail that the pirate commander had led his party, several of which now joined the mangled remains of the ones who came before them.After hours of walking through the woods, the small collective of seafaring brigands came to a stop in front of a condemned building - a small cottage, once occupied by Azerothian sailors who were just fortunate enough to survive landing on the isle generations earlier. There, in front of the building, a line of bodies hung from a single tree, the branches bowed heavily from years of bearing the weight of corpses. Each one of the mummified sailors had tattered flags depicting the gathered collective’s emblem tied around their throats.“This is where we part ways, friends..” The shortest, broadest of the group spoke softly, reaching up to pinch the brow of his nose between his eyes while his free hand searched his jacket, where he’d kept his kerchiefs during the whole walk leading up to the ruined cottage. “An’ I’m afraid we won’t be meeting one another again any time soon.” As the honey-bearded dwarf turned around, the ring of half a dozen bullets cut the air and drowned out the rain for a fraction of a minute. The entire party fell lifeless save the stout proprietor, whom quietly gathered the purses of his lifeless escorts while the storm took over again, continuing to beat down on the foreign landscape.“You shouldn’t have come, Orik.”The old dwarf paused, taking in a gentle sigh of breath as he pocketed the last man’s coin. “Aye, I shoold have stayed home, to let yer animals continue to starve until they rot within my barns.. Nae, lad. Yoo know as well as I that this needed to be done. Yoo’ve been gone long enough, it’s high time yoo pulled together an’ taken over this business yoo left behind… Gods know I won’t be at this forever, boy.” Orik stood up and turned around, coming to face the door that hadn’t been open prior to the party’s sudden slaughter. The rogue that shadowed the doorway only stood out by how much darker his silhouette was in contrast to the darkness surrounding him.“We both know that’s a lie, Orik. You have no plans of leaving Azeroth til all of its conquests have been claimed and signed into your legal possession.” The figure’s dark violet eyes swirled with raw energy that had been left untamed for near too long. “If you came to tell me the ones I left behind want me back, I know already your words are lies. Unless you came for me yourself, and then it is a request you should know I will decline.”“Yoo haven’t even let me speak my peace yet, Fisk.” Orik stepped closer to the door, finding refuge under a piece of roofing still in tact from what still stood of an old porch. “There’s alot on yoor mind, an’ I understand that, but yoo have an obligation. To me, to the clan… an’ to the world yoo left behind. Yoo know the societies we once associated with have crumbled an’ scattered into history since yoor disappearance. Faces we once knew dearly pass by places we once guarded an’ patroned zealously. Yoor men need yoo, Elcarth. Yoor clan needs yoo. I…” The dwarf sniffed, rubbing at his beard - streaked with gray over the single year he’d been working alone.“I can’t do it, Orik. There’s nothing there for me. This isle has enough game left that I can eat until the darkness takes over and by then it won’t be long until the world can write me away into the books as well.” The rogue turned to fall away into the shadows, but before his back could completely turn, the dwarf had come upon him with speed like nobody in the underworld remembered he possessed - save the young rogue whose throat had just been clenched and wrenched down to the bug-ridden floorboards.“Yoo listen to me, lad, an’ yoo listen well. Yoo are sick, an’ yoo know as well as I that death is far from the end of yer suffering. If yoo ever want to feel yoor soul swell with anything more than misery again, yoo’ll drag yer ass out of this rut an’ get on yer damned ship. Gods’ know I’ve left enough bodies along this damned trip fer yoo to build a crew.” Just before the old dwarf let go, he slammed the Shade’s head into the boards one more time, jerking his hand away gruffly as he stood and dusted off his suit. “I’m heading back to the city. Make yer choice, boy. But those boys aren’t gonna keep yer girl from crashin’ int’a them rocks forever.” With that, the Collector drew his hearthstone and vanished within an arcane twist that warped reality around him - leaving the rogue to drag himself to his feet and contemplate those words. The same words he’d more or less been telling himself for nearly a year.A few days later, a jet black crow flew through the window of the Royal Treasurer’s office, startling the King’s own accountant as he did business with the noble Collector whom he owed his position. The mad-eyed bird cawed viciously at the meek serviceman before turning its red glare on the suited dwarf. With a hideous shriek, the avian beast coughed up a scroll written on gold leaf and then burst into flames. “Great gods, Master Collector, what in the Light’s good grace was that all about?”The antiqued crimelord smirked, waving a dismissive hand to the treasurer as he walked away. “Pay yoo no mind, master counter. Yoo continue to tally the good King’s coin, an’ let me worry about this feathery business.” Strolling briskly into the hall and out into the streets of Stormwind, Orik unrolled the little scroll and smiled at the words etched within. “Then yoo made up yer mind. Good. I shall be seeing yoo again soon, lad. An’ the underworld will welcome yoo again. Yoo need only force it to open its arms.” Passing into the trade district, Orik tossed the gold scroll aside to be swept into a gutter, turning to grab a recently printed copy of the local newspaper. On the front page, a headline read in bolded letters - ‘Seventy-three men have gone missing from Alliance-occupied settlements along all four continents, and recently a survivor was retrieved from wreckage off the coast of Gilneas who wildly reported that he’d seen a black-sailed ship with a dark, charred-crimson hull attack the ship he’d previously been stationed. Apparently, a crew of skeletal shades had slain his comrades and taken his captain with them, leaving only one piece of evidence - a list of men, all of whom were on the list of reported missing, and several more including the now-missing captain whom had all yet to be contacted. The bodies of the survivor’s crew all had one thing in common - a black flag with a crimson, hooded skull wrapped tightly around their throats. -- source link
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