Avast ye, Scallywags!
Pour me some grog, and I’ll tell ya’ a tale, of smugglers and traitors, and the souls of the damned.
I boarded the ship of some fellow countrymen, a galleon called Lady Of Sunrise, aye she was a mighty sight.
We filled her belly, with cannonballs and planks, with food and drink, for which I am glad, grog is a friend, of the brothers and sisters of the sea.
We plotted a course, and set for the distant shores, with riches untold. Yet, we saw many a ship in the horizon, the sight of the Lady of Sunrise, put fear in their hearts, and kept the journey safe.
Late at night, long after dusk, we drop the anchor, and went ashore, at the isle of Lone Cove. Me crewmen jumped in the waters, with gold it their sights, but moment’s after gunshots rang through the night.
I ran up on deck, as fast as me pegleg would carry me sorry a**e, and saw my crewmen fighting off an army of sailors long dead. I aimed the cannons, and let the night become day, with fire and thunder, I blasted them away.
As the dust settled, and the crewmen slew the remaining undead, the haul of treasures would put the king to shame, and as the last deckhand swam towards the ladder, the sails were sat and the anchor slowly rising from the depths.
We sailed for the distant isle of Sanctuary Outpost, a trading post, known for not living up to its name, but the precious cargo, lured in ships from near and far, like sharks smelling blood.
As we neared the docks of Sancturay, the barrelman in the crowsnest let out a yell, a ship was seen, anchored behind the isle.
We dropped our anchor, and turned our Lady, keeping an eye towards the other galleon. A ship named Dame Of The Damned. As our crew, swift as the wind, carried our treasure ashore, our cannons were aimed at their waterline, ensuring a watery grave if they would let their cannons roar.
As our firstmate climbed the ladder, a roar was heard, the Dame of the Damned, was lightning up their cannons. We quickly lifted our anchor, and let our sails hit the wind, with the galleon at our stern, I turned the wheel, making the Lady leap the waves, ensuring our cannons had a pretty sight. The roar of the cannons, from the Lady and the Dame, made even the distant thunderstorm feel ashamed.
The battle lasted of the good of an hour, with heavy losses on both sides, crewmen went to Davy Jones’ locker, and our ships parted ways, much to me hearts displeasure.
We, sailed for the shores of Smugglers Bay, and hid within the safe closure of the cliffs. As we repaired the Lady, and resupplying was underway, masts appeared just outside the gap of the bay. Before we even had sat sails, the cannonballs were pouring down on us, as rain within a storm. Crewmen cried out in agony and despair, as the bay would surely be our watery grave.
I ran for me life, down into the belly of our good Lady, water sprung from her sides, slowly filling her with water, our doom were imminent.
I grabbed our last barrel of gunpowder, and a thought brightened my mind.
As the galleon sailed closer, I jumped into the shark infested waters, and swam towards the ship. As they passed me, I grabbed their ladder, and climbed my impending doom. The crew of the Damned, were aiming their cannons, and had not but an eye for me, as I ran down to the belly of their ship, they dropped anchor, and readied to board us, I pulled out me gun, an let a bullet fly. The explosion almost ripped the Dame apart, making its crew fly into the waters, where my crewmen shot any and all, making the waters of the bay run red with blood.
As for me self, I found myself aboard the Flying Dutchman, with Davy Jones at the helm.
“This ship, needs not your hand, return to the waters of the damned” he yelled, and the crew of the Dutchman, threw me from the deck.
I woke up on the shores, close to the Lady. Smoke filled the air, and bodies washed ashore. I limped towards our ship, the cannons turned towards me, as the barrelman yelled out “Fire not, the captain it be, not even Davy Jones, can keep our captain at bay”.
As I stepped on to the deck, our crew let out a cry of victory. We had beaten not only the fearsome crew of the Dame, but also Davy Jones.
Our celebration was short kept, as cannon fire ran out. Turns out that Davy Jones enjoyed the battle, as the Dame of the Damned, had been raised for the depths of the sea.
Myself and a crewman, each grabbed a powder barrel, and jumped into the raging sea and swam towards the galleon. The crew, had learned a lesson, and kept us at bay. One of their crew jump into our ship, and asked for a parlay, which we, according to the code, obliged.
Their ship quickly sailed off, to resupply, turns out that our mighty cannons and courage, had emptied their supplies.
An offer was made, gold and treasure would be ours, if we agreed to hoist their colors, and aid them in an assault on Skull Keep. A fortress, known for being manned by hoards of the undead.
As agreed upon, we decided to keep our ends of the bargain, and raised the anchor, sailed towards the shores of Isles of Last Words, where we laid in wait for their ship to join us.
They came just after dawn, cannons raised towards the skies, as of agreed upon. Words was exchanged, and we decided to use only one ship in the assault. As we transferred our goods to their ship, our sweet sweet Lady being in ill shape after the last battle.
Me firstmate, pointed out that something was afoot.
A gunshot ran out. One of the crewmen from the Dame, shot his gun at the Dame. In an blink of a eye, their guns aimed true, and let loose their fiery glow.
A crewman jumped ship, with a barrel of death, and blew a hole at their stern. We fought with tooth and nail, firing our cannons as our Lady turned towards the wind. The screams from the Dame still haunts me to this day.
As we raced for the horizon, the Dame followed from a distance, and as we came upon the shore of Galleon’s Grave Outpost, the mighty ship Sore Legs Booty, was docked there.
A quick decision was made, we would use Leg’s Booty as a shield.
We sailed close, aimed our cannons and let loose the dogs of war. Men and wood flew from the ship, as we hit them with the furry of a god.
They sat sails, and startet to hunt us, be seeing the Dame getting closer to them, they fired their cannons at the waterline, and left the field of battle. Now, the Dame being repaired and the crew not keeping an eye on us, we used our anchor to turn our Lady. I aimed our ship, our anchor was raised, our sails was set, and a warcry got the attention of the crew of the Dame. We sailed, full speed ahead, straight into them, ramming them so hard their ship almost ripped apart, and jumped onboard, letting our sabers do the talking.
Now, the remaining crew of the Dame Of The Damned, hang from our masts. We let out a toast, their minds might have been treacherous, but now their souls belongs to Davy Jones.
Drink up me hearties, yo ho!
