Lafitte found himself standing in a growing pool of blood from the wounds of the Spriggan wizard. He found himself staring at the card in his hand intently, it was almost mesmerizing for reasons he couldn’t quite place in himself. It was both instantly familiar and wholly alien to him. Though he was sure Aeldreth possessed its own card games, he had always played the ones of his own home, some of which he’d taught to members of his crew to pass the time on uneventful days.
This particular card seemed very similar to the ones he’d had on him that fateful day the Calinda had gotten caught in a freak storm and he’d found himself crash landing and wandering an unknown countryside. It resembled a Three of Hearts in colour and shape, but the hearts were replaced with droplets of blood, and the ones going down the center of the card were intertwined with odd-looking worms or bugs, looking like some sort of parasite.
Lafitte shuddered involuntarily at the at once horrifying and strangely enticing feeling the card seemed to give him at his core, and he decided to tuck the card away in his pocket. Taking care to maintain his balance through the crimson remains of the would-be goblin-wizard, he turned to make his way down the castle when he found himself confronted by his lookout and the famous Peino Starhand.
Peino was about the same height as Lafitte, though a bit more lanky, more like a thin tree than Lafitte’s barrel. Remembering the protocol taught to him by the Bull and Jackal Mercantile Society, he removed his hat and bowed deeply in the traditional fashion.
“Salutations, Prince Starhand, your reputation precedes you,” Lafitte said as he came up from his bow and replaced the gambler. “Captain Jean Lafitte, how may I be of service?” he finished.
Lafitte continued to look over Starhand. He didn’t have a reputation for treachery that he knew of, but Lafitte made certain to keep his hand near the Machete buckled to his waist nonetheless.