Captain Jean Lafitte III had been among his crew, as was his habit, during the struggle with the dragon, scrubbing away the acidic saliva that accompanied its breath in order to keep it from eating away at the hull. Tying down ropes, as well as shouting directions to this crew member and that remarkably calmly for one staring the death of his ship, his crew, and his own life in the face.
When that miraculous shot finally pierced its eye, Lafitte let out a whoop, and the Calinda splashed securely into her second home in the ocean. It was close, dealing with Dragons, it was always close. Sometimes, mostly when he surveyed the damage done to his ship, he wished that he was back home dealing with the more mundane varieties of pirates in the skies. Of course, he thought, the greater danger comes with the greater reward, and he smiled at the beam of lantern light as he shined it around the edges of the cargo bay, filled to the brim with Spriggan loot. Other than a few overturned barrels, not a dent in sight.
“Boys!” Lafitte yelled around for any crew member who was listening, “A man couldn’t ask from a better response from his crew…” but he trailed off.
Something was wrong. He’d almost forgotten why he was headed on this bearing until his jacket pocket began to pulse once more. Cowering away, it seemed, from the dragon’s fury, it now seemed to feel it safe to radiate its loathsome energies out of the safety of its current owner. Lafitte blinked a few times in the hazy sunlight, and pulled the card out of his pocket. The blood droplets seemed to call upon him. In his head he could see a hundred dragons, each being ripped apart by a squid-like larvae, as if to say, ‘all this I will give you, if you will but bow down and release me’.
Lafitte shook his head to clear his thoughts. Kledy, he thought, we’re on our way to Kledy. He needed to see Peino, though now with far different intentions than previous as an involuntary revulsion struck him at his very core. He needed answers. “…A man couldn’t ask for better. Now get this boat back in the air, double time, we’ve gotta schedule to keep!” he yelled.
A very different reaction was felt by the lowly first mate, a man not used to being lowly in any sense of the word.
Beau Bergeron placed his crossbow down into the corner with the rest of the ship’s main armaments in the firing bay deck. Ascending the stairs and out of the hold, he too experienced Lafitte’s vision. His mere arrow was worth next to nothing next to the power he could achieve the artifact. His eyes wandered over to the figure of his Captain, holding at this very moment the object of Beau’s longing fascination.
An image of a man in Beau’s home, now a seemingly far away land to his present location. The man was covered in a strange, rune-like assortment of tattoos, all glowing an eerie white-blue light as spirits encircled around him attacking Beau’s former comrades-in-arms. Corpses of the ancient and recently deceased rose from their graves to attack Beau Bergeron, but he smiled an evil, leering, smile as he held up the card in his hands, and an army of the larvae devoured them one-by-one at his very whim.
Beau was snapped from his own twisted desires by the shouting of Lafitte, and he leapt in to join them, all the more eager to get to the Port of Kledy as the first rocks and signs of land began to come in towards the Calinda.
…all this I will give you…