Corsairs of the Caras Shallows
‘Tis been a year since ye fine salts held true against horrors never afor seen in these waters. Times’ve been, more or less, peaceful-ish. I’ve been battening down the hatches on me islands, makin everything shipshape.
Course, Captain President Isaac’s been doin much o the same, the damned pox infested prancing haddock hugger.
Zhiva and her otherworldly host has all but vanished from the Caras Shallows, leaving a frosty shiver through this old salt’s innards. But there still be traces of the fae witch’s eerie fog clinging to the briny coasts. A keen wailing heard just when sailors be drifting off in their bunks.
The deaths of Admiral Watt and Cap’n Solo have their old crews snapping like crabs at a corpse, keepin many a folk on edge. Poor sodding souls trapped in chunks of ship and cannon, stuck together in the shape of a man by Watt’s thrice cursed juju. Or tha fury crazed dungbies Solo left behind.
Cap’n Solo’s ex employer, the Mayor of Carlis, that pig-perfumed lubber, seems to be makin more trouble on the mainland.
Mackerel Jack’s been playin host to the barely seaworthy floatin’ castles those desert rats, the slave tradin Keltesarians, call ships.
Tis a chummed harbor filled with fins lookin to make a hook-handed, peg-legged scallywag of any lad or lass fool enough to jump in. So that be what we’ll do! We can’t just be tendin our own sails any longer, the sad lumps who call the Shallows home be needin us.
Arrr! Ahoy me hearties. ‘Tis time to stand tall, and be counted. Sharpen yer blades, raise up the mizzen, and hoist our colors. These seas be foul with miscreants and ne’er-do-wellers, and me islands don’t be havin’ room for the politickin’ of landlubbers, nor will we be puttin’ up with the likes of the pox ridden bilge rats who’ll keel haul any unfortunate lubber they run down.
Ye be my crew, and sure as me name be Cap’n Darrow, we will be puttin’ these seas to rights! Be ye mates, or lubbers or lasses, ye be needed, and smartly. Tis no small task we be embarkin upon.
But don’t ye be over-fearin, fer the fates be with us. We be havin Vondra the Voodoo priestess on our side, and she be usin her juju to be helpin us to keep Davy Jones at bay. And we be havin each other, and ya can be sure thar be no scallywags amongst us.