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Prologue
The stiff wind flew briskly through the crisp Caribbean air. It was a cool night, the moon high at it's stern position in the sky, showering a blissful light throughout the seas many corners.
The Captain's words echoed through your head as you and your fellow crewmen creep up the stone dock, wet from the small fog that passes through the world before you. "Do not fail me, mates," he had urged confidently within the hull of the deck only a few hours before. "It's about time we set things straight."
You sat behind a large stack of crates, the great fortress towering over your farther view. The waves silently pushed against the concrete pillars beneath you, at some points throwing small droplets of water over the side of the deck, and on to your face. The crew forms a small circle, hidden behind the packages, with Delpadros keeping his back to the cargoes before you. "Alright mates, you all know the plan. We'll run through it again, though....."
Meanwhile, in the north, at the savage pirated port of Tortuga, raves of freebooters dance, mingle, and shove through the bay of the island, hugged tightly on all sides by rambleshacked shops, a tavern, a shipwright, and a slender strip of beach, that slowly descends in to the waters below. It boasted a dock, carring goods from through the New World. And on to that dock, stepped a woman.
Her fiery red hair flew in strands through the breeze, hidden under her wide, brimmed, feathered hat. She was dressed in lavished and decorative clothing, like as though she were royalty among the plunderers and pillagers alike. And to that, she indeed was.
She glazed her eyes over the place, and gave a slight scoff. "This should be perfect..." she smiled deviously with her seductively beautiful face. She turned off to her crew, and shouted. "Unload the things, mates! We've found our new home...."
Back to the west, where a pirate captain sat stoicly in his chair. His rough hands held up his dark, bearded face, hiding underneath the savage hair and jewelry a calm, handsome Englishman, tainted by fate and disaster. He stood up in the greatly cluttered cabin, enchanted with globes, heavy furniture, silks, and various treasures alike, and walked over the wall of windows that looked out the stern of the War Frigate. Through the light mist, he stared from afar at the Naval island where his crew was, waiting to see them pounce. He had no doubt in them - but he all doubt within himself.
And to the east, we find the last of the trinity. He stood atop a colossoly high cliff, poking out of a large wall on the fresh island, looking out over the rest of the Caribbean from some hundreds of feet above the rough, clashing waters below, as they churned through the rocks and rubble that scattered beneath them. The ghostly figure stood proudly over the world he had left behind so long ago. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fist, prepared to reclaim what was rightfully his. This, was the face of evil.
It is but only a few months after the Caibbean witnessed one of it's most crucial moments - and much has changed. Tension, fear, and rumors swirl through these waters. It is a grave time, where sides must be taken, and where bonds must me made... and destroyed.
Objective: At least FIVE members must approach me on or after Sunday, October 17th, to begin the Guild Quest III.
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