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The Bear's Crown


BenevolentManacles

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The Bear’s Crown

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Miles off the coast of Curon, a sleek schooner soars over the calm ocean waves like a knife. At the head, a mermaid holding a crescent moon in her hands guides the ship through the glass ocean. The wake the ship left caught the eyes of a man, seated on the stern of the ship atop the railing behind the ship’s wheel. His harsh brown eyes glanced over toward the woman who scurried to his side. She was mali’ame, and dawned the same cutlass as the rest of the salty soldiers that manned the ship.

 

The girl yelped out,“I have it!”       

 

“Show me,” the Captain demands, turning on the railing to face her. She plunges her hand into her leather satchel, and slowly pulls from it a silver crown adorned with emeralds.

 

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“The Crown o’ Curon, Cap’n.”

 

The man grins, seizing it from her hands and sliding off the railing to stand. He turns the Crown in his hands, “Was it a tough fight?” He asks the girl, entranced by the glorious headwear. He raises it over his shoulders, placing it on his head in a display of vanity.     

 

“Not for me, Captain. Faked a damsel in distress. Works every time. Though, uh, Greg, Johnny, an’ William are dead. And Yorick’s captured,” she purses his lips, thinking, “Think there were others. Don’t remember.”

 

The Captain models the crown for her, not responding to the casualties. This was too easy. If these Orenians were so simple to fool, his next target would be like taking sweets from a child. They may be more vigilant after this attack, but they’ll never be guarding the right place.

 

“Grab the wheel, Bonnie. Let’s add to the collection.”

 

Bonnie complies, and the ship begins to turn toward their next target.

 

 

((Depending on the player’s choices between now and next event, the event may be altered in nature or location.))

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Graenolf smiles from the afterlife, remembering how he held his own for twenty seconds of furious swordplay four to one.

He them remembers punching a girl in the face, and his smile broadens.

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