THE BOUNTY OF A SEA BEAST

[cappor 545]

 

Fishron, the subject of sailor superstition and mythos - inhabitant of wretched seas and thought to be the sole hand of sunken galleons and vessels alike. Accounts of the vile and scabrous beast dub tusks piercing its swine-like facade - a colossal body with wings extruding the pasty emerald hue of what could only be centuries of sea debris built upon its stocky figure. With only a single fin to flaunt the illusion of a familiar animal, Fishron will lure sea laborers off hunting routes to thrash their frail and rickety wooden vessels until capsizing into the harsh abyss below.

 

Since the first tales of Fishron arose years ago, fishermen, whalers, and hunters alike have attempted the endeavor of poaching the beast - with promises of riches and wealth to parade should it be done. Numerous times have fleets doubled in size, all to commence voyage and never be seen again.   But there tells of a single sailor who faced the beast head on and lived to tell the tale - a whaler by the name of Vance Wellerman. Aboard a hunting ship over a hundred years ago did the man humbly work before the night of great peril struck. He recalls howling winds and waves larger than the ship itself, and the grieving cries of fellow crewmen suffering the brutal creature in the waters overboard. Luckily did Vance find and flee on a door before the ship went under, views of Fishron terrorizing the men he called brothers just under the horizon.

Six days were spent traversing the unforgiving seas on merely a flimsy wooden door - starving, thirsty and frail. Upon landfall would Vance return to the city of Freeport where he recalled the memories of the agonizing event. They mocked, laughed, and degraded the man - it was their fault for sailing to a storm. For years he attempted to salvage his respect - but to no avail, Vance forever lived to prove Fishron’s existence - to which he did not succeed before his time.

 

 

I, Duke Wellerman, son of Vance Wellerman, live to redeem my father and justify the existence of Fishron. A life of taunting and mocking enveloped him into a forever hiding. I will succeed in his name, and shall begin by offering a bounty of

500 MINAE

To any sailor who returns the beast of Fishron to I - dead or alive.

 

I can be found by the docks of Petra.

 

[Carson 940]

The huntress Solheim peered at the missive with great interest, hoping to assemble a ragtag team to help her take down the beast!

[Mannamannaa 1626]

Kor'garr, Skriptgoth of the Iron Horde and owner of the Kaktuz Weekli, lets out a booming laugh through the arid oasis air of San'Briu. vials of ink rattle and quills are nearly knocked over as the grey orc holds up this bounty with an ecstatic leer of menace and bloodlust.

"WUNDERVUL! Ah Bounti agh Hunt, aht dah zeym tik? Diz muzt enter dah nekzt publikayzhun..." With that, bulky fingers stained with charcoal and ink slam the crumpled paper upon the crude writing desk amongst various drafts and scribbles.

 

Spoiler

TRANSLATION: "Wonderful! A bounty and hunt, at the same time? This must enter the next publication..."