Pirates For The Mainland

It was a strangely calm day for the Murden Sea. The waves barely cared to reach up at all as they came against the Gray View Docks. This halfway town between the policed Red Ocean and the outlaw haven of the Mercidian Islands was resting place to many. Standing on the edge of the Murden Sea, this series of wooden and stone platforms holding buildings and walkways above the saltwater easily withstood the test of time. One of the last docks to be lived on by man, Gray View was one of the more striking examples of bestial building prowess.

Enormous columns of stone had been planted into the sea floor, rising tens of thousands of feet to hold the platforms of stone and wood. When the humans had arrived, the buildings on top were all but destroyed, left unmaintained and ravaged by nature. With a solid footing the town was rebuilt and became a friendly place of black market deals and lawless good times. Pirates were a common thing to see at Gray View, but although they weren't within their authority, so were police.

As long as your morals were weak and you pocket was full, you could have a good time in the dock town. Warm bodies, cold drinks, and all sorts could be had if the price was right. There were even a few more honorable sorts that lived at Gray View, using the town as a colorful yet well-protected place of business. There was no official set of rules for living in Gray View, but an unwritten code regarding thievery and violence. And the people were quick to enforce.

With the calm sea allowing, a broken ship came to dock. Called the Red Jewel, the pirate ship had definitely seen better days. Holes from cannon fire littered the sides and had made a ruined mess of the deck. The upper quarters and bridge were shredded, making it a wonder that anyone was alive. A vessel in such a splintered state was a sight to behold, but the docking crew of Gray View had seen it all.

As the Red Jewel came to a halt to begin their mooring, the captain walked amongst the wreckage and splinters that had once been her beloved ship. The captain's name was Nog. A hot-head little woman of brown skin, she wore a long black coat to her ankles of many loose belts and green seams that had faded a great deal over time. Her trousers and shirt were of similar dark creation as was her oversized, tricorn hat that was a dark purple leather.

Nog looked with a scowl at the holes all around her. The blood that accompanied such carnage was mixed in, staining the wood and creating pools on the lower level. No bodies were left of those lost. Only resentment and anger remained.