Somewhere on the eastern edge of the Prowling Forest in Lahar, the Cleavermaws cautiously made their way through the ruins of a small outpost that wasn't marked on any maps. They were on their way to meet with Bodrin Bok and the crew of the Selachii. Kaptain Mogrum knew they were shifty untrustworthy sorts but desperate times call for desperate measures.
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The pirate crews found each other in the overgrown remains of a market square. The captains acknowledged one another with stiff formality. No friendly calls or greeting were exchanged by the crews. The last time they had bet was in the Prime Dominion after the Corsair had betrayed them.
Tensions were high and both sides kept weapons close at hand; swords and pistols loosened in their belts, primed and ready.
Sludga and Ropesend were especially ready for a fight. Maybe too ready.
Lost Uzzog, Crowsnest and Wrekka held back at the top of a small stoney rise, overlooking the market place.
"Well Bok? Have you got the item what we agreed?" said Mogrum finally.
"Aye." said Bok as he unrolled a stained and dog-eared map. He held it up for the Cleavermaws to see, plain as day.
"And what about you?" he continued, "Do you have what we said we'd accept in trade for of it?"
"Well, I do. And I don't." said Mogrum, scratching his beard. "You might be a thinking what you want of the Dead Man's Chest. But it ain't going to get what you think you'll get with it."
Bodrin Bok tensed, and his men put their hands on the hilts of swords and the grips of blackpowder pistols.
"Now then, settle down all of you." said Mogrum calmly. "Just hear me out afore you try and shoot me. The Dead Man's Chest is a powerful Relic but it is bound to me and my crew. Even if I could be a giving of it to you, which I ain't sure I can, it would more an likely eat your souls and add them to it's grim cargo."
"So... what are you proposing in its stead?" said Bok gruffly.
"What I have to offer, you might not like. And I make no bones about it, I might not like it if I was in your place. But what if we took that pretty map you have in of your hand, and we joined forces and found that horrible big beastie what it is supposed to lead to?"
The Selachiis grumbled and shifted about a little. Mogrum persevered.
"Then we took it to the Stormdancer and replaced the dead leviathan, what the Storyteller pulled the head of off. What if we was, together, hailed as the ones what was able to replace the Stormdancer's motive powers... So to speak?"
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