A day in the life of a Bilgewater sailor.

You work for one of the few shipping companies in all of Bilgewater that moves in and out of the ports with little to no trouble from the pirates that prowl the open seas. You decide sit down in a tattered booth in the far right corner of a dingy tavern you have decided to stop in on. The entire place is in a dark gloom, with only faint lanterns swinging from the ceiling to illuminate the dark room. The barkeep sits behind the counter on the far left side of the opposite wall, cleaning a glass and unflinching at the four men sitting at the bar having drinks and laughing loudly. You look at a pocket watch you own and see that it is near midnight, and begin to think you might want to leave before you remember the large storm raging outside. You decide that you will attempt to wait out the storm before leaving. The bartender finally seems to notice you, so he walks over to your booth and asks what you to pick your poison. You tell him that you've never been in a tavern like this before, and would like just whatever is on tap. The bartender looks you up in down before going back to the bar to fill your beverage. The other four men sitting at the bar laugh while sloshing around the drinks in their mugs. They tell tales of how they helped to bring down a seemingly invincible man, and helped another rise to power. The youngest of the group, who could not have been over the age of twenty five, speaks up.

"I hear tell that the Captain is still alive." The room falls silent. The other men dismiss the boy's speaking as just a fairy tale. The Captain was dead, end of story. They all go back to their drinks, though not in as good a mood as before. The bartender brings you your drink in a mug that has obviously seen better days. You look down into the yellowish-green liquid set before you. Inexplicable grime floats on the surface of the beverage. You push it away, suddenly not thirsty. You begin to believe that maybe it would be better to go out and brave the storm when a cloaked figure opens the door with a loud bang that gets everyone in the room's attention. He stands in the doorway for a moment before moving forward and taking the farthest seat on the right of the bar. He sits down, and doesn't say anything. The other men stay quiet for a while before attempting to bring back the festive feelings by ordering new drinks. One raises a glass, and proposes a cheer.

"To the death of the Captain, and to the life of Mi... no. CAPTAIN Fortune!" The rest of the men cheer before knocking back their drinks. The cloaked figure on the far right tenses up, but otherwise does not move. One of the older men notices the shrouded figure is not moving, and asks him why he isn't celebrating the death of a tyrant. The cloaked man does not move. The older man moves closer, asking again why he refuses to celebrate over the death of a tyrant. His voice is no longer an invitation to festivity, but an unspoken demand to join. Once again, the cloaked man does not move.

"You know, Captain Fortune has demanded the heads of everyone loyal to the old Captain. Maybe I could oblige her just a bit." He draws a blade hidden on his belt, and moves slowly towards the cloaked man. As he moves in for the kill, a hand shoots out and grabs the daggered mitt in a bone crushing grip.

"They all still think I'm gone huh? Well. They won't think any longer. I think I'll leave you as an example." He twists the older man's arm into a painful lock before moving back off his seat and slamming the man's face unto the wooden countertop. His three allies stand and prepare to fight the hidden stranger. He pulls back his hood, and reveals his scarred face a grayed beard, and a black hat. "Well now, can a dead man do that?" He dashes forward, seemingly too quick for a man of his size. Before the first man in front can pull out his weapon, he finds a blade shoved into his stomach. His mouth gurgles with blood before he falls. Gangplank pulls back his hand from the blade and lets the man fall to the floor. Another man pulls a pistol out and take a shot at the Reaver King, but it bounces off his arm. Confused, the man has no time to react as the arm that reflected the bullet lands a solid punch square on his jaw line. An audible crack can be heard as the bone snaps, and the man cries out in pain before finding himself looking down the barrel of a pistol. BANG! The man falls to the floor, a large hole taking the place of where his face once was. The gray matter that was once in his head sprays unto the youngest of the group standing directly behind him. He stumbles and falls unto the back wall. As he clears the bloody brains from his face, he hears the ominous thumping of Gangplank's boots against the dirty floor. He steps on the young man's leg, and pushes down. Hard. He crouches down on one knee and looks the young man in the face. "Now then, you're going to deliver a message to Fortune for me." He stands up, and grabs his bloodied sword from one of the dead men's stomach. He turns to speak to the young man again before seeing you cowering in the corner. He looks you up and down as the bartender before you, and sees you wearing unproper Bilgewater attire. "You know what?" He says aloud. "This man can deliver the message for me." He walks towards the young man, sheathing his sword while doing so. In between the young man's desperate cries for mercy and help, he unsheaths a knife used for a very specific purpose. He gets down on one knee again, and says, "You are a lucky man. I normally like to take my time with Fortune's lap dogs." He places the flaying tool on the floor, and unsheathes his sword in a flash of light. He rams the sword into the young man's leg and deep into the wooden floor. He screams in immense pain and begins to beg for his life again. Gangplank picks his knife back up before slamming the young man's head into the wall and knocking him into near unconsciousness. He puts the knife on the young man's scalp and begins to cut a jagged line to the back. His screams of pain and cries of pleading will forever haunt you in your dreams. After the deed is done, the young man barely grips to life. He gives you one last desperate look, before he slips away. Gangplank throws the bloody scalp to the floor and sheaths his little knife. He then rips his sword from the ground and sheaths that too. He loads his pistol before turning to you.

"Listen here dog, I know you don't work for Fortune or spend a lot of time here in Bilgewater, so I'll let you off with a warning. I'll let you go, if you do something for me. Deliver a message to Fortune. 'The King isn't dead, and he'll hunt down every single person you know. Then, he'll come for you.' He walks out, shooting the first man he attacked in the head for good measure. He tosses a Golden Kraken to the barkeep and leaves into the night. You are left with four men dead in a gory mess on the floor, and an emotionless bartender behind the counter. You shakily get up and walk outside into the rainy night. You have a single mission: Deliver a message to Captain Fortune. At any cost.