#dread pirates

[bowan-deflorentine]

I didn’t stay long in Stormwind. I think if I did I might never leave again, but I can’t pretend like I can just stop after starting what I did. Especially now that I know the Dread Fleet is still out there, recruiting from all those small backwater fishing towns no one ever checks in on. I saw Voodoo in one of those towns... or Audra, whatever she’s calling herself these days. It was strange seeing her after all this time. Even stranger were the Eastern Shadow agents mingled in with her crew. I thought they all died during that first deal gone wrong that started this entire damn mess. Even if they weren’t from the original agents I have no one to tell; the Eastern Shadow I knew is gone, as far as I know. Unless I’m back on the outside. Even then, I haven’t seen Reiko or Watcher in years, from before the War of Thorns, and I don’t even know if Seeker’s still a part of them anymore. This isn’t information I want to sit on, though.

Last time I saw Audra, I was still trying to find Deathbreathe before he found me. Again. It was in Booty Bay, I remember- I found my old journal entry about that day. I had gone to her to find out more about him, but I’d rightly pissed her off after trying to threaten the information out of her. She sent some thugs after us and ran us right out of the Bay. But... she had given us a clue, she had helped. I still remember not being sure why she would want to help us, or if she was just playing with us again. I thought I would never know, since her and Deathbreathe and everyone else vanished not long after. I didn’t see him again until Kul Tiras. And now he’s dead, and she didn’t seem to care. Waltzing up to her and asking her outright would have been... so stupid, so I guess I’ll have to try and keep an eye on her, and see what else she’s up to. The Dread Fleet is still a threat, but if they don’t know I’m alive then I might have the upper hand for once. Knowing all that, I knew I couldn’t stay long in Stormwind. I’m not officially declared a deserter seeing as Jeán, as the stand-in captain, would need to be the one to file the report, but I found out my absence hasn’t gone unnoticed. Either way, the city doesn’t exactly miss the trouble we all caused. But, seeing Jeán and Rory again was like finally seeing the sun after a long, stormy night. I sent a letter ahead by a day so I didn’t surprise them, but even then when I walked in Jeán looked at me like he had seen a ghost. I guess I’ve changed in the year and a half since I left for Kul Tiras. So did Rory; he’s taller, and his hair is getting so long! He’s growing up so fast... I wish I could stay in Stormwind with him, and be there for him. But I’m worried now if everything catches up to me, I’d risk dragging Jeán back into the life he fought so hard to escape, and then who would Rory have? It’s for the best, this way. Anyways.They were both upset about my eye, but I convinced Rory that it didn’t hurt, and that the eyepatch made me look like a pirate, which he thought was quite exciting. I didn’t show him what was underneath though, but after he went to bed I did show Jeán. I told him about what happened with Deathbreathe too. There’s no reason for me not to, since I kept him in the dark for so long since I was terrified him knowing too much would put a target on his back, too. He knows... most of it, now. But not all. Not what I’m doing to Horde ships, or the dreams or the voices that just won’t go away. I know I can’t keep it all a secret from him forever. Something’s going to catch up to me eventually, but if I can help it it won’t be the Alliance. I stayed for a few days and tried to make up for lost time while I could. In that time though, Jeán showed me all the mail and letters to the Cavalier office that’ve built up over the months. One from Danor’lei, who was just as angry as I was at the end of the war and resigned to keep fighting the Horde with Tyrande. I... completely understood. But one letter was from Aurhim. That one shook me to my core. We both thought he was dead on Teldrassil in the fire. I had hope, after learning Timira survived, but I wrote it off as wishful thinking. But now I know- he’s alive. Somehow. The list of those I thought I had lost on Teldrassil is getting smaller, but even then they’re still gone. I heard he even came to the office to gather his things- I guess it didn’t go horribly, but after that Jeán told me he didn’t hear from him again. I can’t imagine what he’s feeling now, in the wake of losing Timira. I want to go find him, but I don’t think he wants to be found. So I’m right back to where I started. Everyone’s still gone. }}}------Bowan------>

[bowan-deflorentine]

Even in the early morning hours, darkness loomed beneath the dockyard buildings, shadows casting doorways and alleys deep and black. Those looming spaces used to frighten her- no, terrify her. He could have been lurking anywhere, on her heels, tracking her down like a hound. She could have lead him to somewhere where it would be all too easy to try and kill her, again, and she knew her luck well enough that that would truly be the end. Even worse, she could have lead him back to people she cared about. Back home in Stormwind, she had zigzagged through the city streets, doubling back on her routes, taking a new path home every night. She had exhausted herself trying to keep him off her trail. He would be all too eager to use her family against her if need be. He’d already proven as much.

The sun was just cresting the horizon as Bowan trudged through the damp wooden structures that made up the inner city docks. Her clothes were still damp and grainy from seawater, the dark canvas hood uncomfortably trapping her cold, tangled hair against her neck. Briefly she wondered if she’d ever get a comb through it without cutting it now.

Shops were opening as dawn graced Boralus, the morning light revealing the dark places between buildings to be... empty. Wood and cobblestone, crates and ropes, fishing nets and crab traps. Nothing more.

He was gone. It was… safe. She was safe. Hell, it had been years, but now, maybe, Natalin was safe too. The young huntress had been the first to strike out to continue her investigation on the dread pirates all those years ago and had paid so very dearly for it. She made a mental note to try and track Natalin down… one of these days. It was a time of reunions with old friends, apparently. However, things weren’t completely back to normal. For starters… far less comfortable than the heavy hood and cold, wet hair was the heavy bandage, tightly binding a wadded pad of gauze over her eye. It throbbed, horrifically in fact, but she’d been given medicine to ease the pain. She had learned the identity of the strangers who had patched her up after the ship went down; Seeker’s new friends she had been running around Boralus with. Why they were there at the wreck was cause for more than a little suspicion, but she simply didn’t have the energy to think about it in depth yet. Luca, especially, was the one she had spoken to after coming to. Among other things, he had told her two important facts. One, Seeker was alive and relatively unhurt. She would recover, at least. And two, the city guards Deathbreathe paid off had reported to the Lieutenant she had seen in Bridgeport, and now she was a wanted woman. And not in the fun way. That, at least, wasn’t something she was terribly worried about. Wasn’t the first time, wouldn’t be the last if things continued to go the way they had been as of late. Against his suggestion, Bowan had packed up her belongings and left the hideout as soon as he took his leave. Once it got dark she planned to go find Seeker, but more than anything she wanted an actual bed. Being on the run for a few weeks made for… difficult sleeping arrangements. Turning sharply down one of the alleyways, Bowan headed for the lower docks. There had been a shitty little inn she had seen down here before once… Buying a room at the crack of dawn was far from the strangest thing the tired innkeeper had seen, and Bowan painfully climbed the creaking wooden steps, key in hand. The room was dark, with a partially boarded-up window letting in a few meager rays of light. While she wanted more than anything to simply drop her bag, strip down and sleep until nightfall… the cracked, dirty mirror nailed to the wall drew her attention. Her stomach did an anxious flip as she limped towards it. She knew she wasn’t going to like what she saw, but morbid curiosity drove her forwards. Leaning down and getting the first look at herself in nearly three weeks, Bowan inwardly winced. Seeker wasn’t kidding, she looked like hell. Her cheekbones were more pronounced than usual, and scrapes and scuffs and cuts lined her face from the fight on the ship. Hair was a mess, matted from saltwater and dirt and sweat. Dark, tired rings were heavy beneath her eyes… eye. Furrowing her brow slightly, she examined the bandages and gauze over her right eye socket. Don’t do it, she warned herself. You’re not going to like it. But she knew she needed to see. One last blow. One last scar to add to the collection from him, but by far the worst.

Carefully, holding her breath, she began to peel off the bandages. Every new layer joined the rest on the floor, each bloodier than the last. Stopping to take a breath, she steeled her resolve and continued. Her fingers, shaking more and more as she went, finally grasped the edge of the gauze and gave it a tug. At first it stuck, but slowly, she peeled it off, hissing through gritted teeth to keep from crying out. The gauze, too, fell to the floor, and slowly, she looked up. Swollen and red, the angry edges of skin parted around a deep, uneven gouge carved down her eye. From the temple, down the socket, over the cheekbone, nearly all the way to her chin. There was clearly no hope for ever seeing out of it again. Maybe she had known that from the moment her had slashed her and had been hoping to see for herself that it would eventually heal. But it wouldn’t, she knew that much. After allowing herself a few minutes simply take in the terrible wound, she grimly turned for her bag and fished out the fresh bandages Luca had provided her before she left. There. You had your look. Happy? One last scar from him. But it was the last.

[bowan-deflorentine]

Calm after the Storm

Voices, low and muffled, came back first. She didn’t open her eyes yet; couldn’t, it simply hurt too much, but why, she couldn’t recall. Laying in what she was sure was a cot, she remained still, listening to the soft voices and trying to piece together what had happened. She remembered she had gone to Boralus to find someone to help her with- With a start, it all came crashing back like a cold wave, and it took all of what little strength she had left to keep from sitting up. She didn’t know who had brought her here, and she had a better chance of finding out if she listened and stayed put. Besides, she had a lot to think about. What stood out most importantly in her mind was... He was gone. Deathbreathe. Dead. And she had killed him. As she lay quietly, fighting the quickening of her heartbeat and trying to recall what had happened after, someone approached the cot. It was only when they reached down and touched them did she realize bandages, thick and gauzy, wrapped around her head, covering the right side of her face. That’s what hurt so much. She remembered why, now. First there was... Seeker. Or Dog Face. Whatever she wanted to be called now. She had her reasons, and that was enough. Bowan knew Seeker would help when she asked the assassin to come with her, of course. It was strange to see a familiar face- maybe not necessarily a face, in Seeker’s case, but the mask brought back just as many old memories. The apprehension she felt when she finally found the younger woman in the dockyard wasn’t fear that Seeker would refuse so much as the fear if she agreed. If she herself died, then so be it, but Seeker was... one of the few friends left over from her sullied life before the Cavaliers. She just couldn’t do it alone. Bowan hoped now that Seeker was all right, wherever she was.

Once Seeker agreed, they acted fast and planned very little. Bowan had to- if she thought about it too long, she feared she might have lost her nerve. It was too easy to dream of vengeance and demand blood when she herself was bleeding by his hand, but now when she could be safe, could... disappear. She could go anywhere. Drustvar, maybe, deep in the woods where the sea couldn’t find her. Even Kalimdor was sounding good at this point, far from the war. Somewhere no one would ever find her. But that would never be good enough for him. Or herself. And then there they were, spending those long hours waiting for the ship to arrive, stowing away on the Bridgeport docks. Blue-sailed, an Alliance frigate, with a hold full of weapons and war supplies, departing at dawn for Stormwind. If this wasn’t his target, nothing would be.  They waited. And waited. And the storm came. Suddenly, fiercely, sweeping over the Alliance vessel with unfathomable fury. Holes were blown in the hull, igniting fires, splintering wood, killing sailors. Those who survived the cannon fire were soon after set upon by the crew.  When they made it to the top deck, Bowan realized she was half-expecting him not to be there. Hoping, maybe. But he was.  The battle itself wasn’t so clear, but Bowan preferred it that way. More cannonfire, barrages of shattered wood and bone and fire. No one noticed the two women in dark leather weaving through the skirmishes, at least not at first. But he did. And the distance between them closed.  They fought. Seeker leapt into action, literally, and if Bowan hadn’t been so consumed in the moment, she would have been proud. She was still so ferocious.  Finally, face to face, blade to blade. One of her greatest nightmares, consuming her for years on end, and for the first time she looked him straight in the eyes and denied him the satisfaction of fear. Even when he turned his pistols on Seeker, she denied him that too. No more dark alleys, no more ambushes, and no more bullets.  The ship was already beyond saving when the smoldering deck gave way beneath them, weakened from the cannons and fire. She could feel the deck tilting beneath her feet, sliding slowly into the churning black seas. There was still time to end it. Below deck was nothing short of an inferno. Chunks of wood rained down, filling the air with ash and cinders and smoke. The flames found his long, sweeping coat, and then the rest of him too. That alone could have killed him, and she very nearly let it. It would have been so satisfying to watch him down the length of her blade, just letting him burn, and she hesitated a moment too long, savoring the way the fire brought him low in a way she never thought she could. That was her mistake, assuming he wasn’t still dangerous. Her eyes had left him for only a second to check that Seeker was all right- and his hand had closed over her wrist, trapping her sword hand with it. And he struck her with... something. Something sharp. Metal from his horrid face, a slice peeled partially off by Seeker’s blow on the top deck. He carved it down her face from brow to chin, and took her eye with it. Bowan always had thought how she would do it. All those days in hiding gave her too much time to think. She thought about shooting him in the gut and letting him bleed out, just as he had done to her. She thought about what she could do if she got him in chains. Torture. Flaying. Poison. Burning was acceptable too. Something poetic, something satisfying, something that would last. But in her panic, her sudden fear that she had truly let her guard down at the last second and maybe she would be the one to succumb to the fire or the sea, she had simply lashed out with her blade, blindly. When she could see through the smoke and the blood that blotted out her vision, he was gone, gutted. And she decided that was all she needed after all. And then the ship went down, taking his charred body with it. She foggily remembered making it back to the upper deck with Seeker, finding something to cling to once the ships had vanished beneath the waves- his vessel had succumbed as well, once the Alliance ship had returned fire. And then... nothing. Darkness and water. But then, a beach. And sunshine, and sand, and people walking amongst the wreckage. Nothing, again, and now... wherever this place was. Deciding if whoever these people were wanted to kill her, they’d have done so already. Besides, being awake for even that brief time had sapped her of her strength, and her injuries throbbed, and it was simply easier to... drift off again. She could finally rest, really and truly. Besides Seeker, only one thought occupied her mind before sleep found her again. He’s gone.

[bowan-deflorentine]

The panicked thundering of her heart in her ears matched the fury of the dark storm raging above Tiragarde bay. Waves broke over the rocks as Bowan slogged through the shallows, the rushing waters threatening to tear her off her feet. Adrenaline was the only thing keeping her going at this point, but even then the high was losing its edge. She could feel her legs getting weaker, the pain of the wounds becoming more apparent. At first distracting, now nearly consuming, agony was blooming up her back. It would have been so much easier going by dry land- even though they likely wouldn’t go far in the storm, she knew she couldn’t outrun the guards, not in the state she was in now. All she could do was keep pressing forwards even though the storm swells quickly flooded up the narrow beach, trapping her against the cliff face. There was a wider, rocky beach not far down the coastline she knew of, if she could make it that far. Didn’t have much much of a choice. Besides, it wasn’t the guards she feared so much as…

Far behind her down the coast, the lights of Bridgeport had since been swallowed up by the rain, but she felt his presence still. It had been months- no, years, since she had last seen him. Bowan hoped he was dead, but now she scolded herself for being for careless. While never forgotten, he had taken up a less prominent place in her mind in the recent months. She had new nightmares now, a burning World Tree and a silent comm channel and charred blue uniforms. Dreams of the man in the black coat were rare, but faded with time. But now her memory of Deathbreathe was more refreshed than she ever wanted it to be. His voice, his coat, his guns- Her foot turned over a rock and she lost her footing, splashing down onto her hands and knees with a gasp. White hot pain shot up her spine, and she could just see the dark crimson mixing into the waters below in the flashes of lightning. When she struggled to stand, darkness threatened to consume her vision. The cold from the waves was making it harder and harder to keep going, let alone the bloodloss. If she blacked out now she knew she would drown in the tide, just feet from the shore. What a pitiful way to go, after all this time. Come on, this isn’t how it ends. Move. MOVE. Dragging herself up to her feet even though her vision swam and her wounds screamed, Bowan forced herself to take a step, then another. Don’t stop, just one more step. Again, again.  Up ahead she could just make out that secluded strip of shoreline hidden amongst the rocks. Not much farther and she would hit the Southwind ferry dock if she guessed right, and proper medics and shelter, but it was too risky- the guards would certainly search the very next town over, at least. Stumbling up onto the rocks, a brief burst of lightning illuminated a small alcove in the rocky cliffside a few yards up the bank. It wasn’t deep- a few feet, maybe ten, but it was enough to get her out of the rain. Obvious, maybe, if they came looking down the shore, but Bowan knew she simply couldn’t go any further. Trembling, she limped her soaked self to the deepest part of the cave and carefully slumped down against the rocky wall. Now that she was free of the thrashing waves, the wind, and the rain, it was easier to take stock of her injuries.

One shot had deeply grazed her ribs, whether it was from Deathbreathe’s gun or his lackeys, she would never know. Another had found her calf, but the heavy leather of her boot stopped the worst of it. The bullet itself didn’t stay, but a deep bruise blossomed around the bloody pock in her skin. Shaking, teeth gritted, she gingerly searched beneath her coat for the last one. Somewhere on her lower back… There- Fuck! Just touching it was enough to knock the wind out of her all over again and she writhed in pain on the sopping stone floor. Squarely above her hip, in the fleshy part below her ribs. When she inspected her glove it shone with blood. She knew she had to staunch it, but instead couldn’t take her eyes off her trembling hand. A rising tide of nausea rose inside her. It was all so familiar- the fear, the pain, the storm. Why did she do it? Why did she go after him? Had she really been so eager to throw her life away already, was she really hitting that point? Now that she had a moment of rest, she thought back and tried to make sense of the tunnel-visioned trance she had been in back in Bridgeport. It felt like a blur. Bowan had only been waiting for a contact at the Bridgeport docks, nothing interesting, when the ship had pulled up and he had walked down the gangplank. He hadn’t seen her at first as he made his way into town. That could have been her chance to run, to run all the way back to Boralus where he certainly wouldn’t think to look for her- after all, her thought she was dead. It had been so long since that nightmare in the alleyway in Stormwind. So long since she went through hell and back to put her life back together and try and act like things could ever be normal again. She could have been safe and gotten back to her boring, miserable routine at the Alliance war office. Back to drinking away every night, back to starting it all over again every morning, wondering if that was worse than returning home to the giant holes left in her life by the Cavalier officers. But she had seen a chance, her chance to finally do something. She was sure he hadn’t noticed her flitting through the alleyways after him, lingering below the windows and balcony in the inn where he and his gunman had gone into. His quiet conversation with the unseen man about targeting cargo ships, Alliance ships...Some faction within Boralus. And then he was alone, out in the square. His men had left back for the ship, the town was deserted in the late hour. A storm was rolling in, blotting out the moonlight, his back was to her, her pistol was cocked in her hand. She could have ended everything. But when it came down to it… she couldn't trust herself to take the shot. It was too risky, just barely too far, raining too hard. If she missed… When he had disappeared down an alley, she had seen what was perhaps a second chance. Fate was granting her one last opportunity to finally take revenge on that horrible nightmare of a man. Cruel, irony, maybe;  In an alley, in a storm, gun in hand. But she would take it. It would be over. Bowan didn’t know why she hadn’t expected to be staring down the barrel of his gun when she rounded the corner. But he hadn’t been expecting to see her there, own pistol in hand, but most importantly alive. That surprise had given her the chance, the split second… As soon as she got her shot off, the sharp ring of lead striking steel- the glinting steel plate on her face, hidden beneath the high collar- had been like a warning bell. You got your shot in, now run. His men had been closing in down the alley behind her, and she had dashed down the docks instead, making for the rural shoreline south of town. Normally soft-spoken in the few times she had been close, the roar of fury from him, far behind, chilled her to the bone. One: She had actually made him hurt, a feat she didn’t think possible before. Two: She had made him angry. And he still wasn’t dead. While expecting the gunfire, Bowan thought she had at least put enough distance between them to avoid being struck. She was wrong. Bleeding out alone in a cave wasn’t how she planned to die. She had to live, to see out the war against the Horde, to be there for Rory, but now, to make sure Deathbreathe died. No more running, no more hiding. She was coming for him this time, and she wouldn’t stop until either he was dead, or she was. Pulling her sopping wet scarf off her shoulders, the cavalier tore a strip off the blue cloth and wadded it up against the wound in her back. Stifling a pained groan, she settled back against the cave wall to wait. The storm would provide some cover for now, but in the morning she had to move. Whether the guards had been simply mislead or paid off complicated things- going back to Boralus was incredibly dangerous if not outright stupid. But she would find somewhere to go. No more hiding, Bowan promised herself silently. You’re not hiding again. You’re finding a safe town, getting patched up, and making that fucker regret everything he’s done.

Tides of panic and anger- at herself, at him- roiled within her, but the great swells lost strength before anything manifested on the surface and left her feeling… empty. There was no more fire, no more storm. This same story had played out over and over again. Run, hide, run, hide. Recover, heal, hide. She was so, so tired of it. The decision to finally fight back and put an end to it all brought her… what, peace? No, there was no place for peace in her anymore. Conviction, maybe. Acceptance that no matter what happened, it would be over. Finally.

That must be why she felt so calm.

[space-star-blog]

(Dread Pirates)

[bowan-deflorentine]

I still don’t understand why Voodoo- Audra- and her sister would help me. I don’t trust them; they’re pirates after all, and if it wasn’t for her, Deathbreathe wouldn’t have....

But after what happened in Westfall, I’ll take anyone’s help. He hurt Natalin before, and now Drahs and Timira almost wound up dead. That was too close of a call. This has to stop, and soon. I can’t afford to have anyone else get hurt because of me. I don’t know what I’ll do if we lose anyone. 

I finally went back to the Eastern Shadow’s village to ask for help. I didn’t want to go alone or risk Vy or Jeán- they’re the only ones keeping the Cavaliers together while Timira is healing and I’m... busy with all this.  Reiko... still wasn’t there, at the village. Edgar and Adriel haven’t told anyone about her whereabouts, and while everyone’s a little worried, I’m sure she’s all right. 

Edgar agreed to send a few agents with me, including Natalin and two new recruits, up to Gilneas to look where Audra hinted at.

Against all odds, we found something that could prove useful in solving this whole mess. Maybe. The old journal we found in the abandoned house up on the Gilnean coast is difficult to read. It’s hard to imagine Deathbreathe as ever being anything but an eldritch monster, but... All the scars, the metal, it was all just a lonely doctor trying to help a maimed sailor who washed up after a bad shipwreck. 

It’s... got to be something to work off of, but why would Audra lead us all the way up here just for this? Surely there’s more to it than some dead man’s medical logs. I’ve read the entire thing, even the entries before he found whoever Deathbreathe was before the wreck. They end suddenly- the old doctor must have died before he finished treating him.  I wonder if Audra really is trying to help, or if this is just another game.

We’ll just have to see what we can get out of this. At least I got to visit Rory in the village. He’s happy, and he has Natalin and Gamora to keep him company. I’m glad he has a family here while I’m away.

}}---Bowan--->

---

((mentions: @followersofnothing, @zephyrwise, @hesitationisamistake, @natalinastone, @reiko-starthief, @drahs ))

[bowan-deflorentine]

Failure. That’s what it was, what the mission absolutely had been. A total failure that nearly had them all killed. Again.

Outside the dirty window was dark, the view across the way the old stone wall of the alley the run-down inn was located in. It wasn’t hidden by any means, but it was as far away across the city as they could get from the Cavalier office. A good place to go if one wanted to keep a low profile and heal, which is exactly what she planned to do. Staying at the office was basically asking for another bullet from Deathbreathe.

The trek back through the jungle after the mission in Booty Bay was a blur- she must have blacked out more than once from blood loss, and she wasn’t even in as bad of shape as Timira had been. Timira’s father-in-law and hired hand, Anuari, probably had to carry both of them at one point. Bowan didn’t have the energy to feel embarrassed about that, though. She, along with Timira and Vy, who luckily showed back up once they got to Stormwind, needed at the very least a full day’s rest before they made another move. As she stared out the window, exhaustion wearing heavily on her limbs, her thoughts drifted back to the mission the day before.

Bowan knew it wasn’t a coincidence that Deathbreathe had sought her out only days after she had spoken with Voodoo, so many months ago. Surely, the strange woman had to have passed to him the information that someone was asking too many questions. So it only made sense for herself, Timira and Vy to look for her first when they needed a new trail to follow. Voodoo had been easy enough to find, but was sharp enough despite the heavily-incensed room to recognize Bowan even beneath the hooded mask she had worn. A little tact may have gone a long way- it was only a question or two they needed to know- but her temper spiked so suddenly upon seeing Voodoo again. It was all her fault, after all, that any of this had happened. Deathbreathe may have dealt the deadly blow, but if it wasn’t for Voodoo passing him on the information-

It didn’t matter at this point. Voodoo didn’t take kindly to being threatened. Bowan was sure she and Timira could have taken the odd pirate on, but when the dark ship came sailing in from the horizon, tailed by a raging storm, they had no choice but to run. The docks were crawling with pirates- probably hired thugs and Dread Crew members. In their mad dash to escape the Bay, they’d sustained a good beating but had luckily managed to wriggle their way out of the scuffles. They didn’t have time to fight- their last encounter with the Dread Pirates at sea wasn’t something she wanted to repeat.

Voodoo’s last words as they bolted from the docks came to mind, one of the last clear memories she had of the whole encounter: An armed military vessel sank a pirate ship off the coast of Gilneas and Hillsbrad. At first Bowan thought to brush it off, but... the information Voodoo had given her before had all been true, even if it had nearly cost Bowan her life. Why, then, would she bother to tell them about something like that? Possibly just to toy with them, mislead them. Then again, if it did lead to some sort of breakthrough with the Dread Crew…

Maybe… the mission hadn’t been a complete failure. After all, they set out with the intention of obtaining more information. It just came at a slightly higher cost than they expected. But, if they wanted to pursue this seemingly random breadcrumb of knowledge, they would have to be…. extraordinarily more careful than Booty Bay.

Bowan reached for her bag on the table, her note log carried within, but stopped herself. A brief pang of paranoia crept over her; if she lit a candle to write by, it could give away their position. Better to save it for the morning. Then, once she, Vy and Timira were in better shape, they could make their next move.

In the morning, then. They could finally work towards finishing this mess.

---

((mentions: @followersofnothing , @zephyrwise , @hesitationisamistake ))

[bowan-deflorentine]

"Did you two try and one-up Mira's Booty Bay story? The one with the tauren and the rubber chicken? Is there some kind of rule that people I care about can't enter that town without getting their asses kicked? Lacerations. Numerous lacerations. Stab wounds. Bullet holes. Contusions. Fractured ribs. A rolled ankle. A broken shin. Inhaled unknown substances. Am I forgetting anything?" The healer grumbles. "Blood loss. I almost forgot the blood loss. Just hold still, I'll fix you up."