The Humming Blackstone: Curse the World
"In an honest service there is thin commons, low wages, and hard labor; in this, plenty and satiety, pleasure and ease, liberty and power; and who would not balance creditor on this side, when all the hazard that is run for it, at worst, is only a sour look or two at choking. No, a merry life and a short one, shall be my motto."
-Bartholomew "Black Bart" Roberts
Johern looked up from the newly found letter of marquee, a sigh escaping his lips. “Just remember tha’ I do this fer me crew, no’ fer meself. I’d rather bite an’ swallow a ‘ot iron than work fer some cunt with a crown.” The pirate slapped his ring covered hand against the wooden table within his quarters, his eyes swiveling across each of his closest officers. “I will no ‘ave me sons an’ daughters ripped from freedom because o’ me selfishness. We shall do wot we do, an’ I shall ‘andle th’ blaggards tha’ sit on a fuckin’ elevated stone chair.”
With that Johern waved off his men and women, allowing them to exit before standing, his knuckles curling against the map of the world that lay open in front of him. Small blue shields and red Horde symbols rested all over the world’s oceans. “Damn th’ Legion; releasin’ shackles upon a free world. E’en th’ green blokes o’ Kul’tiras parade towards those forsaken isles. Curse ‘em all fer takin’ paradise an’ drawin’ lines on it.”
His arm slid across the table, throwing the plastic symbols off and away, sending them clattering across the floor.











