Chapter 1


The monster of the depths roared as its large, oozing tentacles, smashed into the ship. The Kraken’s bloodshot eyes bulged with rage.

As rain thundered onto the deck of the Wanderer, sailors struggled to keep their balance. Only the captain stood erect, and all on board knew he was a madman. A young sailor, black jacket ripped to shreds, green eyes alight with terror, flew headfirst into the water, where he was grasped by one of the Kraken’s tentacles, and was pulled into the great, blood red maw that was the monster’s mouth, where rows of blade sharp, pearl white teeth clashed and bashed like waves on a seashore.

Sailors crying out plunged their blades deep into the creature, but yet drawing no blood. Their cuts were mere pricks to the Kraken.

Captain Wickaby Bludd stood, pipe clenched tightly between his teeth. The pipe poked out of thick, gray, shaggy whiskers which filled the captain’s lower face. The upper half was filled with wrinkles that crossed the tan, leathery skin. Hands clasped behind his back, he stood watching with grim amusement. The first mate, a troll (also known as ‘greenskins” by other races) named Shraknel Kroiwne stood by him. Shraknel’s lime green skin gleamed, and his curly coarse black hair (usual for a troll), was covered by a brown bandanna. A black eye patch covered his left eye socket, and a long thing scar ran down the other side of his face. He was dressed in a black sailors coat, and gloves ripped off at the fingers. He lit a cigar, puffed on it, breathed deeply, and then spoke. “This is gonna make a mess”. Shraknel’s lips curled in a feral grin, showing his white sharp teeth. “remember when we used to do this for fun?” Captain Bludd turned to look at him. “Aye, aye.” He removed his pipe and spat on the deck. “But this is taking too long. More will come.” “Gurn!’ he bellowed. A short, thin man with pockmarks all over his pale face and some scraggly hair on his chin ran over. “Yes, my captain?” he enquired emotionlessly. Behind Bludd, Shraknel shuddered. Like a walking corpse, he thought grimacing. “Go to the Gun Master and tell him to finish this. Blast it with all he’s got.” said Bludd to Gurn. “Aye” said Gurn, and he ran off. Gun Master Tomex was a huge man, large in all ways; tall and with an enormous girth. Tomex stood watching the fight, laughing loudly with a sound not unlike thunder. His small, tricorner hat nestled atop the big dome of the head. When he got the orders, he smiled and waved his men over. “Prepare for a bombardment!” He rumbled.

Clanking noises and schreeching noises occurred as the cannons were pulled out of the ship’s hull. Tweek, a small neon blue Gun Captain goblin with large ears, squealed out commands to his team. “Ready to load? Load it up nice and heavy, boys. Loaded? Ready it now! Faster, you lumbering behemoths! Faster!” The sight of him, only two feet tall, jumping up and down on a stool, and waving his quirt, was comical to behold.

Gun master Tomex gave the order, and the Wanderer shook as all seventy-two cannons fired into the Kraken. The rain suddenly stopped and the clouds started disappearing.

The Kraken bellowed and finally bled, thick black blood that sprayed everywhere. Finally, after minutes of shaking, the monster died, its corpse slowly floating on the surface of the water, bloating up as it soaked up the rays of the sun.

As cheering erupted on the deck, Captain Bludd walked around and shook hands with the crew. He noticed uneasily that most had guilty glances in their eyes and would not meet his gaze. Then all was silenced as Jark Archovich, the Quartermaster, a cold human with a shaven head and a small beard. “We won, boys!” he yelled, and received an enthusiastic response. “With no thanks to our captain!” Bludd’s heart sank. Mutiny, he thought. “Well, there’s no need for pretending.” Continued Archovich, a sneer on his face. “I declare Captain Bludd unfit for command!” Suddenly, daggers were drawn and knives readied. “Lock him in the hold” Archovich commanded. Two sailors, both trolls, grabbed one of Bludd’s arms. “Does anyone wish to join him?” called Archovich. “I” called out a voice, slightly shaking but revealing inner strength. Out walked Archibald, Captain Bludd’s loyal butler. Many a new sailor had made fun of Archibald, with his oversized glasses and shakiness- and then had been beaten up by the crew, who adored Archibald, who they fondly called “Archy”. Archibald had been in many a battle; scars hidden by his shirt proved this. He was known as one of the bravest men that ever was. With a receding hairline that was gray, Archy had seen many a year. Now, as he crossed the deck, his head was held high with dignity. “You are all making a mistake” He informed them. With that, he turned and walked over to Bludd.

They were locked in the hold of the ship, a dark and gloomy place. They could hear the commands and curses being issued overhead. Bludd looked over at Archibald. “Tonight, we take back the ship.” He said. Archibald’s honest face clouded with concern. “I don’t want to kill them, they’re just misguided.” Archibald said. “They made their choice” said Bludd, firmly but not unkindly. And then they waited in silence for the night to come.

When the moon raised high in the sky, the captain and his butler, crept to the doors of the hold and picked the lock. With a creak they swung open. Then they crept to the Weapons room, where they armed themselves. Archibald found his old sword, three feet long and serrated on both sides. Bludd chose a seamen’s cutlass and shoved a Vikani Wilderblade knife in his belt. Both grabbed curved throwing daggers. They crept onto the first deck and began their assult.

A few drunken sailors were the first resistance they encountered. One happened to look up from a beer, but was stabbed through the throat by Archibald’s saber. Cowen, the ship’s carpenter, was not drunk yet, and fell to his knees. “Please, don’t kill me” the portly man begged. Bludd looked at him coldly, and then beheaded him. The last man was already asleep, and Archibald slit his throat.

Finally, they reached the top deck. Their blades were drenched with blood, and Bludd’s arm was cut. Behind them was a trail of corpses and blood. Bludd looked to the captain’s cabin, then nodded to Archibald. They crept quietly to the cabin, and then Bludd threw open the door. Inside, all the mates and Jark sat at the captain’s table. In Jark’s hand was a bottle of Blood Diamond, a fine, expensive red wine. Bludd’s wine. Bludd strode into the room. “Surrender. And take your hands off my wine.” With cries of shock, the mates drew their weapons. Jark laughed and drew from the voluminous folds of his coat a small crossbow, already armed and cocked. He pointed it at Bludd. “Really?” Jark laughed. “Yes. It cost me a lot.” was all Bludd said as he drew and threw the Wilderknife, which embedded in Jark’s throat. With gurgling noises and crimson blood spraying everywhere, Jark fell over. Then as the mates rushed Bludd and Archibald, suddenly an explosion rocked the deck. Everyone was thrown and tossed. Then darkness settled and all was still.

Bludd stirred and groaned. He lifted his hand to his head and felt wetness. He looked at his hand and found it covered in blood. Dizziness filling his head, Bludd staggered to his feet. He went and opened the door- then found himself in water up to his knees. Outside the sun was setting beyond the horizon. Bludd felt something touch his leg, and he looked down. Dark green seaweed had wrapped around his calf. Gazing around him, Bludd saw that the water was covered with the same green plant. Some had white flowering buds. Bludd realized where he was. The Garden Sea. A small area off the coast of Aremas, the deepest area of the Garden Sea was four feet deep. It was an extremely dangerous area, home to many a shark, barracuda, and other dangers of the ocean. Bludd slowly started to wade through the water. Suddenly, he was stabbed in the back. As he fell, and his vision grew misty, Bludd fell to his kness, submerging himself to his lower chest. The water around him slowly grew red. Then, a hand rested on his shoulder, and Bludd found himself looking at Shraknel. The troll was bruised and cut in many places, and the severed stump of his right arm dripped blood. Leaning, Shraknel whispered into Bludd’s ear. “Easy, easy. It will all be over soon. Sorry about the mutiny, brother.” Eyes glazed, Bludd looked straight into Shraknel’s eyes. “Yes, it wasn’t Jark’s plan all along,” continued Shraknel. “It was mine. You see, you’re carrying vital information about Vargon City. With these information, we greenskins can conquer the humans.” Bludd hissed. “Sorry, tough luck.” Shraknel said, and he started to walk away. Bludd shakily stood, his trembling hands reaching into his belt. He pulled out the dagger and then, in a final act of desperation, threw it. flying threw the air, the dagger struck- and slashed Shraknel’s hip. All hope leaving Bludd’s eyes, he fell face forward into the water. Sharkel snarled, then quietly continued walking, wading through the sea. In the direction of Vargon City, a port where an escort was waiting for him. And he trudged on, while the soft motions of the waves carried Bludd’s almost dead body away. And then, Joining him in one last act of love for his master was the corpse of Archibald, stabbed in the chest, hand clutching a bloody dagger that on the tip had a piece of green skin