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Shallow graves.
Hidden treasures.

He thought himself so clever, with just some spare clothing this pirate could become a common sailor. What could be easier? He would just walk into Booty Bay and pose as a sailor just returned from a ship. He would say that he is looking for a ship that might need some crew and he would be set. He wont even need to be doing much lying. He did just return from a trip, a raid to be more exact, and he wont be leaving for a day or two. With the ship full of booty he was given a sizable sum of money, enough to purchase some cheap ale and even cheaper girls to accompany him for the time he would spend in town. So he took the walk into town. The walk was rather uneventful even dough. During the entire walk to town he could not shake the feeling he was being watched. Just a little paranoid, he thought to himself. Surely a few beers would clean his thought of all paranoia. And indeed it did. Just after one or two beers he felt empowered. Having a chat with other people and sailors coming to the tavern, chatting up the nice girl sitting alone, arm wrestling and games of luck. They all did so well to take his mind off the feeling that somewhere in the room there was someone watching him. Judging, weighing him up wish a quiet cold stare.

Was it the elf with the crooked grin quietly sitting in the small table, maybe the strangely clothed man in the robe and a wide brimmed hat, was it the Troll carving his initials into the table with his cold eyes watching your every action.

Another beer douses even those flames of paranoia. You are just a sailor. Right? Or were you. With a silent chuckle the Pirate starts to stagger towards the tavern door. Come on man, he finally manages to reach a coherent thought, you cant even remember who you are. The doors seem to open on their own as he stumbles trough them and lands face first on the hard wooden dock on witch all the Booty Bay building are made on. Fresh air, it will help you clear your mind. His nostrils fill with the cold sea air, the smell of someones fish being left out for too long and … perfume?

“Could you help me?” He looks up from the floor at the man in front of him. The thin figure is slightly bending over, the high collar of his coat reaching up to his nose, large wide brimmed hat hiding his eyes as his mouth is hidden behind a mask. The mask has the lower part of the skull drawn on it. It looks funny on the man, like he didn't have any skin on his jaw. The pirate chuckles again, “Heflp me,” a hiccup interrupts him, “Help me upghff 'n I'll-ll shieeh what I can do...” He stops for a moment, holding up one of his fingers like telling the other man to wait for a bit. After a while he just slams his hand back on the wooden dock along with his face. He feels as something starts running from his nose.

“Come,” The other person just says. What a strange voice he has. It sounds like he had smoked an entire forest and eaten a quarry full of rocks. It was the roughest, most gravely voice the pirate had ever heard. “You … You a'ight man?” the pirate manages to spout out. “I'm fine, come sit for a moment. The cold air will get you sober up in a moment.” The man was not kidding. After the man had helped him up and moved away from the tavern a bit they sat down in an alley and even before they got there the Pirate was sure he was sober enough for … something.

“So, um, you wanted help or sm'tn?” The pirate asked, leaning his head on his hands. “Yes, you see there is this treasure I could use some help digging out.” Treasure? f**k the beers, it felt like his entire body suddenly got energy straight from Fel. “A treasure you say.” “Yes, and I'll agree to split it with you 50-50, what do you say?” The pirate just nodded, “ 'N what do I have to do fr' the treasure?” “Just dig it up.” “Just dig it up?” “Just dig it up.”

That is all? The pirate thought to himself, all I need to do is dig something up and I get half of the treasure? He even offers me the shovel? Well, if this man is so trusting then I see no reason not to help him. Damn, even as drunk as I am I could still kick his ass and take all the treasure to myself.

With a chuckle he agreed and the two went to get the treasure. At one point the man even grabbed his hand to pull him towards the treasures location. He was not afraid of a mans touch but it felt weird. His hands were cold and stiff. Something unnerved him about that strange man.

They walked out of town and some distance into the jungle. Not very far as the large gate to Booty Bay was still visible. They weren’t even that far off the road. It was just a ten or twenty feet away. The man just pointed on the ground and told him to dig. Here? Why here, there weren't any marking on the ground. Nothing to indicate the location of a treasure. He could swear the man did not even count steps or anything. Just walked over to this place and took a few looks around before pointing down and telling him to dig. Well, easy money still, he thought and started to dig.

The entire time the man was just standing over him.

After a good while he found himself in a deep hole that he had managed to dig. He was up to his waist in the hole. Ever so often the man would tell him to dig it wider, longer, deeper. The hole begun to remind him of a grave in fact. When he noticed it he just waved a hand over his shoulder, “Hey, look at this. You wanting me to dig a grave for you?”


The sudden sound wire suddenly and violently pulled from it's roll caught his ear. Before he even had time to turn around the sharp wire cut deep into his neck. “Tinker, tailor. Soldier, sailor. By my hand the wicked shall fall.” It was happening too quick. Before he even knew how to react to it the wire was neatly around his spine. A quick death.

The man dumped the dirt back into the hole, only the right hand of the pirate was left out of the ground. The man pulled a bottle from his belt and dumped the content of it onto the hand before striking a match and lighting the hand of fire.

“May the light lead you away from the heathen bath and back onto the road of the enlightened. May the sins of your past be forgiven and your soul purged of all wicked. Rest, son of shadows, rest in the embrace of the earth.”

The man shrugged and left the shallow grave. The burning hand illuminating the dark night.

“The Dark Man has come to purge the wicked.”
"Oh no, my good Sir, killing him was never the intent. I like to think of it as an added bonus."

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