“My voyage began from Mutiny’s End.
I sailed south, through the gap in the Boundary Reef, until I passed the giant mushroom, and then sailed that far again,
There I turned away from the towering shark fin of Allopex Rock, and towards the deathly waters of Nethenar,
And sailed until I reached the first of the twin stone pillars rising from the sea.
There, I turned my heading through three points on the compass, clockwise,
Then two points further,
And sailed straight,
Until the waters changed colour as sea currents met,
Then I let the wind from the East carry me Westward,
Until I passed the burning volcano to my left,
And turned again to sail away from the vaulting rock of Grungni’s Arch,
Past two shipwrecks on the way to the Anchorage,
Then turned again to follow the gaze of the Skull Rock.
I held that course until at last it took me to land, then clinging close to shore I sailed on until at last I arrived at…”
***
Mutiny's End
Nobody can say who fired the first shot, not really. Every captain blamed the other two, of course, each claiming to be the aggrieved party. How it started didn’t really matter, the result was the same: the fragile truce between the captains had been shattered.
The confusion that followed quickly spilled out of Mutiny’s End and down the Salted Shore. Allegiances among those paying tribute to the captains were tenuous to begin with, and as ships opened fire and began to board each other, even those nominally sworn to the same captain came to blows.
As hours turned to days, the coalitions began to gather themselves. The Stormdance Reavers claimed an early advantage: it was not at all difficult to find the Stormdancer, as the Black Ark could be seen above the horizon for leagues, and the bellows of her Orruk crew heard almost as far.
Eager for any advantage and out for blood, the coalitions soon took to the shores of Boundary Reef and Cutlass Point. Even in these early hours, there was plunder to be had, and with an eye toward her financiers’ concerns, Illyana Draketooth’s Umbral Dominion made the most of it, striking like a snake anywhere that might contain anything of value. The Stormdance Reavers were less discerning and fell upon the Blackwing Corsairs en masse, wholly convinced it was Lissea that betrayed them.
The port of Cinderglow in the shadow of Old Smokey saw perhaps the worst of it, with the Duardin brewery fast becoming a point of contention among the pirates- in no small part because Dragon Rum was nearly as coveted as Krabnos’ countless treasures. Green Island was turned to mud and cinders as Stormcast Draconith scoured the canopy of skittering Skaven, and the crumbling, abandoned Dreadhold on Rusted Anchor was all but torn down in the fighting.
Still, island by island, the Stormdance Reaver’s penchant for wanton violence won out and swept Cutlass Point. The Blackwing Corsairs soon regrouped around Boundary Reef, yet the battle waned as crews split off to chase Bloody Bennet’s riddle. It’s not yet known what deal Lissea struck with the folk of Cinderglow and Tumblehome, but neither port rendered hospitality to the Reavers or the Dominion after that.
***
Skinflint's Hollow
Sigurd Prow-Dancer was the only one among the Dominion to brave the waters of Skinflint’s Hollow in pursuit of elusive Seraphon, and the Jitae under his command soon found themselves caught in a storm not of waves and wind, but vessels and warriors.
It may have been fate or just bad luck that brought Lissea and Castian together at the mouth of Skinflint’s Hollow. Turned about by Bloody Bennet’s blasted riddle and eager to resupply after threading the needle above the Cursed Deep, the Stormdancer and her allies were caught flat-footed as the sleek, black-sailed ships of the Blackwing Corsairs fell upon them with the Maelstrom’s wind at their backs. Castian realized the danger immediately: if they attempted to break out, they’d be dashed upon Hullbreaker Harbor. They now had no choice but to fight their way clear of the approaching blockade.
Lissea swept into the air like some great vulture, borne aloft on her black wings in the driving gale. The Reavers surged ahead to meet her, Captain Blackpowder’s dreadnoughts at the fore with Acolyte Blisterpaw’s Burning Contagion close behind. Pulling ahead of the Corsair fleet, the Templars of Our Burning Savior aboard the Legacy of Ash answered their challenge. The Templars unleashed their arcane artillery, and gouts of holy fire scored the Pestilens ships.
Sigurd Prow-Dancer shouted at the Jitae to row their ship anywhere but here, the wings and skulls of slaughtered Seraphon lashed to their bow granting his vessel speed swiftness beyond its draft.
D’Mater surged away from Mutiny’s End, launching herself nearly a full league with every stroke of her spindly legs, quick to flank the over-extended Corsair vessel, Paan’aq’bat and Itzl’s Teeth keeping pace close beside. Outnumbered four to one, the Reavers appeared certain to blunt the Corsair advance.
Just as battle would be joined, a keening cry came from above. Lissea swept over the ships, spitting words not meant to be spoken by mortal tongues. The Hollow’s ceaseless downpour waned; the clouds had not been so heavy as they seemed, nor the mist as cloying. The Corsair’s ruse was revealed, and the Iron Kraken and Anastasia’s Dream crashed into the Reaver line alongside the Legacy of Ash.
The battle became a brawl, then, as Lissea and Castian’s own flotillas joined the confrontation. While Lady Eluria pulled away Geki and Brawen’s vessels, Aegrun and his Remnant proved their quality, bringing the battle to the Stormdancer’s own redoubts before being driven back by a furious orruk counter-attack.
Finally clear of Hullbreaker Harbour yet unable to return the way they came, Castian signaled for his vessels to make for Skuttle Lagoon, the Cursed Deep’s dangers be damned. The Stormdancer itself fought a desperate delaying action as the Templar’s holy fire set her battlements alight, but the ‘Dancer had seen worse and could weather the Corsair’s attack better than Castian’s allies. One by one, the Reaver ships pulled free and made for open water.
Finally, Lissea returned to the deck of her ship to the cheers of her Corsairs, yet a shadow of a doubt crept behind her mask. Had they just cheated the Reavers of their prize, or had the Hall of Drowned Gold never been here at all?
Sigurd slumped down on the deck and thanked whatever would listen for their narrow escape.
***
The Maelstrom
Since the Age of Myth, the Maelstrom had assailed its dominion within the Karkino Sea with endless hurricanes and walls of rain. And yet, despite this danger, countless ships had tried to navigate its dangerous waters in search of booty even before Bloody Bennet’s riddle. And countless ships had been dashed against the treacherous rocks lurking beneath the waters in the Bay of Wrecks, their remains eventually finding their way onto the shores of Hullbreaker Harbour where scavengers of all sorts would pick them clean at their leisure.
Until the day the Umbral Dominion arrived.
Their ships arrived unseen within the endless storm, dozens of needles threading between the myriad hurricanes, and fell upon a small pack of Stormdance Reaver vessels in the Bay of Wrecks spoiling for more fighting against Blackwing Corsairs. They did not get the fight they expected as Vashya’s Raiders raced across the stormy seas and leapt onto decks atop their Slaaneshi steeds, inflicting panic, pain and mayhem that was only exacerbated by the X Fretensis’ dromon spraying liquid fire onto ships that thought themselves free. As sailors dove overboard to escape the scything blades of Slaaneshis or the gluttonous fire of the X Fretensis, they soon discovered that there was no escaping either. Vashya’s Deepmare surged about underwater, feasting on the helpless, and the liquid fire would not be quenched even in water, consuming all it touched.
More of the Dominion’s vessels appeared from the Maelstrom’s cover, swashbucklers and pirates throwing grapnels and swinging between ships to board the Reaver’s vessels. As the shock of their initial assault wore out, some of the Dominion’s cut-throats discovered the mettle of Reavers who dedicated themselves to hunting the most monstrous and terrifying of beasts. The Dreadnoughts of the Depth Dweller repelled boarders with a gusto only ogors could hold, showing no quarter as they harpooned even the poor fools who tried to escape their decks. Once free from the melee, the cannon-loving ogors shared their passion with nearby ships, blasting apart decks and masts whenever they could keep their fuses dry enough under the torrential downpour.
While the Dominion used the Maelstrom as cover, they still found themselves the prey of a much larger, more primordial predator. One ship found its belly torn out from under the lashing waves by massive jaws with rows of piercing teeth, its loot spilling from it like the blood of the dying. Others found themselves rocked wildly, breaking off boarding ramps and sending would-be raiders to their watery graves. It did not take the Umbral Dominion long to identify the threat - though most couldn’t even pronounce the word ‘pliodon’ even if it were part of their vocabulary - and the pack hunters moved to cut off its proverbial head when the meaty one proved too large and tough. But the brave - or foolish - pirates that boarded the massive howdah on the pliodon’s back found themselves peppered with poisonous skink darts or torn apart by the beasts tamed by Itzl’s Teeth. Wherever a pocket seemed ready to fall to the Dominion’s onslaught, Paan’aq’baat appeared in a flurry of feathers and claws atop his raptadon and left only carnage.
But the Umbral Dominion’s avarice could not be sated, and the survivors adapted quickly. They harried the enemy, using liquid fire to limit their mobility and mass panic to drive the Reavers onto the Bay’s boat-rending teeth. When the Reavers opened fire, the Umbral Dominion used the blasts of light to better hone in on their prey with their own cannons and ballistas. A distant horn blared through the Maelstrom. Acolyte Blisterpaw was the first to sound the retreat, and even Captain Blackpowder eventually followed, the Stormdance Reavers launching burning, plague-ridden sludge, cannonfire, and more at their assailants as they pulled back, battered and bloodied.
The Umbral Dominion let them go, their focus on the Harbour itself. There, they battled against scavenger clans, cultists, and a small army of crabs. The Sanguine Silver acted as a naval fortress, the ceaseless roar of its cannons heard even above the hurricanes and storms as they leveled scrap forts and tore apart gargant-sized crabs. Kuugax and his freed Goroans formed both anvil and hammer on the land, while the Dominion’s many cut-throats exploited any openings.
Throughout all the carnage, Fing the Kollektor overturned rocks, ate tasty snails, and sniffed interesting objects. Then with a sniff, he took off at a lope. Captain Draketooth watched him go, and with only a moment’s hesitation, shouted: “After’im! Don’t let that Trogg outta yer sight!”
She had made stranger bets in her coloured career.
The Dominion carved a path for Fing, the dedicated troggoth ignoring everything around him even when it stabbed, shot, or bit him, until eventually he led them around a large, spiky hill to a massive, ancient golden ruin - long buried and flooded.
“The Hall of Drowned Gold!” Draketooth shouted, red eyes glinting green with greed. “Well, well, if that ain’t the biggest stormvault I ever laid my humble eyes upon!”
The Dominion’s cheers were cut short as the hill behind them erupted to reveal a gold-shelled crab larger than even a mega-gargant. A boat-sized pincer fell towards them like a meteor, threatening to swat them like bugs. Kuugax arrived just in time to catch it on his crackling shield, the ground beneath their feet quaking as he absorbed the impact.
“Go!” The monstrous Shaggoth boomed like thunder, parrying a pincer with his spear and watching his riposte glance off the crab’s glimmering carapace. “I’ll hold it off!”
“Get me my foot back, Chainbreaker!” Draketooth ordered before diving into the ruined stormvault.
The raiders felt every peal of thunder and exchange of blows between the two dueling titans they left behind, only needing to knife one of their own once during the long swim when he began to panic and threatened to drag others down with him. Eventually, they emerged and caught up to Fing, whose hide was charred black as he turned down a hall.
The first pirate to race after him exploded, a stone depressing beneath him and a rune striking him with Sigmar’s own lightning.
“Low stones only,” Gudrun rumbled, his duardin leading the way after that.
The Dominion chased after Fing, avoiding traps where possible, dodging others the troggoth triggered, and with only a few Goroans needing to give their lives to keep Fing alive. Their numbers thinned as the slow fell into spiked pits to join the bones of others, the weak succumbed to poisoned darts, and the dim-witted walked off course, following whispers no other could hear.
But finally, they arrived at an enormous central chamber, filled with racks of weapons, shelves of ancient tomes, and many, many cells filled with ancient, monstrous creatures who had long been forgotten. Draketooth was the first to notice two things: many had been here before, given the empty spots on racks, shelves and even cells. And that everything in here was cursed, daemons and more eldritch entities whispering their promises in her mind.
“Don’t touch anything,” Draketooth ordered as pirates began to wander off, falling prey to the items here. “It’s all cursed. Bloody cursed by the Dark Gods, Nagash’s bollocks and who knows what other foul taint.”
That didn’t stop her from pocketing a shadowy grimoire when no one was looking, or from appraising the value of the remaining ancient terror-beasts. Didn’t stop some of her crew from doing similar either, though she noted which ones did so in case anything fishy started up on the trip out.
“The Hall of Drowned Gold,” Gudrun murmured, assessing what he might risk grabbing as well. “I did it! I mean… we did it! We solved Bloody Bennet’s riddle!”
“This aint it,” Draketooth stated flatly. “Just a whole bunch of cursed things that draw people into the Maelstrom to die. Likely got cracked open long before the necroquake, maybe by Berejin’s End. Fing, just where did you lead-”
Draketooth cut off as Fing picked up a rock and crushed a small crab with it, picking up a single gold coin, still polished enough to reflect like a mirror. He thrust it toward the Dominion with glee, his voice echoing in the vast halls and down every corridor: “FING FIND COIN! FING BRING TO VASHYA!
***
Elsewhere, Everywhere
Similar scenes played out across the Karkino Sea, as it was packed bow to stern, port to starboard full of pirates, cultists, monster hunters, and more. All sought great riches on the island, be they in treasure, glory, or more nuanced, exotic desires. And most were willing to kill any who got in their way, risking life and limb for their greatest score yet.
Ships across the boiling sea were boarded, their decks awash with briny water and blood that both steamed. Some were captured, a grand booty for any pirate under normal circumstances. Some limped away from the conflict, making landfall like many others before them to make repairs - or join the countless wrecks beached around them. Some sunk in the dark, roiling depths, their collected treasure reclaimed by the countless crabs that, perhaps, called the sea their home.
Tombs, crumbling keeps, stormvaults and more were raided, their treasures and artifacts taken by those that survived the trials and tribulations set to deter them. Bodies of friends, camrades, and the back-stabbed were left impaled at the bottom of pit traps, swollen and bloated by unknown poisons, and reduced to dust by more arcane devices. For every treasure taken, many treasures remained undisturbed, their camouflage too great to be discovered or their defenses too costly to overcome. At least, for a time…
None who sailed into the Karkino Sea and lived to tell the tale left poorer for it - by many a pirate’s scales. Many more died before they could escape its boundaries: their ships too damaged to make the trip back through any of the Mariner’s Torments; their lives lost to such unusual happenstance that their treasure was believed cursed and thrown overboard by the wary survivors; or they fell victim to betrayal or more reaving, beset upon by their former comrades or those whose greed still couldn’t be sated.
While these scenes of bloody swashbuckling and grave-robbing adventure played out across much of the Karkino Sea, with much of the Blackwing Corsairs and Stormdance Reavers following Bloody Bennet’s riddle to Skinflint Harbour while the Umbral Dominion had divided its forces across Hullbreaker Harbour, the Hideout, and the Razor Shallows, none there had correctly solved the riddle.
But… that is not to say the Hall of Drowned Gold went undiscovered…
***
Moondank Island
Mushrooms that glowed every colour unimaginable grew over everything on Moondank Island, worming their way into flora and fauna and covering the ground so thoroughly that none could see just how many had died there over the centuries. The mushrooms gave the Mists an eerie glow that only emphasized the gloom of the area, as the living fog consumed the entire island and all it had to offer.
The sounds of bones being crushed and screams of the dying were a staccato backdrop to the ongoing skirmish between the Ebonheat Berserkers and the Amethyst Shroud, each sound snuffed out after a mere heartbeat only to emerge elsewhere.
Khargax grunted as he accepted a glancing blow from a grinning vampire, grinning in turn as his riposte sent that head spinning through the air. He squinted as the head was suddenly dragged into the mists, and spat a protective curse as his runes glowed at the Mists’ caress. He waved hand through the evil fog as he wandered, shouting for his kin only to hear his own words shouted back at him from every which direction.
A band of skeletons charged him, and he took three out with a single broad swing. It left him open as a vampire burst from swirling mists, but Khargax had hunted such cravens and expected it, lopping off one of the creature’s arms as they fell for his feint. But another vampire appeared, opening a half dozen shallow cuts on him with twin sabres. She danced away with a titter, but Khargax charged through the skeletons to keep after her, forcing her on the defensive with each swing of his axe. Both combatants were busy exchanging blows that they barely registered the last vampire scream, barely saw something drag him away and leave only claw marks on the ground.
Then the world shook. Once. Again. And again. A rhythm formed, each quake felt in the bones as the mists swallowed the sound hungrily. A crab skittered over their feet as Marikah and Khargax dueled, then another. Then the ground became a carpet of multi-coloured crabs rushing past them, both those encrusted by the local mushrooms and free of them.
Khargax had the vampire on the backfoot, and might have been able to finish her, when one of his kin charged into him - glowing mushrooms growing out of their eyes and ears and flesh. It screamed noiselessly as it tried to bear Khargax to the ground, jaws snapping as mushrooms whipped about and cast their spores into his eyes. Khargax tried to reason with his kin for a few heartbeats before he realized the futility, and split the creature in half.
The drumming continued as he turned, and found the vampire smiling down at him with a coterie of skeletons behind her. But Khargax didn’t even spare her a glance, for something rose behind her. Something made of mist, mushroom, both, or neither, something that saw everything and nothing with its eyes, that made everything into meat puppets to dance on the ends of its multi-mouthed tentacles.
Marikah’s smile vanished as a tentacle shattered her coterie with a single, casual sweep and she too turned to take in the horror behind her.
Khargax’s runes glowed hot as he glared at the aberration, hefting his axe to avenge his fallen kin that danced and capered above the mist. But as the drumming continued and the crabs rushed past him, he knew that the Reaver’s Hunt was still on, and he needed to get the word out. The vampire was already gone when he rushed back to his boats with whatever kin he could muster, sending messengers out no doubt as the vampire had to its group: Krabnos had been found.
It was here, or nearby, it had to be.
The Hunt was on.
***
Groggy Head
The eyeless gaze of Skull Rock vanished behind them as Ghargon Bloodpyre reached shore, then his longship clung to the coast as Khorne-powered muscles rowed with shocking speed to their final destination. The Mists clung to his vessel hungrily, the inhuman whispers growing in intensity as they passed one of the first docks that led up to the ramshackle outpost built into the cliff above them. But Ghargon told his men to ignore it, to keep following the coast which was their only guide in the damp, oppressive world around them.
When they lost sight of the coast, Ghargon ordered the oars pulled in until the longship bumped up against the craggy, mossy cliff-side. There, slowly but surely, they continued to follow it. Hand over hand, until it gave way. They passed through the opening, concealed by mist and slimy, draping vines that burned to the touch.
Within was a vast cavern, warmly illuminated by something that glowed gold beneath its swirling waters.
“Hold,” Ghargon ordered, red eyes smouldering beneath his large horns. “You ten, with me. The rest of you, take the ship back to Castian. Report what we found and return with the Stormdance Reavers - with haste.”
The Exalted Deathbringer could see frustration on the faces he ordered back, but none dared challenge him. He and his chosen girded themselves for war, festooned themselves for looting, then dove over the ships railing. Strong muscles propelled them towards the golden whirlpool at the cavern’s heart, giant lungs filling with air, before the waters dragged them under.
Ghargon had never moved so fast before, and it was all he could do to stay conscious and keep the breath in his lungs. The gold light grew more intense, illuminating sharp craggy walls. He watched one of his chosen die ignobly as the water dragged him against the wall, leaving only a smear for a heartbeat before it was lost. The walls vanished before they could claim another, and the Bloodpyre marauders found themselves in open, vast waters. Something enormous surged towards them, toothed tentacles flaring open to ensnare them all, but a darker shadow - its form repelling the golden light - swept past and swallowed the monster whole.
They couldn’t identify the other creatures as the water dragged them downward, ever more rapidly. Some glowed, others consumed light; some swam, others flew; shapes familiar and impossible to conceive of rushed past them, and the golden light only grew until it blinded them. And just as his vision went black with the need for air, the vortex spat Ghargon and his chosen out and into…
***
The Hall of Drowned Gold
The rasp of metal on metal woke Ghargon, and only intensified as he pushed himself off the slick, wet, shifting ground. As he steadied himself and opened his eyes, he was nearly blinded anew by the shining coins beneath a foot of water, forged of every soft metal known to the mortal realms and beyond, from empires and ages he could never hope to name.
It disgusted him.
Soft metals, weak metals. Unfit for a warrior.
He rose to his feet and found that the ground around him was covered in water and these coins as far as the eye could see, though his vision was broken by dense, curling trees and plants that were larger than anything he had ever seen in all the Realms he had visited and glowed with hues he couldn’t identify. Above them, Ghargon expected to see a cavern’s ceiling, or water, or anything but what he witnessed: a sky of pure gold.
One of his men recovered their senses as well, and immediately shoveled the coins into one of his sacks to Ghargon’s distaste. Amongst the coins, he spied artifacts of power which his other chosen rushed to claim. One struggled to pull a gleaming sword from the stone it was plunged into, but they never discovered if his strength was sufficient as a barbed tongue wrapped around him and pulled him into the woods. Ghargon’s daemon-enhanced senses let him see the slime that corroded his chosen’s muscles and metal, and react with unnatural speed as the opportunity for bloodshed presented itself. Ghargon picked up a hefty javelin and hurled it, the entire thing turning to lightning as it struck a house-sized toad and caused it to explode.
As he and his warriors rushed to find their comrade, a plant opened its maw and swallowed one of his people whole. Vines lashed out and tripped others, forcing them to hack through fibre toward the angered plant monster. A blazing dagger punched through the monster’s ‘throat’, the swallowed warrior sawing her way out of the beast with her newly acquired magical blade.
They moved on and found the toad’s victim still sizzling in its slime, battling a monstrous crab with a glittering shell. Though wounded, he held his own against the giant until he lost an arm to a snipping pincer, the rising water turning red around him. He quested for a new weapon with his remaining hand, picking up an old metal oil lamp and pounding it into the creature’s face as it surged to consume him. The creature rocked back as if walloped by a gargant, storm clouds pouring from the lamp’s mouth until they enveloped the crab.
Ghargon had heard of these monsters from Aqshy’s past, he thought to himself, pulling his wounded man away as the crab thrashed and spasmed, felling trees as it sought to escape the sentient storm that pursued it. Yet more crabs rushed towards them. Small crabs they crushed under foot, man-sized crabs that they dueled, and larger crabs they dodged under and around.
They lost track of time as the skirmish raged on, Ghargon doing what he could to crush the monstrous crabs before they ripped his men in half or turned them into paste. His men moved with purpose, not losing themselves to the Blood God’s will, and used whatever they could find. One felled a monster crab by throwing a torch that burned with iridescent white fire into its mouth, burning it from the inside out. Another slew a crab with a spear formed of briars, then clawed out his eyes the next moment after one of those thorns nicked him.
Just when he thought all was lost to an overwhelming wave of crabs, a familiar bellow preceded a group of Ebonheat Berserkers flying through the air to the Bloodpyre’s aid. Khargax hewed off a giant crab’s legs, bringing its face close enough to chop into until it stopped moving. The Fyreslayers joined the Khornate Bloodbound in battle, and both revelled in it as the moving battle continued and they picked up more artifacts along the way.
Slowly but surely though, more of them fell, allowing the survivors to mark the time by their losses and the ever rising waters that forced them to fight at a disadvantage or climb higher to fight on the thick branches of enormous trees. Some of the Reavers were destroyed by the smashing claws or the slicing pincers of crabs, or lost to other strange beasts that hunted in the Hall of Drowned Gold. A giant carnosaur surprised one of them by breathing a beam of intense fire at him, until a Fyreslayer discovered his mirror-sheened shield adorned with serpents could reflect that blast back into its maw. A mega-gargant-sized ape batted one of the Bloodpyre’s chosen into the golden sky with a bone club, then Ghargon shattered his trusty axe against that club in an attempt to avenge his fallen comrade. The ape died screaming as Ghargon found an obsidian axe that broke pieces of itself off into the monster, grinding their way to the beast’s heart. And yet, the axe’s blade regenerated as if alive, kept sharp.
Khargax grinned a bloody grin as a hill-sized crab surged towards them some time later, when only he and Ghargon were left standing. Covered in the filled bags of coins and artifacts their troops had scavenged, they appreciated the greatest treasure of all: never ending violence and glory. The monster separated them with a sweep of one pincer that sent Ghargon flying through a tree, then moved in to snip the Deathbringer in two.
The duardin slammed his axe into one of the titan’s legs, only to watch it skip off its carapace pitifully, then rolled away from the crab’s attempt to squash him beneath a claw. He lost his axe as the earth quaked around him, but found a new rough-forged blade of shining metal fused with warpstone. Wasting no time, he leapt upon the creature’s claw and rode it up towards the crab’s enormous, writhing mandibles. He launched himself, and prayed to Grimnir as the mandibles reached out to draw him into the monster’s maw.
The blade in his hands howled with power and malice, and Khargax could feel the enchanted spells of death and destruction wrought into the weapon blacken his soul even through his protective ur-gold runes. But he had never felt such power. As the warpstone gem in its pommel glowed with blinding light, Khargax shook the world with his roar and plunged the blade into the titan’s head. It struck the shell like a meteor, cracking it asunder and punching through the crab’s skull without slowing. The Fyreslayer rode the creature to the ground, sending tidal waves surging off in every direction, then losing his grip on the blade as the ground quaked and shattered beneath the titan’s crashing descent.
He plunged into the churning, ever-rising waters, finding his hands blackened from where they had held that fell blade for only moments. He gritted his teeth through the pain, forcing himself to swim back to the surface against the weight of all the treasure his kin had died for when he caught a glint under the water. Following his instincts, he swam toward it, finding a double-headed axe covered in the ancient runes of his people, embedded in a mountainous tree it had split. As he grasped the blade, he felt strength surge through him once more as the runes blazed to life in holy fire, letting him pull it from the tree and swim back to the surface where he found Ghargon floating, alive and laughing while coughing up blood.
“Did your god witness you?” Ghargon asked as they tread water to avoid drowning, nothing left alive to fight.
“Aye. Yours?” Khargax replied, hefting his new axe.
“Yes.” Ghargon replied with a wild smile. “Think they’ll find us in time to tell the tale?”
As both guffawed at their prospects, a shadow fell over them as a monstrous insect glided over the water to stand over them. Before they could ready themselves once more for battle, a familiar voice shouted down to them: “Need a lift?”
The two survivors blinked at the Sylvaneth as vines lifted them from the water and deposited them on the D’Mater’s back. Captain Ophylla Buckley didn’t need to ask them if there were more survivors, the amount of loot the two carried spoke volumes, as did the blood and gore caked onto them. “Hold on,” she said.
And before they could question it, the D’Mater flexed its legs and leapt into the golden sky, breaking through clouds of spun silver and emerging within the vortex of water that had dragged them down in the first place. The enormous water strider clung to the sides of the vortex, and its strength let it glide up and up the churning water until they emerged into a cavern of glittering gold, then they shot out beyond the hidden entrance and into the open skies beyond.
***
Groggy Head
“The signal is lit. The beast is ours...”
The seas quaked as the Reavers withdrew to the southwest, orruk hauling ropes and pulling rigging to and fro. Each crewmember was practically shaking from excitement as they began to reload their cannons, replacing grapeshot rounds with something far more destructive. Hyshan Solar-Flechette, a massive impure aetherquartz the size of a duardin’s skull, courtesy of a friend of a friend from Furnace City. Ballista bolts were doused in the most vile venoms of the Gnarlwood, a single drop enough to atrophy the skeleton of a man. But the deadliest of all, a brass blade wrapped into a jagged staff with the sinew of a god.
‘The Biggest Stabba’.
“Cap’n! We are making way!” A withered orruk hobbled towards Castian, as the normally-dour aelf was making his rounds across the ship with an energy to almost match his greenskin crew.
“I want all hands on deck, every orruk with a blade in his hand, every aelf manning the harpoons.” Castian continued his pace, pounding the haft of the Stabba into the deck to punctuate his orders. “Those loyal to a higher power, may choose a god and pray… and those loyal to none may follow suit.”
The waves grew tense and choppy, yet the crew was prepared. Indeed, they could all feel it in their blood.
A ruddy grot called from the crowsnest: “Sir… look!”
Castian took out a spyglass and looked forward, the Mists melting away into wisps. The island Khargax’s messenger was leading them toward splintered into a geyser of gold. “We’ze foundz da treasure!”
Several of the crew began to celebrate, waving their blades in the air with a resounding warcry before being silenced as Castian raised a closed fist. “No, Reavers,” he breathed, “We’ve found our prey.”
The glinting gold carapace broke through the crust of the island, centuries of wealth and treasure caked and suffused into the monster’s shell. As it rose, the island crumbled, abandoned settlements reclaimed to the sea as the waters swallowed the void where the leviathan once rested. Ships tethered to docks were pulled up like guppies caught in fishing line before they were dashed upon the rigid carapace. Unleashing a guttural roar, a language only the boiling sea understood, the colossal crustacean raised its galleon-sized claw.
Castian betrayed a rare smile and raised his own weapon. “Urak-Nal. It Who Drags Below. Da Snippla. Berejin's End. Krabnos. Beast of a thousand names, and taker of a thousand more. The Stormdance Reavers shall put an end to your legend!”
Hours spent poring over ancient tomes, undelivered missives and half-eaten journals had led to this, as it had for all his trophies; knowing was, after all, half the battle. Admittedly, the slumbering beast before them had exceeded his expectations, most of all in size. Still, Castian had prepared for a disparity in stature. Any of Krabnos’ brood that were not eaten were meticulously dissected, their carapace measured in thickness and each joint prodded for weakness.
“There! Send the harpoons into the joints of the left arm, where it meets the shell!” Castian shouted to his crew as the fleet began to encircle Krabnos, his orders relayed in perfect time through a barrage of colored flares. Like a great wave against a harbour rock, a torrent of harpoons were launched towards the beast, several of which were dashed away, unable to pierce the thick golden shell. Yet those that aimed true found their shot sunk in deep, with swashbuckling orruks eagerly riding the ropes toward Krabnos. Like a swarm of angry Aqshy flame-ants, the greenskin Reavers hacked away at the beast, their choppas slick with crustacean blood.
“AHA BOSS, WE’ZE GO-” A massive claw clamped down onto the assaulted limb, tearing it off with an unsettling ‘crunch’, punctuated by glistening orruk gore. The severed pincer was tossed aside, obliterating one of the Reaver ships and threatening to capsize others as the pincer’s weight conjured tidal waves from its point of impact.
“37… 38…” Castian counted to himself, steeling his resolve. “Reload the ballistae! Unleash the depth charges!”
With the light of an orange flare, Captain Blackpowder knew what to do. Several metal-encased ogors patrolled the ocean floor and broke the chains that kept their massive metal explosives from floating above. Eight mines, each equipped with enough black powder, warpstone and scrap metal to blow a hole into the side of a Stormkeep. As they bobbed up to the surface, Krabnos slammed its claw down onto them, sparking them off. In an instant, the mines detonated one another and a massive explosion erupted from the sea, blowing boat-sized chunks from its arm. Pieces of carapace, crab meat and pitted metal careened through the sky and peppered the decks of the Stormdance fleet surrounding the monstrosity.
Krabnos was badly wounded, but that only enraged the beast. With only a single broken arm, it slammed a vessel and spun it, the disoriented crew firing off its munitions into nearby Reaver vessels. As more shots rang off its shell, it raised its bloodied claw once more and brought it down on yet another ship as its crew finished reloading. A single harpoon was all they could shoot off into the sky before their obliteration.
“73… 74…” Castian muttered again before hollering out: “Fire again! Everything you have! Sever the remaining arm and break it down!”
As he shot a green flare into the sky, the remaining ships unloaded their armaments upon the beast, a hail of harpoons and cannonballs cracking into the arm. Some of the lead balls ricocheted with a loud ‘dong’!” which served to excite the orruks further as a Waaagh! began to form. Paan’aq’baat led a squadron of winged Terradon as they rose from their still unnamed pliodon to deliver a payload of meteoric explosives. The chitinous back of Krabnos shuddered as each geomantic-bomb broke chunks of shell throughout the air.
As the Stormdancer closed on its prey, the rest of the fleet rained hell upon Krabnos. Castian quickly stepped onto the bowsprit as he stared down the colossal crustacean. “Closer… closer…” he murmured as his ships continued the barrage, weathering away the final claw into a pulpy mess. With a smile, he lifted the Stabba towards Krabnos when it reeled away, unleashing a horrible cacophony of clicking and shrieks.
In a sickening moment accompanied by a sound akin to a thousand wet corn being shucked at the same time, Krabnos sprouted a new claw from its stump, and another… and another! It swung the newly-grown limbs into the nearest ship, dashing a frigate across the ocean and leaving only broken wood and damned souls.
Castian was taken aback. He’d hunted foes that regenerated before, but with losses in his fleet mounting, this was fast turning into a battle of attrition they could not maintain.
“No…” Castian tensed his arm, the weight of the Stabba more apparent than ever. He turned his head and shouted to his crew: “We ride into the maw of the Beast! If we cannot take it down from afar, we shall bring it down from within! Full speed!”
The Stormdancer groaned and swayed as its course was redirected. Castian’s free hand took hold of a rope as they sailed towards Krabnos. Almost as if to return the challenge, the beast raised its massive right claw into the air, blocking out the sun above them.
“Larboard side and an Ulguan goodbye!” Captain Castian shouted, and the massive black ark careened dangerously to the right and unloaded rows of massive cannons, each shot cracking into the arm as it descended. The force of the unleashed salvo pushed The Stormdancer further away, narrowly missing the descending claw. “Straighten up! Back towards it!” As the ship course-corrected back towards Krabnos, Castian caught a glimpse of the other ships in his fleet, each delivering a payload unique to its respective crew.
The ivory ship of Ourakrath flew the flags of Nagash as they unleashed gravestone-tipped javelins into the side of Krabnos, rapidly exploding in a chain reaction of crackling amethyst magic that left the shell withered and broken. Another aberrant claw fell towards The Stormdancer just as plagueclaw catapults unleashed a vile torrent of burning sludge, punctuated by a super-heated cage of toxin and disease that was launched from a trebuchet onto the open wound. The priests of the Burning Contagion had left their mark!
“A cancer to you, Cancer!” The sound of raucous squeaks filled the air as the titanic claw recoiled and flailed about in agony, giving Castian the opening he needed.
“Shields front. The quickest way to a beast's heart?”
“IS THROUGH ‘IS STINKIN’ JAWZ!” the crew hollered, and the colossal black ark crashed into Krabnos, like a hook to the jaw. Upon impact, Captain Castian leapt with Stabba in hand and a white flare in the air.
The crew of The Stormdancer stood spellbound as they watched their Captain rush into the maw of the beast, battering away its monstrous mandibles to avoid being prematurely devoured. It was not until another claw had threatened to come sweeping through that they wised up and kicked off.
The Black Ark lumbered to the left as it sailed through the dubious safety of raised chitinous legs. With the rest of the fleet having fired upon it, Krabnos’ attention lay elsewhere. Orruk and aelves braced as masts scraped against the shell of the legs and eventually snapped, slowing down the escaping ship before the starboard rows unleashed their cannons, propelling them even further behind Krabnos. As the ship floated away, the crew stared back towards the beast… and the fate of their Captain.
***
Krabnos
With Stabba in hand, Castian cut through the esophagus of Krabnos, a trail of carnage and blood marking his passage as he continued to slide further into the beast’s gullet. He studied their anatomy well, and despite the heinous stench, the darkness helped him concentrate as he began to mentally mark where he was inside. He slid for only a moment more before delivering a quick kick to the side, using the momentum to reorient himself as he plunged the brass blade straight down through the lining of the throat. As he pierced through the flesh corridor, the Stabba writhed in his hands like an eel, eager to taste more blood.
Castian covered his face from the viscera, muttering softly: “No. This will be my kill, not to be stolen by some god.”
“This.”
Castian kicked his foot up as he seized control of the Stabba.
“Is.”
His heels dug into the wounds as he steered further and further down.
“Mine.”
Piercing into the chest cavity, the massive heart of Krabnos beat like the wardrum of Gorkamorka, each rhythmic ‘thump’ in tune with Castian’s own as he twisted the Stabba, the blade puncturing the heart as it tore through, soaking the Stabba and it’s wielder in their reward. The blood drove them away, a pent up river bursting through the dam that had held it at bay. The pair descended further and further down, cutting through flesh and tendons until their speed was finally halted, their journey ending in the midgut with a violent crash as they landed on the deck of a rotting ship. In the bowels of Krabnos was a veritable graveyard of lost fleets and would-be treasure hunters, and now, Castian himself.
The dubious serenity was broken before Castian had time to truly ascertain his whereabouts. The chasms groaned and shook from the assault, saltwater flooding in through Krabnos’ wounds. The aelf tried standing, but stumbled as his right leg gave out. Broken. His breathing was ragged. A lung punctured. His left arm hung limply, a simple dislocation. As the corpse of Krabnos begun to shift in its death throes, Castian’s body had slid further towards the broken edge. Castian quickly readjusted himself, and with his good arm he had found purchase in a pile of discarded refuse lodged into the side of the ship. The sound of metallic clattering alerted him as he looked to the side, The Stabba! It was just out of reach, but if he could simply make it over, he could snatch it up, perhaps -
“No.” Castian pushed the intruding thoughts away.
“No, my friend, this is where our story ends… and what a… propa' hunt it was.” Captain Castian Storm gave a hearty laugh, wheezing from his collapsed lung. As he closed his eyes, the ship lilted over into the lake of acid. “75…”
***
The Karkino Sea
The rest of the Reavers watched as the beast struggled in a rage, its body rapidly regenerating and growing excess limbs in a foolhardy attempt to fight against the inevitable. The fleet had braced itself against the roiling waves, each ship circled at a safe distance, ready to open fire once more. Aboard the Stormdancer each orruk turned towards another, a look of shock and dismay upon their faces.
Krabnos sputtered and twitched.
The Reavers were glued to the scene, whispering about themselves. “E’z ah… e’z given’ it a right proppa smack!”.
Gore spewed from its maw, spraying across the sea as more limbs sprouted from deep wounds.
“Dat's da Kaptin’!” The claws of krabnos turned in on itself, chipping away at its own gold carapace as pale blood continued to spray and drizzle out until Krabnos gave out a rasping and gutteral gasp, its mouthparts spewing viscera. The colossal beast stilled, save for the twitching limbs of synapses-too-late..
“Nah e’z… e’z all fine. Dat's da Kaptin’, yeah?” a crewmember had spoken aloud. As saltwater filled the void, the body of Krabnos slowly sank back into the boiling sea. “...Kaptin?”
***
Epilogue - Stormdance Reavers
Thump.
Thump-thump.
Thump-thump.
Castian’s eyes were closed, the only sound his heartbeat. That rythmic thumping. The sound of drums. The sound of the hunt. The sound of life. He let out a shallow breath as the acid ate away at the wooden boards.
He’d never imagined a man like him would retire, and why? It’s the privilege of those at the top of the food chain to choose how they die, and this made a hell of an ending.
Thump-thump
He thought back to when he was younger, his first kill. With but a stone shiv, he earned his place in his crew with the death of an Arachnorak. His mind wandered to the future.
To his crew.
They’d be fine, he was sure of it. The banner of the Stormdance Reavers would continue to scour the realms for monsters and legendary beasts, hell, perhaps even a godbeast.
They would be fine, he smiled.
Thump-thump.
With a shallow breath, he grabbed on tight as the deck was consumed. Even at the end, he wouldn’t go without some resistance.
Thump… Thump.
Thump… …Thump…
Thump.
Thunk-krr!
Castian opened his bleary eyes as light suddenly poured into the chasm, multi-colored figures rappelling down toward him, each striking a peculiar pose.
“It’s not time-time to give up-quit yet!” A Skaven in red - Geki, he remembered- called out. “Can’t repay a debt-oath to a dead man!”
Before Castian could react, the group quickly lifted up his battered body, including the pile of sunken detritus he held onto, tied him up with the speed of seasoned sailors, and tugged onto the ropes as they were carried up.
As The Captain of the Stormdance Reavers was brought to the surface, the sight that greeted him was nothing short of spectacular. The entire fleet of the Stormdance Reavers had tethered themselves to the body of Krabnos, each rope taut and held by hundreds of greenskin, duardin, aelves and more.
As the skaven carried their Captain onto the Stormdancer, the pale aelf gave a weak smile and gently pushed them aside to stand on his own. In the distance the Wyvern Rose settled, Captain Ilyana Draketooth looked on through her spyglass with a venomous glare. Castian stood atop the deck of the Stormdancer, waving what looked to be a skeletal foot towards her as he turned to face his crew.
This was not the time for speeches but one, simple thing:
“WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!!!”
***
Epilogue - Umbral Dominion
Captain Illyana Draketooth grinned as her little armada crossed out of the last of the Mariner’s Torments, and broke free of the Karkino Sea’s boiling waters and cursed holds. The Umbral Dominion had grown since they entered, new ships acquired from those too weak to hold onto what was theirs and filled with loot, treasures, and some absolutely awful, ancient creatures that she looked forward to auctioning off to the highest bidder.
The world was such a dangerous place after all… wouldn’t want to see one of those things in the hands of one’s enemies, yes?
She cackled at the thought, and at the choice selection she’d keep for herself or her benefactors. It helped assuage her concerns about not making it into the Hall of Drowned Gold, and failing to retrieve the short list of items her benefactors had wanted.
And her damn foot.
“I was rather attached to that thing…” she muttered to herself, chuckling darkly at her own joke, ruminating on the grisly smirk on Castian’s dumb, acid-eaten face. Her blood-red nails dug gouges into the ship’s railing. “Wear your scars with pride while you can, you crazy, cranky bastard. Next time, you won’t be so lucky.”
The nearby crew gave her a wide berth. But not as wide as usual.
She took it as a sign of good morale, overall. The Umbral Dominion had gone to strike it rich, and strike it rich they had. They had suffered fewer casualties than most, chose their battles very carefully, and had secured many lost, if cursed, treasures. Maybe not the most or the best treasure - though she doubted the dull-minded Reavers had even known to appraise what they had carried out of the Hall - but more than enough to pay everyone a generous share, and grow her own notoriety further.
She’d even conducted a mighty fine business deal with one of her rivals before leaving, bringing a vicious grin to her face.
Nagash’s bollocks, Draketooth was even pleased with the new connections - maybe even new friends - she had made along the way. And the age old friend she had one more chance to drink with… before time snuffed him out like it did all the mayfly races. All were a rare opportunity in her line of work, especially the way she conducted business.
Slowly but surely, these connections and friends broke off from the armada a few at a time, their obligations to her fulfilled and their sails taking them to distant shores in pursuit of their own ambitions. To her surprise, Draketooth wished more than a few of them fair weather and good fortune in their own endeavours, hoping to see their power grow… even if only to be of more use to her if - when - she called on her partners in crime for the next big score, the next great venture.
For she would be back. The Umbral Dominion may fade back into the shadows for a time, but there was always someone out there that needed to be assassinated, politicians that needed a little pushing, and ancient artifacts that needed to be ‘reclaimed’ for their rightful, highest-paying owner. And there was no Realm - not even Hysh - that was free of shadows that saw and heard the most interesting bits of information…
Illyana’s smile was as ragged as a slit throat, made all the more horrifying as it touched her scab-red eyes.
But she couldn’t help it, she just loved her work. All the interesting places she got to visit, the intricate plans she got to hatch, the wondrous items she got to pilfer, and all the interesting people and critters she cut down along the way.
***
Epilogue - Blackwing Corsairs
The Carrion Queen was a shadow and a whisper, alighting on the deck of her ship with all the weight of a feather. Was tragedy and loss to be her constant companion, then? Her thoughts drifted to a message in a bottle, and with a flinch, she pushed her memories of Frorholm aside.
The treasures of all the Mortal Realms found their way here, and still it was never going to be enough for all three captains, not after the truce failed. At first she had seethed at Castian’s accusation, but soon came to expect that her Corsairs were simply a scapegoat for his crew’s destructive nature.
She swept below decks without so much as a sound to alert the lad keeping watch. Illyana may have claimed precious baubles and Castian killed the behemoth as his nature demanded, but what of the Karkino sea? Was this not a place of great gathering, a place that could be considered holy in her faith? The other captains would depart, their desires satiated, but Lissea and her Corsairs would remain, as they always had.
The door to her cabin opened with a creak, the first noise she’d made in hours. Several chests lay opened in various states of sprawl, countless objects and trinkets with meaning only to her spread about. She settled into a soft chair stolen from some Lumineth spire, but cut short her ruminations as she noticed an item that didn’t belong: a grimoire wreathed in darkest shadow, with a skeletal hand clutching a rose resting atop.
Lissea’s features split into a Cheshire cat’s grin. No, perhaps all was not lost, but simply needed to be gathered once more…