Epilogue for July 2025

Waves crash upon the shore, churning up the sands and delivering more flotsam and debris from the sea. Planks, masts and tattered sails dot the shoreline, washed up from the sunken hulks that had once sat not far from this island’s cliffs. The fortress, once the seat of power for a man who desired power and wealth above all else, now stands as a monument to his failure. His hoard taken, his fleet broken, and his colors torn down and replaced with the blue and red of the Kormyrian Royal Navy.

Marines and guards posted on the walls, masons and carpenters milling about to repair the damage, and officers from Drega’mire and the Navy discuss boundaries and garrisons. Crabs scuttle amidst the bloated dead, feasting on the bounty left by the Heroes of Travance after their most recent assault. These wayward souls had followed their king to the death, and they had paid the price for their greed. Now they served as a reminder, as did the horned head that sits staked atop the highest point of the stronghold. A warning to any ships and sailors that should pass; to remember the tale of Ramsey’s Folly.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the days and weeks after the battle, the Navy set about trying to dismantle the remaining portions of Mace Ramsey’s fleet. Initial estimates after the battle report nearly 75% of the fleet killed or captured. Captain Axianna coordinated with the various fleets to ensure that there would be no successor to this fallen pirate king. The last remnants scattered to the four corners of the world. Some went to ground, hiding out in ports or remote coves to wait out the storm before returning to their ways. Others decided upon a more brazen approach, trying to collect what scattered remnants they could to build their own pirate fleets. A few had even decided to go legit, and accepted terms offered by the Navy and the Kingdom in return for complete surrender. Regardless of their next move, pirates around the world knew that things had changed.

And they had begun to fear new rumors spreading in hushed whispers through portside pubs and dockyard taverns. Rumors about how the pirate king had been killed by a shadowy spectre with glowing red eyes. How a black phantom ship had begun stalking the waves, hunting for any wayward ship that chose to fly the black. How a mighty fleet, and powerful captains, had been brought low by a mere handful of adventurers. Many took these tales to heart, and became ever more fearful of the life that they had chosen to lead. Some scoffed at these as pure nonsense or exaggeration. After all, sailors are a superstitious lot, and are prone to making up stories about the life and the sea. But the wise know that there is always truth buried in these stories, and only fools would dare throw caution to the wind.