Prologue for July 2025

The rain was falling at a steady pace outside the Dragon’s Claw Inn. The soft patter against the rooftop casts a dull ambience against the bards playing in the background. Most folk are rushing inside, hoods drawn up and cloaks wrapped snug, looking for the promise of a warm dry resting place after a long day's work.

All except the one.

Cooper had been no stranger to storms, having lived most of his life on the seas and amid dreary, bustling ports. He sauntered in, and found himself a quiet table in the back corner. He had never been one to socialize, which has become even more noticeable since he became captain of his own ship. But he didn’t care; his crew knew what he could do, and they dared not cross him. He sat there for a time staring into his mug when he felt a thud hit the side of his table.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

He looked up to see a wild haired Sylph with one hand leaning on the table and the other holding a mug of frothing beer.

“Hello Maxie. Fancy seeing you here.”

She slid over to a chair and kicked her feet up onto the table, “Well a little birdy told me that you had caused quite a stir recently. A cadre of high class snobs, fleeced for all they’re worth, and nary so much as a flower pot out of place.” She took a swig of her ale, “Of course, no one actually knows who did it, but everyone in our line of work knows the marker of ‘The Silent Blade.’”

She laughed out loud at hearing the moniker that he had been dubbed with. He chuckled a bit himself; while he hated the name, it served its purpose. He took a gulp from his own mug and took a bite from the food on his plate. “And what about you? I’ve been hearing some rumors about some, ‘strange weather,’ befouling certain ships. Large swells appearing on calm waters, gales so strong they could tear the masts clear out of the hull, even ice sheets covering the gunports and rigging. It truly seems that ‘The Ocean Witch’ is earning her bounty.”

Maxie let out a cackle, pulled her feet off the table and leaned towards Cooper. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled a worn piece of parchment from within. Slamming it on the table with a smug look of pride, Cooper glanced down to see a familiar form he had become all too acquainted with: a wanted poster. The picture was crude, but the true art lay in the myriad of crimes that were levied upon the target. And the price for capture was enough to make even Cooper consider his options.

“I’d like to see you top that,” Maxie said with arrogance dripping from every word.

Cooper quickly glanced around and reached into his own pocket to pull a similar looking parchment. The picture here was even worse than the first, but if anyone ever saw his face, they would not live long to tell. And while the list on this poster was impressive, the number below did not seem to reflect.

The Sylph woman smiled with an icy grin, “Looks like someone hasn’t made it to my level, despite being in the game for far longer.”

Cooper let out a loud laugh and leaned in close, “If they knew about all of the ventures I’ve undertaken, my bounty would be triple yours.”

“Well, I don’t always care for the subtle approach. Fear is a powerful tool, and you can only be feared if you have a face to put to the scary bedtime stories.”

“Well then, perhaps we should see what the price for true fear is.”

The table shook with a powerful impact of a knife hitting the table. The two looked up to see a hulking Nordejar gripping the handle of a wicked looking blade, a crooked smile crossing his face.

“Well hello there Knox, a pleasure you could join us.” Maxie said with a wry grin, “Pull up a chair, and let’s see how you fair against our humble rewards.”

Knox sat heavily onto the nearest chair, the wood creaking beneath him. He reached into a pouch and produced his own poster, and the others looked with inquisitive eyes.

“Well now, a fine reward you have gained for yourself.” Cooper leaned back in his chair, “And such a gruesome ledger you seem to have filled.”

Maxi glanced up to the tattooed man, “Indeed, slaughtering the crews of three whole trading ships. I see that ‘The Bloody Claws’ has earned their name.”

“Hey, I only did that to one ship. But sometimes I gotta let the boys have their own fun. And them jacks like to blame all the nasties on one name they know rather than 50 they don’t.”

“Aye, and I can feel the jealousy of my own crew, eyeing the glory, wanting a piece for themselves. But none of them would ever last as long as we have.” Cooper said with a smug grin.

Maxie raised her mug towards the center of the trio, “Then here’s to the three of us. Glory riches, and freedom to take them both. To the saltiest dogs on the sea.”

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Some time later in the night, after all had been said and done, the table sat alone. Empty mugs and cleaned plates sat beside the three wanted posters, all left by their previous owners. A hooded figure approached the table, having observed the night since the very first rogue entered the inn. He reached down and picked up the papers. Glancing over their contents, his eyes glinted, and a tight smile was drawn across his face.

“Yes, they will do quite nicely.”