For The Right Price: A tall tale of depravity, greed, treasure and a deadly curseFor most captains, Karond Kar is the port of choice to unload a hold groaning with plunder and slaves. The markets are larger, the buyers plentiful, and the return journey is quicker. A citadel mounted atop a barren rock battered by freezing gales and fierce waves, Karond Kar delivers the further joy of watching the faces of the shackled and benighted wretches dragged from the uncertain sanctuary of the galleys. Whatever hope remains in their souls is extinguished within seconds as the weakest among them are driven into the icy waters, while the rest are appraised as mere beasts of burden or offerings to Khaine.
Ordinarily, I would be driving our captives along the docks. I would be savouring every moment of their suffering, laughing with every indignity inflicted. This day, however, a special commission awaits the bounty we bring back to Naggaroth. A treasure too rare and too valuable for the Slaver’s Gate. Despite Karond Kar’s attractions, they cannot compare to the decadent indulgences Hag Graef can offer, and only a true epicurean will have the sense and wealth to fully appreciate this morsel.
My client, Toral Shadespite, the Paragon of Sin, controls the largest establishment given to the worship of Atharti in Naggaroth. For a paying customer, no pleasure or vice is unavailable within its halls. My corsairs need little encouragement, and I give them leave to disperse. No doubt some will never leave this place. Killing one’s customers is bad for business, but many pleasures are found less than a knife’s edge from the precipice of oblivion, and my warriors have not enjoyed such comforts in months. Despite temptation, I push my way through perfumed chambers, past feast-halls and rooms echoing with depravity. I have more pressing business.
Shadespite greets me in his “working quarters”, a small but decadent room guarded by two halberd-wielding brutes. Despite our past dealings, I keep the respectful distance of three sword-lengths. Shadespite dislikes the interruption, despite his obvious greed for what I have promised him, and gets straight to the point.
“Catering for the lusts of a city is demanding work, corsair. What is it that warrants my personal attention?” he asks flatly.
In response, I reach a gloved hand into the pouch below my cloak. Shadespite’s guards instinctively stiffen, but are stilled by an arched eyebrow from their master. Pausing a moment to give the impression of fear, I draw out the book and throw it to Shadespite, who catches it gracefully in one well-manicured hand. As I speak, he inspects his prize.
“The
Liber Chaotica. One of the few extant copies to survive, I understand. One human’s account of his journey through the realms of the Dark Gods. Including the shimmering alcazar of the Dark Prince himself.”
Shadespite hides his surprise and avarice well, but not well enough. “I am to take your word that such a prize merely fell into your hands, am I? How did you come by such a treasure?” He wants to believe it. He just needs the right story.
“We plundered the coastlines of the lands the humans call Tilea and Estalia, before striking deeper into Bretonnia. They were in a panic, even before we arrived – the slaves we took kept talking of the End of Times or some such nonsense. Apparently, the undead are attacking across the Old World, while the savages of the north are massing for invasion. With their defenders off winning glory and dying in the mud elsewhere, they were easy prey, but there was one we encountered who was... different.
“He was bearded, and defiant. He had the whiff of madness about him, and a tattoo of a twin-tailed comet across his breast. He likely would have made a terrible slave, but he saved us the trouble of having to decide the matter by producing a battered staff and a weathered tome. He started screaming what I presume were blasphemies, by the reaction of the others we had taken. I simply shot him in the stomach as I walked towards him. I have always been one to believe the truth of the dying words of the weak, when their hope of salvation turns to ashes.”
Shadespite was leafing absent-mindedly through the book. There was a sharp intake of breath as he reached what I assumed was the account about the six circles of seduction.
“He was defiant until the end,” I continued. The truly desperate ones always are. “He made no move in his defence, merely clutching his precious book, wondering why they had forsaken him as his life’s blood spilled into the dirt.”
Shadespite looked up with a sly grin. “The fool thought his life a suitable price to pay for this book. What price would you have of it, hmm?”
I told him. Shadespite looked amused for a heartbeat, before realising that I was serious. His face contorted into a furious sneer.
“Clearly you value your life even less than the fool you took it from. Kill him!”
Shadespite’s guards move towards me. I take a step backward, raising my hands defensively.
“Before you act rashly, m’lord, you might look at your hands.”
Shadespite stops, then shouts in horror. A creeping purplish-pink colouring has crawled up his fingers where they have touched the book. His guards freeze in their approach, halberds levelled, but waiting for an order.
A good pirate always knows the right time to spin a tale. I’ve made my living from that skill, as much as from my work with a blade and a billhook.
“That old fool did understand a few simple cantrips. He knew how to bind the power of his own blood. He invoked a terrible curse with his dying breaths – that none but him might touch this book without his soul feeling the cold grasp of the Dark Gods. In that spell, at least, his patrons seemed to hear him.”
The smug veneer was gone now. Shadespite looked terrified.
“A sorceress might be able to remove the curse, but you may not have long enough for them to work through the spell. Have you ever seen one of the Doomfire Coven succumbing to the soul hunger? It only takes a few days for the runes to cover the skin, and it can be... excruciatingly drawn-out, watching a warlock perish wreathed in the Dark Prince’s passionate flames. Of course, they know how to delay that process, m’lord, but you...” I let the full gravity of the situation sink in. Shadespite is watching me with desperate, hateful eyes. “Well, a man in your position needs the services of a spell-caster with uncommon knowledge of such magics. Someone who has had time to study the curse. My ship’s sorceress, Tala Lightsbane, perhaps.”
Shadespite suspects a trick, I’m sure. He thinks he’s seen the flaw in the tale. Regaining a shred of his composure, he snarls out his last desperate play, even as the purplish-pink lines begin to resolve into small runic shapes on his hands.
“And how is it that you are not afflicted? You handled the book a moment ago, without effect. This is a trick, a ruse to save your miserable life!” His guards heft their weapons as I raise my tanned-hide-covered hands again for Shadespite to see. The comet tattoo is clearly visible on the left glove.
“Humans do not think through their curses," I respond. "There was an obvious loophole.
None but him may touch it. He would have been a terrible slave, but he made excellent gloves.”
That does it. Shadespite’s defiant stare breaks, replaced with a flooding tide of desperation. I smile – despite the halberds less than two sword-lengths from my heart – and continue.
“You will receive the counter-spell after I am satisfied with your payment. Have it delivered to my men on the docks. I am sure they will be pleased to see you after their time here. You can trust to my discretion about tonight’s events, much as you have always been able to trust that I do not cheat my customers. Until then, m’lord... happy reading.”
I incline my head slightly, mockingly, exulting in the moment of humbling the Paragon of Sin in his own chambers, before sweeping out of the room. Shadespite will pay up. He can’t afford the risk of being wrong, or guarantee that a counter-curse could be found in time. For him to be seen treating with one of the Doomfire Warlocks would be to court a painful execution. Hag Graef is full of ambitious scuts seeking Malekith’s favour, all of whom would sell Shadespite out in a heartbeat.
I allow myself a small smile as I leave the establishment. The story of how we came across the
Liber Chaotica is mostly true. The book is genuine, too – I am not foolish enough to try to cheat someone like Shadespite. I did take it from an idiot human madman who thought his dark masters would save him from the Druchii. The same fool did make fine gloves. The curse, though, was entirely my idea. Someone with the interest and the means to pay for such a treasure could obtain it far more cheaply through my death than by what passes for honest bargaining. In return for a cut of the profits and being allowed to copy the text on the return trip, Tala used a stubborn but simple glamour of her own devising to inflict the illusion of the Warlocks’ curse on anyone who touched the book with their bare hands. I think she was as amused as anyone at the idea.
Shadespite will eventually learn the truth, but the experience will teach him caution. He will not be pleased about the deception, or that he fell for it so completely.
But then, it's a poor pirate that cannot spin a tall tale.
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3 best stories (in order):
3 points - Tarbo. Absolutely hilarious stuff, and a hard act to follow.
2 points - Calisson. Again, very funny, exactly the sort of BS tale a rum-soaked sot would spin for another drink.
1 points - TD. Would have been higher, except for the obvious swipe at the Fleetmaster.
Least-favourite story: Red..., but only because I felt it was too short.
"The wrath of a good man is not to be feared. They have too many rules."
"Good men don't need rules. Today is not a good time to find out why I have so many."
The use of pirate talk is bonus, for native English speakers.
Haagrum "For The Right Price" (3 pts), very entertaining, well written, intriguing... and good catch of Druchii & Corsair spirit!
Tarbo "A navigational exercise" (2 pts), surprising, full of humour, very nautical, a delight.
Worst story: Fingol23 "Hakseer" (-1pt), orthodox Druchii mentality, but not the kind of reading that I find thrilling.
please PM me to confirm it is suitable.
That story was for all those who enjoyed Fleetmasters being T.Stomped to death by Abyssal Terrors, Armour of Destiny or not 
