Somehow, he found himself in his original homeland... standing in front of the sandstone house nestled at the foot of the Serpents' Spine mountains. It all very well seemed so real to him, but the thought didn't occur yet as to how he was there. After all, it had been ages since he had last seen this sight. He seemed to move towards the door, willed by some force unbeknownst to him. There was a faint glow of a lantern from within, and he surmised that it was dinner time, judging by the aroma that brought back familiarity to him. A wave of shock came over him as he realized that he could not really be here. The next thing he knew, he was inside viewing an event that was well scorched into his mind, only this time it was from the outside. It was a younger version of himself, readying his gear for the assassination plot against the Mayor of Wilmeth, the town that invaded his homeland. the war had consumed him, he was obsessed with it, he wouldn't stop until the heads of the leaders of Wilmeth were resting on a pike for all to see... to set an example that some stuffy folk from Minoc couldn't come to his valley and set up an oppressive township without the will of the locals they tried to manipulate. He looked at his younger self with anger....Michael Blade as he had been known as back then, his true self. He watched as his younger self walked out of the door, making his journey to Vesper where he would eventually link up with his allies and orchestrate a crushing blow to Wilmeth's government, and fracture it into two cities in the ensuing power struggle. He turned his attention to Kate, a tinker whom he had met while she was laboring away on the mountains near Britain, gathering ore for her trade. She became his second in command, and most trusted member of his guild, The Flock. When he would return, she was gone... perhaps thinking he would never return, or trying to find him. He reached out to Kate, but his hand only went through her, and then he found himself alone in a small shack. He looked around at familiar things. The dark grey floppy hat and cloak he once wore were laying on the single bed, a book was open on the table. He slowly looked down at the book, and realized that this was during his days of being a fisherman on the high seas. The sea was the only way he could escape the past, he once thought. There, no one knew that he was once the bloodthirsty assassin Michael Blade. The former identity haunted him, often in dreams...(is this a dream??) and after losing Kate he swore he would put it all behind him. The book was turned to an entry that brought back chills to him. He read aloud to himself: "....the nightmares won't stop. Everytime I close my eyes, he's there. Calling me by my true name. When I see my own reflection, I see him staring back at me.... not the grey-bearded sailor I am now. I've turned from those ways. Lately he has followed me out of the nightmares, goading me to come back to my true form. I am retired from my former ways; you can win a war but you can still lose everything. And yet, I see him while doing my duties on the dock. Standing on the pier, with the same evil grin I once gave my dying victims. Dressed in the red bandana and black cloak, the uniform of the Dark Guard, I have to get out of here, lest I go mad...." The next entry was short and hurried: "...in the morn I leave for the sea. Cannot sleep, the nightmares are too real. If you find this, you can have all of my things, I won't be returning. -Hawkins" Jack thought to himself "That' be the day our fishing boat was captured, and I was pressed in to service. Lied n told 'em me name was Jack, and they gave me that unfortunate nickname..." Outside, a timber wolf was howling. He opened the door, and it was snarling at him..... .....and then he awoke clutching his dagger...but nothing. He was back where he should be, his campfire smoldering and a timber wolf was howling in the distance. The morning sun beared down on him hard, his stomach lurched in agony. His head was pounding like a drum. Where was he? The memories of the night before came flooding back to him....the botched treasure retrieval on Bald Isle while he was in disguise. The pirates who accosted him when his guide recalled to safety. The capture, then deal brokered for his freedom. Something about retrieving the head of an oracle in Paws....and the celebration afterwards. Rum, lots of rum. The tavern....he couldn't remember the name.....but then it hit him... ....It was the painting there that had brought back memories of Kate. The painting! The lass in the painting had caught his eye during the celebration. Many a time he had downed untold amounts of alcohol to blot out the memories of what he lost, but sometimes they'd come to the surface. She was gone, he had accepted it. But the only love he could have now is the love of the sea... which is why he came here to the shack in the middle of the woods. He had oak to cut, to get a ship built. Being a contract killer for the mysterious "" was a good life, but it wasn't the sea. No matter how hard he tried to escape that life, he couldn't. It was a part of him now, maybe it always was. With eight murders on his record here, not counting the untold ones, he'd always be a fugitive from Lord British's finest. Jack reached for his axe, shook off the remainder of the booze stupor, and began to chop at the nearest tree, every whack cutting through his mind. More of his previous night's adventure came back to him, and he longed to get back out on the sea.
That a fine tale Jack. Might I add a little color to the part of your tale I witnessed? Something wasn't quiet right on the island that morning. Captain sent us out to scout the island which quickly turned nasty when we found a treasurehunter takin our hard earned booty. Paddy O Brien tucked tail and recalled away quicker then you can say unfurl the sails. He left his worker, a man by the name of Hawkins, behind. After a short chase, we were able to take Hawkins down but we didn't plan on lettin him get away with his crimes that easy. We led him to the island jail cell. We questioned our prisoner thoroughly, leaving no stones unturned. After hours of interrogation we decided to let him go, under 1 condition. Bring us the head of the Oracle. Upon his release Hawkins dropped his disguise and revealed himself to be a master assassin. The perfect man fer the job. We decided to accompany the assassin to ascertain that he would accomplish the task given to him and not attempt fleeing us. A boat can only take ya so far. We hoofed it overland the final stretch, runnin into every tree between Trinidad and the Village of Paws. Our assassin dispatched and beheaded the oracle very quickly, as if he had done this sort of thing many many times before. And here the pirates of bald island proudly present our newest trophy.
A perilous task it proved ta be, the voodoo that evil doll possessed pure deviltry, it be a good thing we freed them villagers from it's bewitchin power over them. Just wish'n we din't have ta keep that vile thing in our midst, chills me bones thinkin bout it.