#johern

"In an honest service there is thin commons, low wages, and hard labor; in this, plenty and satiety, pleasure and ease, liberty and power; and who would not balance creditor on this side, when all the hazard that is run for it, at worst, is only a sour look or two at choking. No, a merry life and a short one, shall be my motto." 

-Bartholomew "Black Bart" Roberts

Johern looked up from the newly found letter of marquee, a sigh escaping his lips. “Just remember tha’ I do this fer me crew, no’ fer meself. I’d rather bite an’ swallow a ‘ot iron than work fer some cunt with a crown.” The pirate slapped his ring covered hand against the wooden table within his quarters, his eyes swiveling across each of his closest officers. “I will no ‘ave me sons an’ daughters ripped from freedom because o’ me selfishness. We shall do wot we do, an’ I shall ‘andle th’ blaggards tha’ sit on a fuckin’ elevated stone chair.”

With that Johern waved off his men and women, allowing them to exit before standing, his knuckles curling against the map of the world that lay open in front of him. Small blue shields and red Horde symbols rested all over the world’s oceans. “Damn th’ Legion; releasin’ shackles upon a free world. E’en th’ green blokes o’ Kul’tiras parade towards those forsaken isles. Curse ‘em all fer takin’ paradise an’ drawin’ lines on it.”

The pirate rushed from tent to tent, finding out that the army of Harthfolde had marched to the pass to blockade it from an unknown enemy; at least to him. Johern anxiously looked about, his pupils both waning and waxing. His heart begged him to return to his lover, comfort her during her time of need, but his mind spoke with gravity.

He HAD to find some ‘Light-Flinger.’ The fleet rested within the modest port of Harthfolde’s holdings, and few of his crew watched their captain run about as if he had lost his memory. When an order rang from his lips, they sprung into action, grabbing a carrier pigeon.

“Blythe is badly hurt. I need a healer. Come quickly.”

-J

Johern watched as the bird flapped away, the gentle feathers of each wing fluttering beautifully. The Privateer could not and would not appreciate it, however, very quickly returning to his lover’s side.

“There is no heart for me like yours. There is no love for you like mine.”

Bloodthirst waned as she bit into the throat of an enemy ship captain. That night she found herself tipsy, talking to loud strangers. But they were not strangers; since she was told she was crew, they were family.

Suddenly she found herself underwater, bubbles obscuring her view of a homunculus housing the spirit of her nemesis, Jaliya. Even after her prosthetic was inscribed with a rune that allowed her to breathe, she wondered why she had allowed herself to believe it would never happen again. She wondered with furrowed brows why she thought Jaliya might finally listen.

But there she became her master, a teacher of morals, by example - because she commanded it. Though she had been whisked away and had been powerless to stop or even sense the spell, she decided she had won this round easily.

It left her stranded in Stormwind, her “home”, with no place to go for several days. But in those days, she found an assassination job in the new land; she found Pyre (whom she believed dead by the Legion invasion forces); she found herbs for the poisons she is known for; and she found a way to contact her captain.

She laughed and had no desire to traipse across the thick colored shingles of the city. That place was conquered, but not with politics or force. She is its parasite; she knows its innards.

One of her brothers, by contrast, is still important. Too important to stay in one place. So on the next cool, empty afternoon, she returned to Wolfguard, found a neglected Mr. Venomous, and met Jishin, who told her what she was doing was wrong. She agreed and sat with him for a long time, then progressed her plan by writing a lazy note -

if Stygian is Elite , i am not stygian .

i cannot Serve many . i am not a soldier .

thank You for the Generous Payments .

if i am ever Needed i may help . good bye ,

e merly .

- which she pinned to the bedpost with the knife she had laid the communication rune into. The quiet is a shrill drone in her mind’s ears.

-

I hope I can create a problem large enough to be noticed by you.

Her mind has quieted. It’s been like this for several days now, and though she continues to live and change, maybe even grow, for some reason she is not allowing it to show.

Even looking over her near-dead brother after the night’s hectic events doesn’t provoke a tidal wave.