A Dream of Approaching Avarice

As his chalices were filled to the brim with angry spirits, so were his circles of power. As his warriors' bodies reformed, they had weapons and armor thrust upon them. All of his ships refit and restocked in his cove, all of his unliving captains ate their fill of the flesh of the living, and his dragon kept her silence and her place. The raids of days yielded no treasure... yet. The rewards of these redoubled assaults were more precious than gold. They were marks on a torn map. They were kill marks on a ship's hull. They were answers.

Where are the Isles of Camulous the weakest? He could answer that.

Where are the tokens kept? He could answer that.

He still had more questions. He still had more Corsairs.

Soon he would have more answers.
 
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