Judging by those eyes of yours, I'd best count you a friend. I wouldn't last long as a foe.
The name's Bestel, captain of the good ship 'Merry Gull'. Swift and pretty, she was. Nothing like the High Templar's rubbish scow that brought you here.
Alas, the Merry Gull is gone... my crew is gone. But my wits remain... after a fashion.
Quite the lady killer, aren't you? That singing squid didn't stand a chance. Knew it, from the first time I saw those sharp peepers of yours.
Pirates notwithstanding, I thank you on behalf of all the fallen brethren of the waves. Now that the final cadence has been played, no one need remember Merveil's song.
Those butchering buccaneers sailed off that way, the ones that plundered my poor Merry Gull. T'would be poetic justice if they'd stopped off for a sing-a-long with Merveil's lovely daughters on their way home.
Marceus commanded the southernmost of the Eternal Legions, here at Lioneye's Watch. Why was he called Lioneye? Crazy fool had his left eye taken out and a golden-hued gem put in its place.
His head must have made quite the pretty adornment for King Kaom's belt.
Poor Nessa. Not even a mother herself and yet she cares for us all. And what a sickly, pathetic brood we are. May she live to have her own family, a real family. If anyone deserves that, Nessa does.
There's an island, a hop, skip, and a wade offshore of the Terraces. That's where my Merry Gull ran aground.
Watched the locals spit-roast the ship's doctor, but his medicine chest might still be there, amongst the splinters and bones. It'd have everything Nessa might need.
Doctor 'Shaky Hands' Opden was lousy with a scalpel, and even worse with a saw... but he knew his apothecary. Explains the shaky hands, if you ask me.
Arrol, the Merry Gull's cook, washed up on the rocks over yonder. Dead as a doornail, he was. Buried him myself.
Then a few days later I see him on the beach... a little worse for wear, but upright, shuffling about. A land full of disturbing surprises, this Wraeclast.
Brutus, Warden of Axiom Prison. The way I heard it, albeit from ale-soaked sailors, fear unmanned the great Brutus. Not fear of man, nor beast... fear of death.
Life is like wine, best enjoyed in moderation. I don't envy Brutus' hangover.
Roaming, rotting rhoas roosting right here in Wraeclast? Squawking, suppurating spooks stalking our sandy seashore? Blighted, bedeviled bird bones beaking about our business... what? Can't a man have even a little fun in this dismal place?
Fairgraves was a good man, a fine explorer. He opened the door to many a new world, for better or for worse. Usually for worse when it came to the natives.
There's some peace in the knowledge that he now rests where he should. Let's not speak of Fairgraves again, shall we? He was an inspiration to many. Would be a shame to spoil a good hero.
Piety's raised Shavronne's Barricade? Not that I was likely to ever make the trip inland, but it was nice to have the dream.
Hang on a moment, got a stray thought seeking safe harbour. Piety's one to watch her own back, so she'd never cut off an escape route from possible trouble inland.
The cunning witch must be able to lower that barricade from the other side, somehow.
A stranger like no other, Faced the wall of the Umbra, Opened a pass in a sorry land, Gave some hope to a sorry band Of exiles and death-soaked castaways. A chance at life on a brand new day.
There, thought you deserved one of my finest poems, written to commemorate such a mighty feat. Oh, and this. Been keeping it for a very special occasion. Consider yourself just such an occasion.