|Basking in Sun|
There are as many raiders and pirates ashore as asea, both foreign and domestic; slavers plying their trade – don't judge 'em, everyone has a right to earn an honest living, don't you know –; and spies from every port the old salts can recall spying. And o'er the horizon? There are whispers of nagas and sea serpents beneath the waves. Talk of kraken and sahuagin and ancient civilisations that lurk in the dark depths, that rise up when the moons are new, tentacles wavin', tridents thirsty for blood, towers twinklin' in the pitch, depending on which you're alluding to. They beach ships, they do; and drag them down to the bottom of Dahsy Johs' Locker when they dive back down, the lot of them. Or so the old sharks say.
Thunder in the Earth, HepmonalandFire of the Worlds Heart, HepmonalandDeath on Black Wings, HepmonalandSky of Mourning, HepmonalandPray to a Different God, HepmonalandShaman, Hepmonaland