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I thank you for taking time out of your busy day to read my Fan Fiction on a World of Warcraft Universe character known as Captain Jethril. This is, in some way, related to all my other RP characters (I have a druid, a warrior, a mage, a shaman, etc...). The story revolves around the story of a young pirate by the name of Captain Jethril "Seagrave" Blackflight (you will learn why Captain is usually italliced). In his mid twenties, he is already a promising buccaneer. He has already made it onto the wanted list of the Grand Fleet of the Alliance. Captain Jethril is most commonly pursued by Kul Tiras Commodore Muireann Sealance. With death on his rear, death to the right, and death to the left, all he has in life is to go forward, towards Danger...
Sparks flew as Jethril's blade met Grand Admiral Daelin Proudmoore's. Dealin launched another swathe of cuts and blows, only to be parried by the nimble blade of Jethril. "Haha, nice try, Daelin. But you'll have to try better than that," Jethril said, sweating and grinning. He was clearly ignorant of Daelin's cold dead glare. "I swear upon Lothar's grave I will have your head, Jethril Greystorm!" Jethril frowned. "That's Captain Jethril Greystorm to you." Jethril held Proudmoore's twin blades for a moment, getting a small handful of gunpowder out of his pocket. He threw it to the ground, and it ignited Daelin's boots. Daelin growled, and leaped back, stomping at his feet. "Well, it's been fun." With a smile, Jethril grabbed a rope, and cut it with his sword. He was flung into the air. He whistled through the skies. Below him, his ship, The Dragon's Scream, floated gently in the northern seas. It's cannons blasted away at the Freelancer's End.
" Zuvu, a little help!" On his ship below, the trollish shaman looked up. "Oi, mon, watcha doin' up dere mon?"
" Just get me down before I sail clean over into Neptulon's Crypt!" Zuvu'sui grunted. "Ya's don' 'ave to be so mean." His hands glowed a bluish color as he picked a totem out of his bag. He threw it into the air, and it suddenly froze. Jethril started slowing down, until he came to a stop. He wiped the sweat away from his forehead, but then abruptly started to descend toward the ship. He got slower and slower, until he was floating down like a feather. With a thick clunk, he landed on the ship's deck. His fellow buccaneers crowded around him. Jethril boomed, "Cease fire! Man the oares, and make south for Stranglethorn!" A privateer tapped Jethril's shoulder. "Um, captain; we don't have oars." Jethril sighed and slapped his face. "Just... to Stranglethorn. Please..."
The sun glowed a dull orange on the horizon as, in the distance, Jethril culd see the Freelancer's End sailing north toward Crestfall. He smiled like a wolf, two gold teeth gleaming. He turned around and sat on a chair, and took a bite from his orange. A senegal landed on his shoulder, and cocked it's head as it looked at the map in Jethril's hands. There was a Xlarge red "X" on a island Jethril had never seen on any other maps. The yellowed map revealed an island chain near where the X was. He couldn't help smiling some more. "Soon, ol' Captain Jethril is going to be rich..."
((Hoped you like part one of my first adventure! Comment's! I'll be regularly posting with whatever free time I have, for school and groundings and homework can be hell. Pirates > Ninjas!))
Jethril blew some locks of black hair out of his face and took another swig of ale. His first mate, Jonathan Dent, the ship medical expert, ex-Apothecary Kren, the ship gun-master, Bogran Firebrew, the ship's engineers and chief constructors, Jip Whizabolt and Queed Smokebust, stood around Captain Blackflight. Jonathan was the first to speak. "Okay, Jethril. What did we risk our lives at the hands of Grand Admiral Daelin Proudmoore for? I mean, it was practically a death-sentence entering Menethil Bay!" Jethril fiddled around with his hat without looking up. "First of all, it's Captain. Captain Jethril. Second, we aren't dead, now are we? And third, this." Jethril waved the folded up map infront of Jonathan's face. "This, my disgruntled friend, is a map to the ancient island of Zul'Tikan. Once part of the troll's Gurubashi Empire, it is now an abandoned city. Better yet, a cursed abandoned city."
"Yeah? So?" Jethril furrowed his brow for a second. "So? So, say, several thousand copper worth of gold and treasure! See, Zul'Tikan used to be one of the greatest troll cities, next to Atal'Hakkar and Zul'Gurub. It was filled with gold, silver, jewels, and all those goody valuables. But, as the legend goes, when they refused to worship Hakkar the Blood God, the Atal'ai cursed the island. For a while it was forgotten; lost. But then, some pirates, buccaneers, and privateers started using the ruins as a place to store away goods. They, of course, were never heard from again."
The group grunted. This time, Kren spoke. "And what makes you think we are not to suffer the same fate?" Jethril pondered the question for a moment. "...because I have a good feeling about it?" The group sighed. "You're hair-brained schemes have always led to the near-death of us!" Jethril shrugged. "Well, we aren't dead, are we?"
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