Formation of Adventure, The Black Fist Pirates Arise

''The wind was blowing, the sun was rising and pirates were drinking. All was normal in sleepy old Westhatch Village in the North Blue. A cozy haven for pirates and bootleggers alike, the village was one of the largest hotspots in a pirate's vacation map in the world. Having harbored and produced quite a good deal of crews, Westhatch was no stranger to the occasional group of children and men alike clamoring to set off for adventures as scurvy dogs of the sea. It was one such group that our story chronicles. The story of the Black First Pirates is one that children will sing for ages to come, and it is at the beginning at this story where we start.''

"Yo Henry! You ready yet, or is the lwitte babwy squared?" mocked Mammon Reinard, the Black Fist Pirates first mate and first crew member.

"Of course I'm ready you rubbish excuse for a idiot!" roared back Henry Every, the protagonist of our little story and captain of the Black Fists.

Snickering, Mammon began "So o great captain of mine. Where we headed to?"

"The docks. I finally saved up enough money to buy that old rickety trade ship old Winheim used to have."

"That's our pirate ship! We'd be sunk if a light breeze hit us in that thing!"

"Oh don't be such a wuss. It'll be alright. Besides, it's only temporary until we manage to loot enough to buy a better ship."

"Hmph, do we at least have a pirate flag?"

"Yeah! That reminds me, we gotta make a quick stop. Follooooow me tweedle-dee!"

Facepalming at his captain's attempt at rhyming, Mammon started up a sprint as he followed his captain to a small cottage near the border of his village.

As they near the cottage, Mammon notices a thin figure waiting outside the building. Said figure was apparently busy staring at the sky and so didn't notice the two approaching teens.