A heavy silence smothered the hall, broken only by the slow scrape of chains across ancient stone. A massive brute, tattooed arms bulging, hauled forward a thin, trembling diplomat—clearly once dignified, now reduced to a shaking husk of finery and grime. The diplomat stumbled forward, collapsing briefly to his knees before the towering table of polished bone.
"Up, filth," growled the giant, yanking on the chain around the diplomat's neck. He struggled upright, clutching a scroll with visibly quivering fingers. His voice cracked in raw terror as he began:
"In attendance this evening, honored captains of the Abyssforged Alliance..." His eyes darted over the parchment, and he swallowed hard. "Lady Brinevein, Mistress of the Brinevein Sovereignty—"
"Silence!" Lady Brinevein's voice snapped like a whip, sharp and cruel. She recoiled, perfect elven features contorted in revulsion. "How dare such filth presume to speak my name?"
In a heartbeat, three shimmering orbs of violent azure mana spiraled into existence around her raised hand, crackling with barely-contained wrath. Two captains visibly flinched, edging backward in silent dread.
"Now, now, Lady Brinevein," came from the man who sat at the head of the table, deceptively gentle chiding her. "Surely you wouldn't dirty your... precious magic on something so trivial?"
Lady Brinevein glared, but Vorthas's faintly mocking tone forced a controlled breath through clenched teeth. Her expression settled into icy disdain as the deadly orbs evaporated into nothingness. "Continue, louse," she seethed quietly.
The diplomat, pale as death, swallowed again before continuing in a wavering voice:
"The Harrow Twins, Veyra and Kael, masters of stealth and assassination. Drakvar and Lysara Emberforge, Blacksmith Savants of the Emberforge Syndicate. Ardent Blacktide, Commander of the Chainbound Marauders." He glanced around nervously, then pushed onward. "Elsyra Stormshard, The Stormshard Matron, arbiter and seer. Nelyra Driftcurrent, Captain of the Driftcurrent Freehold. Yeon Jiho, The Celestial Spear, Captain of the Hwanwoong Corsairs."
The diplomat cleared his throat nervously, eyes downcast. "Kaoru Akashiga, Xian Hui, Kolvyr Thrymsdottir, and His Majesty Caligos Kain will be joining shortly, they send word of minor delays." He paused, visibly trembling as he reached the next section. His voice barely rose above a whisper. "Absent this evening: Kaelor of the Reef, Leader of the Coralborn Covenant, Sekhmet Sorrowclaw, High Priestess of the Sekhem Blades, and Riven Kain. Their whereabouts unknown."
Uneasy murmurs stirred through the hall, quickly silenced by the man at the head of the table's impatient glance.
"And finally..." The diplomat hesitated, face pale as he looked toward Vorthas, but the giant behind him yanked harshly on the chain, prompting obedience. With a cracked voice, he stammered, "Vorthas Nythren, The Dread God, former leader of the Abyssforged Alli—"
Before he could finish, a flash of turquoise flame erupted from Vorthas's raised palm, engulfing the diplomat in an instant. The man barely had time to scream; ashes drifted to the floor where he'd stood moments before. Vorthas lowered his hand slowly, eyes narrowed in cold satisfaction.
"A correction," he said softly into the shocked silence. "There is no 'former' leader, only the Drowned King, and myself in his stead. Let us begin."
Dark pillars of sea-green stone loomed above the grand chamber, each carved with mismatched runes torn from conquered pirate fleets. At the chamber's heart stood a massive table of polished bone, encircled by chairs fashioned from the skeletons of giant eels. Torchlight flickered in eerie hues, some burning with alchemical flame while others pulsed with sorcerous demonfire. The hall itself seemed like the belly of a beached leviathan, thrumming with ominous, barely restrained energy.
The captains and first mates of the Abyssforged Alliance clustered nervously, muttering in tense conversations as they awaited the start of the council. Rumors had surged like a relentless tide these past weeks: three of their own were missing. Kaelor of the Reef, Sekhmet Sorrowclaw, and Riven Kain. Each absence left a gaping hole in their ranks, fueling whispers of a mysterious and unstoppable "demon iron ship" roaming the seas.
At the head of the imposing table stood Vorthas Nythren, the Dread God. A towering figure twice the height of an ordinary man, Vorthas was lean and pale-skinned, his features angular and unsettlingly alien. Once he had ruled over the Alliance, a reign abruptly ended when Caligos Kain, the Drowned King, had taken control. Vorthas's eyes flickered with irritation as he scanned the gathered pirates.
"Settle," Vorthas commanded, his voice echoing sharply from the vaulted ceiling. "We are gathered here because our comrades have vanished, and you incompetent whelps have allowed baseless rumors to fester."
Several lesser captains stiffened, exchanging wary glances. A few first mates shifted uneasily but did not dare challenge the Dread God's authority. In one alcove, a hulking beastfolk with fishlike features bared his fangs but quickly fell silent at a sharp gesture from a tall woman bearing a rapier crafted from coral.
"They've been missing too long," ventured a short, scarred captain. His voice carried a hesitant edge. "If not this rumored demon ship, then who or what? Half the whispers claim it's unstoppable."
He trailed off under the piercing weight of Vorthas's withering glare.
"Unstoppable?" Vorthas let out a humorless laugh, harsh and chilling. He slammed a withered hand down upon the bone table. "My own reconnaissance proves otherwise. Through the eyes of my demonic scouts, I've observed this so-called Iron Demon personally. Its captain is no demon—he's a pathetic boy, utterly incompetent and hardly a threat."
Murmurs rippled through the assembled ranks, uncertain and skeptical. A hesitant voice rose from the side. "But the Umbral Consortium claims—"
"The Umbral Consortium's whispers?" Vorthas interrupted with scornful disdain. "Do you trust gossip more than what I've seen with my own eyes?" He reached into his cloak and drew forth a jagged black orb. "Allow me to demonstrate clearly."
The hall darkened as the orb pulsed with dark energy, conjuring silvery images in midair. The assembled captains watched closely:
A hazy scene showed Roy standing on the deck of his ship, shrieking in panic as one of Vorthas's fishlike scouts burst from the waves, his scream so shrill even the illusory scout seemed briefly startled.
Another scene displayed Roy struggling futilely to lift a modest-sized crate, groaning helplessly until a Presidroid casually lifted it with one mechanical hand.
A third vision depicted Roy fleeing a kraken, frantically ordering his ship to retreat as he cowered behind a reinforced bulkhead.
An awkward hush filled the room, broken only by muted chuckles and derisive snorts. A few pirates exchanged doubtful glances. Notably absent from Vorthas's illusions was any hint of Roy's victories, only scenes of humiliation.
"Behold," Vorthas drawled, clearly satisfied. "Our mighty Iron Demon." He rolled the orb casually in his palm, and the illusions vanished. "My scouts have uncovered a different menace, some monstrous crew that slaughters swiftly and vanishes without a trace. That, esteemed colleagues, is our true concern."
A fresh wave of unease spread among the gathered captains, though none openly contradicted him. Still, skepticism lingered. A captain with vivid orange feathers braided into her hair spoke hesitantly. "My apologies, Vorthas, but I must push back. My sources are solid, they heard the iron ship captured Kaelor, that Sorrowclaw—"
"Lies," Vorthas snapped sharply. "Show me the proof. My scouts report no such victories. Our comrades vanished, yes, but due to a worthless child? Doubtful."
Tension settled thickly over the hall, abruptly shattered as the ornate doors thundered open, sending tremors through the bone-crafted floor. Caligos Kain, the Drowned King, stepped silently into the chamber, flanked closely by his trusted Trident: Kaoru Akashiga, the Flameborn Blade; Xian Hui, the Phoenix Admiral; and Kolvyr Thrymsdottir, the Mistbreaker. Their combined presence rippled through the room, compelling several lesser captains to instinctively retreat a step.
Caligos moved slowly yet deliberately, his broad shoulders clad in dark leathers that shimmered faintly with the moisture of deep ocean currents. An ethereal sheen of water hovered about him like a spectral tide, each quiet step resonating with an unspoken threat of overwhelming violence.
Vorthas remained seated defiantly at the captain's throne, a cruel structure of cartilage and monstrous teeth, taken long ago from the shattered corpse of a rival fleet. He met Caligos's cold stare unflinchingly, chin raised in subtle defiance, an edge of bitter pride flickering behind his otherwise indifferent gaze.
The hall plunged into absolute silence, flames in torches seeming to dim in anticipation. Caligos reached the throne and stopped, his pale, emotionless gaze fixed upon Vorthas, waiting. For a heartbeat, neither man yielded, their auras pressing against each other invisibly, a collision felt deep in every pirate's chest.
Finally, Vorthas allowed himself a thin, mocking smile. Rising slowly, he offered a grand gesture toward the seat, exaggerating a bow of false courtesy. "By all means, Your Majesty," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm thinly disguised as respect. "The throne is yours."
Caligos gave no reaction, simply settling into the throne without hesitation, resting one powerful hand on its arm. With his claim silently reestablished, some tension in the hall lifted, though unease lingered like salt in the air.
Kolvyr quietly positioned herself beside the Drowned King, mist drifting around her feet in silent spirals. Behind them stood Kaoru, emanating quiet heat like smoldering embers, and Xian Hui, composed and poised, exuding fierce discipline.
Caligos surveyed the chamber briefly before returning his focus to Vorthas. His voice emerged low and steady, a calm surface masking unknowable depths beneath. "Vorthas. I trust you've begun addressing the disappearances of Kaelor, Sorrowclaw, and Riven?"
Vorthas inclined his head, composure fully regained. "Indeed. Though some foolish rumors still attribute these losses to a mere boy and his iron vessel." He waved a dismissive hand, eyes glittering with concealed malice. "My scouts have found evidence of a different menace entirely—a monstrous ghost crew striking silently from below."
A wiry first mate from one side tentatively spoke. "My Lord, the Umbral Consortium maintains the iron demon sank entire fleets. They call it unstoppable."
Vorthas scoffed theatrically, flourishing his jagged orb to conjure a brief, mocking illusion: Roy shrieking in cowardly retreat. "I ask you, do you trust baseless gossip over direct reconnaissance?"
Soft laughter rippled among the assembled pirates, many nodding in relief, reassured by the display. Caligos watched the illusions impassively, resting his chin upon one fist, eyes unreadable.
"You stand firm, then," Caligos said calmly after a pause, "that this iron demon poses no genuine threat?"
Vorthas smiled slyly, confidence carefully feigned. "I assure you. My scouts would recognize true danger. They've found nothing but a flailing brat fleeing in terror. Meanwhile, there is clearly another threat in the depths, more subtle and deadly."
Kaoru Akashiga shifted irritably, her aura flaring briefly with heat. "Convenient. Are you certain you're not shifting blame to conceal your own involvement?"
Vorthas offered Kaoru a slow, dangerous smile. "Careful, Kaoru. If I'd struck down Kaelor and Sorrowclaw myself, I would have done so openly, and I would have started with you." He folded his arms casually, ignoring the simmering anger from Kaoru.
Caligos tapped a slow rhythm on the throne's carved arm. "Then let us decide clearly. Do we dismiss this 'iron demon,' or is further investigation warranted?"
"I suggest limited investigation," Xian Hui answered smoothly, voice measured and logical. "Minimal resources to confirm its irrelevance. If the child proves harmless, we lose nothing. Meanwhile, our true focus should be directed toward this hidden enemy Vorthas describes."
Kolvyr nodded her agreement. "Our illusions have found no sign of Kaelor's fate. Vorthas may indeed be correct—the iron demon could be a mere distraction."
Caligos allowed silence to settle again, weighing their counsel carefully. His gaze returned once more to Vorthas, quiet intensity radiating from pale eyes. "Very well," he finally pronounced, voice soft yet commanding absolute attention. "For now, the iron demon will be considered irrelevant. If your hidden threat is genuine, Vorthas, I expect detailed intelligence shared openly with the Alliance."
Another tense pause stretched between them, a subtle battle of wills. Vorthas's mocking smile resurfaced, slow and confident. "Of course, Your Majesty. As agreed, I'll share all pertinent information… in due time."
Caligos's gaze narrowed fractionally, yet he allowed the defiance to pass without comment. He settled back slightly in the throne, speaking with quiet finality. "Then it is decided. Remain vigilant. Should another captain vanish, we will meet again."
As the captains gradually filed from the chamber, murmurs of confusion and relief drifting in their wake, Vorthas remained behind. His eyes glimmered darkly as he observed Caligos silently motioning his Trident to withdraw. The Drowned King paused only briefly, casting one final, unreadable glance toward Vorthas before turning and departing in a ripple of oceanic mana, vanishing through the hall's side exit.
Once confident no eyes remained upon him, Vorthas quietly slipped into an adjoining shadowed corridor. He raised a slender hand, deftly tracing a demonic rune into the stale air. From the darkness, three shadowy forms emerged, vaguely humanoid silhouettes dripping black mist, crimson eyes glowing with cunning awareness.
A quiet, cruel laughter slipped from Vorthas's lips, echoing faintly against ancient stone. "We cannot allow competing truths to spread unchecked," he murmured softly. "If anyone begins to believe the boy captain and his ship pose a real threat, they might investigate further. We must sow confusion."
With a dismissive flick of his wrist, he addressed the shadowy trio, whose forms bent slightly in respectful acknowledgment. "Seek out every informant among the Alliance who doubts my version of events," he commanded coldly. "Eliminate them. Quietly and without exception."
The demons nodded in silent, unsettling unison, vanishing swiftly into the labyrinthine corridors as tendrils of smoke dissipated behind them. Satisfied, Vorthas turned back toward the main hall, a thin smirk playing upon his lips. Passing the now-empty throne, he lingered briefly, fingertips brushing the jagged edges of the seat that had once been his.