Part 14

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Mulligan rowed his small lifeboat towards the shores of Decia. He watched with anger and hatred as his beloved Griffon, under his command for twenty two years, never defeated in battle, sat burning in the blue waters of the Decian Sea.

His best officer, Mr. Yates, had been killed when the mainmast fell. His head was smashed like a bowl of eggs.

At least seventy of his crew was dead at the hands of that damned pyromancer. Mulligan wondered if that was this David Tanner the guild spoke of. He vowed to rip the answer out of Donegal's throat before he removed his tongue and gouged out his eyes.

He looked at the provisions he had managed to grab and throw into the lifeboat before abandoning his ship. One small cask of whiskey, one crate of hardtack, and three large tins of dried meat; more than he needed to get to shore, plus the hundred or so gold he had on him would get him to Northpoint on the eastern side of Decia. He had left a map with a certain tavern owner that he trusted. A little digging and he would be back in business, as there was always piratin' to be done.

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