"Ahahaha! This will be the pirates' funeral fire!"

How had things gone so wrong? We had had ample warning of Jolly Roger's invasion of Padres del Fuego, plenty of time to establish defenses and gather our forces. So many had come, mostly young and inexperienced pirates, but I had thought their numbers would make up for our lack of veteran warriors. For a while, it seemed I was right. The first waves of the Undead were pushed back with relatively few losses on our side, and even those infernal Powder Keg Runners had been pushed back. Victory looked close at hand… And then he came.

Though I had positioned myself near the wall of Padres, as did many of the more experienced pirates, I could tell that Jolly Roger had come ashore. Thunderbolts rained down from the sky over where the barricades had been set, and gusts of dark wind blew over the island, carrying with them the smell of decay. As Jolly entered my line sight I managed a look behind him. The ground was littered with the bodies of fallen pirates, all crying out for help before slipping into unconsciousness. This was Jolly's goal: To make us suffer. He had the power to kill, everyone from Tortuga to Cuba knew that, and if the whispers of what had occurred at Raven's Cove were anywhere close to true he obviously didn't have a problem using that power. Yet all he would do was wave his hand, or twitch a finger, and scores of young men and women would wither like straw before a flame. Every movement was a reminder of how powerless we were. For a brief moment my fear left me, and I realized that comrades had yet to move from their spots. Even they, the most experienced of us, were frozen with fear.

I wasn't a fool. It was painfully clear that defeat was upon us, but something in me refused to let it end that way. If I had to lose, I would make that unholy creature kill me, if only to make him put forth the effort. Just as he was about to finish off another of us, this time a mere slip of a girl, I acted. Chop, roundhouse, spin cut, dodge, roll, reverse spin, jumping slash. Well, now I had his attention. Bollocks. At least the girl had gotten away.

"I really don't have time for this... but if you insist!" He turned to face me, his eternal smile radiating annoyance, and maybe just a hint of amusement. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end and I instinctively leapt to the side, a bolt of his cursed lightning scorching the ground where I had just stood. Lashing out with a Blade Storm, the tip of my sword scratched the bone of where his cheek would have been before his skeletal hand grabbed hold of my sword. "You won't live to regret that, you cur!" Black chains burst from the ground, coiling around my arms, legs, and neck, dragging me down to my knees. My plan seemed to be working splendidly. The most feared man in the Caribbean had me on my knees, powerless to defend myself. The blade of that infernal contraption that replaced his right hand was leveled at the center of my chest. With sadistic glee he eased the blade forward, stopping just short of a killing blow. The pain was indescribable, but I couldn't give him the satisfaction of screaming. "Any last words, boy?" I looked up into those empty sockets and spat a mouthful of the blood that had welled up in my throat into his face. The only thing I remember after that was a loud 'bang,' blinding white pain, and then, darkness.