Meira stood in the corner of the encampment, ten feet from the fire with an untouched drink in her hand. All around her, pirates celebrated their latest haul and the imminent arrival of the leader that made it all possible. Their entry to the camp had been without fanfare. Even without the return of the thugs sent to get her, Hookhand had no question that his orders would be followed, and his assassin of choice would arrive promptly to do his bidding. The guard didn't question or even disarm them as they approached.

But that was the end of their good luck. Meira pondered the past days and wondered whether the gamble that she was taking was even worth it. She made herself vulnerable, to her enemies and to the unknown factor standing behind her. Malark was standing behind her as a silent guard. For once he carried a weapon, a curved blade he doubted Meira paid for; a diversion from his true talents. They had agreed (or at least he didn't contradict her) that she should do all the talking. He had already made his pure disdain for pirates perfectly clear and standing silent surrounded by drunk enemies plotting murder and mayhem was only fueling his rage.

While his anger was building, it was not the deadliest combustible in the camp. Standing near the entrance of the camp was a wagon filled to the brim with wooden boxes, stamped with the symbol of a stylized dragon with its jaws opened wide. Malark could tell the contents were magical the moment he laid eyes on them, and when Meira muttered "Explosives…. Shit…" he realized that this new Hookhand had even grander plans than his predecessor. Anyone who gathered that much Dragon's Breath clearly had designs to use it.

Employing assassins and gathering magical explosives can only mean that the vagabond was moving on from vulnerable merchant vessels to more defensible settlements. With enough men and ships at his disposal, he could lay waste to plenty of the smaller ports. And with Meira placing a knife in the Governor's ribs, any chance of stability or reinfocements would be lost; it would be chaos. Raids on ships were deadly enough without the casualties of innocent villagers, women and children alike, and neither Hookhand nor his predecessor was known for his merciful ways.

Malark's hood was up and his eyes were obscured but Meira could still see the tension radiating off him. With a mix of emotions, she realized that this was another first; she never worked alongside unpredictable elements, and she knew that he was using all his considerable restraint to follow her instructions and wait for the right moment. Meira did not like how well she could read him, it meant that she had been paying more attention than she thought and may have become somewhat…. attached.

What started as an innocent distraction from her problems had morphed into something completely different with each interaction. Meira knew of his arrival in Daggerford within hours. Her network of gossip and her underworld knowledge allowed her to keep track of Malark as he went about his scouting. Meira was pleased (and a bit relieved) to learn that he seemed to be sincere in his goals and not an actual stalker; he clearly was gathering information on his enemy and working up a plan of attack. She would never admit it, but she had done some shadowing herself, had cased his hotel room and watched his progress as she worked out whether to approach him.

The wizard didn't have her methods or her tools, and he clearly had different goals, but Meira liked how Malark worked. He was prepared, diligent and confident; while she had worked with others plenty of times, any new inclusion into her life needed to meet some high standards. But it was not supposed to work this well, and enjoying his company was not part of the plan. Long tense walk to encampments were not supposed to have banter that made her smile, she was not supposed to want to turn around during a mission and comfort her stressed "guard". Meira hadn't comforted anyone at all in a long time, and the desire to do so was disconcerting.

Meira wasn't stupid or clueless, she knew what was going on in her head but not only was she not interested in having those feelings in the first place she was having them at the worst possible time. She wasn't just in the middle of a job, she was its architect and they would only survive if she stayed levelheaded and stopped letting her mind wander back to his room back in Daggerford.

Suddenly the already loud camp exploded with cheers as an imposing pirate warship pulled into the dock. Sailors ran up and the next half hour was a flurry of movement as the ship was moored and the cargo of treasure was unloaded. Meira was approached by a rugged sailor who came off of the warship and greeted from afar before being waved over to the main campfire. Strangely enough as the confrontation approached, Malark felt the tension leave his body. The waiting was over and he was ready to finally face the new reincarnation of the Demon of the Sword Coast.

"So, I assume that's your contact, I shouldn't be surprised you managed to be 'acquainted' with the only good looking one. I mean you couldn't just be satisfied with some yellow teeth or scurvy."

Meira was seriously relieved by this change and was grateful he couldn't see her grin behind her. "Well he does have some very calloused hands….." Malark's groan was muffled but audible "and like I said, the Snake betrayed me, so feel free to ugly him up while we're making our escape."

The two companions approached the main campfire, as the rest of the revelers started gathering as well. Meira expected some sort of showmanship from the captain before a smaller private meeting to discuss the governor's assassination. But she knew that dealing with pirates was never sure, and there was always a chance that things could dissolve into an all out brawl. Her exit was already planned, but if Malark decided to make a scene… well she knew she was taking a high risk with both of their lives…. but nothing would keep her from that scroll.

Though the crowd grew thicker, Hookhand stood out, perched on top of a makeshift stage of barrels and planks. He stood roughly 6' and had a scraggly matted black beard braided and adorned with beads and coins. The light from the campfire shone of his bald head as he dusted off his cap before placing it back on and making a sweeping gesture to the crowd with his signature hook. Around his neck lay a necklace of connecting white shards leading to a skull medallion. He was garbed in a jumble of stolen items from merchant ships but the cutlass and scabbard on his waist looked custom made for him and his boots were well worn and stood apart from the rest of his fancier wardrobe.

"They call ya boys criminals and they call ya thieves. They call ya cowards because you have the sense to fight when ya'll win. But to sail the sea is the task of brave men, and to take what you want is the mark of anyone with power!" The crowd began to grow mor rowdy as they cheered Hookhand's words. "There are no heroes laddies, just the strong and the weak. And I think I know which side ya want to be on." The muttering and calls of support turned into a cheer and a chant. Calls of "Hookhand" reigned before he brought up his hand and hook again for silence.

"For too long we've fought for crumbs! We've been chased and harassed by navies, elves, and humans and all sorts of monsters. Too long we've been hassled by every group that fancies to make a name off us men of the sea. We've got bigger fish on hand gentlemen, and we'll feast like it's our last night on this world!" Hookhand then spotted Meira in the crowd and the crooked smile he gave was one of a pure predator. "I'm through playing the game of the common pirate. I've got some tricks and some surprises to sink every ship that flies colors! And with you lot behind me, no one will stop me from being Lord of these seas!"

The bedlam raised to a raucous cry as the crowd shouted at Hookhand to lead them to glory and treasure. Hookhand called back into the audience and played with their responses, working them up into a fever pitch that did not settle. Meira started eying the crowd warily and Malark was doing the same, his eyes taking in every face as he pictured them on the open seas, the fires of all who oppose them in their wake.

Hookhand beckoned forth Meira and she felt dread in her gut knowing she was about to be made a part of the performance. Malark kept close but even he knew that putting a stop to this farce now was not in their best interest despite his displeasure at his crush getting closer to the villain.

"Now boys, I told you I had some surprises for ye! This Lass is gonna make us all rich by stomping on a little cockroach while we take all that bug's money. What say ye Lass, you up for the task?"

Meira raised her chin defiantly and knew she needed to play this properly. "That depends on whether or not you decided to pay my price!"

Hookhand reared his head back and laughed derisively, and his men echoed along. "Aye, Lass, I know you're expensive, even for a woman." He gestured to the first mate that Meira had only identified as "The Snake" who reached into a nearby unloaded chest and pulled out a wooden cylinder. The Snake unscrewed the top and poured out a scroll of thick parchment, rolled up but unsealed. Hookhand brought the crowd and Meira's attention back towards him. "That fancy thing is useless to me but if it's your price you'll have it upon delivery. Plus, the gold as mentioned; but since you seem to care so little for it, maybe I'll dock the price and buy these lads some more friendly women!"

Meira barely registered the taunt as her eyes remained fixed on her prize the moment the pirate revealed its location. Now all she needed was the crowd to die down and disperse before she made her play. She acknowledged Hookhand with a scowl and meant to drift back and let him get back to playing his games and crowing about his ascension. But as the pirate leader's eyes followed her to the ring of his crowd, they flicked behind her and narrowed menacingly, a taunt dying on his lips before they too pressed together.

"You there, behind the she-elf. Show yourself!" Hookhand had paled considerably but his bluster had turned to anger, and he was pointing directly towards the hooded wizard. Meira froze as she knew instinctively who had drawn his attention, and the crowd went summarily silent.

In that silence, Malark stepped forward and removed his hood, his silver ring gleaming around his neck as it fell in front of his jerkin. Malark looked dead in the eyes of the pirate captain and said without preamble. "So, you're the New Hookhand hmm?"

"I remember you….."