A Man with no Dream

Volcier, his features transformed by the magic of Disguise Self, moved stealthily through the dimly lit streets of Baldur's Gate. His steps were measured and purposeful, his eyes darting from shadow to shadow, ensuring that he remained unnoticed in the bustling city.

The cloak of illusion concealed his true identity, casting him as a nondescript figure, blending seamlessly into the crowded streets. It was an art he had honed over the years, the ability to become someone else, to slip through the cracks and shadows unnoticed.

As he navigated the labyrinthine streets, Volcier's destination became clear in his mind. The docks, the bustling hub of maritime activity, beckoned to him. It was there that he would find the vessel that would take him closer to his elusive goal.

The Uncivil Serpent, a notorious ship with a reputation that matched its name, awaited him at the water's edge. Its weathered hull and billowing sails spoke of countless journeys through treacherous waters and perilous adventures.

Volcier's steps quickened as he approached the dockyard. The salty scent of the sea filled his nostrils, invigorating him with a sense of anticipation. The Uncivil Serpent, perched on the restless waves, seemed to call out to him, promising the possibility of new horizons and hidden treasures.

Without hesitation, he stepped aboard the ship, his disguised form blending seamlessly with the crew bustling about their duties. The air was thick with the scent of salt and anticipation as the vessel prepared to embark on its next voyage.

Volcier found a secluded spot on the deck, away from prying eyes, and dropped his disguise as he allowed himself a moment to absorb the sights and sounds of the bustling port. The clatter of cargo being loaded, the creaking of wooden planks, and the distant echoes of seagulls created a symphony of maritime life.

A booming voice shattered the ambient sounds of the bustling port, capturing Volcier's attention. Before him stood Vaskin World, a figure as memorable as his voice. Vaskin, a tall and portly Human man with flamboyant attire, exuded an air of confidence and flamboyance, the embodiment of a seasoned sailor and a charismatic rogue.

Volcier listened as Vaskin spoke, his voice filled with excitement and curiosity about the rumored battle between mages in town. The two of them had their own share of adventures, and Vaskin's presence indicated more thrilling escapades awaited them.

"It was Strelore who caught up to me," Volcier admitted, mischief glinting in his eyes. "We had ourselves a little tussle in the streets. Managed to disarm him, quite literally." His grin widened, relishing the memory of their confrontation.

Vaskin erupted into boisterous laughter, slapping Volcier on the shoulder. "I would have paid good money to see that!"

Volcier nodded, acknowledging Vaskin's delight. "It's just a minor setback for him, really. With the wonders of magic, his lost arm can be restored. Given enough time, effort, and resources, Strelore will be whole again."

A note of curiosity colored Vaskin's voice as he questioned, "So, do you reckon he might still be on your tail?"

Volcier nodded once more, a nonchalant expression on his face. "It would save me the trouble of hunting him down if he were to come seeking me. I'd hate to be bothered with tracking down an old man like him."

"We'll be ready to set sail in less than an hour," Vaskin assured.

Volcier nodded and reached into a pocket inside his cloak, retrieving a coin purse. He handed the bag of coins to Vaskin. "Here's my boarding and travel fee."

"It's gonna be a long journey. Get settled into your cabin below deck," Vaskin instructed.

Volcier followed Vaskin's instructions, making his way below deck to locate his assigned cabin. The ship's interior was a maze of narrow corridors, dimly lit by flickering lanterns that swayed with the gentle rocking of the vessel. The rhythmic sounds of the sea echoed through the wooden hull, lulling him into a sense of tranquility.

Finally, he found his cabin, a small but cozy space that offered respite from the bustling activity on deck. The air carried a hint of salt and the musty scent of aged wood, creating a familiar atmosphere that whispered of countless seafaring adventures.

Inside the cabin, a simple bunk awaited Volcier, its linens neatly arranged and beckoning him to rest. The narrow porthole allowed slivers of moonlight to filter in, casting a soft glow that danced upon the walls. With a sigh of relief, he shed his outer garments and settled onto the mattress, surrendering himself to the embrace of sleep.

As his eyes closed and the rhythmic lullaby of the ship's movements filled his ears, Volcier's mind began to drift. His thoughts wandered to the events that had led him to this moment, the intricate web of alliances and conflicts that he had navigated with skill and cunning. It had been a long journey indeed, and now, on this ship, he would continue the pursuit of his elusive goals.

The sound of the waves outside became a distant melody, and the world faded away as sleep claimed him. In the realm of dreams, Volcier ventured into realms both fantastical and treacherous, exploring the depths of his own desires and ambitions.

In the quiet solitude of his cabin, he found solace, for it was within these moments of rest that his mind could rejuvenate, his body could rejuvenate, and his spirit could gather strength for the challenges that lay ahead. With each steady breath, he surrendered himself to the serenity of the night, trusting in the ebb and flow of the sea to guide him through the realms of slumber.


Volcier's dream took an unexpected turn as he found himself ensnared within the confines of his own Grimoire. The world around him dissolved into darkness, leaving him trapped in an ethereal pocket dimension akin to a black snow globe-like prison.

Within this desolate space, the air grew heavy and suffocating, tinged with a sense of imprisonment and despair. Spectral forms of countless souls who had once possessed the Grimoire swirled around him like tortured shadows trapped in eternal torment. Their fragmented memories and forgotten dreams whispered in his ears, creating a cacophony of haunting voices.

Each soul carried its own story, revealing the dark history of the Grimoire and the twisted desires and ambitions it had fulfilled and corrupted. The weight of their collective presence pressed down upon Volcier, drowning him in a suffocating isolation that instilled a deep foreboding.

Curiosity mixed with trepidation, Volcier attempted to break free from his spectral prison. Yet, his hand passed through the ethereal barrier like smoke, encountering no resistance or hope of escape. The realm itself seemed to mock his futile attempts, denying him any means of liberation.

Wandering through the enveloping darkness, Volcier caught fleeting glimpses of the tormented souls trapped within the snow globe-like prison. Some were lost in an eternal loop of reliving shattered memories, while others reached out to him with desperate eyes, their longing for freedom palpable.

Their stories reverberated through the void, tales of insatiable greed, boundless thirst for power, and the relentless pursuit of forbidden knowledge. Volcier could not escape the realization that he too had fallen prey to the Grimoire's allure, ensnared by its promise of arcane secrets and forbidden truths.

As he continued his journey through the ethereal prison, Volcier felt the weight of the souls' stories pressing upon him. Each narrative echoed with a distinct resonance, weaving together a tapestry of yearning, regret, and the destructive consequences of unchecked ambition. The Grimoire had consumed them all, bending their desires to its twisted will.

Amongst the swirling specters, Volcier recognized both familiar faces and unknown souls. He witnessed the rise and fall of empires, the allure and corruption of forbidden magic, and the devastating outcomes of unbridled ambition. The lost souls' voices merged with his own, intertwining their narratives in a chilling symphony.

As he delved deeper into the labyrinthine recesses of the Grimoire's prison, patterns began to emerge within the stories. They transformed into cautionary tales, etched into the very fabric of the ethereal realm. The imprisoned souls yearned for release, their perpetual torment demanding an end, and they turned to Volcier as their potential savior.

A glimmer of determination ignited within Volcier's heart, even as the atmosphere grew more foreboding. He recognized his responsibility, not only to himself but to these lost souls. He had been ensnared by the seductive promises of knowledge and power, but now he witnessed the true cost—the ceaseless cycle of suffering perpetuated by the Grimoire.

With every step, Volcier's resolve strengthened. Guided by whispers and fragmented memories, he navigated treacherous currents within the ethereal realm, never wavering from his purpose. He pressed forward, drawn to the heart of the prison, where the Grimoire's grip on the souls held its most sinister power.

Finally, he stood before a towering obsidian monolith pulsating with malevolent energy. The imprisoned souls swirled around it, their desperate yearning for freedom casting a shroud of foreboding. Undeterred, Volcier extended his hand, his will clashing against the unfathomable forces that bound the prison.

A cataclysmic clash ensued, unleashing waves of upheaval that reverberated through the very fabric of the ethereal realm. Drawing upon the depths of his magic, Volcier channeled his essence into a surge of energy that shattered the obsidian monolith, unleashing a blinding burst of light that held the promise of salvation.


Volcier took the opportunity to acquaint himself with the crew of the Uncivil Serpent as the ship sailed forth. Captain Vaskin, a weathered and charismatic sailor, commanded both respect and fear from his comrades. His gaze and the lines etched on his face spoke volumes of his vast seafaring experience and hard-earned wisdom.

Assisting the captain was Vice-Captain Kira, a disciplined and loyal Human adorned in samurai armor. Kira's mere presence exuded strength and purpose, ensuring the crew followed orders and maintaining the ship's security with unwavering determination.

Ragnar, a towering Bugbear, held the crucial role of Shipwright and Boatswain. With his immense strength and deep knowledge of the ship's construction, Ragnar kept the Uncivil Serpent in seaworthy condition, tending to its hull, rigging, and sails. Despite his intimidating appearance, he possessed a gentle nature, always willing to lend a helping hand to his fellow crewmates.

The ship's doctor, Dr. Pokkle, appeared sickly but possessed extensive knowledge of medicine. Armed with a seemingly endless supply of potions and salves, Pokkle skillfully tended to the crew's injuries and illnesses. Despite his frail exterior, his expertise brought comfort to those in need, earning him the respect and gratitude of his shipmates.

The culinary delights aboard the Uncivil Serpent were orchestrated by Gravy, a jovial and corpulent Cook. With his skilled hands and warm nature, Gravy transformed humble ingredients into flavorful and nourishing meals, bringing joy and sustenance to the crew even on the stormiest of days.

Guiding the ship through treacherous waters was Arlong, a Triton with a fearsome appearance. As the Helmsman, Arlong possessed sharp eyes and an innate connection to the sea. His expertise allowed him to deftly navigate dangerous currents, always on the lookout for signs of danger. The crew placed their trust in this enigmatic figure, knowing their lives depended on his vigilance.

Caterina, a fiery Tiefling, assumed the role of Master Gunner. With her dexterity and profound understanding of weaponry, she oversaw the ship's arsenal of cannons and firearms. Her unwavering accuracy and fierce determination made her an invaluable defender of the Uncivil Serpent against any threats they encountered.

Lastly, Bitzeff, a lively Gnome, served as the Quartermaster. With meticulous record-keeping and astute negotiation skills, Bitzeff managed the ship's supplies, ensuring ample provisions for the crew's sustenance throughout the voyage. His infectious enthusiasm and quick wit fostered a sense of camaraderie among the crew.

Volcier took note of each crew member, recognizing the unique contributions they brought to the functioning and unity of the Uncivil Serpent. In their diversity, they formed a cohesive and capable team, ready to face the challenges that lay ahead on their journey.

Volcier stood on the deck of the Uncivil Serpent, his heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and trepidation. The sea air crackled around him as the pirate ship closed in on its latest target—a merchant vessel heavy with untold treasures. He watched Arlong, the captain, at the helm, his eyes narrowed with predatory focus as he steered their course to intercept the unsuspecting ship. The billowing sails propelled them forward, a silent predator closing in on its prey.

As the merchant ship's crew realized the futility of their attempts to outrun the pirates, panic and chaos erupted on board. Volcier could hear the mocking jeers and raucous laughter echoing from the Uncivil Serpent, a crew fully embracing their piratical personas. Clad in menacing attire and armed to the teeth, they exuded a menacing aura that struck fear into the hearts of their targets.

Vice-Captain Kira, a maestro of mayhem, rallied the pirate crew, his thunderous voice echoing across the ship. Volcier observed the meticulous planning that ensued, with ropes deftly coiled and grappling hooks poised for the imminent assault. Each member of the Uncivil Serpent's crew received their assigned roles, preparing to leap onto the merchant ship's deck and unleash chaos upon their prey.

A symphony of anticipation filled the air as the grappling hooks found their mark, crashing against the merchant ship's railings with a resounding thud. Volcier watched as the pirates swung across the perilous divide between the vessels, their figures shimmering in the sunlight. The terrified screams and desperate pleas from the merchant ship greeted their arrival.

The clash of steel and the cacophony of battle erupted on the merchant ship's deck, a furious dance of violence that engulfed the space. Volcier, caught up in the chaos, fought alongside the pirates with a newfound fervor. He channeled his magical prowess, adding a mystical element to the fray with bolts of arcane energy crackling through the air. Together, they carved a path of destruction, turning the deck into a canvas stained with blood and shattered dreams.

In the midst of the chaos, Volcier witnessed the pirates reveling in their triumph. Their laughter and jubilant shouts punctuated the maelstrom of battle. Soldiers fell before them, their lives extinguished in a whirlwind of steel, while others, battered and broken, were captured. The scent of victory mingled with the coppery tang of spilled blood, thickening the air.

With each clash of blades and each defeated foe, Volcier's resolve deepened. He came to understand the merciless world he had become a part of, embracing his role in this dark dance of plunder and survival. As he fought alongside the pirates, his own brief chapter in the annals of pirate history began to take shape.

As the battle raged on, the merchant ship's deck transformed into a nightmarish tableau of conquest. The pirates of the Uncivil Serpent fought with a ruthless fervor driven by their insatiable hunger for riches. Their victory seemed assured, their dominance over the enemy absolute.

After the fierce battle and the surrender of the merchant ship, the pirates wasted no time in claiming their spoils. Led by Captain Vaskin, their eyes gleaming with triumph and greed, they embarked on a frenzy of looting. Their insatiable desire for wealth and riches fueled their actions with ruthless efficiency.

Volcier observed Captain Vaskin directing his crew to search every nook and cranny of the merchant ship. Chests were pried open, revealing a treasure trove of gleaming gold, precious gems, and exotic artifacts. The pirates' eyes widened with anticipation as they reveled in the sight of their newfound fortune.

The pirates worked swiftly, loading the plunder onto their own ship, the Uncivil Serpent. The deck became a scene of bustling activity as chests were hauled, ropes were secured, and the valuable cargo was stowed away in hidden compartments below deck.

Amidst the organized chaos, Volcier, driven by curiosity and a thirst for adventure, eagerly joined the pirates in their looting spree. His agile fingers sought out hidden caches of valuables, his keen eyes discerning precious artifacts that others might have overlooked. Each new discovery ignited a spark of exhilaration within him, his heart racing with the thrill of the hunt.

As the pirates continued their pillaging, their jubilant laughter and triumphant cries echoed across the sea. The merchant ship, now stripped of its wealth, stood as a testament to the audacity and dominance of the Uncivil Serpent's crew. Nothing of value was spared, leaving behind only the echoes of their ruthlessness.

With the valuable loot secured, a disturbing shift in the atmosphere seized the air. The pirates, their ruthless nature unchecked, mercilessly silenced the surviving merchants and soldiers. Their throats were slit with cold precision, staining the decks with blood and sealing their fates forever.

As the looting reached its climax, the pirates prepared to depart, leaving behind a trail of destruction. Caterina, known for igniting chaos, poured oil across the deck of the plundered merchant ship. Flames leaped to life, consuming the broken vessel piece by piece. The crackling flames danced with cruel delight, erasing any remnants of its former glory.

A chilling mix of cruelty and indifference settled upon the pirates as their attention turned to the captive women. Their cries and pleas for mercy fell upon deaf ears, serving only to fuel the pirates' sadistic amusement. The stolen women, trembling with fear and despair, found themselves at the mercy of their heartless captors.

Among the pirates, Caterina and Kira stood out in their distinctive roles. Caterina, fueled by a wicked spark, strode across the deck with calculated menace. In a moment of calculated malice, she planted a merciless kick into the stomach of a young blonde-haired Elf girl, epitomizing the pirates' unyielding dominance.

As Vaskin approached the women, cackling with malicious delight, Volcier turned away from the scene. He walked below deck, returning to his quarters. He had no interest in what the pirates planned to do, seeking solace away from the darkness that had consumed them.