Somewhere in the chilly seas of Northrend...

In the darkened waters of Northrend, a squat looking ship sails by. From a distance it looks like some sort of squat, upturned turtle marred only by the impressive set of guns pointing out of the top of it like horns on a stag. It rumbles along, it's engine growling like some sort of disgruntled beast as it glides through the water. It's a vast ship, easily a match for the battleships that regularly approach from Stormwind. Hushed whispers from her decks echo through the cold air, carried by the howling wind.

There is however, a few lights twinkling from what few portholes the menacing looking warship has, one of them casting the shadows of a handful of figures moving about.

"You really sold the whole damned lot of them to the Alliance?" muttered the stunning female blood Blood Elf, reclining back on a rocking hammock nestled in the corner of the expansive Captains cabin. Her figure is almost feline in its elegance, half curled up and propped up with a single elbow as her blond hair cascades behind her.

"All of 'em" the Captain replies with a trace of humor, his rough fingers counting out the Braves hard earned gold with a steady clink-clink. He chuckles, scooping the whole lot into a wooden strongbox before clasping it shut. "Now the Tuskarr will think those Alliance fools sold them the dodgy hardware, not us...".

"And if those Alliance fools find out?" comes the booming voice of a Tauren, his muscular figure looming threateningly in the dark corner of the room, lit only by the occasional spray of sparks from his whetstone as he sharpens a fearsome looking axe.

"Then let them find out my friend, let them come for their gold..." the Orc laughs, standing up with a creak as his chair grinds back against the wooden floor. "We've dealt with far worse my friends, I can't believe they fell for it though, not even one of them questioned why the Horde was even bothering with the pitiful place and those fat repulsive creatures" he snorts. A typical Orc by any means, scarred by numerous battles and with the cocky swagger of someone who has cheated death on more occasions then could be fair.

"I liked the High Elf... oh he was ravishing..." mumbles the Elf distractedly, her eyes burning into some sort of orb resting on her lap. "I can see them now... Valiance Keep... such... " she sighs, leaning back with a giggle of fel-induced bliss before snarling as the scrying orb bounces off the wall and fingers close rapidly around her neck.

"Do not test my patience Elf, I barely tolerate you aboard my ship as is... and you feel that you can flaunt your foul art in front of me, Warlock?" the Captain snarls, his hand tensing around the Elves neck for a brief few seconds, enough for her to let out a spluttered cough. "Do not test me..." he mutters, before finally letting her go and meeting the piercing glare of the Tauren who quickly looks away, returning his attention to sharpening his blade.

The Orc captain strides up to the main deck, hands clasped behind his back as he regards the floating aurora above his head shimmering in hues of green and blue giving the whole boat an almost otherworldly appearance. His crew working tirelessly keeping the ship ready for battle, their various shapes and sizes moving in the ethereal light almost appearing like ghosts haunting some sort of ancient tomb. There is one feature though that remains flawless throughout, the piercing red banner that hangs off the single solitary flagpole of the Dreadnought.

The banner of the Bloodsail Buccaneers.

Spoiler:

(( Oooh I can't wait! That is going to be awesome! ))

(( The Buccaneers have taken the Screaming Duckling! Hang tight for the story of how it happened... ))