Long ago, Lord Darkk was one I'd spend many hours drinkin' me inventory and tellin' lies. We spent many an hour trying to get the barkeep to provide a form of entertainment, dancers, minstrels, anything. It be no use, as the skinflint couldn't see the opportunity in it. So, Ol' Darkk decided to take matters upon himself, and taught three pigs (that frequented the establishment) to sing.
Aye, it be the truth -for three days he filled 'em full of hops and rum, playin' along on his harmonica until those pigs began to warble and sing He claimed they sang in harmony, but I wasn't so sure. It was interesting... if one sat in the right spot and had enough rum past his gullet, they weren't too bad.
Nevertheless, this swine trio became a mainstay at the tavern. Good or bad, I cannot say, as fine art be in the eye of the beholder. They were at the very least, entertaining. But as with all things in life, sad things do happen.
The sow met her demise one day when that skinflint of a barkeep decided he needed meat for the table, and he shot her right in the middle of an aria. That proved to be his demise, for as Lord Darkk heard of this act, and rectified the situation. Darkk drug him to the town square where he had him hanged.
Being the enterpriser I be, I immediately declared imminent domain and took custody of the tavern. Now there were only a pair of these singing pigs. I do have to admit, as many will atest, the singing sow was delicious.
The last time I saw Lord Darkk, he had taken one of the last two swine with him to Paris. He claimed to have a bloke there teach this pig to dance. He thought it prudent to leave the one pig at the pub, so we at least would have some form of entertainment. That was the last I ever saw of Lord Darkk and that singing pig.
...but that left one. One singing pig. One annoying, pathetic warbling swine. As the owner of the establishment, I tolerated it, as it seemed to entertain me clientele, but it irritated me. I grew to despise that squawling swine, and knew ever I cross paths with Darkk again, friend or no, I'd have to kill him.
It was fate that changed all that the day Captain Dungeness and Edward Collier stepped across the threshold. The Captain came to request my aid in a mission to obtain retribution for his Crown against our former guild mate, BoRed. Wanted to do it proper and complete. I would need to activate me battle vessels and gather me shamans for battle.
Edward Collier, said nothing. He simply stared at the singin' pig that was warbling away at some ditty a local drunk had got him started on. Collier usually doesn't say much, as he be an old sea salt who's pretty much all business, even when imbibing on occasion. However, when he turned back to us, there be a grin on his face, and he was shakin' his head.
Somethin' in me snapped, mate. It was cold, like in my early days, nasty and dark. Captain Dungeness looked at me, and asked,"Well, Morgan, you in or not, or are you going to stay here, swilling rum and singing with that hog?" A slight grin he bore on his face, as if he goaded me... I could feel the flash of madness run through me veins, then cool, to the dark evil I knew in me early days as a buccaneer.
I turned and headed for the back room, rippin' me gold brocade jacket from me shoulders. The dullness of rum was washing away as I stepped into the back room. I strapped on me two braces of pistols and me cutlass. Me old hat I retrieved from the shelf and donned it. Shucking by buckled shoes, I crammed me feet into my old deck boots and returned to the Captain and Collier.
As I entered the room, I drew a pistol, leveled it and fired. It roared in that tavern, spitting fire and belching smoke. As the smoke cleared, the carcass of Darkk's last singing swine lay sprawled on the floor, dead.
"Butcher that beast and salt 'im down!" I growled. "We be goin' to sea."
The entire tavern jumped into chaos, as me crews scurried to prepare. I turned to me two friends and said, "Aye, I be in."
That, friend, is how I became a member of the Ravenlocke Brethren. I still not be certain, but I think I'll pardon old Lord Darkk e'er I see him again, but, by goads, I will shoot that blasted pig if he brings it back with him!