ZOMTOBER week two submission

I think you're going to like this.
 I really hope you do...

For our week two submission for Zombtober, I did a little something different.  Oh, don't worry, there's a model involved, and it's from the wickedly incredible Arcworld line... but I decided to spice things up a little, so you're getting more than just a model.

The shadow of a sinister man has plagued the shorelines of Albionnica for centuries.  His name has been lost for generations; it is said he killed every man who knew it. The truth of his identity is a secret known only to the dead.  The long decayed crew of his ghastly ship, The Defiled Damsel,  are driven ever on by his lust for piracy.  It is said he no longer even keeps the plunder of the vessels he destroys, nor trophies of the lives he ends. He does not sail for gold.  He does not sail for blood.  He sails solely to hear the shrieks of terror and the wailing of the weak willed when his black sails crest the horizon.

Some say he was once an Albionnican Admiral.  A man calculated of mind and feigned of honor, who used treachery to rise through the ranks of the Albionnican Navy until he considered himself untouchable, then used his position to prey upon enemy and ally ships alike.  The deep crimson of his sea coat makes this legend possible, as does his knowledge of the coastline.

Others claim he was once an Captain of Esandaluca, who spent his career hunting Albionnican merchant ships like a sea wolf.  The legends say when he was finally cornered, he made a pact with The Deep itself to escape the clutches of his enemies, and avoided even Death in the process- after all, Death is the enemy of all Men.  As far fetched as the legend is, he lives on beyond death, and his well-plumed hat, the style in fashion in Esandaluca, seems to never wither and decay, the plumage remaining regardless of the seas.

The truth is, his origin matters little.  When the dark fogs roll in on moonless nights, the black sails appear.  When The Defiled Damsel rises, men no longer care what his name once was.  On the whispers of men who hope their hate is death, there is but one word spoken.  A single name that the Captain of that dread vessel is known by.



Gorebeard!   Gorebeard is coming!