"The pitiful mortals of Haven don’t know it yet, but the seas belong to us. Try as they might, none can stand before the Damned. Sooner or later, they’ll realize their folly. After all, every man’s a sinner at the end of the day."
— Grand Admiral Krakynhal
The Fleet of the Damned, also referred to as the Fleet of Sinners and the Fleet of the Dead, is a large undead navy led by the self-proclaimed Grand Admiral Krakynhal. For centuries, the Fleet of the Damned has plagued the seas of Haven, raiding ships and coastal settlements in a never ending search for plunder and fresh meat. Even the great navies of the Westland Empire and Eastern Union dread to face them in battle, for they know that defeat means not only death, but eternal servitude to Krakynhal as an undead pawn.
Originally little more than a collection of rotting ships and half-decayed hulks, the Fleet of the Damned has grown to become one of the strongest naval powers in the world, consisting of vessels from every corner of the globe. Its leader, the Remnant Spirit known to mortal men as Grand Admiral Krakynhal, seeks nothing less than total dominion over the world’s oceans. He and his fellow admirals, known as the Council of the Deep, plot and scheme from their headquarters on the Isle of the Dead.
Despite being repelled on multiple occasions, Krakynhal’s fleets always return. It is said that the bounty on his head is so large that it makes the fortunes of even the richest merchant princes look like pennies in comparison. Krakynhal revels in this, as every increase to his bounty means more and more people will hear of his exploits, and even more will learn to fear him.
History
From Humble Beginnings
Long ago, Alexander Hawthorne sought to make a name for himself. Born to a poor family in a coastal town in the Westland Empire, he knew that the only way to lift himself out of poverty was to join up with the navy. Once came of age, he signed up as soon as he could, taking what meager belongings he had with him. While initially disliked by many due to his scrawny build and lack of seafaring experience, his drive to improve led the ship’s captain to take pity on the young man, teaching him valuable lessons that would serve him well in the future. But the lesson that would stick the most with the young man was that unless he earned his fame, he’d be forgotten as just another sea dog.
Taking this advice to heart, he worked his way up the ranks until, years later, he became the captain of his own vessel. While his new life as a captain earned him the respect of his peers and his crew, it failed to yield him the fame he so desperately craved. This lack of recognition nurtured a dark seed in Hawthorne’s heart, a seed that would begin to sprout when his ship was attacked by pirates. While the damage done was immense, Hawthorne and his men managed to escape back to port, telling their story to their fellow sailors.
Hawthorne later learned that his attackers were rather infamous amongst his crew, having already attacked several Westland Empire merchant vessels. Seeing that the attacks made the pirates famous, Hawthorne decided to ditch the navy and become a pirate himself, gathering his most loyal crewmates and stealing a ship in the dead of night. Thus began Alexander Hawthorne’s career as a pirate.
Hawthorne the Pirate
Given that his crew was small, Hawthorne stuck to short yet brutal attacks on his foes, using his military experience to great effect. Lesser captains were swiftly defeated, their crews either thrown overboard or marooned unless they swore fealty to him. In time Hawthorne amassed a sizable band of cutthroats, slowly building up his reputation over time. He eventually became known as a ruthlessly efficient leader, his wanted poster popping up in taverns across the Westland Empire.
But this still wasn’t enough for Hawthorne. No matter how hard he tried, there were always those more infamous than him, more successful than him. Those who would have their stories told in the tales of sailors for millennia long after they passed. That was the kind of infamy Hawthorne craved, yet no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t claim it. It is said he would have drunk himself to death had he not overheard his crew talking about a certain sea monster one night.
The Kraken’s Call
Orokhra, the largest and most powerful kraken ever recorded to exist in the depths of Haven’s seas, had been sighted attacking lone vessels. This gave Hawthorne an idea; if he could successfully kill the beast, then he’d finally have his place amongst the most infamous pirates of all time. He then set about searching for every scrap of information he could get his hands on, from manuscripts detailing Orokhra’s past appearances to stories about sailors encountering the beast.
When he was finally ready, he set out to bring Orokhra down, fitting his ship with a spiked ram on the front so he could impale the monster. After weeks of searching, he and his men finally found it. Most of them were utterly terrified, wanting to turn back the moment they laid eyes on it. But Hawthorne? He was ecstatic. He immediately ordered his men to attack, moving his ship in for the kill as it unleashed a barrage of cannon fire on the beast.
However, Orokhra’s slimy hide deflected most of the shots, with those that struck true only seeming to make it even angrier. It lashed out with its tentacles, hammering the ship’s hull and dragging crew members into its maw. This only made Hawthorne even more eager to kill it. He grabbed his ship’s wheel, turned the vessel around, and prepared to ram the abomination. With the fervor of a madman, he drove his ship directly into the kraken, the barbed spikes of his ram piercing deep into its flesh. It let out a pained roar, the remaining crew cheering as the battle was seemingly won.
But this was not the case. Despite being speared through, Orokhra had defeated ships far larger than Hawthorne’s, and it would end this fight right here and now. Wrapping its massive tentacles around the vessel, it began to pull it under, with the crew panicking and trying desperately to hack away at the tendrils dragging their ship underwater. Hawthorne was furious, this beast would dare try to rob him of his fame, the glory and recognition he so desperately craved? He wouldn’t be having it.
Taking his sword, Hawthorne climbed to the highest point of his ship, ignoring the cries of his crew as they were pulled to their dooms. Once up in the crow’s nest, he shouted one final curse at the beast before he lept, aiming to drive his cutlass as deep as he could into its hide. But all he got was his doom, one of Orokhra’s tentacles grabbing and crushing the life from Hawthorne as he and the ship were dragged under the waves. For most men, this would be the end, but fate had other plans in store for Hawthorne…
Hawthorne the Remnant
Instead of being devoured by Orokhra, Hawthorne’s lifeless body slipped from the beast’s grasp, drifting on the ever-shifting tides of Haven’s seas until it eventually washed up on the shores of a strange island. It was here the captain awoke, frantically hacking up seawater from his lungs as he regained his bearings. Unbeknownst to him at the time, Hawthorne’s sheer arrogance and regret at failing to slay Orokhra had caused him to resurrect as a Remnant Spirit, stuck between the realms of life and death.
Once he was able to stand, Hawthorne limped his way off the beaches, searching for any signs of civilization. As he traveled, he began to notice strange things around him. The island was oddly quiet, the only sounds present being his own footsteps and the cawing of crows. Any plants he came across were either dead or dying, their wilted leaves trying in vain to catch what little rays of sunlight pierced through the clouds overhead. Even the air itself seemed dead, with barely a breeze present to break up the silence.
Eventually, Hawthorne stumbled upon the remains of a once-mighty fortress atop a cliff overlooking the sea. Hoping to find a decent meal, or at the very least somewhere to rest, he trudged onwards, ignoring the skeletal remains that surrounded the wrecked castle. Once inside, Hawthorne continued on until he came across the remains of some grand library. It was largely intact compared to most of the old fortress, the fireplace still lit as if it had just been refueled. The warmth drew Hawthorne in, eager to drive the chill from his aching body.
After getting settled in, Hawthorne decided to read one of the old books to pass the time. What he found was no ordinary book, but a journal detailing the experiments of a necromancer. Inside Hawthorne found decades worth of research into the art of raising the dead, complete with illustrations of the necromancer’s findings. Hawthorne was initially appalled, but found himself strangely intrigued by the journal. He read it for hours, only stopping once he finished the entire thing.
Once Hawthorne was done with the journal, he picked up another one, and then another, until he read through the entire library. He discovered that a cabal of necromancers once dwelled here, realizing that they could draw in those who died at sea towards them in order to create an undead army. However, their efforts were thwarted, their island razed to the ground and the necromancers themselves executed. But the magic they wrought on their home still remained. Indeed, Hawthorne had begun to sense it, the energies of undeath itself being drawn to the island like a magnet attracting metal.
Upon this discovery, an idea began to form in Hawthorne’s mind. If he could master the art of necromancy and find a way off the island, he would be able to rebuild not only his own ship, but an entire undead fleet. Realizing that this would elevate him to become the most infamous pirate in all of history, Hawthorne immediately began experimenting, using the journals to guide his way.
Return to Piracy
It took ages for Hawthorne to decipher the old journals, but he eventually became a seasoned necromancer in his own right. His first acts were to raise the dead soldiers kept in the crypts underneath the old fortress, amassing a sizable force. But if he was to leave the island, he needed a ship, one which would be constructed from the blackened trees and rotting timbers scattered around the isle.
Despite his new vessel’s rickety nature, Hawthorne was still able to make sail and head out to sea, plotting his next course of action. While he had a fairly large crew, he knew their rusted blades and ancient armor wouldn’t hold up against a proper foe. As such, his first attacks were against poorly-armed targets such as fishermen and lone traders. But with every enemy slain, his crew slowly grew in size and strength, becoming formidable enough to perform more daring raids. They also stole the ships of anyone they attacked, looting anything they could use to bolster their ramshackle fleet.
Of course, there were always those lucky enough to escape, and they would spread word of what had happened to their fellow sailors. This would lead to the beginning of Hawthorne’s ever-rising bounty, slowly growing with every fishing boat or lone patrol ship that vanished. Bounty hunters would eventually start coming for Hawthorne’s head, but even they weren’t a match for the hordes of undead he had raised.
Revenge & Rebirth
Over a century-and–a-half after Hawthorne had left the island, he had managed to form a mighty force of at least a dozen vessels, each one packed to the brim with undead pirates. His reputation was only growing, but something still clung to his mind. His defeat at the tentacles of Orokhra, despite being so long ago, still burned inside him. He swore he would not rest until that kraken was dead at his feet, and he was willing to sacrifice everything in order to bring it down.
Soon the chance for revenge would present itself in the form of rumors of Orokhra’s reemergence. Once these rumors reached Hawthorne’s ears, he set about researching ways to kill the beast with the dedication only an immortal could muster. After months of preparation, his secret weapon was complete: a giant harpoon enchanted with the strongest curses Hawthorne could muster. A weapon so powerful that its baleful magic sapped the lifeforce from anything standing too close.
With his weapon completed, Hawthorne gathered his forces and sent off to Orokhra’s last known location, encountering it in the middle of a freak storm. While the rough weather would be very difficult to deal with for most sailors, it actually worked in the pirates’ favor, hiding most of their movements from Orokhra’s gaze. It was only when they were practically next to it did the monster attack, swinging its tentacles at them in great sweeping arcs.
While half of Hawthorne’s fleet was brought down that day, he successfully managed to launch the harpoon and pierce the beast’s hide, finally bringing Orokhra down. He’d done it, after years of searching and preparation, he’d gotten his revenge. But Hawthorne wasn’t done with the kraken just yet. No, he’d seen just how strong it was, and he could use that strength for his own ends.
So he set about trying to resurrect Orokhra, gathering his remaining captains and pooling their magic together. In a flash of light, the energies of undeath filled Orokhra’s body. The beast rose once more, but this time, it was nothing more than Hawthorne’s puppet, his most powerful weapon.
The celebration that night was grand, sea shanties filling the air as Hawthorne gave a grandiose speech. Alexander Hawthorne was no more. Now, there was only Grand Admiral Krakynhal, bane of the seas and slayer of monsters. And soon, the whole of Haven would come to fear him.
Terror of the Seas
After slaying and resurrecting Orokhra, Krakynhal returned with his forces to the Isle of the Dead, enacting his latest plan. He would rebuild this sorry place into a base of operations fit for a pirate king like himself, first reconstructing the old fortress into his personal abode. Soon the place would be unrecognizable, with dockyards and fortifications popping up all over the island. He even gave Orokhra a home by having his men dig an underwater cave for it in the cliff under his own home.
With the island built up, Krakynhal could finally set out with turning his forces from a collection of half-drowned ships into the mightiest navy in the world. Leaving the island once more, he and his men set off on countless daring raids, bringing back bodies to be converted and plunder to be enjoyed. He even managed to convince several notable criminals to become his admirals, giving them control over their own sub-fleets. Even now, hundreds of years later, sailors still tell tales of the dread pirate Krakynhal, the most infamous pirate in the modern age of Haven.
Organization
The Fleet of the Damned is ruled by Krakynhal, who serves as its self-styled Grand Admiral. The Fleet itself is divided into seven smaller fleets, with each one ruled by a respective admiral. While these admirals have a good deal of autonomy, they are still subordinate to Krakynhal. These admirals also form the so-called Council of the Deep, with Krakynhal at its head. Whenever Krakynhal is in one of his more deranged states, the Council rules in his stead, carrying out his will until he becomes lucid enough to lead again.
When the fleet attacks, a dark storm is known to precede them, known to sailors as the Storm of Sin. This storm is not a natural phenomenon at all, but is instead a spell cast by the captains of Krakynhal’s ships meant to hide their movements. From afar, it appears as an ordinary storm, only showing its true nature as one gets closer. If an enemy ship gets too close to a Storm of Sin, it will find itself being immobilized by strange forces, its crew witnessing the storm clouds above them morphing into terrifying shapes. This is when the sinners launch their attack, encircling the enemy and blasting them apart with cannon fire.
Each of the seven fleets that comprise the Fleet of the Damned is based on a specific sin, the sins in question being Pride, Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Wrath, Sloth, and Envy. These sins are not only a reflection of the fleets’ admirals, but the style of their ships and how they conduct their raids. For example, ships from the Fleet of Greed are more focused on stealing as much treasure as possible, while ships from the Fleet of Wrath simply wish to kill as many as they can.
Fleet of Pride
The Fleet of Pride is the largest and most powerful of the fleets that make up the Fleet of the Damned, being ruled by Krakynhal himself. It is composed of its most elite warriors as well as its most powerful ships, with even the smallest vessels in this fleet carrying dozens of guns. It was the first of the fleets to be created, being brought into existence back when Krakynhal first mastered the art of necromancy.
In battle, the Fleet of Pride often acts as the core of an invasion force, often fighting against the strongest foes they can find. However, they are most commonly used as a defensive force stationed around the Isle of the Dead. It is a rare occasion that the fleet leaves their blighted home, usually only going out when a raid of enormous proportions presents itself.
Fleet of Lust
The Fleet of Lust is ruled by Admiral Vrixis Heartstealer, having the largest number of living crewmates compared to undead ones. This is because largely living beings tend to be more capable of living out their lustful desires. It is they who are responsible for sowing the seeds of corruption amongst honest men, sending out agents to infiltrate communities and convince people to join them. They heavily play into the desires of their targets, offering them endless wealth, a chance to lead, or something else that their hearts desperately crave.
Of course, there are always those who cannot be led astray by promises alone, so the more experienced agents resort to more subtle tactics. They disguise their false promises as stories about how they almost killed some sea monster or came within a hair’s length of obtaining some long lost treasure. This tends to be enough to send at least a few foolhardy captains and their crews off on a wild goose chase, expecting to succeed where others have failed. However, all they find is death, the Lustful Ones springing their trap and massacring the unsuspecting sailors.
Fleet of Gluttony
The Fleet of Gluttony is ruled by Admiral Krutak the Devourer, being primarily focused on sowing discord amongst the enemies of the sinners by destroying their food supplies. To accomplish this, they make use of massive swarms of locusts, flies, and numerous other pests to burrow their way into the food stores of their foes, leaving them without even a crumb to their name. This is often enough to send a population spiraling into anarchy, fighting over what meager scraps remain or sometimes even resorting to cannibalism.
This tactic is also used during combat, the Gluttonous Ones sending out their voracious swarms to literally eat their way through an enemy ship’s hull and get at the frame underneath. Should the swarm not be stopped, then an enemy captain would find his ship literally falling to pieces, collapsing like a house of cards under a light breeze.
Fleet of Greed
The Fleet of Greed is ruled by Admiral Orosire Goldtooth, being the main treasure-stealing force of the Fleet of the Damned. They are the most easily identifiable of the seven fleets, their ships often being studded with rare gems and their crews decked out in golden jewelry. It is said that even the cannonballs they use are made from gold, though Goldtooth is far too stingy to waste his booty on something as trivial as that.
The Fleet of Greed is often seen raiding merchant convoys, dragging their prey in close with barbed hooks attached to chains. Once within range, the Greedy Ones launch a mass boarding action with the goal of stealing as much wealth as possible. Any ship they attack is usually stripped down to its hull, and sometimes even that is stolen. The loot they take is brought back to the Isle of the Dead and stored in the island’s Grand Vault, which is said to contain enough treasure to buy the loyalty of every man on Haven.
Fleet of Wrath
The Fleet of Wrath is ruled by Admiral Bloody Lizbeth, forming the bulk of the Fleet of the Damned’s invasion forces. They’re often described as the most deranged of the seven fleets, their ships covered in the bones of men and monsters alike and their crews fighting like wild beasts. They even employ the use of sea monsters in their attacks, using powerful magics to bind pods of sharks or even sea serpents to do their bidding.
The Fleet of Wrath is also the largest supplier of fresh meat to the Fleet of the Damned’s forces, carrying off hundreds or even thousands of bodies to be raised in a single raid. Sometimes the Wrathful Ones get creative, using their magic to fuse multiple bodies together to create tormented behemoths, bolting armor into their skin and replacing their hands with hooked blades. The sheer terror these abominations can inflict on a ship’s crew brings great joy to the sinners.
Fleet of Sloth
The Fleet of Sloth is ruled by Admiral Guroth Mindrender, seemingly being the weakest of the seven fleets. However, this is all a ruse, as the Slothful Ones simply prefer it when their enemies come to them. Indeed, their ships can often be found drifting at random, completely silent unless provoked. However, should an enemy ship move in to attack, their crews will begin to grow tired, their movements becoming sluggish as their vessel slows to a crawl.
This is due to a powerful magic field cast around every one of the Fleet of Sloth’s ships, a curse designed to sap the will to fight from their foes. Only beings of incredibly strong will have a hope of treading this treacherous aura, and even they are at risk. The sinners themselves are unaffected by this curse, and they will happily take their time while butchering their way through an enemy crew.
Fleet of Envy
The Fleet of Envy is ruled by Admiral Mephiso the Deceiver, being the smallest of the seven fleets. They are also the least-equipped, often carrying weapons covered in barnacles and using cannons wrapped in seaweed. However, their real specialty lies in trickery. They are the most cunning and deceitful of the sinners, often using dirty tactics such as fake surrenders only to strike when their enemy’s guard is down.
However, when pressed into a difficult spot, the Envious Ones can form a surprisingly vicious fighting force. This is due to their sheer desire for better things, to improve their lowly status by any means necessary. Even when the battle is not in their favor, they will still fight to the bitter end, a testament to their sheer desperation.
