Gaster sat in an overstuffed red armchair, a glass of red wine in one metal hand. He had gone to a metalworker, and gotten the bulky golem body reshaped into something resembling his old body. In front of him, a massive fireplace reared high above him, made of black marble. An oil painting hung over the fireplace. In it was a gaunt man, cheeks hollow, with deep set eyes that were dark and suspicious, boring into all who looked at the painting. His limbs were far too long, and you could see his ribs through his suit. Lank black hair was slicked back against his head, almost tearing the paper thin skin, and an eerie smile spread across his face, revealing yellowed, crooked teeth. Beneath the grotesque painting, on the old gilded frame, was a brass plaque:

"Lord Von Gaster, the Bone King."

He begins talking to himself, seeming to all the world like a senile old fool.

"You know, it wasn't just the Helvunes who hated me. Even the townsfolk hated me. Necromancy and anything to do with death was hated and persecuted. I was isolated in my manor, with nobody for company but my rotting servants, as no woman would look at me. Loneliness does things to the mind... My heart began to shrivel and blacken... I was soon a loveless husk, hellbent on teaching all who shunned me that there are some people you just don't anger."

While he monologued, down at the fort, something very strange was occuring. The guards would double over from laughter, and then quite literally die from laughing so hard, they forgot to breathe. As each pair of guards dropped, a man with dirty green hair, and odd makeup, wearing a dark purple waist coat, tricorne, a green and purple shirt, and purple pants and boots would advance until he got the the fort wall. He jumped into the sea, and tossed a bomb behind him. As he hit the water, the fort blew up in a cloud of green smoke. When the fort blew, and purple and green flag galleon with a grinning skull for a figurehead sailed into the bay, picking up the strange man and then sailing back into the night.

From the north a fleet of warships is sailing south, being led by Commodore Carl the Crazy, a small wiry man with a somewhat mad look in his eyes. To his right a young robed woman named Zephyra Helvune stands looking over the sea as she speaks to Carl

Alright, no signs so far of the enemy. Heard recently from intel that Aiora lost it's fort, so we should stay on patrol near them until it's fixed in case they get attacked. I suggest we head to the tavern, recruit some locals, and start rebuilding the defenses.

Carl nods and immediately begins to dock his ship into port, while the rest stay at sea on guard for any invading forces.

The galleon then did a 360, coincidentally docking next to Carl's ship. The aforementioned man left the ship, followed by a few men. One leans toward him.

Are yeh sure about this, Cap'n?


Aye, Ripper. I am, or my name isn't Arthur Fleck.

Carl and Zephyra quickly leave their ship along with several men, Putting Bob the rest of the other men to keep guard on it. The 2 quickly walk to the nearest tavern, where Carl quickly shouts

Oy, we need some able bodied men and women, to quickly help rebuild the fort that just got trashed. Pay is 15 gold an hour, every person who wishes to work need to pass a safety test to make sure they ain't traitors or saboteurs. Supplies will be provided by us. Any takers?

Zephyra quickly begins sorting through the folks who come to volunteer, asking questions and having the other men search them before sending them to a nearby location.

Fleck growled, a displeased frown twisting his scarred visage.

Ripper, take some men and do whatever you can to stall the repairs. Steal tools and so on. Everything must go according to the Admiral's plan.

A strong blast of wind knocks Fleck and his men into the sewer waters, as Zephyra walks in, she shouts an order as several men quickly disarm the explosives before she turns to Fleck and freezes the water trapping him and his men.

We knew someone already sabotaged the fort once. Did you think we were going to be careless and let them sabotage it AGAIN? We are keeping watch on all weak spots for the fort. Be it by land, sea, air, or even underground. You blokes made a mistake in not using explosives down here in your first attack. Regardless, you all will be questioned, then tried for your crimes. You and whoever you are working for.

Sadly, Fleck's job was done. He was only a distraction, as Dreadbolt's armada sailed up unnoticed. Above them, mortar fire rained down, and the trooping of hundreds of booted feet above them shook dust from the ceiling.

You're a bit late, Zephyra. My job here is done.

He disappeared in a cloud of smoke and insane laughter, leaving a single, very short-fused bomb, lit on the ground.