Storming the Hull
Well, look who's back in Limsa Lominsa. Me an' the chief were just talkin' 'bout ye at the Wench, y'know. Come to think of it, wait here, I'll go an' get him. It's his restin' day, but he wanted to speak to ye. Somethin' about Hullbreaker.
Glad to see you back, Forename. Every time I hear your name, I'm reminded of how you helped me salvage that coffer from Hullbreaker Isle. You did me a great favor, lad. Though the rumors of Mistbeard's treasure soon died down, I couldn't abide the thought of having the Haar picked apart by vultures.
So I petitioned the Admiral to sanction the establishment of a camp on the island for the purpose of hosting training exercises. I reasoned that the place was remote enough to give our recruits a proper taste of combat.
But truth be told, with all the administrative duties asked of them these days, I'm more worried about our finest going soft. Sparring with your comrades might keep the rust from your blade, but it won't stop it going dull. That being the case, I thought I might ask for your help in a little sharpening exercise─remind them what it feels like to be in a real fight.
Aye, the chief was hopin' ye might run the Maelstrom's trainin' gauntlet an' give our elites a good goin' over. Nothin' too rough, like─just a few missin' teeth an' the odd cracked rib, savvy? Assumin' yer willin', come an' find me at the Moraby Drydocks when yer ready an' I'll arrange passage to Hullbreaker for you and yer mates.
The boat that ferries the men to Hullbreaker casts off from the Moraby Drydocks. Meet me there, an' I'll get ye squared away.
Ever since we took control o' that rock, it's been my job to keep an eye on the skies over the Cieldalaes. When the misty mane o' the Doxy's Pull sweeps in, there ain't no point weighin' anchor as ye can't see an ilm in front o' yer face.
Long story short, I have to stay here an' watch the weather, but I'll be listenin' out for word o' how you get on. Thanks for agreein' to do this, by the way. Havin' a fabled hero like yerself go through the same regimen as the infantrymen'll do wonders for morale.
Anyroad, the weather seems to be behavin' just now, so let me know when yer crew's ready to be ferried over. We'll get everythin' else in place in the meantime. Give them storm elites a bloody nose from me, eh?
Ye don't have no shortage o' followers at Maelstrom Command, y'know. When the storm elites heard ye was runnin' the gauntlet at Hullbreaker, the only folk as didn't volunteer was the ones what already had. Roster was full before the chief could say “Surname”.
'Tain't what you might call a definitive pattern, but I've noticed the mist tends to thin after the gales o' great storms sweep over from the Rhotano. 'Tis as if the Navigator's clearin' the way for us, eh?
Well? How was it? Did ye give them elites the hidin' o' their lives or what? Come on, out with it!
Patience, lad. All of Limsa will know the tale ere long.
'Twas a sight to behold, that much I will say. Forename and his comrades carved their way through beasts and men like a cutter through a swell. Not even a visit from the Sirens and the Krakens could slow their pace.
Eh!? Pirates turned up at the drill!? What in the seven hells did they want!?
Why, to do their civic duty, of course. They invited themselves, as members of the Black Sails unit. You'd be forgiven for forgetting, but the pirate powers are still bound to the Maelstrom by the Galadion Accord. Of course, they never deign to take part in our exercises, and we've long since stopped asking.
As for why they chose to grace this one, I reckon word got out that the Warrior of Light would be facing our finest and they fancied a go themselves. I saw no reason to deny them.
Hah! Admit it! You wanted to see if them old cutthroats could still hold their own in a fight!
Er, beggin' yer pardon, Chief, but...are you all right? Ye look a bit...sore. Don't tell me you...
I... I deemed it good for morale. But I did not come here to speak of that. Forename─the Maelstrom is grateful for your participation. May you sail with us / May we count you a friend till sea swallows all. Good day to you both, gentlemen.
Ack! I'd have stowed away on the ferry if I'd known the chief'd be fightin'! Seein' you in action must've woken the spirit o' the golden age in him.
Though I doubt he's as spry now as he was back then... I hope ye didn't give him too bad of a beatin'. Legends like Mistbeard never get old, but the chief, well...he's just a man.
Ah, but let's keep this little chat between ourselves, eh? Good to see ye again, Forename. Thanks for helpin' out the chief.