One day, they would write songs about them. That’s what she would tell her crew every time they celebrated another daring adventure. Unlike many pirates, this wild captain wasn’t in it for rum or coin. Scarlet Drake had made fame and notoriety her purpose. She would be remembered as a pirate legend.
It wasn’t always like that. Scarlet grew up a poor orphan in Ireland. One day, she stowed away aboard a merchant ship bound for the Americas—a new life. En route, the ship was attacked by pirates under captain “Old Hob” O’Malley, and the crew was slaughtered to the man.
After blood and smoke had settled, Old Hob discovered the girl, who was hiding amongst the cargo, pointing a kitchen knife at him in defiance. He immediately recognized the fire in her eyes and decided to take her under his wing.
Under Old Hob’s tutelage, Scarlet grew into a fine pirate with a sharp mind and an even sharper blade. Perhaps one day, Old Hob could have seen her full potential, if not for a fateful encounter with the Reaper.On a dark and stormy day at sea, Scarlet came face to face with Rupert Killigrew, the cursed corsair, blight of the Seven Seas. He had come to claim the souls of Old Hobb and his crew, and the Reaper always gets his due. In the end, Scarlet was the only survivor. Since then, her path to fame was clear: one day, she would best the Reaper.
But how does one defeat death itself? The answer eluded Scarlet for a long time. Eventually, she heard tales of the legendary Brethren of the Coast and their battles against the Reaper. She figured that joining their ranks was her best chance, so she tracked them down to a notorious tavern at a bustling harbor.
The tavern was run by a quiet tavernkeep with a big scar on his scalp. Scarlet sat down at the counter, ordered one cup after another and told tales of her latest exploits. To get the Brethren’s attention, one must be truly notorious.
The door suddenly burst open. A dashing officer of the Crown walked in, dominating the room with calm authority. Scarlet had one look at the woman’s face and recognized her immediately. She was Amara, the hound of the Admiral. A hunter of pirates. Soldiers stormed the tavern. Scarlet was quickly on her feet and slashed two of her assailants wide open before she was overwhelmed. She writhed and spat out a litany of curses that would have made the dirtiest fishmonger blush. The pirate hunter walked up to her with an impudent smile and punched her straight in the gut.
The wind driven out of her, Scarlet met the pirate hunter’s gaze, and saw the self-assured determination of the Crown’s lapdog. This woman was a phenomenal rival, a foe worthy of her legend. Scarlet took a deep breath, spat in the pirate hunter’s face, and laughed until another punch knocked her unconscious.
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