Oleander found war to be a tiresome affair. Granted, there were benefits to be reaped from large-scale conflict: plunder, materials, and leverage over his ‘rivals’ — if he could even truly call the other Pirate Lords that.But overall, the gains made never truly made up for the time and resources wasted. A solitary life of research and ruling over his territories would have suited him fine, had the need to draw the Elathion boy to the West not been so severe.It was the same even now. He endured the squabbling of lesser men — sacrificed valuable war machines to their worthless cause — all to draw out the elusive child.But it would be worth it, in the end. After millennia of despair and agony, Oleander could finally see the end of his torment.The end of his species’ torment.A cure for the White Hunger Plague.A wave of angry curses distracted the necromancer from his thoughts. Frustrated, Oleander did not bother looking at which dim-witted captain was the one shouting for attention.His laboratory was filled with intense arguments, though not in a way one might expect. Oleander was the only person within the chamber, but for the moment, he was loaning the enormous psychic power of his undead dreadnought to facilitate the impromptu meeting called upon by the ‘leader’ of their tenuous pirate alliance — Pirate Lord Augustus, the self-proclaimed Golden King of Corsairs.Aside from the three remaining Pirate Lords — himself, Augustus, and Drake — more than (...)