All things considered, the life of an undead pirate on a Ship of the Damned was not the worst way to spend one's time.
It certainly beat some of the other jobs Sterkvark had done before he traded in his landsman's clothes for an eyepatch and a parrot.
He used to be the head chef for the Valiance Expedition, but developed Carpel Tunnel Syndrome after his 497th mead basted caribou.
He had tried his hand at prospecting in the Hellfire Peninsula, but since all he found there were demons, that didn't pan out...
While he loved to fish, it was a hard way to make a living, especially when his main source of income had come from hooking coins at the bottom of the Dalaran Fountain...
Compared to those occupations, sea roving with all its hazards was a grand adventure. And aside from the fact that his shipmates were skeletons, and he himself appeared to be numbered among the ranks of the undead and doomed to sail for all eternity, he had to admire their priorities...
The trouble was that because he was dead, he was unable to taste the rum nor partake of the promised wenches who were presumably frolicking ashore. Nor was there ever any plunder.
After weeks of battling the same foes and sailing the same short loops around the ice floes, the reality of Limbo began to hit home.
It was worse than doing Dailies!
It was worse than farming hyacinth macaws!
It was worse than having Trade Chat on every channel!
Oh, the humanity! The horror, the horror!
So it continued, until one day after endless days he noticed a small island not away, and on it a shimmering shade and a few rude graves.
"That's it!" cried the Sterkvark, suddenly recalling that the thing to do when you died was to return to the Spirit Healer and then run back to your corpse. He must have done it a thousand times before this, yet somehow had been misdirected to this phantom ship instead of the graveyard. Without wasting another moment he plunged over the side and swam to the island...
...where as he waded ashore he found only the ghost of the pirate who had run him through, scabbing during a spirit healer strike and in no mood for granting Sterkvark a rez. This left our hero in a blue funk...
No, that's not quite right. It made him get funky! Time for the big payback!
"Hey! Gotta gotta pay back!! (The big payback)
Revenge!! I'm mad (the big payback)
Got to get back! Need some get back!! Pay Back! (the big payback)
That's it!! Payback!!! Revenge!!!
I can do wheelin', I can do dealin' (yes you can!!) But I don't do no damn squealin'!
I can dig rappin', I'm ready, I can dig scrappin'
But I can't dig no backstabbin (Oh No!!)
The brother get ready!! That's a fact!!
Get ready you Mother, for the big payback (The big Payback!!)
Let me hit em!! Hey Hey!! WOOOOOOOOOOO!!!
There is nothing like Soul Power to really open up a can of whup ass on the undead. Sterkvark got up for the down stroke, blew the roof off the sucka, and started to feel good (like he knew that he would).
His non corporeal adversary didn't have a ghost of a chance, and as the veil between the world of the dead and the World of Warcraft lifted, Sterkvark and his no longer ex-parrot (a Norwegian Blue) were back in the land of the living!
(To be continued...)
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