The tavern is dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of saltwater and ale. Around the hearth, sailors, adventurers, and merchants sit, eager for the next story. At the center of the room stands a towering half-orc, his sturdy frame swaying with the rhythm of his drum. With a flick of his tusked grin, he raises his hands, and the crowd falls silent, ready for a tale.

He starts with a heavy, thumping beat, slow and deliberate, like the rumble of thunder on a stormy sea.

Tuk (with drumbeats):

"She came like a storm, ferocious and wild,

A pirate of fury, a marauder defiled.

Her ship, the Wraith’s Kiss, cut through the tide,

A queen on the ocean, where death would reside."

His drum grows louder now, faster, mimicking the growing intensity of a battle.

Tuk (drumming):

"Captain Morgana was her name,

Her legend would scorch the seas in her flame!

With eyes like a storm cloud, and hair black as night,

She took what she wanted, spreading fear and blight."

The crowd leans in as he weaves the tale of her first raid. The half-orc’s voice booms over the growing rhythm, setting the scene.

Tuk (with a fierce growl):

"On a moonless night, they came to the shore,

Her crew roared with hunger, their spirits a roar!

They boarded the ships, swords glistening bright,

And made all the sailors pray to their plight!"

He slams his drum once, and then, as the beats soften, he recounts a particularly chilling part of the tale.

Tuk (softly, with tension):

"But Morgana, oh Morgana, she was no mere thief—

She took the soul of her prey with a fierce belief.

'No riches for me!' she roared,

'Your lives are my treasure, your despair is my hoard!'”

The Skald’s eyes glimmer with the thrill of the next part, his fists pounding into the drum faster, louder, as if reliving the battle himself.

Tuk (drumming wildly):

"On the ship Rising Dawn, she met her match,

A rival, a wretch with a bloodthirsty scratch.

A battle erupted, a storm on the seas,

Blades clashing with fury, each hoping the other to seize!"

The rhythm quickens, mimicking the fierce, violent clash of two great captains. The tavern audience can almost hear the cries of battle and the clash of steel.

Tuk (with fierce energy):

"But Morgana’s heart was steel, pure and untamed,

She felled the rival captain, her soul never shamed.

She stood over him, with a laugh in her eyes,

And then, to his crew, she offered a prize!"

He pauses for effect, letting the silence in the room grow, the tension hanging as his drum hums a low, steady beat.

Tuk (cruelly):

“'Join me, or die, it’s your call to make,

But know, my dear sailors, there’s no room for fake.'

So the crew, now loyal, their hearts filled with dread,

Swore to Morgana, and they follow where she led."

The half-orc grins, his tusks gleaming in the dim light as he winds the tale toward its climax.

Tuk (with a booming voice):

"For years she ruled, a terror untold,

With Morgana, the pirate, the ocean’s own gold.

No ship was safe, no city too tall,

She took them all down, with no fear at all!"

He finishes the drumbeat with a final crash, his voice rising in a crescendo, full of pride and awe.

Tuk (in a low growl, filled with reverence):

"But one fateful day, beneath skies so red,

Morgana was struck down—her crew, they all bled.

But the Wraith’s Kiss sails on, with wind in her wake,

So Morgana’s legend, none can forsake."

The crowd erupts into applause, the drums still echoing in their minds. The half-orc Skald smiles, as he bows slightly before lifting his mug in salute to the tossed coins.

Tuk (cheerfully):

"So drink to the pirate who none could dethrone,

And remember the Captain who ruled on her own!"