Captain Sander's Treasure

In the sparsely populated expanses of Westfall, an army of over a thousand kobolds was already a massive force. Fortunately, they were kobolds. If they had been humans, a thousand soldiers would have been enough to carve out a domain and establish a small power of their own.

Shawn charged at the head of the pack, the first to rush into Gold Coast.

Domesticated Sow was clad in steel armor from head to hoof. As she charged, she was like an armored carriage, knocking more than a dozen murlocs flying. Riding on her back, Shawn fired the Arcane Missiles he had prepared, striking a Darkscale Oracle dead on and sending it to its grave.

Then Shawn squeezed his legs against the sow's flanks. Domesticated Sow paid no attention to the murlocs charging from either side and raced straight across the battlefield, plunging into the vast sea.

That was right. Shawn had no intention of joining the battle between the kobolds and the murlocs. His true goal was to cross the vast sea and reach a small island less than a kilometer from Gold Coast. There was another treasure on that island that Shawn badly wanted.

It was...

Captain Sander's treasure!

Captain Sander was a famous navigator who owned a sturdy merchant ship. He had traveled all across the Eastern Kingdoms, done business with the goblins of Booty Bay, and discussed grand plans for the future of seafaring with the prominent figures of Southshore.

But on one voyage, his merchant ship struck a reef off Gold Coast in Westfall, and he perished in the Great Sea.

They said Captain Sander had left behind a vast treasure, but no one had ever managed to find it. Although he had left clues to its whereabouts, they were far too obscure.

In the game, players had to complete a series of quests before they could find a chest on an island. Inside were a silver bar, a bag of gems, a belt, and a shirt. That was Captain Sander's treasure.

But that was in the game.

Shawn didn't believe the treasure left by a famous navigator would amount to just that.

He was more inclined to believe that it concealed something even more valuable.

So he had come.

Since he already knew the treasure's exact location, Shawn skipped the tedious search and swam straight to the little island where it was hidden.

Well, Shawn didn't swim. Domesticated Sow did...

Yes, Domesticated Sow could swim, and she seemed pretty good at it...

Once ashore, Shawn searched around and soon found the chest.

It was locked, but Shawn had no intention of going through the proper steps to Pick Lock. He simply brought down his hammer, and the lock broke.

When he opened the chest, Shawn wore an expression that said, "Just as I thought."

That was right. The silver bars inside had turned into gold bars, and there were ten of them instead of one. The bag was stuffed with gems, while the belt and shirt had rotted away and were unwearable...

Besides all that, there was a ring radiating a blue glow!

Shawn picked up the ring, a satisfied smile spreading across his face.

"Captain Sander's Return Ring, blue quality, excellent equipment. Strength +5, Stamina +8."

"Captain Sander's long voyages demanded more than a sturdy ship. They also required great strength and unyielding stamina. Wear it. Treasure it. And always believe: Captain Sander will return."

Shawn didn't believe a human who had been dead for who knew how long could return to this world.

And even if he did, the ring wouldn't belong to him anymore. It would belong to Shawn.

Shawn swept the chest clean, slipped the ring onto the little finger of his left hand, and paired it with the Ring of the Arcane Saint on his right. Then he swung back onto the sow and returned to Gold Coast.

The battle at Gold Coast had only just reached its fiercest stage.

As two of the most numerous intelligent races on Azeroth, the kobolds and murlocs had both fielded considerable numbers—an awful lot of them.

Especially the murlocs.

There were at least several thousand murlocs along Gold Coast. Since the coastline stretched for hundreds of miles, most couldn't make it to the battle, but at least two thousand had joined the fight.

The average kobold was no match for a murloc, and the murlocs had the home-field advantage. But the kobolds had launched a sneak attack—and a sneak attack was still a sneak attack!

In the first wave, the kobolds had claimed the lives of at least three hundred murlocs.

Then the battle became an endless melee.

Real war was nothing like a scuffle between children. The scale and intensity were entirely different.

This was a war where every blow drew blood, and every attack ended a life. It was brutal and bleak.

"BIU! BIU! BIU!"

The Kobold Shaman and the Murloc Sages and Oracles traded Fireballs and Frostbolts, batting each other's spells away in a friendly little match.

Sometimes they got so caught up in the fight that they forgot to watch their backs.

When the Kobold Warriors reached the Murloc Oracles from behind, even the strongest Oracle couldn't withstand attacks from iron swords and axes.

Kobold Warriors and murloc warriors swung hammers and axes at each other. Their weapons flashed, and all kinds of junk forged from scrap metal played a discordant, jumbled symphony.

The spellcasters' magic often swept over them, making the fight even more difficult.

An hour later, the battle finally began to wind down. As expected, the kobolds' surprise attack had failed once again. The murlocs had killed more than half of them, and the survivors, with the effects of the Kobold War Horn gradually fading, were overcome by instinctive fear after their frenzy. They began fleeing in the opposite direction.

That was when the wily old Grian, who had long ago led his hundred and fifty fully armed soldiers to the kobolds' inevitable retreat route, finally made his move.

For a Commander, personal fighting ability wasn't important. What mattered most was the ability to inspire morale and lead the battle.

Old Grian, an experienced Commander, understood that perfectly.

"In the name of a squad leader of the Order of the Silver Hand! In the name of the Marshal of Sentinel Hill! In the name of the Commander of the People's Militia! In the name of Gryan Stoutmantle! Destroy the murlocs!"

Old Grian wore gleaming Lightforge armor and wielded a shining Truesilver Champion. His golden horse radiated Holy Light, and blessings settled upon every soldier.

Rite of Blessing!

Blessing of Kings!

Under the protection of all those blessings, the hundred and fifty soldiers were strong, fearless, and brave as they charged after the fleeing kobolds.

Each man shouted his own name, or the name of his father or ancestors, or his wife or beloved, or some other name at random. Those names gave them strength, the courage to charge, and hope for victory.

Under Gryan Stoutmantle's leadership and blessings, the hundred and fifty soldiers were like a pack of starving wolves, charging into the kobolds, who were even more helpless than lambs.

In just a few breaths, the kobolds were slaughtered to the last!

Gryan Stoutmantle raised his Truesilver Champion and shouted, "Don't stop! Don't waste time picking over the kobolds' junk! Don't linger here! Chase down the murlocs! If we don't wipe them out, they'll remain a threat to Westfall forever!"

Old Grian had tremendous authority, and the soldiers always obeyed his orders.

Every one of the hundred and fifty soldiers charged into Gold Coast, eyes bloodshot and full of courage.