Carrion Scallywag Chest of the Afflicted

Carrion Scallywag Chest of the Afflicted rests on a salt-slick table, its lid swollen and warped, wood dark as a drowned tide and scarred by salt and time. Iron bands bind the corners in a stubborn embrace, pitted and dull, while barnacles cling to the edges like wary sentries. The lock—a ring of thorn-shaped metal—hums faintly with a damp breath, as if something inside is listening. The exterior wears a ledger of scars: dented crimson paint flaked away, a spray of black ink sigils along the seams, and a ribbon of rotted velvet peeking from the hinge. The scent is a curious blend of copper, brine, and decay, the kind that makes sailors whisper of curses and keep one hand on a talisman when they draw near. Lore historians in tattered maps claim this chest once belonged to a carrion-scavenging pirate crew, the Scallywags, who trafficked at the edge of law and rumor. They boasted of stealing not only treasure but the afflictions that haunted the coast—the plague-born “Afflicted” that rose from fevered nights and wrecks. Some say the chest bears a seal of that pact; others warn that lifting the lid binds the bearer to the voyage of its former owners, a slow, hungry march toward whatever lies beyond the deck boards. The surface still bears chalky salt-stain fingerprints, as if countless hands tried to pry its secrets free, only to recoil from what lurks inside. In the world’s ebb and flow, the chest functions as more than a static relic. It is a salvageable container that can appear after a wreck raid, during a midnight scavenge, or as a rumor passed between lanterns on fog-bound docks. When opened, it can yield relic fragments, scraps for rare crafting, or a cosmetic trigger that glows with a sickly green when a room grows dim. Its true worth, though, lies in the stories it unlocks: the whisper of mercantile fleets negotiating over glimmering salvage, the careful balance between risk and reward, and the way a single chest can spark a small expedition, turning a quiet voyage into a scavenger hunt across the coast. On the market front, prices ride the tide, and Saddlebag Exchange is where many captains and collectors test the market’s pulse. A pristine example bearing the affliction’s mark can fetch a premium, while a battered shell may be snapped up for less, only to find a new life in a dim storefront or a midnight barter. Traders tell me the chest’s appeal isn’t merely its loot but the lore it carries—the tale of a crew who courted danger to stash a memory of plague-era misdeeds. The chatter at Saddlebag Exchange often blends with the creak of ship planks as if the chest itself were listening, weighing every offer as if deciding whether to sail again. And so the Carrion Scallywag Chest of the Afflicted remains, not just a cache but a hinge—the point where past cruelty and present curiosity meet, inviting the curious to step closer to the edge where treasure and terror share the same lock.