Piracy. A flag against oppression, a cry for freedom. We are the ones who have been chosen to be outcast. Chosen by who? By our mother, the earth. By our father, the wind. No man can lock our souls, it will always flee. Long ago we were able to dethrone, we were able to force our justice wherever we would roam. But our strenght has met decay, our scream has been silenced by the devil. Where the beast wears a crown, no man can speak with pride and no woman can smile beautifully. There is no justice and no law. Many kingdoms are damned to be ruled by evil. At least, over raging waves we are free, and our law can reign over real sin. For a long time my life has been set to spread freedom and justice, leading men and women to the path of the jolly roger. Those who were not born inside golden cradles and those whose each day's bread was earned with sacrifice always had a chance by my side. Once we were many, now fear and death stand amongst us. My crew became nothing but forgotten tales erased by time. The tyrants from the four corners of this world would never rest until I was dead. Their greed seems never to be saciated, their thirst for innocent blood only grows as power turns their cruelty into madness. Worse than a wicked blade is a blind one. It cuts all in its way, mercilessly.

When the persecutions started to increase, my men found fear where they should find courage. Many fled to distant lands, many changed their names to live near those who they love, under the claws of the tyrants. Nothing I tried, for they once were my brothers, my family over the sea. I would not raise my fury against them, I could only sigh. The so called Holy Church also sought my head. They looked for my crew, looked for me, whenever they could. Soon they were able to find my secrets corrupting my weak brothers, traitors who sold my blood for gold which came from the hands of the devil. I was being watched, controlled. It did not take long for them to release the marine guards after me like dogs hunting a fox. For more wise than the fox may be, one day it has to fall before the dribbling jaws.

On a stormy sea I met my doom as pirate. Cannons sank my ship, walls and iron bars locked me. The surviving crew hanged, their captain, condemned to burn at his own den, before the staring eyes of crying waves. The guards celebrated, the priests laughed and a bonfire was lit. Before I could die by the fire, I threw a curse upon all those men. My body decayed, but my soul fled, as foretold. Now many believe in my death, so let it be. Those who still seek a shelter against the beast will not find the young Jack anymore. Now something much more powerful and furious is lurking inside the walls of the Fort Loneskull. When your heart is true and your will for justice remains, your spirit shall live on, and perhaps never die... Embrace the Hand, for its size is not of a human hand, but its size is as large as the sea, as wide as freedom. Welcome to the Black Hand.