Death of Blackbeard

It is said that none but the devil know where Blackbeard’s treasure lies. That if the devil is not known to the treasure hunter personally, he will surely know him intimately by the time the search is over. There is no map to where the treasure rests. No piece or parchment which offers clues. To search for the chest, you must follow the scent of the burning hair upon Blackbeard’s chin. The gunpowder loaded into his pistols. The Rum that fueled his long voyages. You must listen for the sound of the splintering wood the cannons ripped from his ship during his final stand. The sound of gunfire ripping into Blackbeard’s crew as they fell one by one. You must look for the blood red sky, stained permanently by the pirate king’s fury and malice. You must sail upon the tough seas, made strong by carrying the weight of his dark and evil soul. None, yet, save for Blackbeard himself, have followed this trail. Where all your senses are plagued by the life of a man long since past. And none may ever follow it. The treasure that belongs now to the devil himself, desires only to be found by those as dark and terrible as deserves the respect of Blackbeard himself