The undead that roam were no unfamiliar sight. The first few years would be taken fighting the undead from the walls of Halbed. Laughter, drinks, and merriment as each wave of Undead were scattered across the snowy outskirts of the great walls. The people of Halbed celebrated every night, the strung lanterns lit until dawn. This, tied with the increasing cold simply drained the city of it's little resources until there was not a crumb nor a drop left. The Sangrian fleet drifted from the walls and found themselves lingering just east from Linlea's coast, to Ashna's dismay, Cymic liked to think. But there was no Linlea. Ruins and a broken Kingdom much like Halbed. He sets the spyglass down and ponders that if the exalt of the grey lass could not steer away the undead that they were truly fucked. They drifted the seas with their excess supply of dry meats and old booze until there were nothing left. Ships drifted from his fleet to mesh with the Armada and the rest followed Cymic into a life of pirating and plundering ships of bone and wood for materials, souls, food and water.
Unanswered prayers brought laughter from the captain's quarters. Ships departing brought laughter. Thoughts of his friends brought laughter. Conspiracies and attempts to usurp him from the helm brought violent laughter. Hanged men from the lookout tower brought envy, maybe. With Jax forsaking the man, he carved his ink out and let it scab and scar.
The last time anyone ever saw him was the raid of Astrakahn. The last time anyone heard from the man was in story or tale. Cymic sailed into the coast and led an army inland toward the gates of Bol'tn'thar and never made it. Cymic drifted off to the east and starved with his raiders. Cymic laughed himself to death and his voice still rings out to those he loves. Cymic stumbled from the bow of his ship in a drunken fit and the water turned red where he fell. Or maybe Kethron turned him into a gem. All would be true ends to the men and women of Sangria, though which group Cymic had joined is anyone's guess. What is concrete is that the Armada has spotted a ship that still sails with the symbolics of the fallen kingdom, those aboard decorating the ship like they would a Sangrian home. It glows off the coast, laughter and the clink of drinks ringing from it. A slice of heaven away from hell.