April 17 1885
Our journey to the Isle of Thantos ran aground before we ever even set sail. I had heard some of the legends about the island, of course. That it was infested with fearsome monsters. That it was death to venture near its shores. I had not realised, however, how seriously seamen took these tales to heart. We could not find a single captain willing to brave the journey – no matter what incentives we offered!
April 20 1885
We eventually located our prior associate Captain Edward Teach in the Sour Barnacle tavern in Blackroot. I had hoped he would be willing to brave the seas around the isle of Thanatos and deliver us where lesser captains had faltered. Unfortunately we quickly learned that Edward had *lost his ship* in a high stakes gambling tournament! He suggested three potential options for reaching our goal:
First, we could attempt to win back the Gypsy Rose. The new owner was a master gambler named Killian Drake – famous for both his skilled play and his legendary good fortune.
But the only one of us with any significant gambling experience was Virgil. And his “prior experience” involved losing so often that he became indebted to brutal criminals… So I determined that to be an unlikely solution to our dilemma.
A second option was to purchase a ship ourselves – which Captain Teach would happily use to take us anywhere we wished to travel. Unfortunately after making a few inquiries I quickly determined that such a purchase was far beyond our present funds.
This left us with his third option – the most outlandish of them all. Edward told us that sailors across the realm had long whispered tales of a ship sailed by long dead pirates. A ship which appeared in the night to take revenge upon any who disrespected its captain’s name. According to Edward, “Stringy Pete was the meanest, most cold-blooded, most murdering pirate who ever put to sail. There are stories and legends in every port, and most of ’em are even true. He’s been dead for more’n two hundred years, and people still whisper his name…”
Edward told us that a man named Salty Seadrick claimed to have stumbled upon Stringy Pete’s hidden port. He refused to tell its location for fear of Pete. But Salty was known to drink heavily, and prone to saying more than he should when sufficiently inebriated. And while we did not have a master gambler amongst our company, we most certainly *did* have a *champion* drinker…
May 3, 1885
Seadrick had indicated an isolated cove far to the south east of Tarant. Upon arriving we discovered an old dinghy tied on a rocky outcropping – with a small island barely visible in the fog across the waves.
On the island itself we found an old dilapidated dock, where a seemingly abandoned brigantine was moored. The entire area was permeated with an air of menace, and we were alert for danger. And yet we still found ourselves taken aback when the ghastly form of Stringy Pete appeared suddenly in front of us!
The dread pirate chuckled at our band, and it was not a friendly sound. He evinced surprise at his prey coming to him for once, and asked whatever we had hoped to accomplish. I decided on the direct approach, telling him that we needed to borrow his ship. He stared at me for a time, and then burst into laughter – his sniggering echoing in our ears. So I told him our tale, and our reasons, and I asked him what he would consider to be a fair price.
At that he stopped short – staring at me with an uninterpretable expression. So I continued, asking why he still sailed the seas so long after his death. What unfinished business kept him anchored to the world of the living?
Pete told us that he had been cursed. Not by a wronged witch or wrathful deity – but by his own doing. He had sworn a pirate Blood Oath, and then broken it; sealing his eternal fate. I asked if there was any means to end this curse, and he seemed startled. He mused lost in thought for a long time, and then, slowly, related a plan. If we were to right his three greatest wrongs, then he could let go of the curse and face penance properly in the afterlife.
“The first be an easy task. I killed many an innocent in me time. One was a good n’ pure man by the name a’ Jonas Williamson. Kilt him for the silver buckles on his boots, but mostly for the sport a’ it. I laughed while he bled into the gutter, a’ cryin’ out to me that I spare his family… Well… his family… they fell on hard times without him, and the Williamsons been poor ever since. You’ll need to dig up my treasure, includin’ those silver buckles, and give it to whoever is left a’ the Williamsons… And don’t ye be thinkin’ you can keep some for yourself! Or I’m gonna be comin’ after ye me-self! Savvy that, lassie?“
May 7, 1885
It did not take long to locate the isolated spot in which Pete had sequestered his treasure. Unfortunately the location was not quite abandoned. A large Wargunn ape had laid claim to the area, and would not allow us access without battle.
Afterwards we dug and delved until we located his hidden trove.
May 12, 1885
It did not take long to reach the Williamson family homestead – an impoverished farm on an isolated, windswept cliff. Pete’s directions were quite sufficient. The Williamsons were initially wary of our approach, but were simultaneously mystified and overjoyed when we revealed the purpose of our visit!
May 15, 1885
When we returned to Stringy Pete, he explained our next task:
“There be a temple in the hills just off the Gulf a’ Morbihan, in a little town called Vooriden. Many years ago I was a’pillagin’ the surrounding countryside, and I broke into the place, and stole some holy relics, and desecrated their sacred altar. And sure enough, those old monks threw a curse on me… They didn’t care about the holy relics, but I be thinkin’ they might’a got their robes in a bundle over the altar. Ye see, I spilled some wine and ale all over it, and I might’a even relieved meself on it. It’d been a long night, ye know… Anyways… that altar a theirs… I think it needs replacing. You’ll have ta talk with the monks there ta find out what needs done… savvy?”
We located Vooriden not far to the south of Tarant. It contained a rather quaint little abbey – which from the outside appeared well maintained.
As we drew near Sogg received the shock of his life. He was one of the largest men I had ever known – even compared to his half-ogre bretheren. But on the path to the abbey we met a man who introduced himself as Murgo – and who made even Sogg look unimpressive in comparison! He seemed a friendly enough fellow, if a bit simple, and cheerily pointed out his favourite trees and rocks as we walked
Inside the temple we met a priest named Edwin Wallows. He told us that the temple had been dedicated to Halcyon – the ancient God of Light and Truth. The altar had been desecrated by marauding pirates centuries ago, and had not since had the funds to procure the materials necessary for restoration. We told him of our quest, and he gave a quizzical look, but he was grateful for the assistance. The only location of which he knew where we could acquire the particular marble required was in Torin Quarry – at the base of the Stonewall Mountains. Since a rather large sample would be needed, he suggested that Murgo should accompany us to fetch it back.
May 22, 1885
The most expedient route to the Quarry passed near the halls of the Wheel Clan, so I decided that we should stop in to apprise King Loghaire of our findings. He was understandably upset at the news of the Dark Elve’s deception and the Black Mountain Clan’s fate, but he was quite supportive of our endeavors to rectify the situation.
Even though it had not actually been Qintarra’s doing, Raven felt it necessary to extend to Loghaire a formal apology on behalf of the Queen. Loghaire accepted this with grace. He noted that both of their races were ultimately responsible for the lapse in communication that had provided M’in Gorad with the opening that she had exploited. He suggested that they would do well to learn from that error in the furture.
Finally he called out to Magnus, wanting to discuss his personal quest. He knew that Magnus lacked knowledge of his family’s lineage, and that this caused him much distress. He told Magnus that a dwarf’s honour lay in what he made of himself, rather than the stone from which he had been cut. He understood Magnus’ longing, and offered to help as he could. But he wanted to impress upon him that he thought no less of him for his unknown origins. To Loghaire the quest upon which Magnus had embarked with us said more about who he truly was than mere geneology ever could.
May 25, 1885
From the Wheel Clan it did not take long to reach Torin Quarry. And once again, as with Pete’s treasure, the task was not to be a peaceful one. An enraged golden bear had made a home of the quarry, and objected rather vigorously to our intrusion.
Once we dispatched the ursine guardian, Murgo set to work selecting the “prettiest rock” to bring back for the temple. I should not have been surprised by his ability to heft the massive stone onto his broad shoulders and travel with it. But it was impressive nevertheless.
June 3 1885
When we returned to Vooriden, Father Wallows was delighted with the material Murgo had select. Using Halcyon’s magick he was able to rapidly restore the altar to its former glory.
June 7, 1885
Returning to Stingy Pete once more, he related our final, most difficult task.
“Ye see, as I was gettin’ on in years, there was nothin’ I hadn’t done, and nowhere I hadn’t sailed, and no treasure I hadn’t laid me hands on. There was only one thing I wanted, and I wasn’t even sure if’n it existed, and I made it me business to find out… The Bangellian Scourge… the most evil piece a’ weaponry ever wielded by any soul in the land.
Legend says it was forged in the blood fires a’ the Bangellian Deeps, and that virgins and children were thrown into the fire to keep it stoked… Yes, missy… an evil blade it be. And I wanted it more than anything. And I planned on gettin’ me hands on it….
At the time I had me a crew of seven a’ the most black-hearted and soulless pirates, and they all agreed it was a fine piece a’ treasure to go after. We took a pirates blood-oath to stand by one another and share in the treasure. And so we searched for it, and found it one day we did… in the swamps of the Dark Fens, down in the Bangellian Deeps.
It’d been buried there for centuries… a beautiful sight… its blade as black as onyx, and carved in ancient runework, and I held it in me hands, and it CALLED to me… That night, when everyone was asleep, that cursed blade twisted me mind. It told me that my crew was mutinous, and looking to get rid a’ me. An so I killed them all in their sleep, missy… cut all their throats from ear to ear. When I woke in the mornin’ and seen what I done, I threw the blade down and ran right out of there… It still lies there, as far as I know. Among the murdered bones a’ me crew. You must destroy that evil blade… At the bottom of the cave that we found it in is a great furnace. Toss it in there, and let the world be done with it.”
July 4, 1885
The Dark Fens were near the village of the Bedokaan – far to the north past Qintarra. It was a long overland journey, and we stopped into to visit and confer with the lizardfolk before venturing into the Fens.
The Bedokaan shaman knew much of the Bengellian Deeps, and warned that this would not be an easy task. The Fen was treacherous, and the Deeps were infested with evil beasts. But the worst lay waiting at the bottom of that foul pit. An order of holy paladins had once undertaken a quest to destroy the Blade, just as we intended. They had successfully battled their way to the infernal furnace at the heart of the Deeps. But when their leader grasped the Blade, it found purchase in his proud heart. It corrupted his mind until he was as much demon as man. And using its power he enslaved his fellow knights – dominating their wills and forcing them into his eternal service. In order to destroy the Blade we would have to defeat the Fallen Paladin and his bretheren.
The fetid swamp reeked of death and decay, but we needed no map to locate the Deeps. We could feel its pulsing Evil long before we laid eyes upon its entrance.
As we had been warned the Deeps were infested with foul adversaries of every description, but we fought our way through to the bottom just as the holy knights had before us. And there he stood, the twisted mockery of the once noble hero – foretelling our doom in resounding laughter. As his companions stood silently behind.
I had thought long and hard about this moment, ever since learning of the tale from the Bedokaan. I was determined to spare the paladins, even if their leader was beyond redemption. Our strategem began with Sogg personally engaging the foul knight, keeping him occupied while we dealt with his compatriots.
As the paladins moved to attack, I revealed a new device I had developed. I had begun experimenting with explosives in the past few weeks, and had developed a concoction of alcohol and magnesium which, when suddenly combined, produced a blinding flash of light. I tossed a grenade at the oncoming men, and the resulting flash disoriented them long enough for my companions to spring into action.
Virgil and Raven used magickal means to incapacitate several of the paladins.
While I deployed another experimental device – this time a dispersed electrical charge – to stun the remainder.
By this time Sogg was beginning to falter. Even his mighty frame could only withstand the demonic assault for so long. But with the wretch focused exclusively upon Sogg, it did not appreciate its vulnerability. I gave it a quick tap to gain its attention, and when it turned I shoved my rapier into its visor and discharged an entire power cell directly into its cruel visage.
Once it lay smoking in ruin, its control over the paladins was broken. We attended to them as best we could as they awoke, attempting to ease their pain and confusion.
Meanwhile Magnus – having been forewarned – took appropriate precautions in disposing of the foul Bangellian Blade.
He melted it down in the very furnace in which it had been forged, banishing its Evil from our world.
August 2, 1885
When we returned to Stringy Pete for the final time, he could barely contain his relief. He seemed to relish the release as he faded away. I wondered what fate truly lay in store for him. Surely our questing had not wiped clean his entire horrific slate. But I am no theologian. If Stringy Pete could find a way to repent and make restitution in the afterlife, then so be it.
But for now, we finally had our ship. We brought Captain Teach to sail it, and we made preparations to *finally* embark on our voyage to the Isle of Thanatos.
Author’s Notes:
Well that went a bit longer than intended. But its one of those areas where Arcanum really shines. There were so many different paths we could have taken to secure a ship – even beyond Teach’s basic suggestions. We could have outright fought Stringy Pete for his ship – which I’ve heard is the toughest fight in the game once he summons his crew. We could have pursued any number of means to acquire the ridiculous amount of money necessary to buy a ship – on the order of ten times what we had on hand at the time. To say nothing of the option of matching wits with a master gambler.
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