Atlas Peg, the Hallowed Skull
Many o' you scabbards call me the first pirate. Well, when I be done with the sea, I'll certainly be the last.
~ Atlas Peg ~
Driftwood
Few know of the strenuous history of the Silver Piece Collective, much less believe the legend surrounding its origins. A legend of the first pirate to ever walk the seas. Atlas Peg.
The first son of a Ravennian expeditionary, Atlas was intended to inherit what his father achieved. The rulership over newly settled colonies across the coral depths. He was raised as commonly as any other child in the elite kingdom. Very rigorous education, even stricter sailing experience, and most of all heavy growth into the many gods the citizens worshiped; albeit in these colonies it was much less... rich.
And Atlas Peg enjoyed every moment of it all. He enjoyed the small colony town of Brightwater with a population so small he could name every face there. He thrilled himself with all the freedoms he and his friends had in this place every day. Life was good.
Until it wasn't.
Atlas had never seen the mainland his parents had come from, but he always imagined it was a place where everyone got what they wanted. But the news that reached his family in his younger adult years made him question that assumption.
Civil war had broken out in that kingdom. A bloody one from what Atlas often heard his mother and father whisper about. Though it never reached the colonies where Atlas lived, he woke up everyday nervous if this sunrise would be their last. When it finally came a close to his relief, Atlas believed everything would return back to the ways they were.
Except they didn't.
New laws were passed, crucial reforms that even reached all the way out to the colonies. Taxes were being enacted. Government reforms Atlas couldn't dare to bore himself with the details with were written. But worst of all, religious rights began being stripped. In the outcome of this civil war, only two gods were put into law as legal entities of worship. Pelor, the Dawn Father, and Eadro, the Seaworthy.
Brightwater and the couple other colonies had numerous more than just those two, and they weren't willing to give it all up so easily. Neither was Atlas.
At first they were mere protests, nothing more than words of discouragement. But then the Ravennian navy involved itself in these affairs. Protests soon turned to revolts, and in this period, Atlas found himself at odds with his parents. The colonies called for their governing family to rise up with them; Atlas was inclined to do so, but not Theodore or Margret Peg.
No matter what he said, they didn't listen. So he revolted against them too, stealing off with their ship and joining with the other rebel crews of the Silver Piece Islands. The sea erupted into another civil war as these revolutionaries fought to keep their culture alive and, ultimately, break away from Ravenna. And Atlas Peg was leading the charge.
The ships were loyal to Atlas, ready to fight, and great in number. He had high confidence like everyone else, setting out to demolish the Ravennians who stood in their way. He would show them just how strong their colonies were and prove they wouldn't lie down. He had never seen the entire kingdom before, but he was sure it was made up only of pesky nobility. Atlas was correct in that he'd never seen the whole kingdom before, but everything changed once his ships came upon the full breadth of the Ravennian navy fleets. His father stood in command of them. In the opening volleys alone, his ships were reduced to driftwood, battle cries became agonizing wails, and blades of their swords were shattered into small slivers. In the end, not one vessel of Ravenna was sunk, and many of Atlas' had been lost. But on the run, Atlas still vowed to best the kingdom fueling this oppression. Even if it killed him, he would sink one of their boats. But, not every surviving crew continued to share this philosophy. Some were completely defeated, seeing no hope in ever beating a land like Ravenna, and even less sanity in continuing to serve Atlas. Atlas' crews began to turn on him in an attempt to overthrow and mutiny him. Perhaps if they did so, they would be acquitted when the nobles inevitably confronted them. But Atlas, infuriated by this treachery, overcame all of it. With the small number of sailors still loyal to him on his ship, he sank all other ships that turned on him. These fool-hearty ship hands stood with him. They would sink one ship even if it meant death. But Atlas suffered the harsh truth; he never came close. His boat was dashed to pieces. In his final memories as he sank below the waves, he only heard the echoes of his crew cursing him for the idiocy he had led them to. They should never have listened to him. Just before he drowned, he felt a voice then, deep, ragged, and strong. It called out to Atlas, promising the power he seeked should his treasure and will belong to this voice. Feeling a small portion of it flow through him, Atlas agreed in a heartbeat drowned by water. His ambition coupled by his lungs' frantic search for air served major purpose in this decision, but the power Atlas felt wash over him dulled any second thoughts. With ease he rose above the water, powers at his fingertips that felt foreign yet natural. The real revolution had begun. He constructed his new ship out of the driftwood his previous one had become. Its salty, rotten magic was held together by the power that coursed through Atlas' body. He had full control over this new ship. No longer did he wish to vanquish the kingdom that intended to oppress his colonies. He no longer wished to protect the colonies that betrayed him either. In the end, only one thing could be trusted. The mindless, those without a conscience. The crew Atlas recruited of the deceased below the sea worked nicely.
In the coming years, Atlas became a ghost story on the sea. Appearing out of green necrotic mist, if it overtook you, death was sure to follow. He stole the souls of the crews he attacked, adding them to his ranks, and pillaged whatever treasure they held. But he always left one to tell the tale, to go and strike fear telling what Atlas had done, and what he was going to do. Despite all the treasure he accumulated from those unfortunate enough to cross his path, regardless of the infamous tales that began to spring up because of his actions, Atlas always felt tethered. The sea was not his own, but the being who granted him his power's. Nothing Atlas did was to his own success. He could control his crew, he could control his ship, but he could not control the sea. And that just wouldn't do. Commanding the sea was the only way to completely do away with the Ravennian kingdom and the colonies that had now become a collective. So he would take the power from the one who could control it. Atlas revolted against the very entity that his power flowed from.
Atlas would grow his undead crews to unimaginable ranks until it covered the entire ocean. He would find the trident necessary to breaking open the rift in that temple, so he can vanquish that monster once and for all, and take its powers for himself.
Then everything would be free again.
The ships were loyal to Atlas, ready to fight, and great in number. He had high confidence like everyone else, setting out to demolish the Ravennians who stood in their way. He would show them just how strong their colonies were and prove they wouldn't lie down. He had never seen the entire kingdom before, but he was sure it was made up only of pesky nobility. Atlas was correct in that he'd never seen the whole kingdom before, but everything changed once his ships came upon the full breadth of the Ravennian navy fleets. His father stood in command of them. In the opening volleys alone, his ships were reduced to driftwood, battle cries became agonizing wails, and blades of their swords were shattered into small slivers. In the end, not one vessel of Ravenna was sunk, and many of Atlas' had been lost. But on the run, Atlas still vowed to best the kingdom fueling this oppression. Even if it killed him, he would sink one of their boats. But, not every surviving crew continued to share this philosophy. Some were completely defeated, seeing no hope in ever beating a land like Ravenna, and even less sanity in continuing to serve Atlas. Atlas' crews began to turn on him in an attempt to overthrow and mutiny him. Perhaps if they did so, they would be acquitted when the nobles inevitably confronted them. But Atlas, infuriated by this treachery, overcame all of it. With the small number of sailors still loyal to him on his ship, he sank all other ships that turned on him. These fool-hearty ship hands stood with him. They would sink one ship even if it meant death. But Atlas suffered the harsh truth; he never came close. His boat was dashed to pieces. In his final memories as he sank below the waves, he only heard the echoes of his crew cursing him for the idiocy he had led them to. They should never have listened to him. Just before he drowned, he felt a voice then, deep, ragged, and strong. It called out to Atlas, promising the power he seeked should his treasure and will belong to this voice. Feeling a small portion of it flow through him, Atlas agreed in a heartbeat drowned by water. His ambition coupled by his lungs' frantic search for air served major purpose in this decision, but the power Atlas felt wash over him dulled any second thoughts. With ease he rose above the water, powers at his fingertips that felt foreign yet natural. The real revolution had begun. He constructed his new ship out of the driftwood his previous one had become. Its salty, rotten magic was held together by the power that coursed through Atlas' body. He had full control over this new ship. No longer did he wish to vanquish the kingdom that intended to oppress his colonies. He no longer wished to protect the colonies that betrayed him either. In the end, only one thing could be trusted. The mindless, those without a conscience. The crew Atlas recruited of the deceased below the sea worked nicely.
In the coming years, Atlas became a ghost story on the sea. Appearing out of green necrotic mist, if it overtook you, death was sure to follow. He stole the souls of the crews he attacked, adding them to his ranks, and pillaged whatever treasure they held. But he always left one to tell the tale, to go and strike fear telling what Atlas had done, and what he was going to do. Despite all the treasure he accumulated from those unfortunate enough to cross his path, regardless of the infamous tales that began to spring up because of his actions, Atlas always felt tethered. The sea was not his own, but the being who granted him his power's. Nothing Atlas did was to his own success. He could control his crew, he could control his ship, but he could not control the sea. And that just wouldn't do. Commanding the sea was the only way to completely do away with the Ravennian kingdom and the colonies that had now become a collective. So he would take the power from the one who could control it. Atlas revolted against the very entity that his power flowed from.
First, he defeated the god's champion who held the artifacts necessary to finding the beast and opening its rift. Then, in a temple secret to the whole world he did find the beast, and he did intend to free it. But his efforts failed. The beast toyed with Atlas, keeping itself sealed away to spite the pirate. It let Atlas get within inches of opening the rift just for the fun of it, then its power overpowered Atlas. He was sealed away in a dungeon far from the temple, his treasure hoard forever hidden and undead crew to forever slumber.
In that fight, his connection with the beast had been severed, but the powers still remained. So when the day came that he was set free by clueless treasure-seeking adventurers, the cycle began again.
Tales of the Midnight Gambit
He wished to give himself a better chance of finding the trident. To do so, he hid himself and a small crew under illusion magic that changed their appearance. From that day on, Atlas masqueraded around as a man named Captain Telamon. His antics fooled a young dragonborn named Zakush into forming a pact with him. Atlas used the dragonborn as a pawn to distract other crews in the sea and find the location of the trident for him. When he did, Atlas made sure to tag along. When he finally rested his hands on that trident once again, he betrayed Zakush, slaying and consecrating him into his undead horde and unleashing the fullest extent of his consecration across the collective. He wasted no time in making his way to Goldstone, or rather beneath it. With the trident in hand, his consecration took full effect as the city was engulfed with the entire legions of the undead he had slain through the centuries. He descended beneath Goldstone where he knew the hidden temple of Noire was. His mist consumed every inch of its walls as he commanded his way through its halls to the final room where the Prolithian Gate to the Leviathan's realm stood, ever active. His dream was at hand. He stepped through to finally face the chained beast. It stood as a statue where taut chains ran from each limb into the ground. The trident's pedestal sat in front of it. All he'd need to do is place the trident and complete its incantation. Then he could will the Leviathan free. However, he came up short when the crew of the Midnight Gambit appeared in the realm to stop him. Despite bringing his foe's old crew back to fight in this perilous battle, Atlas Peg faced his end in the Prolithian Plane. The Hallowed Skull was killed, and the terrible legend of his name finally came to an end.Its maw a maelstrom, its call a death wish if ye get too close. A rift clamps each tentacle shut. But avast beast! I shall break your seals. And when they be cracked, I'll cut ya right where you stand, and claim the sea as my own.
~ Atlas Peg ~
Children
Coral Depths
Unpredictable and uncharted, these waters occupy the expanse south of the Westerin mainland. Treacherous coral reefs lay dangerously close to the water's surface, causing many exotic -- and equally aggressive -- sea life to inhabit this ocean.
Many believe it to have once been a land of unparalleled beauty, pulverized and sunken by a mighty giant's footsteps, other legends dictate it was destroyed during the Cosmic War through some other means. Regardless, its dangerously shallow waters make it a hassle to traverse and an ocean many sailors and expeditioners choose to overlook.
Many archaeologists believe elements of the old world are buried deep beneath these waters. Speculation varies based on what exactly is buried, but the general consensus believes there are secrets waiting to be rediscovered below the waves.
It's a playground for pirates, and a battleground for everyone else.~ Xavier Lido
Peg's Rot
Atlas Peg's legend is not only wrapped in the story of the Leviathan or his innate power over his ship, but also what he's capable of doing to everyone else. It is said those who are cut down by his sword and those who attempt to steal his treasure are meant to bear a terrible curse. The curse of Peg's Rot.
The soul is siphoned away from their own control, bound to Atlas Peg like his ship is bound to him too. The body rots away, leaving only chunks of dried skin and bone. Then comes the madness, the visions that assault the soul. Those who succumb to it, overcome with fear are reduced to a mindless beast, a monstrous husk at the bidding of Atlas as part of his endlessly growing pirate crew.
This is the very way he plans to rid the sea of the oppression he faced. To take control of those who succumb, and drown the rest who stand in his way.
Tis' a fate worse than dieing, I tell ya.~ Amelia Reed
The Rot Below
The legend of Atlas Peg has lasted for so long that few today even believe he exists. Most assume it is a flavorful twist on the historical revolution that brought their islands their freedom. But mouths always water at the tales of Peg's treasure, a hoard said to rival that of Drace's fortune.
It was a legend many people were tempted enough to search for. After years of searching, treasure maps surfaced mysteriously, pointing to an old cove just off the coast of Axel Island. In this cove, two crews discovered the treasure. The first was a trop of Sirens captained by Zarna Trout, but inside, they fell victim to the traps and hazards left to conceal both Atlas and his wealth. Only one woman survived all this, and her name was Amelia Reed.
The second crew was a ragtag group of adventurers the orc captain Stormalong had hired for the journey. They braved the dangerous traps better than the Sirens had, teaming up with Amelia Reed in the process. But when they came upon the treasure, everything changed.
Just as they gained access to the treasure through unlocking its seals, something else was set free too. The Hallowed Skull himself. He and his undead crew dispersed into the depths of the sea as everyone else scrambled to flee the now flooding caves, losing the treasure in the process. They survived, but pondered what they had just let loose as everyone went their separate ways.
When others failed to find that Peg's treasure, I succeeded. Looking back on it, I wish I had failed.~ Stormalong
Deep down, far below the sea
A terror who needs pleasing be
That man, Atlas Peg
Drowning and dragged by the leg
Power, more than could behold
Always one left to be told
Silver, the color of his lot
Beware, lest you suffer Peg's Rot
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