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Bloodweep, Cutlass of the Deep

Here's my little bit of brainstorming for a weapon idea. I be a pirate, so I wanted to design something Pirate-y.

Bloodweep, Cutlass of the Deep

Legends tell of a relic that has been lost to Mann-kind for generations: Bloodweep, Cutlass of the Deep.

Like most stories, this one starts long ago, in a far away kingdom. Upon his coming of age and graduation from his Kingdom's most prestigious Maritime Academy, a young nobleman inherited his family's Longsword, Windcaller. It was a beautiful sword, with a blade just over a meter in length, polished golden cross guard, golden fittings, and a handle with a deep red-brown hued wood. He carried it with pride through many naval excursions, bringing swift justice to those who would disturb the King's Peace. For fourty years, the nobleman sailed the seas of Elyria, battling invading nations, fighting sea crime, and climbing through the ranks to become the Commodore of his own fleet. Enemies learned to recognize and fear the flag emblazoned with Windcaller whenever they saw it flying from the mast.

Until one night.

Stormy weather and reports of piracy had the crew on alert. Waves crashed against the ship and threatened to capsize it. The Commodore grew anxious, worrying for the safety of not only his ship, but the entire fleet. Wave after wave crashed against the hull, each one harder and harder than the last. The storm seemed to be calming down when all of a sudden, off the port side, a massive punch slammed into the hull. The Commodore knew something seemed off, so he looked over the wheel to inspect. His face turned pale. 'That was no wave' he thought to himself, 'that was a collision.'

Before he could sound the alarm, a second crash, and the warcries of forty men roared across the top deck. Pirates. The sounds of cannon fire ripped through the now calming night. His main mast toppled over, almost crushing him at the helm. He drew Windcaller, and began calling his men to battlestations.

One by one, sailors from both sides of the fray fell. The bodies of near sixty men lay across the deck of the ship. Smoke billowed and fire roared belowdecks, and all that remained in the fight were the fearless Commodore, and his nemesis, the Pirate Lord.

The Commodore knew he could best this scoundrel in single combat. The pirate was nearly a head shorter than he, and much stouter of a build. He was slower, more deliberate with his actions it seemed. The Commodore could out maneuver him and execute the menace.

The men stared at each other unflinching, waiting to make their move. A scrap of the main sail flew between them, and as it floated past, the Commodore became shocked. The pirate was gone. Just as suddenly as he had realized it, he felt a hot pain in his side. He'd been stabbed with the pirate's rapier. He grew faint, and collapsed to his knees, still clutching Windcaller. 'Gods' he pleaded to himself 'Give me the strength for one last attack. Let me end this wretch before I go.' With that plea, he swung his sword as hard as he could. Unfortunately, his prayers fell on deaf ears. The Pirate Lord grasped the Commodore's wrist, and snapped the bones, loosing his grasp on Windcaller. The Pirate Lord picked up the blade, marveled at it, and held it to the Commodore's throat.

"Any last words before I send you to the deep?" he asked, grinning.

"May the gods curse you. May the blade you end my life with this night be an eternal reminder of your heinous deeds. May your..."

No one will ever know what his next words would have been. Before the sentence could be finished, his head rolled across the remains of the deck.

The Pirate Lord returned to his ship, and after pillaging the rest of the fleet, returned to port in what would later be known as Vornair's Duchy of the High Seas. Once on land, he commissioned his finest slave-blacksmiths to repurpose the blade. He had them shorten it to a cutlass length blade, removed the gold in favor of a steel crossguard and handguard, and for a touch of flair, removed the beautiful wooden handles to replace them with Wooly Whale Ivory.

Upon completion of the work, the smiths noticed something odd about the blade. Even after polishing it, the fuller remained tinged with the color of blood. They apologized profusely to the Pirate Lord, but he saw fit to punish them for what he could only assume was half-assed cleaning. The wife of the most senior smith was presented, and her heart pierced by the newly modified sword. As she fell from the blade, the fuller grew darker red, and the blade stained more. Unable to remove the blood-color from the blade, the Pirate Lord compensated the smith for the work, and the loss of his wife.

"Henceforth, this blade shall be known as Bloodweep. For every kill I make stains the blade more and more red, as if it's weeping for the blood of my enemies." he exclaimed.

For decades, the Pirate Lord sailed the seas of Elyria, pillaging, plundering, looting, and killing. And with every kill, the blade of Bloodweep grew more and more red.

Many years later, after a long week of pillaging in a Kingdom on the other side of the world, the Pirate Lord turned his ships to home, and began to celebrate with rum and food. Outside, the weather began to shift, and a storm, much like the storm from the night he first acquired Bloodweep, began to roll in.

Waves crashed against his ship, but the pirate held tight to the helm, keeping his ship on course and preventing it from capsizing. He glanced out towards the rest of his Armada, and watched as one by one, they met untimely ends. They were losing mainsails, rudders, lightning was striking and lighting them ablaze , they were crashing in to one another, and capsizing. After six hours in the worst seas to this day, only his ship remained. Most of his crew had fallen overboard, but the Pirate Lord stayed the course.

By the time the weather had passed, only the Pirate Lord remained aboard the battered wreckage that once was his ship. Half dead, the pirate pulled himself up to the helm and watched as his ship ran aground on the only patch of land visible across the entire horizon.

Marooned. No food, no water, no RUM. Nothing but the lone pirate and Bloodweep.

Some people would say that he ran himself through with that blade. Others say to this day, he still remains on that craggy rock where he landed, waiting for a passing ship to commandeer. But everyone is sure of this: Bloodweep, that cursed Cutlass of the Deep is still out there, waiting for it's new owner to break the curse placed on it so many generations ago...


Andrianovic Von Hagemeister, Mayor of Bastard's Bay.

8/11/2017 12:36:57 AM #1

Excellent read Stump! Encouraging me to continue on my CoE Pirate Myths and Legends!

Maybe we can establish some lore for rumors and gossip by the time Ships make it in-game! lol.


10/9/2017 8:24:31 PM #2

Oh wow very nice read. I love the detail and your writting style. You should write more often (: I like the pirate though, I've always had a love hate relationship with the sea and water >.<