Part 38: Filial piety

Journal entry 37 – Filial piety

From The Journal of Captain Petra Blackwood,

December 20th, 1888

This morning, we're departing Port Carnelian in order to face off against the Tree of Ages.




I left a note for Antivehicular, outlining what I wanted him to do in coded terms. With any luck, the results will be an upswing in the loyalty of the colony. I won't know until the next time I return to port, of course. But that shouldn't be too long from now, with any luck.



We set out Northward; the plan is to head to the large, open space just north-west of the Fathomkeep and unveil the Element of Dawn. The Tree of Ages will quickly realize what it is and come to claim it. Then we'll see if its as terrifying as all the stories say.

December 21st, morning - 1888





We're in position. I've ordered all the crew to combat positions. I have the Element of Dawn here. There's no turning back now. I'm going to go up to the deck and this will all start. I'm confident in my ship and my crew. How bad can this thing be?

December 21st, evening – 1888



The Tree of Ages is more foul than I could have imagined. When the Element was revealed, it arrived from nowhere, and immediately attacked.




Fortunately, its size also made it ungainly. We swung around south of it and opened fire while retreating.






By the time it was able to turn about and actually see us, the creature had already taken significant damage.




With that, we started exchanging fire – It produced large globs of corrosive venom, which sizzled and smoked wherever they hit the sides of the ship. Fortunately, the few splatters that came over the deck didn't strike any of my crew.



Despite the interference of a Jillyfish, it was clear that its spittle was no match for our cannons. Barrage after barrage scoured the thing, until, at last, it turned and started trying to flee. I gave the order to follow.




Soon, the bulk of its mass cracked cleanly in half. Today, a serious blow was struck against Spiders everywhere, those little eight-legged bastards.




I had the crew gather on the deck with hooks to fend off any spiders who might seek refuge on board and looked closer at the slowly sinking remains. In the middle of the vile thing, I discovered what must be said to be its heart – a single sorrow-spider of enormous size. A disgusting, twitching thing, but exactly what the Fathomking will want.



With this is the hold, I've given the order to turn south-east and head to the Fathomkeep. It's time to give the man what he wants.

December 22nd, morning – 1888




We arrived at the Keep, and I descended to see the King.




I'm not going to miss having the spider-heart aboard, but I am going to miss the Memento. I think the Cannoneer will too. He always spent long hours working on maintaining it. It doesn't help that the device I was offered to replace it is a torpedo launcher, and I have no torpedoes on-board. I'll simply have to avoid difficult battles until I can resupply.




With that, he gave me, at last, the type of mask I seek. It seems such a trivial thing now. But now, at least, I can finally discover what became of my father. All that's left is a short trip to Visage.

December 23rd, 1888



Things did not go quite how I expected them too on Visage.




I tracked down the man wearing the 'Dawn-colored cat mask', as the Fathomking suggested.



He seemed very reluctant to talk to me, and soon be proved why. This man was not someone who knew OF my father; he WAS my father.



He'd been hiding here for decades, since I was barely more than a child, in order to avoid paying his debts. I don't know what to feel. I'm furious and ecstatic all at once. In any case, he's kin, and the Zee is obviously in his blood as well as mine. I can't simply abandon him out here.




We snuck promptly off the island and have returned to the Checkmate. Visage will have to find someone else to manage their corpses.

December 24th, 1888



On our way back to London, I've decided to stop in at the Salt Lions. Paying my father's debts is going to all but exhaust my current reserves of capitol. If I don't want to end up like him, I need to secure a few more echos for future trips.



I have narrowly enough for this. I can't help but notice that I think my father is not a great influence on the crew. He ran a much more lax ship than I did, I think, and he seems to have gotten it into his head that he can tell my zailors what to do. The stone took longer to load than normal.

While I'm glad he's alive, I'll be even more glad when he's alive somewhere not on my ship.

Christmas, 1888



The lacre was falling lightly when we arrived at port today. My father had been standing at the railing since we passed Mutton Island, alternating grinning like a loon and drinking the last of the liquor he'd brought with him from Visage.



We put into port, and by the time I'd gotten the crew halfway through our docking checklist, there was a man with an oriental sort of look coming to speak with us.




I didn't want to take the time to deal with the Widow's usual dance around the bush. I simply wanted to pay the man and get him off my ship.




Echos changed hands. The Widow's man left with a curt bow. My father has been incredibly grateful; more than I expected, honestly. I've taken him and shown him to my townhouse. It's far nicer than anywhere I'd ever lived before and by the look of things, the same could be said of him. I do wonder what the Dapper Chap will think of him.

We spent hours by the fire, drinking and catching up. Under all that rum, there's a good captain down there. I suspect he'll never long to leave London again, but it will be good to have the old man around. I had to correct him, however. He was talking like I planned to stop being a Zailor now. I am not, of course, but I let the old man think it for the evening. This is the closest thing to a family Christmas I've ever had, and I didn't think it was worth ruining over that.

Ha. Christmas. If I see Mr. Sacks in the street tomorrow, I'm going to hug him. Maybe ask him if he can bring a bottle of rum for dear old Dad.