Nautilus

Nautilus was a well-known salvage diver despite the waves washing away his name. Beyond the southernmost reach of the Blue Flame Isles rests a graveyard of ships, allegedly lost while exploring for sacred land, finding a way to trade wealth for immortality. On a fair day, their glitter and holds beckon from beneath the surface. Many crews tried to collect the lost fortune by diving, but no one could match the skill of the quick-sinking hulk Nautilus.

With lungs that could steal the air from galleon’s sails, Nautilus preferred free diving. He never demanded special wages, and he always brought up plenty of gold or jewels for the crew and would ask the captain to toss a coin overboard as they set out to honour and appease the vast ocean. Making an offering is a sailor’s superstition to ensure a safe return.

Years of salvage had used up the easy treasure, and each haul was reduced for each day that passed until Nautilus’ crew learned that their ship and papers had been bought out from under them.

It was a scarlet morning when the new captain came aboard. Hailing from a foreign harbour, he took with him a monstrous suit of brass and iron. He obtained the command because of Nautilus. The captain was obsessed with a specific wreck, shrouded in darkness even on a light day. The diving armour can withstand the pressures of the ocean floor longer than any man, long enough to collect what was hidden in the abnormal murk.

The crew agreed that working was much better than starving, and Nautilus found himself enveloped into the suit, and the wooden deck groaned under the load. He was uneasy and worried after realizing that they had nothing to pay the tithe. The captain was laughing when Nautilus was lowered into the water. He promised the crew that whatever the Bearded Lady was guarding underneath the surface would make them rich more than they imagined. When Nautilus retreated to the surface, they would execute their foolish sacrifice.

All became quiet when Nautilus sank and the light above dimmed. His own breath was the only sound echoing in the iron suit. He was being pulled down, and he felt fear in his heart as something reached out from the depths. It was not the treasure that the captain sought but some sleeping eldritch power beneath.

Nautilus quickly grabbed the anchor chain, which is his last connection to the world above him. He dragged himself up even though the thing below him was dragging him down. However, the weight was too much, and when he was about to reach the surface, the chain snapped. He stumbled back into the inky maelstrom, clutching the sinking anchor. However, a dark tendril enveloped him, and he watched as the dimming outline of his ship faded away and everything went black.

When Nautilus woke up on the ocean floor, he was something else. His metal suit had become a seamless shell around him, covering the bond that the primordial power had made with his spirit. Trapped in the darkest depths, he could only remember one thing, and that was the captain’s broken promise. He vowed that from that moment, everyone would pay the ocean’s tithe. He made sure of it himself.

Driven by the thought, he struggled toward the shore. But by the time he reached Bilgewater, years had already passed, and there were no traces of his crew or the captain. There was no life he could return to, and at the same time, no revenge he could take. Instead, he returned to the sea, letting his anger cover the ravenous, gutting their ships with his mighty anchor. Sometimes distant memories surfaced in his mind, but the man Nautilus used to be was still deep below the surface.