That Bannon's a real siren if yer ask me. Even after the beating he's taken! Bulging muscles, pretty yella hair... I be willing to bet the barrel of his piece's longer than a ship's mast as well, if you be understanding me drift...
It's a shame in all honesty that he's one of them foolish holy men. Though even that ain't so bad, Lilly Roth loves herself a challenge.
Ol' Bannon, I'd stake my bets on being a mighty fine demon in the sack. Can't go wrong with a man in uniform!
Only now, he's gone and transformed into that pesky 'God of Light'! I've gotta believe that the man is still in there somewhere, but finding my way into his bedsheets at this stage is proving more difficult than I first thought. Don't seem to be anything that'll budge him from wherever he's hiding, not even an enrapturing roll in the hay with this future pirate queen!
Seems to me that by lettin' ol' Innocence take him over completely, it's like a leech sucking the life right out of him. He's gonna lose out on all them lusty joys of this world, and that ain't something I'd ever think fondly about.
Not much I can say about that raving monster. While he still breathes, it fares ill for all of us. There ain't no amount of ocean we can put between us and him that Kitava won't see as simply an extra dreg of wine in his cup.
By the high seas, you actually did it! You won a duel for the ages against Kitava himself! Sailors will be singing shanties about your victory for generations to come.
But if I've learned anything from you, Duelist: it's best to leave them wanting more. Let's find you a flagon of ale and a fresh start. Leave the rebuilding to those better suited than scoundrels like us.
A sombre day, when a man has slain his own gods. Tukohama, adored, Kitava, hated, but both Karui gods all the same. You've had quite the journey, and waged quite the war.
Whaddya say, Marauder? After all this, is it finally time to go home? We can set sail for your Archipelago the moment you give the word. We'll check in on these fine folk after they've had some time to figure things out.
You won the day, but you look more than frazzled, Witch. Might be time to bury your head in some forbidden occult books for a while... or whatever it is you do for fun. I know folks like us aren't suited to rebuilding efforts and honest work.
You look as though you've seen more bloodshed than you'd care to admit. Maybe it's time for you to step out of the darkness and do some honest pirating and pillaging for a change.
Whaddya say, Shadow? We can check back in on these fine upstanding folk when they've sorted their business.
It's funny, Ranger, that you had to fight across all of Wraeclast and Oriath to win the right to finally be left alone. I could do with some peace and quiet myself. Let's just you and me sail on out of here before they put us to work rebuilding. We can always visit once they're done.
How's that sound? Just say the word, and we'll set sail.
The world's saved then, it seems. I never doubted you, Scion. But what will you do now? Somehow, I think a woman like you thrives on a challenge. There's a whole world out there, and you can go anywhere, do anything. Me and this old ship of mine'll take you. Least I can do, what for saving our lives and all.
Say the word, and we'll set sail towards the future.
So, Templar, you've defeated Kitava and saved the good people of Oriath and Wraeclast, but at what cost? I heard that god of yours is going into self-imposed exile in the frozen south. Helping you sail around searching for Innocence sounds more like penance than fun, but it's the least I can do.
We're not going to find him, mind you. But it's all about the journey with you folk, not the destination, inninit? We'll give it a year, then come back and see how these proper citizens are doing. Just say the word, and we'll set sail.
Now that the Brine King is nothing but crab meat, his sunken domain, the ancient city of Tsoatha, is ripe for the plundering.
Me grandaddy once dedicated a good portion of his sailing life, trying ta hunt down the location of that monolithic city. Then, while he were... otherwise indisposed, yers truly tried to follow in his gnarled footsteps, track down the Teardrop - a pearl as big as your head, carved with the clues to the city's subaquatic location.
I were this close to completing me grandfather's legacy, when those damn Templar privateers raided me ship and took off with the Teardrop, threw it in their Reliquary, here in Theopolis. As it were, now's the perfect time to retrieve that dazzling pearl.
Think you can nab it for me? I'll make it worth yer while, maybe tick it off the list of things you owe me?
Exile, you're a giant among men! You got no idea how long I have yearned to have this beauty once more in me hands. The Teardrop is surprisingly still in pretty good condition - not too typical of the baubles them Templars like to steal.
We'll stick around a while longer, but once things settle down, my grandfather and I, we'll be setting sail with Tsoatha firm in our sights.
Every sell-dwelling lad or lass knows of Tsoatha. They call it a city, but it were more of a slaughterhouse than anything else.
Old Salty himself ruled over the place, treating its citizens as morsels from his own personal pantry. Those who weren't devoured outright were picked to try continue his family line - they became fish wives, like that pretty young Nessa near ended up being.
Well, the Brine King, as you know was forced into a slumber 'neath the ocean, and the city was said to have joined him there as well. A few folk managed to flee from the collapsing coral shards, start new lives for themselves, but I'll be reckoning they left all their valuables behind.
Were a long time ago now, but them Privateers, took the Teardrop, threw it in the Reliquary, then took yers truly, and threw me in those goddamn slave pens. Far as I can tell, they never did work out what the Teardrop were for. Lucky me I suppose.
It were tough, but with the help of a few other undesirables, I managed to find me way out of them pens and into the Reliquary, made an attempt to burgle back what was burgled from me.
Boy, did we sure underestimate the size of them guards the Templars had on the place. Only I managed to escape unscathed. Me accomplices weren't to be so lucky... they ended up in Wraeclast, much like yerself.
Fact, I believe you may've crossed paths. Kraityn, Alira... Oak.
While you be skulking about, I've managed to do a bit of hunting on me own. Got a hull-full of baubles and trinkets here. Which I managed to... "procure."
Take a look, you might find something particularly naughty to help you on yer life's voyage.
I suspect you're about ready for a flagon of ale and a pretty wench or swain, whatever it be that's yer persuasion.
The great exile of Oriath, returns to a Theopolis in chaos and ends the life of a raving cannibal god... now that's a story worth the songs of many an ancient muse.
Well, alls I can rightly say is congratulations my friend. A year ago, I wouldn't have dreamt I'd be someday soon in the company of a killer of gods. My advice, you better get while the getting's good and have yourself a holiday before Oriath or Wraeclast or whoever else has need for your unique services once more.