"Aye, 'tis true, every last word o' it. Wha'? Wha' was that? Ye weren't payin' attention?! Blisterin' barnacles, ye youngin's these days... I swear, all y'be interested in be 'Th' Next Big Thing.' No consideration fer th' legends whatsoever! Alright, open yer ears 'n listen close, 'cause I ain't goin' t'be repeatin' this t'th' likes o' ye a second time...
Ye know o' th' Blood Moon, aye? That rare celestial event that happens at least once every thirty days o' so, makin' th' seas below look like they've become saturated wit' fresh spilt blood? Y'may nah know this, but those instances mark th' only time in which th' dreaded Captain Martinez 'n his crew are allowed t' stalk th' waters fer us once again.
Ne'er heard o' Captain Martinez? I be nah surprised. He wasn't a pirate. Nah in th' traditional sense, anyway. He 'n his crew were privateers -- professional pirate hunters. His ship, th' El Dorado, was an o'ersized man o' war that had been built t' his owns personal specifications. Painted yellow wit' black highlights. Figurehead o' a black eagle wit' a pirate's skeleton danglin' lifelessly in its beak. Eight guns on either side, two on th' bow, two on aft, makin' fer a total o' twenty. 'n all o' 'em were plated in gold. Gold taken from th' plunder that he hisself plundered from th' pirate vessels he sunk!
But th' real prize was below deck, two levels down, underneath th' cap'n's quarters. Ye hear tales o' a pirate's greed, o' a Gold Hoarder's greed, but none were more consumed by desire fer th' bright 'n shiny as Diego Martinez. He dedicated nigh-on th' entirety o' his hold t' th' storin' o' his trophies. Mountains o' doubloons, gems 'n trinkets reachin' up t' th' ceilin'! Some say ye could spend a whole day within th' bowels o' th' ship, in that cabin, ferryin' th' loot t' yer owns vessel, 'n still nah 'ave even raked up a fraction o' it!
But Martinez was nah without a heart. His hatred fer lawless bags o' s**m such as us was only o'ershadowed by th' love fer his beauty, Maria. Aye, Maria. She was so beautiful, that t' this day some folk reckon that she was a goddess who decided t' walk among us. She was a grower o' flowers, see. Famous fer th' so-called 'Martinez Rose,' which she cultivated exclusively fer her other half. Every time Diego left port, she would leave wit' 'im one o' these roses, which he would keep on his desk next t' a framed picture o' her. 'Tis a cryin' shame, wha' happened t' her...
But, alas, I be divertin' course. Sorry 'bout that!
Years an' years ago, all th' legends o' yesterday banded together t' remove Martinez from th' proverbial picture. Thar dozen-or-so ships against his one. Ye'd reckon that havin' numbers on thar side would matter, but no. Martinez's tenacity 'n his skill as a sailor saw t' it that more than half o' his opponents were transferred t' th' Ferry o' th' Damned in jus' a few hours time. 'twas a massacre th' likes o' which these waters hadn't seen afore, 'n haven't seen since.
But, by some absurd stroke o' luck, a typhoon furled into th' area o' water in which th' ships were battlin'. Th' churnin' waters made it nigh-on impossible fer Martinez t' maintain control o' his ship, on account o' all th' plunder down below constantly shiftin' from one side o' th' hold t' th' other. 'twas jus' th' kind o' thin' that th' survivin' pirates could take advantage o'.
They brought thar ships in 'round 'im as he tried t' turn out o' th' storm, 'n emptied every last cannonball in thar stores into his bloated hull. So much metal 'n wood bein' sprayed everywhere, a spark was bound t' go off within th' area o' th' El Dorado where th' dry powder was stored. Th' explosion was said t''ve been so powerful, that it cleared th' skies 'n rendered th' seas calm...
Why am I tellin' ye this in a voice o' such urgency? 'cause, lads, th' El Dorado sails again wit' Martinez at th' helm! Aye! I've seen it! Th' las' time th' Blood Moon rose, I was down south. Suddenly, thin's grew oddly warm, 'n wha' I thought was fog swept o'er me ship from bow t' stern. 'cept it wasn't fog. No, t'was steam! Steam from th' fires o' hell itself, followin' th' ship as it sailed.
Ye've heard o' them so-called 'Skull Forts,' aye? Well imagine one capable o' movin', capable o' chasin' ye! That's wha' th' El Dorado be now; a literal ghost ship wit' an equally ghostly crew, dedicated t' th' eradication o' us pirates! It may sound impossible, but 'tis true! How do ye reckon I lost me hand? Fallin' off th' top o' Galleon's Grave Outpost? No. That ship that y'found me on, on Ole Salts Atoll? She used t'be mine! Used t' be, 'til that accursed Martinez put 'er full o' holes 'n forced me aground!
Me men 'n I defended her th' best we could, but... Well, ye try killin' somethin' that doesn't die! Somethin' wit' a soul, I mean. Oh, ye were assumin' that Martinez 'n his crew had come back as yer average Skeleton, did ye? No, lad. They came back as somethin' worse -- somethin' far worse!
Thar's that look on yer face again... Ye don't believe me, do ye? Fine, then. Be that way. But when ye find yourself starin' ole one-eyed Jones in th' face, ye tell 'im that I tried t' warn ye! That I tried t' warn ye all!"
What you have just read is a story told by my original character, former pirate captain-turned-castaway "Black Dog" Skol Duggary. The idea of the El Dorado was conceived weeks ago, before the announcement of the upcoming Cursed Sails update. I had imagined the ship to be something akin to a raid boss. As the story suggests, she and her crew would materialize somewhere on the map whenever a Blood Moon reaches the height of its arc across the skies.
The ship would be appropriately massive, just like the Kraken. More than big enough to accommodate up to sixteen players at any given time, or approximately four galleons' worth of pirates. It would be up to the players to battle through several waves of Spaniard-like NPCs, each of whom would appear as ghostly figures like Davy Jones instead of your typical Skeleton.
Captain Martinez would be the last enemy that the player(s) would fight. He would emerge from his cabin, brandishing an elegant rapier in his right hand and a pistol in his left. Fighting him would somewhat like fighting a Dark Souls boss, because his attacks would be designed to engage multiple hostiles at once across a broad expanse of the deck. He would even be capable of skewering a player by their shoulder, hoisting them up to eye-level, and then kicking them a la 300 off the deck of his ship. Certain doom for one player, but an opening that others could exploit, because he would be locked in the animation during this time.
Upon his defeat, a portal will open up beneath Martinez. From it will emerge a giant eel, which will electrify Martinez into submission before pulling him down into the ghostly green mist. All that will remain of him is a key, which is meant to be used in conjunction with another key that the spirit of Martinez's first mate dropped upon his own "death." Both of these items are used to unlock the vault containing the ship's treasure. But once the vault is opened, the ship will begin to self-destruct, as though its crew had opted to scuttle it. If they're smart, players can delay the time it takes for the ship to sink by bailing out water, otherwise it will take approximately two minutes for it to sink beneath the waves. During this time, high-quality chests and trinkets, along with sacks of coins and gems, will spawn continuously in front of a static mountain of riches that reaches the ceiling of the vault on all sides. If they're quick enough, player(s) can make 50k worth of gold -- or more if they decide to try and steal the treasure taken by the other crews that helped them in their endeavor!
To help sink the El Dorado and claim a fraction of her treasure would be a true test of endurance, trust, and skill. Sinking it "alone" would be an even greater test. Each would come with their own unique achievement, and a chance to add a Martinez Rose to your vessel's captain's quarters as proof of the deed done.
So, uh... Whaddya think?