|The Brine King|
|Start||Speak to Tarkleigh|
|Objective||Defeat the Brine King|
|Completion||Sail to Act 7|
|Boss||Tsoagoth, The Brine King|
Tarkleigh: Nessa… I saw her one night, running out across the Coast, headed in the direction of the Mudflats. Called out to her… but she didn’t even turn her head. Maybe she couldn’t hear me, maybe she didn’t want to, I don’t bloody know. I tried to run after her but she’d vanished into the darkness before my feet had barely touched the sand.
So I tracked her, all the way to the Mud Flats, and that’s when her tracks… they just stopped. No sign of meeting someone or something, no sign of a struggle. It’s like one moment she was running and the next… gone.
Look, I’ve heard some things, about what you’ve done. Things that beggar belief. Now, you can do this. Please, find Nessa. Bring her back to us.
Nessa: He did this to me... the King of Brine, and he wants me to be... oh god... his... Please... I don't know how I am doing this, nor if I may again. Help me... help us... before he... before...
This… change… she’s going through, this curse the so-called ‘Brine king’ has put on her… it can be broken. I know it!
You’ve got to keep going, follow her tail before it gets any colder. Make your way along the Coast, the Ship Graveyard, even Merveil’s Cave if you must.
By my reckoning, this King’s not the sort to venture far from his briny bed.
Nessa: What are you doing?! God drag you to damnation if you’re going to stand by and let this happen to me! To us! Because believe me, the Brine King has far greater appetites than one nothing of a girl from Oriath. It doesn’t matter what he’ll do to me now… it’s what he’ll do to Wraeclast. Yet there’s hope. There’s always hope… if only you can reach Merveil’s cave. If only…
Nessa: The Brine King… his time has almost come. Then hope will be… I will be gone. Please… take the Black Flag. It once fluttered from the mast of the Black Crest, Weylam Roth’s ship. Throw it into the flames of the Beacon. It’s your only chance of reaching me, of turning this tide. The King can’t keep secrets like this from me any longer. It’s just… the way of things. Find me, please, before…
Search for the entrance to The Beacon. Use the The Black FlagThe Black Flag"May the lubbers feel fear in their
nethers, and may our blades follow."
- Rot-tooth's Rallying Cry at the Beacon to summon Weylam Roth's ship, the Black Crest, which will take you to the reef.
Weylam Roth: So you're the shite that's gone and summoned me to the beacon, eh? Dammit all... rules is rules and now I'm bound to you, the legendary Weylam Roth, Captain of the Black crest, cursed to be the undead slave of some lowly... outcast, by the looks of it.
You got an arse for a brain in that thick skull of yours? Of course I'll ferry you to the Brine King's blood reef. I be wanting to discharge this accursed duty and get back to me afterlife. It's not right, not natural, being above water without a beating heart in me chest.
So get yourself aboard and be quick about it!
Don’t think I’m going to be balling and chaining after your sorry arse once our journey to the reef is done.
Weylam Roth: Right, well on with it then. Go find yourself a salty sovereign to dethrone. Fool's errand if you ask me. Old Briney will gut you like a fish, but at least with you dead in the water I'll be free to get on with me own voyage. So off you go, matey.
After finding Nessa in The Brine King's Reef you have to defeat the boss.
Nessa: So courageous, such a fine example of womanhood. I simply knew you wouldn’t disappoint me. Or my husband. You see, his majesty could never be satiated on his wedding day by one bride alone. Thank you, my new sister. I shall always treasure your company.
Sin: And thus the Lord of Salt and Scale sinks to feed the fishes that flit amongst the ruins of Tsoatha. Come, ingest of hi divine juices while they are all washed away.
Weylam Roth: How did you...? You still breathing? Bloody barnacles on me arse! You, my new friend, are a legend of the high seas to behold! Tell you what, I've already done my bit getting you here, but if you're looking to sail on to Phrecia, me and the Black Crest would be honoured to take you.
Weylam Roth: Hold on to yer cockles, me hearty! The sea betwixt here and Phrecia be the most ill-tempered there is. Here’s hoping you’ve as much steel in yer gizzard as ye seem to in yer heart.
Tarkleigh: I’d hoped for a chance to see Nessa again, dreamed it like some poor bloody child believing in fairytales.
No, she’s not one of us anymore, but at least she’s not like Merveil either. Can’t overlook a mercy like that. Who knows, perhaps Nessa is better off this way. Not like this is much of a home to come back to, anyway.
Look, I know you did what you could, and for that, you’ll always have my thanks.