Scratched mithril-bound manacle

Prize item for Hunt for History.

a scratched mithril-bound manacle

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Fractured and cast aside, whatever once was held within this band of imprisonment has long since left it behind. Tiny divots and gnaw marks disfigure the edges of the manacle, as if the occupant reverted to animal instincts in their prolonged frustration, but those did not seem to cause the final jagged split that sundered the infinite nature of the circle.

This shackle dates from the glory days of piracy.

Loresong:
The manacle grows noticeably colder in your hand, and your eyelids sink as the sound of crashing surf lulls you away

Swimming up to your consciousness is a vision of a narrow ship's hold, creaking and rocking slowly from the ocean beneath. Everything within the cell area is displayed in hueless shades, as if the colors have been leeched away like so much happiness. Heaps of filthy dark grey blankets are piled around the room, interspersed with a skein of lighter grey rusting chains and manacles winding over the dull grey planks underfoot. Even the few other occupants, wrapped in the ratty remnants of their various pasts, are completely devoid of color. Yet, within a single iron-rimmed porthole a brilliant blue shimmers.

Receding like the tide, the vision breaks into indecipherable streaks and then turns black. Bubbles rush through the darkness and your eyes blink and refocus on the true world.

What appears to be a rocky coastline is now creeping by the porthole like a great earthen drake. Sprays of foam explode in white bursts against the distant rocky beaches, and scores of seabirds float around the reefs picking at fish shredded by the underlying coral. As you watch, the coast begins to slant toward the ship. Gaining speed and catching inbound swells, it seems as though your floating prison has lost control and is heading directly into the coast! Closer the land skulks, until you can make out individual trees and bushes along the shore, and impact seems imminent.

Vaporous light solidifies into image, and once again you find yourself within the bowels of the ship's hold, with the coastline a stone throw away outside the porthole and approaching fast. At the moment where the narrow rock beach itself is visible outside there is noticeably no crash, and just as suddenly the light disappears and you are seeing a fast-moving sheer wall of rock moving past mere feet away. Piratical scrawlings occasionally decorate the stone wall in vivid slashes of color as you float by, made more vibrant and foreboding by your view from within the grey dungeon surroundings.

Roughly-hewn stone continues to pass by the porthole, then suddenly retreats into darkness and for a moment you see nothing. Fire illumination brightens the exterior, and with the minimal view the window offers it appears the ship is inside an enormous cavern grotto. Uneven pilings jut from the water and connect plank walkways and small makeshift docks. Tantalizing piles of wealth are jumbled along the distant cave wall, with heaps of ill-gotten jewelry, weaponry, and packed materials with foreign markings tangled all together.

Raised voices from the dock ahead and above on deck penetrate the grey cell, and the ship unexpectedly begins turning back around. As the rotation brings your view around you can see a shaggy human pirate standing on the largest pier, bouncing around excitedly. In his hand he is waving a shipping notice bearing an official gold and crimson seal, his other hand meanwhile is gesticulating to hurry back out to sea.

Practically bursting from the cavern lair, the porthole shows a smear of beach for an instant before again showing the pure blue horizon of the sea. After a few distorted moments of travel you can hear the stomping of feet on the deck of the pirate ship above you, marking preparation for an assault. The ship swings about, and your porthole view slides along the crystalline waters and glides slowly to a stop framing a massive Turamzzyrian vessel.

The ship flies the markings of an official Imperial transport, and though she is loaded with heavy ordnance the pirates have taken her in the perfect position. Above you the orders are roared, but then a shuddering impact roars through your ship! The Imperial ship outside the porthole has no weapons aimed your way, yet suddenly another explosion rends the air. Seawater rushes in through hundreds of fissures in the hull and the prisoners begin to scream.

Pandemonium returns in a flash, and around you the pirate's ship is breaking apart. Water spouts from every surface, and with a trembling blast the decks fold and collapse from above, dropping rigging and pirates and ripping the hull into pieces. The ocean claims the ship in one shattering gulp, leaving trails of bubbles and wreckage as the large chunks sink quickly out of sight.

Underwater, all around you people are struggling, many being drawn into the depths by debris. Breaking the surface with exploding gasps of tortured lungs, most of the prisoners from the belowdecks start swimming madly toward the Imperial vessel, cheering and shouting with ragged voices. The dazzling colors of the open sea and sky wrapping around you refreshes your senses, as if you too had been a prisoner long within the dank hope-sapping ship's belly.

Like a school of filthy malnourished fish, the ex-prisoners flail toward the galley bearing great Turamzzyrian Imperial crests upon its sails. A cannon blast roars through the air and the center of the mainmast suddenly bursts into a rain of splintering debris. The vision shifts, and behind the group of prisoners in the water you can see the cause of their captors' demise.

Rising like a black sea-demon above the waves is a massive pirate vessel, its crew crawling around the decks preparing to board the other ship. Visible from your height above the water at the prow is a burly pirate of immaculate swarthiness bellowing commands. By the red slashes marring the Imperial sigil on his shield, this could be none other than Bloody Malovor.

Reference

Unofficial documentation located here: http://members.aol.com/gs3augie/manacle.html