|Khan's Shadow (Gazetteer)|
|Located in||The Salt Steppes|
|Shops||Dearly Departed Traveller's Friend|
The city that swam.
Khan's Shadow is one of three Khan's Fortresses ruled by the Khanate. This island is where the former warriors of the Khanate, now exiles, live.
Long ago, the Khanate turned its back on its warrior traditions. It has no place for pirates and would-be nomads: so here, in the Shadow, the exiles make their home, amid a hundred wrecked, grounded, decommissioned ships.
|Compile a Port Report
So many malcontents. So little time.
Conniving, debauching, speechifying, drinking, singing, speeching, poeting. Now and then a drunken duel. Very occasionally, a savage ritual murder.
|Have a One-Eyed Scrimshander carve something from your Hunting Trophy
His tools are laid before him in a neat row.
|He runs his knobbled fingers over the trophy; clicks his tongue. "Good bone."
He grinds. He chips. He engraves. He mutters in a half-dozen languages of the Presbyterate. Soon, four little blocky figures of bone stand in a row before him. Their eyes are wide and angry. "Saw these in the Elder Continent, once. Still do, when I sleep; or when my mind wanders."
He drops them into your palm. "No charge. If they start watching you, maybe they'll stop watching me."
|Game note: Trade a Hunting-Trophy for four Watchful Curios.|
|Let your Longshanks Gunner go ashore
"I'm no more good to yer, Captain. I've got the scent o' freedom, now, and I'm for the city of broken ships."
|A profitable parting
"So I've got a confession to make. I've been moonlighting in the old trade. Not aboard ship. I'd never steal from a shipmate, cap'n, I zwear!" She winks. "But a port here, a port there. Here's some of my haul, and thanks."
She hands you a collection of clinking objects wrapped in cloth, shoulders a bundle, and, whistling, hurdles the rail to land in a rusting coal-barge. She's gone.
|Put a blemmigan ashore
The exiles are unlikely to be bothered by one more outcast.
|A knack for concealment
The blemmigan disappears into the moist shadows of a nearby wreck. A Shadow watches it go. “Mushrooms,” she says cheerfully. “I've missed mushrooms.”
|Acquire a Doomed Monster-Hunter
The rebel lords of the Khanate are hungry for the secrets of the Dawn Machine. One among their number will volunteer to die for you, should you provide what they need.
He tugs at the brim of his dripping hat. His eyes are the colour of the deepest zee. "I'm ready," he tells you. "No, I need no food. No water. I will feed myself from the zee."
|Sell an exotic weapon to Shadow buccaneers
"Icarus in Black! The masterwork of an Iron Republic Artificer. Captains fear it. Monsters flee it!"
|Failed event||Game Note: A Hearts success will get you a slightly better price.|
|A fair price
The Icarus is an eccentric weapon, and the Scarred Buccaneer who purchases it may not find success in piracy. But she seems content enough.
|An excellent price!
The Icarus is an eccentric weapon. The Scarred Buccaneer who purchases it may not find it very much use against the Khanate Navy. But she purrs with delight: it's a trophy to inspire envy in rival buccaneers!
|A gathering of anarchists
That is nothing unusual here, of course. Most nights, half the Shadow hatches plots over cheap wine and old insults. But who is that Officer in the crowd?
||The usual diatribes
The Haunted Doctor stands listening in rapt attention, his remaining eye closed. On a stage made from tables and upturned chairs, an attractive young man and woman take turns raging against injustice and talking of the glorious day when London and the Khanate and all others who dare to elevate themselves above others will face their reckoning. (The irony is, as ever, lost.)
Once the meeting ends he hurries over to thank you, glowing with second-hand fervour.
"I have... missed this," says the Doctor, something strange taking over his face. If you didn't know better, you'd say it was a smile. He heads over to the young woman to try it out, renewed purpose in his stride.
|Help Maybe's Daughter search for her mother
"She was a spy, once, I think. I think she might still be one. Well, a lot of us are. Freelancers, anyway. Look, perhaps you shouldn't say that to anyone at the Admiralty. I do talk nonsense when I'm nervous.
"She murdered a White-and-Gold here last month. Or someone else in lilac did. It's an unlucky colour here, I think. But let me tell you something else I heard. And then we can look elsewhere. We'll find her."
|"She was here last week, but - "
You follow the Daughter's stunned gaze. A woman in a lilac gown leans in the doorway of a tea-shop. Her features bear an unmistakable resemblance to your officer's. "We should talk," she says to the Daughter, quite calmly.
The Daughter assembles the rags of her composure with remarkable speed. "Excuse us," she says...
|Seek the Cladery Heart among the abandoned hulls
If she is here, the Cladery Heir will recognise her.
The shipwrights are watching you. Everyone here seems unduly fascinated by your presence. You've only walked a quarter of the docks when the Cladery Heir takes your elbow. "The light is too dim. I can't be certain of the shapes of the hulls. She might be here without me seeing her."
From the deck of the closest ship, someone spits something at your feet. It's... actually, what is that?
"Chunk of tongue," the Cladery Heir says, giving it a poke with the toe of her boot. "To say they don't care to speak with us. Let's go."
|A memory of a memory
The Cladery Heir walks the dock, watching the hulls and the outlines of the ship. She moves slowly, so that she doesn't look too eager. "We probably won't find her here," the Heir says. "I don't expect to. I don't believe in clinging to specific hopes and expectations of that kind; it's just the sort of obsession that ruins lives, just the kind of thing I'm always having to repair..."
You don't find the ship, though you walk the docks three times over. "It doesn't matter," says the Cladery Heir. "I don't mind." But surely there is more you can do?
|Ask about the Cladery Heart among the Shipwrights
If the stories are true, they must at least remember her.
|On to Frostfound
"She made the other ships restless," says the Khaganian Shipwright. "In the end we had to repair her enough to let her go on. She turned north, with the last of the crew that still lived on her. But she sailed too close by Frostfound, and the ice swallowed her. At least, that is the story that has come back to us."
|Healing the Cheery Man: take honey with a Once-Great Poet
He can smell it. He baggy eyes grow suddenly sharp. "Nothing's forgotten; nothing's gone. I have seen it. There was a wood, once - a place where things that were, are. Dream with me!"
He leads you to his dismal chambers, where the air is sweet and rotten, like fruit left in a bowl. Pages of unfinished poetry litter the furniture.
"Sit! We will take a spoonful each, you and I, and I will show you the way." Dipping a spoon into the honey, he shovels a blob of it into his mouth. "You, too. Quickly!"
|Plunder the decommissioned remains of the Stone Turtle
An old research vessel, chained and boarded-up at the Shadow's rim. If the Khanate's zonar schematics survived, perhaps they're on board.
||You climb aboard
Your bo'sun applies bolt cutters to a chain, securing entry. Slipping inside, you close the door (muting the clamour of the Shadow) and light lamps. The hull is well-preserved. Down in the hold are orderly piles of crates, boxes, and cabinets.
Eventually you uncover a detailed set of schematics that - despite the complexities of Khanate script - look like what you need. You cram them into your jacket.
You have discovered fingerprints in the dust, and suspicious gaps in the runs of certain records. Has someone been here recently? Perhaps the Khanate hasn't abandoned zubmarine research quite as absolutely as they claim.
|Game note: Return to Port Carnelian to complete your zubmarine research.|
|Approach the man staring at you
His gaze is rather intense. What does he want?
|Khan's Shadow shops|
|Dearly Departed • Traveller's Friend|