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pathogenic · 4 years ago

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Chapter 6: The Drowned Crew

Prologue

Chapter 1: The Necromancer

Chapter 2: The Prophet

Chapter 3: The Hag

Chapter 4: The Brigand Vvulf

Chapter 5: The Brigand’s Cannon

Chapter 6: The Drowned Crew

Chapter 7: The Siren

Chapter 8: The Swine God

Chapter 9: The Formless Flesh

Chapter 10: The Ancestor

Epilogue

Warning for violent character deaths

With our sights set upon the Cove, I decided it was best to send our fastest men in to scout the place and attempt to figure out what could be stealing the inhabitants of my Hamlet. Heading in blind was a sure fire way to ensure that we lost more people, but even to this day, the last thing I had anticipated was news that spirits were haunting the coves. Initially I thought that I was the victim of a jest, but I had never known Dismas to lie in his reports, so I believed him. After all, at this point, was it truly so strange compared to everything else we had fought?

I was, at the time, unfamiliar with how they worked. Everything I knew was from stories passed around campfires to try and scare the more faint-hearted, so I called Alhazred to try and understand what we were against. He explained to me that some ghosts are harmless, but others should be feared. Those who are bound to this world through malice have been known to cause physical harm. It could be that the missing citizens heard something odd and decided to investigate, but their curiosity costed them their lives when the specters found them.

With a unique enemy on our hands, I attempted to assemble the best crew for dealing with these ghosts. Alhazred was a natural choice given his area of expertise. He was confident that if we found these ghosts, he could seal them away and prevent them from causing any further damage. Dismas was another natural choice given the fact that he was the one who had done the majority of scouting in the area. If anyone was going to know the safest paths within the coves, it was him. Tardif and Jingles were not additions I planned on making, however. Jingles offered his services both to keep things calm in the face of these spirits, but also because he was a more capable fighter than he appeared. He promised he would not slow us down. Tardif was ultimately allowed to come as well given that he could deal with anything more physical should we encounter trouble within the Coves beyond the ghosts.

As we walked through, Dismas attempted to explain more of what he saw. He explained that due to his time as a highwayman, he came to recognize other types of criminals. The clothes the ghosts wore were not quite uniforms, he explained, but they resembled more of the outfits of pirates. They would often blend different uniforms along with whatever cloth they had available. The lack of a coherent uniform was their tell-tale sign, essentially.

Fortunately for Dismas, he didn’t have to wait long for his explanation to make sense. As we traveled further within the Cove, we started to discover the shattered remains of ships. Initially it wasn’t much, just a plank here and there, half rotten and covered in seaweed and the likes. As we followed the trail of wreckage, we started to see more of the ships, and with them, the first of the ghosts.

They were not so different from the skeletons we had seen back in the dungeon, save for the fact that they had an unnatural blue glow about them. The first we saw was simply walking across the broken mast of a ship before all at once he lifted his head, quickly looking around as if he was alerted to something. We were careful not to make too much noise and to try to pass by him, but all at once, his head snapped in our direction. The specter howled and then charge. I didn’t notice it at first, but looking back, he did not pay my companions any mind, but instead he was charging at me. It didn’t work out in his favor as Alhazred was faster.

It continued like this as we pressed further and further in. It seemed like the deepest parts of the cove were nothing more than a ship graveyard. There seemed to be an endless supply of specters to attack us, or rather, me. At the time I did not know why they had such an intense hatred for me, but I had my suspicions as to who I could blame for it. Regardless, I started to wonder how much more we would have to put up with. I asked our Occultist what could be done about the countless ghosts. He chewed at his lip as I saw him wrack his brain. I feared that perhaps he had not been as honest about his knowledge and that we were in over our heads to deal with this problem, but as I was about to ask if he truly knew anything on ghosts, he spoke up again. He said he had a suspicion that there was a curse that was binding them to this place. If he could either break it or find a way to render them powerless, then the problem would be solved.

He then turned to Dismas and asked if he knew anything further on the pirates that we were encountering. The highwayman paused to give the question some thought. He then said that it seemed as if they weren’t all from the same crew. Some uniform pieces were simply too old to survive sea that long. He then motioned to the broken ships around us, suggesting that perhaps there was an original ship that is the source of the curse, the rest were simply pulled into it. They were unfortunate enough to crash into this cursed location, and now they were just a part of fit. Alhazred gave a nod and said it was a good observation but voiced his concern about figuring out which was the first ship. No one had an answer for that, so the scholar sighed and said we would just have to keep going. With some luck, it would be obvious.

The deeper we traveled, the harder it was to dodge the bits of ships that we found. Eventually we found ourselves having to walked through cracked hulls in order to continue our path, but that all came to a stop when we saw the most curious sight. Where the water just met the Cove, there was a ship hull. Attached to the hull was an anchor bound in its own chains. Within the chains were old bones that had long since turned yellow from exposure. I told Alhazred that if anything was bound to be cursed, it was going to be that anchor. I could not think of a single way such a tragedy could occur naturally, and he agreed.

Cautiously, we approached. Tardif stayed behind to keep watch in case anything tried to ambush us. As we got closer, there was a terrible feeling that washed over me. I could already taste the salt from the sea water in the air before, but now it was thicker. It took everything I had not to start coughing and hacking. Alhazred must have felt it as well as he held his skull closer, muttering to it, likely repelling whatever curse haunted the anchor away from himself. Dismas and Jingles were quick to back off, and I could not blame them. If it felt like an option, I would have stayed behind as well.

Once we finally made it to the cursed anchor, Alhazred reached a hand out and attempted to touch it, perhaps to get a better understanding of the curse, perhaps because he was just curious, but regardless of intent, it caused the crew tied to that anchor to suddenly spring to life. Behind us we heard the horrible sounds of someone choking. Quickly I looked back to see one of the skeletal figures bending over Tardif. In it’s boney hands, it held a boat hook that was stuck firmly in his his shoulder. The bounty hunter was doubled over as he fell to his knees. Even from my distance, I could see the water that he coughed up through his helmet. Dismas attempted to save him, firing upon the figure, but it hardly budged as it continued to curse the bounty hunter until he didn’t struggle anymore.

I barely had a moment to process the fact that I had watched Tardif drown on land when I heard the most discordant screech from a violin that had not been tuned in years. My shoulders tensed and all I could do was cover my ears to try and block out the horrible, cursed tune. At once, Jingles attempted to play over it. It helped take the worst of the sting out of the horrible screech of those strings. This quick thinking allowed Alhazred to focus once more. His hand was firmly planted on the anchor at this point and I could hear quick, hushed chanting, though I knew nothing of what he said. Regardless, the candle on the skull in his hands started to flicker and burn brighter as he spoke.

Seeing as how I could be of no help to Alhazred, I backed off and returned to Dismas and Jingles’ side as the rest of the crew continued to manifest, attempting to close in on us. Our attacks seemed to do very little as my sword would pass through the apparition. Bullets hardly seemed to do much either, but their attacks found us just fine. The only thing that seemed to phase them was the sound of Jingles’ lute. The more pleasant sound seemed to cause them to recoil and it kept Alhazred safe for as long as the jester played.

We stayed close, hoping that Jingles would not grow tired as he kept the ghosts at bay. The only thing Dismas and I could do was watch as more manifested with each round of chanting that Alhazred performed. Eventually, we saw what we assumed was the Captain of the cursed ship. Unlike his companions, he seemed to have the ability to press through Jingles’ music and we noticed it far too late.

Initially he stayed back with his crew, but his reactions were not the same as those around him. It was likely the captain was a poor actor in his life as his recoils were half-hearted at best. Dismas and I noticed this at once and attempted to move between the ghost of the captain and Jingles, but it seemed that the captain was faster on the draw. As he saw us move, he pulled the pistol from the holster on this chest and fired. Our poor jester attempted to raise the lute to save himself, but it fired through. He dropped to the ground, not dead yet, but gravely injured.

All at once, the ghosts rushed. We failed to protect Jingles, but we would not fail Alhazred. Dismas and I did the only thing we could and stood between him and the ghosts, ignoring the choking feeling the anchor gave. The ghosts attempted to attack, but we took the hits until Alhazred’s final chant ended. We heard the chains loosen on the anchor and drop the bodies it held. At once, the ghosts began to fade. At this moment, we rushed to the aid of our injured companion. Alhazred joined us and, despite his very obvious exhaustion, attempted another spell.

The gunshot wound attempted to close, but it was not enough. Alhazred was too tired to see it through and our friend bled out before our eyes. In that moment, I felt ashamed. Was there truly nothing we could have done to protect him? I felt as if I went into a battle with half baked ideas again and two people paid the price this time. I could feel my hands shake, and I wasn’t sure if it was due to the shock of having two more people die, or from my wounds.

My companions sat with me in silence as we mourned the loss of Tardif and of Jingles. After what felt like hours, Dismas finally spoke up. He pointed out that Alhazred was likely about to faint after performing such an impressive act and that we had our own wounds that needed treatment before they became infected. Someone else could come by and collect the bodies. Alhazred voiced his agreement and started to move towards the door, waiting for me and Dismas. The highwayman offered me his hand and I took it. I found myself leaning on him before we left the cove. The act helped me from breaking until we reached the Hamlet.

From there, we visited the healers at the Sanitarium and had our wounds cleaned and treated. They asked about our other companions and Dismas informed them of their demise. They tried their best to comfort me, but their words felt hollow at the time. I knew it was my fault, their reassurances that I couldn’t have known felt wrong.

Once we were released, Dismas refused to let me return to the Estate, insisting that I shouldn’t be alone for now. He steered me towards the Tavern and had me sit at our usual games table. I told him that I was in no mood to play, and he said he understood. So instead, we talked. We talked about what we did before we arrived at the Hamlet. I learned of how he learned his tricks he used during games, I told him about my studies. He told me why he gave up his life as a highwayman, I told him of the agreement I made with Damian. He gave me lots of strange looks about Damian and told me to be careful.

I suppose Alhazred had told the others of what happened, for slowly but surely more of our companions arrived and invited themselves to our table. They didn’t speak of the deaths, but the sympathetic looks were enough to tell me that they knew. Still, I found myself appreciating their company. Dismas was right, if I were alone with my thoughts that evening, I have no doubt I would have fallen apart. Before I finally decided I needed to rest, I bought my friend a drink and I embraced him. We lingered for a moment before he told me to please get some rest. The Hamlet needed me at my best.

When I returned, I found Damian resting already and decided to leave him be. I returned to my chambers and fell asleep soon enough. However, when I woke up, I had a strange lock in my hands. I looked up to a large set of wooden doors and realized I had never seen them before in my life. In a blind panic, I looked around to try and figure out where I was. I had a feeling I was underground as there was a lack of light except for what came from an open door behind me. I dropped the lock and dashed for the door and found that it opened into a long hallway. That ended in a trapdoor that I frantically climbed out of. At last I saw the familiar sight of the wine cellar below my Estate. I wondered how I never noticed the trap door until I looked around the room and noticed the table knocked over. At this point, the room started to grow lighter as Damian descended the stairs, lantern in hand.

He looked at me with a confused expression and I frantically tried to explain what had happened. He had me take him into the basement and show him the lock that I was holding. He seemed just as perplexed as me but decided that it was best to leave it be for now. He noted that it smelled like something was rotting on the other side. I then noticed the smell and scrunched my nose. He was right. It was that sickly, sweet smell of putrefaction. We decided that there was not much we could do about it in the dead of the night, so we returned to the first floor of the Estate instead.

At that point I was too shaken to rest. I told him that I found myself having strange dreams and then I’d wake up in a different room in the Hamlet, but this was the first time I woke up in that room with a lock in my hand. He asked me to detail these dreams, but I found it difficult to recall much at the time. I admitted that I was pretty shaken between the deaths and waking up in an unfamiliar place, so my memory was patchy at best at the time. He seemed genuinely surprised by this news and so I had the unfortunate job of informing him that we had lost two more heroes that day.

He listened and then he asked if he could offer me something. I said he could, and at that time Damian began to explain what he had learn from his time in the Church about death. He knew I didn’t believe in the Light, but he said that no matter what I did believe, they were at peace now. They were heroes, the Light would be foolish to banish them into the dark. It is true that I didn’t believe in the Light and their teachings, but still, his words were comforting. It was something to ease my mind, I suppose. It’s funny, isn’t it? The idea that the dead are resting peacefully is somehow a comfort. They’re still dead, they’re still gone, and yet hearing that they are not suffering is enough to make someone feel a little more at peace with what happened.

I thanked Damian for the kind words before retiring to the den. He came with and we continued to talk about nothing in particular until eventually I fell asleep. I don’t recall when it happened, but I recall waking up to the morning light coming in the window. There was no sight of Damian, he had likely gone to his own duties for the day, so I decided it was about time to do the same.

#Darkest Dungeon #Press F lads

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jackarychaoti · 8 years ago

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Darkmoon Faire: Furiae.

| - Music - |

The night hadn’t gone well, not one bit. Between the loud, thundering cannon and fireworks that ignited his memories of a darker time, Darnath’s (albeit unknowingly) harsh comments and the conversation of nothing but Kurel and Mavas, Jackary had begun to understand he had a problem. In fact, the longer the conversation went on, the more he needed to get away, the faster he needed to return to The Fury to put distance between himself and the idle chatting of socialites in the background.

They had just kept talking, on and on in some sort of weird praise that Mavas seemed to be an all powerful man to be worshiped. It was a bitter taste, a loathing he hadn’t felt in quite some time.

They didn’t know him like Jack knew him.

Oh, how he had wanted to ignite the table that his hands were clawing at, exchanging laughter and conversation with mortal screams of agony to Shut. Them. Up. All of the talking, one after another, the questions that seemed to go on and on about Kurel and business. A neverending cycle of loud crackles in the air, the sound of cannon fire...

He could have just eaten them to solve his prob---

“Cap’n!”

Jack’s attention lifted from his hunched, brooding walk towards the ship only to be faced with a Druidic feline in a dead on sprint towards him. The mage’s initial instinct paused his movements as hands reached up to slowly pull down at the earmuffs protecting his nerves from the triggering booms in the air. “Sion?”

“Cap’n! Come quick!” The druid panted, hackles raised from spooked nerves. “Jack... It’s the Fury...”

Tainted hues widened at the words, the only two that could have dragged him from his self-pity enough to bring him into focus. “Is she...?”

“Please hurry!”

Bare feet pushed forward into the dirtied soil, ignoring the debris that Darnath often scolded him about getting stuck in his feet. ‘If only he would wear shoes’ was the topic of the endless conversation once a month. He’d never felt himself reach the docks of the Faire so fast in his life, it was a moment in time from the grounds to the bay The Fury had been settled in.

Through the ship, there were roars and wails, a banshee scream swirled through the sails as the very spirit of the vessel slithered between the enchanted boards, every window and every rune lit up like the moon hanging in the forever-night sky. She was angry and there was no doubt as to why many thought the ship was aptly named The Naga’s Fury.

“Furiae!” Jack called out, furrowing his vision at the sight of his crew failing in their attempts to calm the normally playful spirit. “Get out of there!” It was an order they were all too willing to follow which left his skeleton crew putting Jackary between themselves and their raging ship. The crew knew she was alive, every member was fine and willing to raise the child that was their ship but even in her tantrums, every species working under Jackary was still humbled by the raw power lurking inside.

The desperate call for her attention drew the swirling spirit to stop in her movements, hovering and lingering until the snake-esque dragon spirit slithered down towards the Captain’s voice. It didn’t take long for her to transform her illuminated body into a small girl, staring up and wide-eyed towards Jack. Long, snowy tresses of hair hung past her lower back, curled loosely and askew wherever the wild mess fell. She was young but the gaze in her eyes was mature. She had seen war and deep within it showed. Adorning nothing more than a gown, there stood the very life Jackary had given the ship, just as barefoot as he had on the damp wooden dock.

“Papa...?”

Kneeling down, the mage studied the manifestation as his ears lowered in concern. He couldn’t understand why she was so upset, even if he was already angry himself. “Furiae? What’s wrong...?”

On registration papers, it was The Naga’s Fury.

To those whispering through Ports and heard of the ship’s name, The Fury.

To those that built her from the ground up... Furiae.

“P-Papa... Does...” A deep inhale was given, even if the spirit needed no oxygen to function. “Does... Does daddy not love me anymore?”

The question had drawn a bit of a shock to Jack’s face, concern flooded his features as to why she had suddenly asked such a question and then he had remembered... His comm was linked to her at all times, a tracking device for Atlas. She has heard the night’s conversations. “Why would you ask that, hm...?”

He knew. Gods, he knew the answer.

“Because...” A soft hiccup sounded out, pushing the tears that had welled up in the spirit’s eyes. They were real, real as rain when the droplets fell from soft cheeks to hit the ground. “Because he said Calypso can do everything I do in one trip! B-Because he talked about tr-trading me for the V-Ven--!” The last word barely made it out before Furiae hung her head, shaking from her soft sobbing. “She hasn’t even tried to fly yet! I hate her!”

Jack hadn’t even noticed his own tears blurring his vision until he felt the warmth trace down his cheeks. Lips parted as he searched for the words to say but all he could do was swallow the knot in his throat. It was apples to oranges to compare the three sisters and he knew there was no possible answer to defuse the situation.

She had heard it all.

“Please don’t trade me..!” She begged; hands clasped at Jackary’s jacket, nails clung firmly into the fabrics so she couldn’t be pushed away. “I’ll work harder..! I’ll be faster than Aurora! Please, papa, don’t make me lea--!”

“Furiae...” Jack whispered, allowing his arms to wrap delicately around the spirit of the Naga’s Fury. The single word caused the girl to shush into her soft sobs, tucked away in the stern grip of her Captain. He couldn’t deny it, he had once been told bringing a ship to life was an awful mistake but he could not bring himself to return her to nothing more than a hollow vessel.

“Darnath still loves you very much, I promise... Sometimes he does things without thinking them through or we both say something that we don’t think about until later... I’m mad too and it’s okay to be upset, but Fury... You’re a Battleship on the sea. You’re meant for great adventures and sailing and playing in the water. Your little sisters are made for the air and work... and Calypso is made to work for what Atlas needs. It doesn’t make Dar or me love you any less, okay...?”

Even if the comments Darnath had made earlier that evening made Jack want to break the man’s jaw... further.

Another small nod was given as she drew in a timid breath. “I’m sorry I said I hated her...”

Jack smiled, albeit it sadly, for he had no real connection with the airships that were named after princesses while his ship took on the vibrant title of a goddess in a land far from Azeroth herself. “Did you know you got a compliment at the Faire..? Did you hear it?”

A soft sniffle was given, followed by a timid nod. “Yeah...”

“Say... What about if we ditch the rest of the week at the Faire and go sailing, hm? Just us and the crew? No work, no heavy loads, no new bandaids on your nose, just a fun run in the sea breeze.”

Almost as if she were a different creature altogether, Furiae nodded and stood up, offering a brightened smile through drying tears to the blond. “Can we chase whales?”

“Of course we can chase whales.”

The innocent, bubbly personality ignited from the once upset girl as her figure reshaped itself back into the serpent dragon of the Naga’s Fury, swirling through the ship in a much more calm sway. Jackary watched silently as he pushed himself to his feet, wetting his lips once lips pursed together. It was a hard pill to swallow, knowing he needed to turn and face what was truly bothering him.

“Sion...”

“Cap’n?”

“Hoist the anchor, first we sail to Val’Sharah.”

“...And then, Cap’n?”

“... Sunspire Port.”

| - @darnath [Mention] - @shaded-hawke [Mention] - @kurel-andiel [Mention] - @sunspireport [Mention] - |

#All board the feels train #toot toot #Jackary #The Fury #Team Atlas #Darnath #Mavas #Kurel #Welp #Gonna drag the Naga back into the pirating world #One battle scar at a time #DMF #Darkmoon Faire #Yes his ship is alive #Yes she is better than yours

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