Post by Flip on Sept 16, 2010 18:10:16 GMT -5
he kicked open the door of the captain’s hold.
The room had grown dark but for an eerie dim blue light that shone around the area outside his door. The diners fell silent in the presence of the man before them. Disheveled and broken, that unmistakable scent of the sea flowed around him, embedded into each and every stitch of his clothes, a thousand stinging blasts of gales permanently captured his wind strewn hair which was as dark as the shadows that danced around the room in the strange light. A wrenching sound of pressure on wood in each step as he pushed onwards. You couldn’t be sure if it was the crutches that creaked, or his pegged wooden leg, and awkwardly twisted boot on his second. They sounded like thunder in the silence of the ship, as the crowd strained to listen for the words that would soon slip from his strong weathered voice. At last he sat down upon his rocking chair, put in front of the large table on the empty captain’s table in plain view of all in the room. Ignoring the audience he cannot see through the dimly lit room, he sets aside his crutches on the floor beside him, and slowly takes out his pouch and pipe, fills it with some tobacco, lights it up, and inhales its blessed content. He let the pleasure of the addiction wash over him, and be known with a long pleasured sigh of contentedness.
Finally ready to resume what the audience wished so avidly to hear, he took the pipe from his mouth and began the tale.
“I am the Captain of this vessel you have all boarded this night, and I bid ye all welcome. You have enjoyed yourself with me crew, I’d wager. The wine, and the food is attributed to our Ship’s cook, so aptly named, Mr. Baker. He has fillen your mouths with the catch o’ the day and wine and rum fit for the likes of proper sailors, made from the brews of far away lands, meats hunted from every ocean of the deeps, and ‘lakes’ too.” He forced a grin and a wink at a young one as the crowd laughed, as he gestured to the cook. Mr. baker was a proud man of proud stride and proud girth. His head shaved, his moustache offered the only source of hair above his neck, he wore the stained apron with pride, his barrel chested body and shoulders so broad he barely fit through the doorway. He looked immovable, and probably was, Mr. Baker was the only man of the crew that suffered horribly from stage fright, he’d be relieved as the captain continued on the introductions and no before.
“Our good Mr. Whipper, my first mate and good personal friend, has seen to all the arrangements of decor for your comfort, silks from western shores, and seat cushions and tables were made from every island between the Americas and Japan. He has bet and lost and won, and spent again wealth beyond most mortals dreams, a shame to have around the treasure, and a shame to us should we not let him. It is to his thoughts that you are able to sit here tonight, and we are able to eat. I’m sure the man has some other benefit, but I sure cannae be thinking of any.” Mr. Whipper only smiled at the comment. a closer friend to the captain could not be found amidst the walking crew. A handsome man, of blond wild hair, and adventurous eyes. the women amidst the customers smiled appreciatively of the ‘other benefits’ the captain refused to mention. his smile was contagious, and golden tongued, he could talk the devil into lending him his pitch fork, and would probably stab the poor bugger with it.
“Ms. Mist, is responsible for them perfumes, and incenses yer noses have been appreciating so much. A courtesy of her fortune tellin’s and craft she does in the back, should ya be interested.” he gestures to the mystical gypsy woman with smouldering long lashed eyes, that hid secrets that mortal man would give his soul to remain secret, and give it again to do nothing more then lean into her smooth body. she was a sailor, and fit to the task, but ever so much more.
“Mr. Benitt has been responsible for the musical scores those ears of been appreciatin’ throughout the set of the sun and until now. A better sailor, you’ll never find more fit to the task then the one with music embedded in his soul, and Mr. Benitt is every proof of that.” Mr. Bennit was a young one, not of the age of a many himself yet, the cabin boy, soon to be hitting 17 though, and had proven himself a man a thousand times and again by anyone in the crew’s standards. It was Bennit that pulled them all from the brink of despair time and again, pushing them into enjoying their work, rather then dreading it. Merry making on a ship out to do what they did, was not an easy task, but Benitt certainly made it look so. The boy made no look towards the captain gesturing to him, rather his eyes were stuck on a young lass, who was staring back. The boy had an attention span of a seagull, the captain could swear.
“Each have filled your senses with all we could think to provide, sight, sound, touch, scent and taste. I am called to tug on that last sense we all have, that mysterious part of each of us that hangs upon a word, or song, or thought too long. That part that thirsts for the... unnatural, and mystical. I am called Captain Creak, named for my mode of transportation, as I’m sure you have guessed. The Tale I weave for you tonight, is the tale of how I lost my leg and now move on to another, and the curse of a Fool’s Fortune! It starts long ago, but not so very long ago...” His voice became dark, and quiet as he spoke on, somehow managing to pull you into his words, and let your mind adrift in descriptions woven from his tale.
It was a rush of high seas, salt water blasting against the hull, and breaking upon its magically enhanced mahogany to withstand far worst then anything the sea water could throw at them, instead rather then that all eyes were turned towards the bow of the ship where stood a younger Mr. Whipper, still named Kevin at that point, as he aimed the many-barrelled cannon at the beast they’d been tracking for days. A Fool’s Fortune, named for the profound amount of wealth spent into making and crewing her with the very finest crew for the very craziest of deeds. Monster hunting on the open sea! Serphant killers they were, their purpose, to hunt down any and all of the great sea monsters that hampered the fishing life of the coast. It would be a fool that hired them all, which was Mr. Whipper himself, who was tired of being told of what he could and should not do as a sailor. It was a mis-spent fortune as every man and sailor would say with even a half-wit, and only a fool would apply for his own death and then sail away in it. This crew was just that, a bunch of crazy fools, and the best at what they would foolishly do. Each crewed the ship for their own personal reasons at the beginning, but as they survived against all odds, again and again at my behest, the reasons grew closer and closer to the same as Mr. Whippers. I picked out each man of this crew purposefully, with the full intent that they were crazy, and high of spirit. And this they’ve proven almost as true as their steel”
“Aye!” the crew yelled in agreement, interrupting the story, yet adding to the atmosphere.
“We sought to prove that man COULD take back the sea, if he had the courage to grasp the wheel, had the money to buy the equipment, and experience needed to operate the tools for the job.”
“Aye!” The crew yelled again, and this time the captain stood up and swayed himself over to a younger one in the crowd that looked entirely enthralled, with a sincerely wide grin he put his rugged old hat on the boy’s head, and began to pace back and forth on his crutches, and pegs, and continued his story, beginning to relive it himself in his mind.
“It was the last hunt they had ever been on, I nicknamed this beast ‘Moby’. We had hunted its trail through sonar, knowledge of the deeps, and plain gut instinct for weeks now, through storm, and gale that threatened to capsize the ship so often, it felt strange to be standing on straight ground! We had just re-supplied, and gathered the newest crew members. The gun Mr. Whipper stood in front of, was a contraption of a cannon and was a serphant killer to be sure, made and invented by our personal enchanter, that is, a melder of magery with machines, its not the same type of enchanting as your folk do here. He was fresh on the ship, and had yet to prove his worth and we were watchin, mouth’s agape and still as posts.. The harpoons had been cast, and we’d got him yet again with their bloody carnage on the beast, and it pulled and tugged on our hull, like we were nothing more’n a chariot, as a yoke on the back of a whale, it wouldn’t take him 5 minutes to tear the braces apart and make off once more into the depths, and in the meanwhile it tore through the open water, draggin’ us behind, the scenery flung by so fast Time itself went backwards, and slowing down so Mr. Whipper could unleash the cannon barrage, each a thunderous bellow that met with a clap that shook you from your ears to yer spines and back again, but to our dismay it was cannon balls, of all things, that flew out and met the beast with a wet slap, barely skin deep, and there they stuck, to that great serpent they were little more then barnacle on its neck. I was in a rage, shouting suddenly to break the ropes, let the beast go before he drug us to hell and to keel haul the mage and his foolishness!
Well that mage was made of sterner stuff then most of his skinny stick brethren, he joined our crew, after all, and you need at least three things to be crew on the Fool’s Fortune. The talent of a thousand fathers before ye ta be sailors, until the very how’s and why’s ta put a riggin together were inborn nature to ya, you had to be desperate ta leave where ever ya were, and you had to be some kind of crazy. As it was, that meant there was only one place I would agree to hire crew for this purpose, and that was off the coast of Newfoundland, where every boy of the same age utters to themself in utter desperate pleas while sittin and thinkin, “How’m I gonna gett offa dis rock?”
“The Fool’s Fortune was the answer that mage found for himself for leaving that rock behind, and he’d be seeing to the fact that we didn’t drop him back off where we found him. He launched himself towards the harpoon with the steel cable, he’d made for us with the others, and threw some kinda switch or lever, that weren’t there before, a lever that plays a trick on the eye, and much to our surprise, magic bolts of lightning streaked across the cable into the belly of the beast, I’m sure it were little more than an itch to it, but the lightning had yet a trick up its sleeve, ta match the mind of the mage that made it. It weren’t content to hit the beast and simply head down to the ocean and out again, that lighting figured it would flow right up its back and into each of those black balls from earlier, setting off whatever magery he had set inside. It was a flash of fire, that met our sight, a flood of liquid blaze that ol Moby met its death to. Smoke drifted from its corpse, as Liquid Fire reigned over its hide. Its head, melted right away from its neck. It left us cheering. There is no more fulfilling feeling then taking back a piece of the earth, even if its only a little at a time.”
“But ol’ Moby weren’t finished with his surprises for us. Swam so fast he did, that when he stopped, we kept going! The winds tore through the sails like a tornado through a wet napkin, and on we pushed into the wide open expanse of ocean, for three days, launched so hard we barely touched the toss, our faces scabbed and blistered, we hid from the winds beneathe the decks in fear the winds would tear the flesh from our bones, it were three days we huddled into the decks, afeared of the sudden stop that might be the end of our journeys. Our newly acquired member tried to give us courage, speaking of building a device that would allow us to control the speed of the ship, his previous action though proven successful, did not allay our fears, and indeed his feverish building ended for naught, as finally our ship landed with a crash of a hundred thunder storms and again!
After picking up the pieces of ourselves and our effects, we gathered the courage to go back up and survey the damage. The Ship had mostly escaped to our surprise, but we had certainly not. So fast did we sail that we had caught up with the horizon! Right on its line itself! If there’s one thing every sailor fears even those of our nerve, wit, and crazy, its the sailing off the borders of the map, for once you past your map, you be travellin in the land of monsters. It was in this land that we were sent adrift, and the edge of the world faced us all, a clear gap in the earth that the ocean itself fell from in a great steamin’ waterfall, the likes one has never seen! and the moon! the moon, as big an wide as the mountain, hung just above our heads! Why we could near reach out and touch it, should a man not manage to piss his pants to hard and work up the nerve to try. We each took off our hats to that, for if the sea is our mistress then our lady be the moon. There she had always stood, guiding our ways and lighting our wake even when darkness reigns o’er the rest of the sky, pullin’ the waves back and forth to push us on our way.
Prayed to the moon we did for weeks with duration unknown, our time otherwise spent fishing, and a magical sea it was, as it held fish from all over this world, and then some. We ate like kings, in a sea without current or wind. We sat transfixed in the moon’s gaze bearing the weight of it, and all the purpose of the world and our purpose within. Years went by as we moored beneathe the moon, and livin’on the horizon, we gave up praying to the moon, and began cursin it. Sailors can only sit still for so long, you know? We’re adventurers by heart, and our heart is in the sea, being tossed about in ocean spray.
Finally I had enough of the mooring and I spoke out! “Be this the land of monsters? the edge of the world from which we fall? I cannae tell, for there is nothing! No wine, no women, and we’ve run out of song. Ya’ve taken away our lives says I! and I says if yer gonna be doin’ away with us, stop yer being slow about it!”
“Well didn’t a shadow cross over the moon, and its dreary blue turn a bloody red! as I thought a Sea demon of some sort were behind it all, and it laughed at me and said, “Why should I end your torture, sea salyers? how many voyages have you sailed across my waters, destroying what’s mine, and what I put there for reason aplenty!”
“The sea ain’t yours by rights, demon! And we’ll take it back if we wants ta. Men are evil enough, ya don’t need to be flooding our seas with yer types.” Didn’t I put back to him.
“Well the demon laughed at our torture, and swam back into the depths he arose from, taking his red glint of moon with him. but it was too late for him now, for now the crew knew, it was the trick of some water beastie, and we ain’t the type to be done in easily but them. Ms. Mist knows aplenty about demons, and so we went to her, ta ask what We should do. and what did she say but,
“Dance, sing, and be merry til the end of our days. Demons prey on the hate in our souls , and love to see us miserable, but if it sees its actions have no ill effect upon us, it may do battle with us directly or offer us our freedom.”
“Well that’s all we needed to hear. Young Bennit hopped on his squeeze box and began singing his songs, making up new as he went, and we all joined in. It weren’t so bad no more, beneathe the moon with crew as friends as close as family can be, singing anew, and laughing aloud. Then one night Bennit had made a new song, it was about our own adventures on the high seas, and even turned what was thought to be our last adventure around into a thing of legend for us, telling how our names and our ship would be known forever as the Ship that won, and was never taken by the depths. Well, the song was so merry, and so fun, that didn’t we call up the demon himself for some fun! danced all night with us he did, and sang us into a stupor. twas a right’n early in the hours when I had tiredly sat down, that he joined me in the seat to my side, and didn’t he say to me “Keagen, you’n your boys love the sea, and treat ‘er right by rights, now don’cha?”
“Yes I said, for my name was Keagen, and what wot he said was true enough. I had figured perhaps this ol’ demon had changed its ehart about us about this time.
“Keagen, I’m gonna tell ya the truth, there havin been a such a good time by all tonight. i’m trapped here as much as you all are, and iw as mostly just thirstin for comapny trapped in the horizon all on my own.”
“Now I’ll be...” I said, for again he spoke true, for he was sealed there, we learned later, by the spirit of the moon ‘erself, trapped ‘im there she did, hopin to shut away the power over her he had. Not having been knowin this then however, I put my heartfelt thougths to words. “That’s a shame Sahem,” for that was his name, “For you be a right good ‘un, far as Demons go by my accounts. Your dancin’ is a sight to see, and boy do i wish we could sing like thee. The world we’d sail bringin’ music to every port with joy as the wind in our sails.”
“Well, don’tcha know, you could at that?” he said to me, “For I be powerful, do not be mistaken, and the only thing keepin me in this place is the moon you see. and if it were cut by the hand of a mortal, I could grant you your wish. There’d be no storm taht could keep you down, and a compass that would always guide your way, and great power that would allow you to cross the sea without worry!’
“Well now!” says I, “A mighty fight that would be, could I grant it, but, how could a mortal cut the moon?”
“With a moon this close, you’d but have to sail closer to the edge of the land, where the water tumbles, for certain you could reach... but alas, perhaps it is far too risky, and i dare not lose such wonderful company to the edge of the world...”
“We would dare, for me and my men are the most capable of the sea!” I huffed with pride, “If there were ever a ship that could touch the moon, it would be us, after all, are we not here? on the horizon line? Did we not sail the 7 seas fight all manner of creature that dared to make light of us? even the Lord of the deep keeps his tentacles reeled when he sees our sails in the distance! Men!” shouts I, “Hoist ye the sails, pus]h the oars, tonight we take the devil’s dare, and I will cut my initials into yonder moon, and we shall be legendary amidst all that sail!”
The crew behind the dinner audience begins humming in deep low and foreboding tones.
“And the crew, like good sailors are apt to do, listened without hesitation to the boasts of their captain, though it be sealing their doom. with a legacy of them that touched the moon to live for, there were none of us that could claim it weren’t worth dyin for!, and so we moved the ship, foot by creaking foot, closer and closer to the Land’s end, and I climbed out onto the figure head, and I reached with the point of my sword... closer, I called to the men, closer! ever closer! ever slowly! until indeed my sword went full tip into the moon, and didn’t I scar the face of the lady by whom all sailor’s swear their lives? Not only cut and scar, but BLEED did it! Moour Lady’s blood flowed down my blade and over me, and seeped in the deck of the ship. Only then did we realize what we had truly done, as the demon laughed and my crew raced to bail the blood off the deck, for it poured from the wound and would not stop!”
Sahem took to the skies, and splashed down into the water behind our ship, and gave it just the last gentle nudge it needed before we fell for what was sure to be our doom! for what we found out, at the bottom of the abyss at the world’s end, is naught but the sky of the other side of the world! Our mage kicked his heels, and ran to the back of the ship where he started up his devices, never having given up on the idea of of controlling the ship in flight, he’d finished his work, and shouted it was time to put it to the test! Sure enough he had pulled us out of the mess we’d found ourselves, and landed us safely on the ocean, but it was with dire news we landed. ms. Mist told us of our ill-conceived contract, and that the moon had come to her in her sleep, possessing her and telling us all through her, of our curse for our sin.
‘We are vowed now to the service of the moon, which possesses our ship e’er to keep watch o’er us. empowered by a demon’s will, and cursed to hunt down that which we set loose, til the end of our days and past again! Even in death we shall serve her cause, lest we end him here in life, becoming creatures of the night to attack the sailors that come against her, our eternal souls damned for eternity to burn in the hells he is from. our number each, should soon be up, and our bodies will rot away before their time.”
Now I seen the looks of my faithful crew, and I’d realized I had not just damned myself, but them as well, and i cried “I am Captain of this ship, leave not my men to this curse, twas not their doin or responsibility, but my own stupor that is the cause of this sin I have affronted upon you my lady, I beg thee, curse my body to rot faster for each, and that I would be her loyal servant in hunting such monsters down.
“let it not be said that the Lady be merciless, for this she granted us, that my body be stricken from me, sooner then normally warranted, lest I find the monster before I rot completely. pieces of me have rotten now, for each soul that demon is responsible for while his presence is here, and when my body is through, the curse will fall upon my first mate, and then the next, and the next. And so one leg has rotted away, and another has begun, and I search with the compass the demon gave, that would tell me of his destination...” I pound on the appropriate plank, that lets loose the panel in the wall, that shows the twisting of its needles in an endless circle, with a startling and annoying wail.
“And so I have, followed his trail not just on the sea but off my beloved brine to the shores and into the air, and now this still lake, and for five years I have moored here, waiting and watching for telltale signs of his doings. He’s up to something, I can feel it in my bones, perhaps the wars that brew in the secret minds of the people of this land. What I do know, is this is where the lady wishes me, and so is where I am. The captain of a moored Sea ship weighed anchor in the small lake of an inland foreign city, servin’ drinks and food and tales to ye, that we might feed ourselves as we search for Sahem. Beware your pride, beware your courage, beware your wine and song, I say to ye, for Sahem is watching somewhere, and damned shall ye be too. Now I’ve power, and wealth, and wine and song, and some times I think I've come out on top of this ill-conceived contract, and eternity was a small price to pay for the life and times I’ve had. And I know I’ll be sorry come the day heaven slams its gates, and if I fail, then with this food, this rum, this and song, I’ll dive right into damnation with a smile across my face!’
The room had grown dark but for an eerie dim blue light that shone around the area outside his door. The diners fell silent in the presence of the man before them. Disheveled and broken, that unmistakable scent of the sea flowed around him, embedded into each and every stitch of his clothes, a thousand stinging blasts of gales permanently captured his wind strewn hair which was as dark as the shadows that danced around the room in the strange light. A wrenching sound of pressure on wood in each step as he pushed onwards. You couldn’t be sure if it was the crutches that creaked, or his pegged wooden leg, and awkwardly twisted boot on his second. They sounded like thunder in the silence of the ship, as the crowd strained to listen for the words that would soon slip from his strong weathered voice. At last he sat down upon his rocking chair, put in front of the large table on the empty captain’s table in plain view of all in the room. Ignoring the audience he cannot see through the dimly lit room, he sets aside his crutches on the floor beside him, and slowly takes out his pouch and pipe, fills it with some tobacco, lights it up, and inhales its blessed content. He let the pleasure of the addiction wash over him, and be known with a long pleasured sigh of contentedness.
Finally ready to resume what the audience wished so avidly to hear, he took the pipe from his mouth and began the tale.
“I am the Captain of this vessel you have all boarded this night, and I bid ye all welcome. You have enjoyed yourself with me crew, I’d wager. The wine, and the food is attributed to our Ship’s cook, so aptly named, Mr. Baker. He has fillen your mouths with the catch o’ the day and wine and rum fit for the likes of proper sailors, made from the brews of far away lands, meats hunted from every ocean of the deeps, and ‘lakes’ too.” He forced a grin and a wink at a young one as the crowd laughed, as he gestured to the cook. Mr. baker was a proud man of proud stride and proud girth. His head shaved, his moustache offered the only source of hair above his neck, he wore the stained apron with pride, his barrel chested body and shoulders so broad he barely fit through the doorway. He looked immovable, and probably was, Mr. Baker was the only man of the crew that suffered horribly from stage fright, he’d be relieved as the captain continued on the introductions and no before.
“Our good Mr. Whipper, my first mate and good personal friend, has seen to all the arrangements of decor for your comfort, silks from western shores, and seat cushions and tables were made from every island between the Americas and Japan. He has bet and lost and won, and spent again wealth beyond most mortals dreams, a shame to have around the treasure, and a shame to us should we not let him. It is to his thoughts that you are able to sit here tonight, and we are able to eat. I’m sure the man has some other benefit, but I sure cannae be thinking of any.” Mr. Whipper only smiled at the comment. a closer friend to the captain could not be found amidst the walking crew. A handsome man, of blond wild hair, and adventurous eyes. the women amidst the customers smiled appreciatively of the ‘other benefits’ the captain refused to mention. his smile was contagious, and golden tongued, he could talk the devil into lending him his pitch fork, and would probably stab the poor bugger with it.
“Ms. Mist, is responsible for them perfumes, and incenses yer noses have been appreciating so much. A courtesy of her fortune tellin’s and craft she does in the back, should ya be interested.” he gestures to the mystical gypsy woman with smouldering long lashed eyes, that hid secrets that mortal man would give his soul to remain secret, and give it again to do nothing more then lean into her smooth body. she was a sailor, and fit to the task, but ever so much more.
“Mr. Benitt has been responsible for the musical scores those ears of been appreciatin’ throughout the set of the sun and until now. A better sailor, you’ll never find more fit to the task then the one with music embedded in his soul, and Mr. Benitt is every proof of that.” Mr. Bennit was a young one, not of the age of a many himself yet, the cabin boy, soon to be hitting 17 though, and had proven himself a man a thousand times and again by anyone in the crew’s standards. It was Bennit that pulled them all from the brink of despair time and again, pushing them into enjoying their work, rather then dreading it. Merry making on a ship out to do what they did, was not an easy task, but Benitt certainly made it look so. The boy made no look towards the captain gesturing to him, rather his eyes were stuck on a young lass, who was staring back. The boy had an attention span of a seagull, the captain could swear.
“Each have filled your senses with all we could think to provide, sight, sound, touch, scent and taste. I am called to tug on that last sense we all have, that mysterious part of each of us that hangs upon a word, or song, or thought too long. That part that thirsts for the... unnatural, and mystical. I am called Captain Creak, named for my mode of transportation, as I’m sure you have guessed. The Tale I weave for you tonight, is the tale of how I lost my leg and now move on to another, and the curse of a Fool’s Fortune! It starts long ago, but not so very long ago...” His voice became dark, and quiet as he spoke on, somehow managing to pull you into his words, and let your mind adrift in descriptions woven from his tale.
It was a rush of high seas, salt water blasting against the hull, and breaking upon its magically enhanced mahogany to withstand far worst then anything the sea water could throw at them, instead rather then that all eyes were turned towards the bow of the ship where stood a younger Mr. Whipper, still named Kevin at that point, as he aimed the many-barrelled cannon at the beast they’d been tracking for days. A Fool’s Fortune, named for the profound amount of wealth spent into making and crewing her with the very finest crew for the very craziest of deeds. Monster hunting on the open sea! Serphant killers they were, their purpose, to hunt down any and all of the great sea monsters that hampered the fishing life of the coast. It would be a fool that hired them all, which was Mr. Whipper himself, who was tired of being told of what he could and should not do as a sailor. It was a mis-spent fortune as every man and sailor would say with even a half-wit, and only a fool would apply for his own death and then sail away in it. This crew was just that, a bunch of crazy fools, and the best at what they would foolishly do. Each crewed the ship for their own personal reasons at the beginning, but as they survived against all odds, again and again at my behest, the reasons grew closer and closer to the same as Mr. Whippers. I picked out each man of this crew purposefully, with the full intent that they were crazy, and high of spirit. And this they’ve proven almost as true as their steel”
“Aye!” the crew yelled in agreement, interrupting the story, yet adding to the atmosphere.
“We sought to prove that man COULD take back the sea, if he had the courage to grasp the wheel, had the money to buy the equipment, and experience needed to operate the tools for the job.”
“Aye!” The crew yelled again, and this time the captain stood up and swayed himself over to a younger one in the crowd that looked entirely enthralled, with a sincerely wide grin he put his rugged old hat on the boy’s head, and began to pace back and forth on his crutches, and pegs, and continued his story, beginning to relive it himself in his mind.
“It was the last hunt they had ever been on, I nicknamed this beast ‘Moby’. We had hunted its trail through sonar, knowledge of the deeps, and plain gut instinct for weeks now, through storm, and gale that threatened to capsize the ship so often, it felt strange to be standing on straight ground! We had just re-supplied, and gathered the newest crew members. The gun Mr. Whipper stood in front of, was a contraption of a cannon and was a serphant killer to be sure, made and invented by our personal enchanter, that is, a melder of magery with machines, its not the same type of enchanting as your folk do here. He was fresh on the ship, and had yet to prove his worth and we were watchin, mouth’s agape and still as posts.. The harpoons had been cast, and we’d got him yet again with their bloody carnage on the beast, and it pulled and tugged on our hull, like we were nothing more’n a chariot, as a yoke on the back of a whale, it wouldn’t take him 5 minutes to tear the braces apart and make off once more into the depths, and in the meanwhile it tore through the open water, draggin’ us behind, the scenery flung by so fast Time itself went backwards, and slowing down so Mr. Whipper could unleash the cannon barrage, each a thunderous bellow that met with a clap that shook you from your ears to yer spines and back again, but to our dismay it was cannon balls, of all things, that flew out and met the beast with a wet slap, barely skin deep, and there they stuck, to that great serpent they were little more then barnacle on its neck. I was in a rage, shouting suddenly to break the ropes, let the beast go before he drug us to hell and to keel haul the mage and his foolishness!
Well that mage was made of sterner stuff then most of his skinny stick brethren, he joined our crew, after all, and you need at least three things to be crew on the Fool’s Fortune. The talent of a thousand fathers before ye ta be sailors, until the very how’s and why’s ta put a riggin together were inborn nature to ya, you had to be desperate ta leave where ever ya were, and you had to be some kind of crazy. As it was, that meant there was only one place I would agree to hire crew for this purpose, and that was off the coast of Newfoundland, where every boy of the same age utters to themself in utter desperate pleas while sittin and thinkin, “How’m I gonna gett offa dis rock?”
“The Fool’s Fortune was the answer that mage found for himself for leaving that rock behind, and he’d be seeing to the fact that we didn’t drop him back off where we found him. He launched himself towards the harpoon with the steel cable, he’d made for us with the others, and threw some kinda switch or lever, that weren’t there before, a lever that plays a trick on the eye, and much to our surprise, magic bolts of lightning streaked across the cable into the belly of the beast, I’m sure it were little more than an itch to it, but the lightning had yet a trick up its sleeve, ta match the mind of the mage that made it. It weren’t content to hit the beast and simply head down to the ocean and out again, that lighting figured it would flow right up its back and into each of those black balls from earlier, setting off whatever magery he had set inside. It was a flash of fire, that met our sight, a flood of liquid blaze that ol Moby met its death to. Smoke drifted from its corpse, as Liquid Fire reigned over its hide. Its head, melted right away from its neck. It left us cheering. There is no more fulfilling feeling then taking back a piece of the earth, even if its only a little at a time.”
“But ol’ Moby weren’t finished with his surprises for us. Swam so fast he did, that when he stopped, we kept going! The winds tore through the sails like a tornado through a wet napkin, and on we pushed into the wide open expanse of ocean, for three days, launched so hard we barely touched the toss, our faces scabbed and blistered, we hid from the winds beneathe the decks in fear the winds would tear the flesh from our bones, it were three days we huddled into the decks, afeared of the sudden stop that might be the end of our journeys. Our newly acquired member tried to give us courage, speaking of building a device that would allow us to control the speed of the ship, his previous action though proven successful, did not allay our fears, and indeed his feverish building ended for naught, as finally our ship landed with a crash of a hundred thunder storms and again!
After picking up the pieces of ourselves and our effects, we gathered the courage to go back up and survey the damage. The Ship had mostly escaped to our surprise, but we had certainly not. So fast did we sail that we had caught up with the horizon! Right on its line itself! If there’s one thing every sailor fears even those of our nerve, wit, and crazy, its the sailing off the borders of the map, for once you past your map, you be travellin in the land of monsters. It was in this land that we were sent adrift, and the edge of the world faced us all, a clear gap in the earth that the ocean itself fell from in a great steamin’ waterfall, the likes one has never seen! and the moon! the moon, as big an wide as the mountain, hung just above our heads! Why we could near reach out and touch it, should a man not manage to piss his pants to hard and work up the nerve to try. We each took off our hats to that, for if the sea is our mistress then our lady be the moon. There she had always stood, guiding our ways and lighting our wake even when darkness reigns o’er the rest of the sky, pullin’ the waves back and forth to push us on our way.
Prayed to the moon we did for weeks with duration unknown, our time otherwise spent fishing, and a magical sea it was, as it held fish from all over this world, and then some. We ate like kings, in a sea without current or wind. We sat transfixed in the moon’s gaze bearing the weight of it, and all the purpose of the world and our purpose within. Years went by as we moored beneathe the moon, and livin’on the horizon, we gave up praying to the moon, and began cursin it. Sailors can only sit still for so long, you know? We’re adventurers by heart, and our heart is in the sea, being tossed about in ocean spray.
Finally I had enough of the mooring and I spoke out! “Be this the land of monsters? the edge of the world from which we fall? I cannae tell, for there is nothing! No wine, no women, and we’ve run out of song. Ya’ve taken away our lives says I! and I says if yer gonna be doin’ away with us, stop yer being slow about it!”
“Well didn’t a shadow cross over the moon, and its dreary blue turn a bloody red! as I thought a Sea demon of some sort were behind it all, and it laughed at me and said, “Why should I end your torture, sea salyers? how many voyages have you sailed across my waters, destroying what’s mine, and what I put there for reason aplenty!”
“The sea ain’t yours by rights, demon! And we’ll take it back if we wants ta. Men are evil enough, ya don’t need to be flooding our seas with yer types.” Didn’t I put back to him.
“Well the demon laughed at our torture, and swam back into the depths he arose from, taking his red glint of moon with him. but it was too late for him now, for now the crew knew, it was the trick of some water beastie, and we ain’t the type to be done in easily but them. Ms. Mist knows aplenty about demons, and so we went to her, ta ask what We should do. and what did she say but,
“Dance, sing, and be merry til the end of our days. Demons prey on the hate in our souls , and love to see us miserable, but if it sees its actions have no ill effect upon us, it may do battle with us directly or offer us our freedom.”
“Well that’s all we needed to hear. Young Bennit hopped on his squeeze box and began singing his songs, making up new as he went, and we all joined in. It weren’t so bad no more, beneathe the moon with crew as friends as close as family can be, singing anew, and laughing aloud. Then one night Bennit had made a new song, it was about our own adventures on the high seas, and even turned what was thought to be our last adventure around into a thing of legend for us, telling how our names and our ship would be known forever as the Ship that won, and was never taken by the depths. Well, the song was so merry, and so fun, that didn’t we call up the demon himself for some fun! danced all night with us he did, and sang us into a stupor. twas a right’n early in the hours when I had tiredly sat down, that he joined me in the seat to my side, and didn’t he say to me “Keagen, you’n your boys love the sea, and treat ‘er right by rights, now don’cha?”
“Yes I said, for my name was Keagen, and what wot he said was true enough. I had figured perhaps this ol’ demon had changed its ehart about us about this time.
“Keagen, I’m gonna tell ya the truth, there havin been a such a good time by all tonight. i’m trapped here as much as you all are, and iw as mostly just thirstin for comapny trapped in the horizon all on my own.”
“Now I’ll be...” I said, for again he spoke true, for he was sealed there, we learned later, by the spirit of the moon ‘erself, trapped ‘im there she did, hopin to shut away the power over her he had. Not having been knowin this then however, I put my heartfelt thougths to words. “That’s a shame Sahem,” for that was his name, “For you be a right good ‘un, far as Demons go by my accounts. Your dancin’ is a sight to see, and boy do i wish we could sing like thee. The world we’d sail bringin’ music to every port with joy as the wind in our sails.”
“Well, don’tcha know, you could at that?” he said to me, “For I be powerful, do not be mistaken, and the only thing keepin me in this place is the moon you see. and if it were cut by the hand of a mortal, I could grant you your wish. There’d be no storm taht could keep you down, and a compass that would always guide your way, and great power that would allow you to cross the sea without worry!’
“Well now!” says I, “A mighty fight that would be, could I grant it, but, how could a mortal cut the moon?”
“With a moon this close, you’d but have to sail closer to the edge of the land, where the water tumbles, for certain you could reach... but alas, perhaps it is far too risky, and i dare not lose such wonderful company to the edge of the world...”
“We would dare, for me and my men are the most capable of the sea!” I huffed with pride, “If there were ever a ship that could touch the moon, it would be us, after all, are we not here? on the horizon line? Did we not sail the 7 seas fight all manner of creature that dared to make light of us? even the Lord of the deep keeps his tentacles reeled when he sees our sails in the distance! Men!” shouts I, “Hoist ye the sails, pus]h the oars, tonight we take the devil’s dare, and I will cut my initials into yonder moon, and we shall be legendary amidst all that sail!”
The crew behind the dinner audience begins humming in deep low and foreboding tones.
“And the crew, like good sailors are apt to do, listened without hesitation to the boasts of their captain, though it be sealing their doom. with a legacy of them that touched the moon to live for, there were none of us that could claim it weren’t worth dyin for!, and so we moved the ship, foot by creaking foot, closer and closer to the Land’s end, and I climbed out onto the figure head, and I reached with the point of my sword... closer, I called to the men, closer! ever closer! ever slowly! until indeed my sword went full tip into the moon, and didn’t I scar the face of the lady by whom all sailor’s swear their lives? Not only cut and scar, but BLEED did it! Moour Lady’s blood flowed down my blade and over me, and seeped in the deck of the ship. Only then did we realize what we had truly done, as the demon laughed and my crew raced to bail the blood off the deck, for it poured from the wound and would not stop!”
Sahem took to the skies, and splashed down into the water behind our ship, and gave it just the last gentle nudge it needed before we fell for what was sure to be our doom! for what we found out, at the bottom of the abyss at the world’s end, is naught but the sky of the other side of the world! Our mage kicked his heels, and ran to the back of the ship where he started up his devices, never having given up on the idea of of controlling the ship in flight, he’d finished his work, and shouted it was time to put it to the test! Sure enough he had pulled us out of the mess we’d found ourselves, and landed us safely on the ocean, but it was with dire news we landed. ms. Mist told us of our ill-conceived contract, and that the moon had come to her in her sleep, possessing her and telling us all through her, of our curse for our sin.
‘We are vowed now to the service of the moon, which possesses our ship e’er to keep watch o’er us. empowered by a demon’s will, and cursed to hunt down that which we set loose, til the end of our days and past again! Even in death we shall serve her cause, lest we end him here in life, becoming creatures of the night to attack the sailors that come against her, our eternal souls damned for eternity to burn in the hells he is from. our number each, should soon be up, and our bodies will rot away before their time.”
Now I seen the looks of my faithful crew, and I’d realized I had not just damned myself, but them as well, and i cried “I am Captain of this ship, leave not my men to this curse, twas not their doin or responsibility, but my own stupor that is the cause of this sin I have affronted upon you my lady, I beg thee, curse my body to rot faster for each, and that I would be her loyal servant in hunting such monsters down.
“let it not be said that the Lady be merciless, for this she granted us, that my body be stricken from me, sooner then normally warranted, lest I find the monster before I rot completely. pieces of me have rotten now, for each soul that demon is responsible for while his presence is here, and when my body is through, the curse will fall upon my first mate, and then the next, and the next. And so one leg has rotted away, and another has begun, and I search with the compass the demon gave, that would tell me of his destination...” I pound on the appropriate plank, that lets loose the panel in the wall, that shows the twisting of its needles in an endless circle, with a startling and annoying wail.
“And so I have, followed his trail not just on the sea but off my beloved brine to the shores and into the air, and now this still lake, and for five years I have moored here, waiting and watching for telltale signs of his doings. He’s up to something, I can feel it in my bones, perhaps the wars that brew in the secret minds of the people of this land. What I do know, is this is where the lady wishes me, and so is where I am. The captain of a moored Sea ship weighed anchor in the small lake of an inland foreign city, servin’ drinks and food and tales to ye, that we might feed ourselves as we search for Sahem. Beware your pride, beware your courage, beware your wine and song, I say to ye, for Sahem is watching somewhere, and damned shall ye be too. Now I’ve power, and wealth, and wine and song, and some times I think I've come out on top of this ill-conceived contract, and eternity was a small price to pay for the life and times I’ve had. And I know I’ll be sorry come the day heaven slams its gates, and if I fail, then with this food, this rum, this and song, I’ll dive right into damnation with a smile across my face!’