15th of Sea's Bounty, Year of the Leviathan 3074
Ten Ripplemarks to Shadowfall
As night approached, the sky over the ocean turned shades of purple and orange. George Hawthorne stood at the helm of The Sea Sovereign, his expression stern and posture straight. His features were illuminated by the fading light of the sun. He had a neatly trimmed beard and short graying hair that framed a pair of alert, narrowed eyes. He wore a long coat over a leather vest, and his weathered hands tightly gripped the wheel.
Footsteps signaled the arrival of another man who silently took up a position beside George.
Captain Nathaniel Blackwood, with a rugged, tanned face and black hair streaked with gray, wore a navy coat with gold trim, a tricorn hat, and tall leather boots.
George gave a brief sidelong glance before returning his focus to the tranquil sea stretching beyond the bow. The cold sea air and the soft sounds of waves lapping against the ship's prow filled the silence between the two men.
On the main deck below, crewmen swabbed with mops or kneeled, scraping decks with holystones. Others carried buckets and sticks with yarn for painting the cleaned surfaces. Some tended to the rigging, adjusting and repairing the lines controlling the sails. The sharp smell of paint and tar mixed with the salty breeze, enveloping the quarterdeck where both men stood.
“What do you think?” Captain Blackwood’s deep voice cut through the quiet.
George stared out at the sea in silence for a moment. Dark clouds amassed on the horizon, their underbellies swollen and rumbling with ribbons of black and deep gray while flashes of lightning flickered within their depths. The sun dipped beneath the horizon, and those final rays of gleaming sunlight were devoured by the storm's encroaching darkness. The sea churned beneath the storm.
The ship groaned, its timbers protesting and its rigging going taut as the wind began to grow.
George tilted his head, his gaze sweeping the tangle of ropes above. A shadow flickered across his features, deepening the lines around his eyes. "Trouble," he murmured, his voice barely rising above the gathering howl of the wind.
Beside him, Captain Blackwood’s stance hardened as he faced the approaching Chaos.
"Agreed," he echoed, his voice a low rumble against the cutting wind.
"...Has it a name?" George’s question cut through the wind.
The captain's hand found the gilded pommel of his cutlass. "Aye," he replied, his eyes flashing like steel.
"[Maw of the Abyss]."
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I awoke from a dream of nothing, to screams.
Loud, piercing wails of agony and despair wormed their way through my ears and into my head, sending cold chills down my spine.
It was too much all at once, and my mind went blank for the briefest of moments. I saw nothing. Heard nothing. Was nothing... And then, suddenly, I was back, reality reasserting itself with a hard vengeance in the form of a strange, yet recognizable, voice.
“All hands to battle stations!”
I didn’t notice the notification pinging me in the upper right-hand corner of my peripheral vision.
"Repel boarders!"
Unfamiliar instincts honed from memories of harsh beatings and poor practice sent me rolling sideways off my cot. My elbow snagged on a low-hanging hammock, twisting my fall and sending me flopping to the floor in a push-up position. Scrambling to my hands and knees, I staggeringly moved past a handful of other empty hammocks. One of the last ones closest to the door was smeared with dark red blood that trailed down and up the stairway leading to the upper level.
For a split second, the sight of the blood froze me in place, my breath catching in my throat. The screams and the commands echoed in my ears, and I had to force myself to move, to think. I pushed the horror aside, shoving it into a corner of my mind where it couldn't paralyze me. Where it couldn't touch me. Turns out, I was pretty good at it, and I rapidly reoriented and regained my senses.
Another ping.
The ship’s walls seemed to vibrate. I could hear the distant sounds of weapons fire and the unmistakable clang of metal against metal. My heart pounded in my chest.
“Battle stations, men!” The voice was clearer now, and no longer strange. It was the captain, and his words spurred me into action. I didn't just have to get to my post, I needed to get there.
As I started to move, a strange sensation washed over me. The captain's voice triggered something deep within me, a reflex that I wasn't familiar with. I felt myself hesitate, as if my consciousness was lagging behind my body. I came to a jerky halt as a piercing headache pounded at my temples. Memories of a different life—quiet mornings, mundane jobs, and a family I couldn't quite picture—overlapped with flashes of brutal training sessions, endless drills, and the relentless bark of the Captain's orders. The two sets of rather distinct and disconnected memories fought for dominance, each trying to assert control.
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My body moved almost without my permission, muscles reacting without thought or choice. I bit my tongue and squeezed my eyes shut as a feeling not unlike a brain-freeze climbed up the back of my neck and burrowed deep into the center of my head before blooming like some ice-cold flower to every nook and cranny in my brain. The dissonance was jarring. It was disorienting. It was debilitating. And it was most definitely painful. I stumbled forward a few steps with a choked gasp, clutching the sides of my head and gritting my teeth so hard I was vaguely afraid that they'd shatter.
"Load the guns!"
The ship trembled beneath my feet, a low moan of creaking timber resonated through the air as if some giant sea creature was squeezing the ship.
Slowly, the icy grip on my mind began to loosen. The pain started to ebb, replaced by a strange sense of alignment. My breath steadied, my harsh gasps softening into more controlled inhales and exhales. The cold flower in my brain retracted its tendrils, the chill dissipating. A warmth spread through me, not comforting, but functional. I could feel my senses sharpening, the confusion lifting like a fog. My mind and body were now mine, in every conceivable dimension. I straightened up, releasing my grip on my head.
The ship’s groaning timbers and the distant cries of the crew became clearer, more distinct. My vision steadied, the world coming into sharper focus. And thankfully, the surroundings were no longer foreign. The problem though, was that my last memory was falling asleep in my bed at home. And not in a stinking canvas hammock in the bowels of a ship far out at sea.
I missed another ping.
"...Where am I?" I softly muttered the question to the air. Oddly though, I knew exactly where I was. But... That didn't make any sense. My eyes moved to the stairs again.
"I should go there?"
A scream shattered the tense silence, halting my breath. It was a sound of pure terror, abruptly ended by a heavy thud and a subsequent clatter that grew ominously louder until—a steel dagger clattered down the steps and skidded to a halt halfway between me and the stairs.
The blade was smeared in what I could only describe as a dark green ichor.
Frozen, I fixated on the blade, while the same desperate scream pierced the air once more, only to be brutally silenced by the gnarly sound of cracking bones and a fading, wet gurgle.
"Sharpshooters to the tops!"
The command barely registered over the ship's mournful creak as another shudder seized it.
I missed the ping of another notification.
What I didn’t miss, was the sound of rhythmic gulping coming from up ahead.
I edged closer to the dagger, my thighs burning from the combination of effort and adrenaline coursing through me.
The sharp report of muskets and the distinct crack of flintlock pistols drifted down from above, punctuated by the metallic ring of steel-on-steel and the clang of sabers. Beneath it all, there were shouts and cries—commands issued in the heat of battle, the grunts of exertion, and the pain-filled cries of the wounded.
I let it all wash over and off of me.
One step… Two…
I just needed to keep looking down… And step softly…
The gruesome noises continued to echo down the stairs. Something heavy would wetly plop against the floorboards every few seconds.
Another step… and again…
My elbow grazed a loose rope, sending it rattling across the deck.
Silence fell. Heavy and immediate.
My heart hammered against my chest, but I stood still, desperately holding my breath.
A low crunching noise started up again, slowly growing louder. Then, a shadow suddenly loomed at the top of the stairs and began its descent. The shadow materialized into something that was roughly humanoid, yet wholly other, its skin a wet sheet of scales and slimy flesh, gleaming sickly in the sparse lantern light. Spines protruded from its elongated spine, and its hands ended in claws, slick with dark ichor. But it was the face—a horrifying thing with empty, black eyes and a maw filled with needle-like teeth—that froze the blood in my veins.
It paused, head tilting as if sniffing the air—the motion setting every nerve in my body aflame with terror and the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.
I didn't move, didn't breathe. I couldn’t.
Ping.
Our eyes met, and time slowed.
PING!
A grotesque screech tore out from its throat.
I lunged for the dagger.
My vision suddenly filled with its body, and then I felt its claws rake across my torso, hot pain flaring as fabric tore and flesh gave way beneath.
I ignored it all, my focus solely on the dagger.
But the thing was strong and fast.
It overpowered me swiftly, pinning me to the deck, its gaping maw suddenly widening open inches from my face.
With an incoherent and panic-fueled shout of desperation, I thrashed and bucked myself partially free of its grasp and weight.
My hand fell onto something round and smooth.
PING!
In a flash of desperate clarity, I grasped the handle of the dagger and drove the blade upward into one of its beady black eyes. The weapon's tip met resistance, then sank deep, eliciting a tortured scream from the creature as dark ichor burst forth. Using its moment of agony, I shoved and pushed myself away with both feet to scramble back. Panting and gasping for breath, and with the pain in my side burning like a fiery brand, I watched as the creature howled in pain and grasped the hilt of the dagger protruding from its face. Its howls echoed in the cramped space, and its claws flailed about, blindly seeking me. Each movement was erratic as it staggered around like a marionette with its strings cut.
I edged back, my breath ragged, and the sharp sting in my side leaving me breathless from the pain.
Then, a plan. Wild and reckless.
PING!
With a low roar rumbling deep in my chest, I launched myself at the thing.
PING!
Our bodies crashed together, my unexpected weight and momentum sending us crashing backward into the base of the stairs. The creature took the brunt of the impact, its own weight and spiked spine lending to its failure as wood cracked and splintered beneath it.
Riding its torso down, my hands simultaneously found the hilt, slick with ichor, and twisted.
The creature’s body spasmed and thrashed wildly beneath me.
I twisted and pushed even harder.
The creature's screams were cut short as something gave way with a crack inside its head, and a gurgle of finality escaped its drooping maw as the blade finally carved through whatever semblance of life was left behind its beady black eyes.
PING!
Panting and clutching the dagger in one feeble hand, I stumbled off of the creature's body. The ragged breaths escaping my lungs mixed with the stifling air of the ship's lower deck, my heart still thundering against my chest like the pounding of cannon fire. My side still burned with an intense, fiery pain. I smacked my raw, dry lips. They tasted like blood and salt.
I surveyed the scene with a weary gaze.
Blood, both mine and the creature's, stained the aged wooden deck boards beneath us. The fighting above seemed like a distant storm—present, but oddly disconnected from the ship's groaning innards surrounding me.
PING!
Without thought, my eyes flicked over to the corner of my vision.
Then, something happened. Something that somehow felt more impossible than the fish demon-thing.
Words appeared before me, floating in the air.
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