Dead Men Telling Tales

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Bones Mist and Moons
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Dead Men Telling Tales

Post by Bones Mist and Moons » Wed Jan 29, 2020 1:23 pm

The ship groaned loudly as it heaved. The chandelier of the cabin swayed above to the back and forth rocking of the sea. Wood planks creaked and the crashing of water on the hull echoed all around. Atop the table, barely illuminated by a struggling candle wick, was a human skull devoid of its lower jaw. A faint blue light shown in its hollow eyesockets. These marked the only two lights as the large window of the ship's rear exposed only a stormy, night sky in the ship's wake.

"...at this point it's a game'o testin' one o'nother." the croaking voice spoke with a volume muffled by some unseen, unfathomable distance from the skull. From the sound of it, it was the voice of an older man with a heavy lisp and drunken slur. "He will test ye', to see if ye' will follow through. If ye' can follow through. So you test 'em back, to find out how much fight be left in 'em." The voice continued to bleed out of the skull.

A hand reached out of the darkness from the chair facing the table. Ink-stained and wearing multiple golden rings it grabbed the neck of a wine bottle and pulled it back to the darkness that enveloped the chair. The sound of it's contents being drunk offered pause to the skull's education.

"In my experience the best thing to ask first be..." The skull attempted to continue.

"This experience didn't lead to your death, correct?" The man in the chair interrupted him abruptly with a calm tone. It was the voice of a well-educated man whom patiently spoke his words with thought.

"No." The skull chortled back. "My methods takin' prizes nay led to me death. As I were sayin', first thing ye' best ask is if there be anyone else onboard. Below deck, aye? How their Captain answers tells ye' lot 'bout how much resistance 'e might still 'ave in 'em."

"That makes sense." The man responded in subtle amusement.

"If he tells ye' no and there ain't no one below, it ain't nothin'. If he says no and there is, ye' make sure ye' get right angry 'bout him lyin' to you. Ye' have to put out that rebellion in 'em quick. Aye?" Beseeched the skull for an answer of the man he taught.

"Yes. I understand. Please continue." The sound of wine being swallowed pursued the man's attentive response. The wheezing sound of the skull's discourse heralded his continuation, but was interrupted by three knocks echoing through the room. "Come in." The man ordered.

"Captain. We've arrived." A gruff sounding sailor reported quickly from behind the door.

"I'm on my way!" The Captain replied before setting the wine bottle back atop the table and standing with the rattling sound of metals clinking.

"Arrived? Are we done, Captain?" Croaked the skull in question.

"I had my wife scry a man I've chosen to hunt down. We've arrived at the cove he docks at. Care to join me for a walk?" He explained calmly to the skull as he buckled a belt with a golden handled shortsword strapped to it to his waist.

"Aye, I might like to stretch my legs." Bellowed the disembodied skull with a throaty chuckle of oddly turned sarcasm. The Captain grinned and clutched the skull unceremoniously in his left hand before walking with determination towards the door of the cabin.

As the cabin door was thrust open the Captain broke out onto the deck and faced the rain with a mild annoyance. The rattling sound of a chain grinding against wood vibrated through the ship as the anchor dropped and the symphony of ropes being pulled tight through their winches surrounded him.

The Captain was a human of six foot wearing all black attire decked out in an unneccessary amount of golden jewelry. He looked young, except his medium length dark hair had streaks of gray in it and his eyes betrayed age's experience. Every ring, amulet, bracelet, and bauble was engraved with complicated-looking arcane sigils and runes. His sleeveless shirt with it's high collar and open chest easily exposed the numerous tattoos covering his arms and torso. Pirate's ink resembling men, ships, and sea monsters fleeing in terror from ominous symbols in the center of his chest and collarbone. Held loosely in his right hand he carried a staff; a ceremonial trident whose middle blade pierced a wooden skull wearing a blindfold. Upon his left hip rested a black hide satchel.

The Captain moved toward the longboat on the starboard side of the ship and simply nodded to the boatswain as he descended the ladder to board it. Moments later he rowed the ship towards the nearby beach.

The rain continued to bombard the man as he rowed. The sky was dark, the wind was cold, and the sea rolled fiercly beneath him, threatening to tip the longboat over and cast the Captain into the water. Over his shoulder he spotted men on the beach a ways down from where he intended to land. He'd need to row faster to reach it before the patrol arrived and spotted him. Gritting his teeth and trying to ignore the strain on his shoulders he pulled harder on the oars to move the longboat faster towards the shore. As the grains of sand beneath scratched the bottom of the longboat he threw himself to the side and over the side. The water reached just shy of his knee and his boots sunk into the sand beneath him. Pushing the longboat onto the beach he looked to see if he could see the lanterns of the patrol he'd spotted. A bend in the beach obscured him from them, but he didn't have long before they'd see him.

With the longboat far enough on the beach so as not to be carried away by the tide he planted the butt of his staff in the sand. He imagined the symbols and drew the incantations in his mind. The weave gave way to energy that manifested before him and the sand peeled back as three undead tore out of the ground before him. The mummy lords in their wrappings and spotted golden decadence rose to their feet and wheezed raspy air out of this rotten mouths, waiting.

Not even a minute passed before the patrol came around the bend. He pulled his staff free of the sand and pointed its head in their direction lazily. He gave the command with a tone as dull and uncaring as the expression on his face.

"Kill them." The mummies surged from their standing positions into a full sprint that kicked up sand behind them. Flailing their arms ravenously they were on the men in seconds. Screams rang out across the night sky as the merciless undead descended upon them. Even from nearly a hundred feet away the Captain could hear the thudding of punches and the cracking of bones. It only took a few seconds for the sounds of the slaughter to cease and the mummies came sprinting back to follow their master.

He reached over the side of the longboat and picked up the skull in his left hand. With a grim determination he looked inland at a stone door in the side of a cliff. He imagined the mummies moving towards it and opening it. Then he willed it. He spoke the words in his mind and projected the thought to them. They did it. Running towards the door in all their tactless manners they rushed the door and pushed it open to reveal the hidden tunnels of the tiny island. Squaring his shoulders the Captain started walking towards that door and willed the undead to enter ahead of him.

The interior of the cliff provided relief from the rain, but not the cold. The musty smell of damp stone, moss, and seaweed flooded the Captain's nose. Torches on the walls illuminated rough cobblestone floors, walls, and ceiling supported by nearly rotten wood beams. The floor was well worn owing to frequent use and constant water damage.

Men shouted in panic and the sound of swords being unsheathed announced the approach of six men wearing a mix of blue and red sailor's coats. They charged at the undead between themselves the Captain with relative skill and experience. They wielded rapiers, short swords, and daggers. They swung them with precision and as much force as they could muster. They were eager to end the fight quickly. The shock and confusion was evident by the abrupt gasping breaths and groans as their blades struck the undead and failed to sink even an inch into their flesh.

The Captain simply thought the words "Kill them" and the mummy lords went to work. It was over before the men even had a chance to realize what was happening, let alone have a chance to run. Breaking bones, tearing clothes, and ruptured flesh rang out through the entry hall of the hidden base of these swashbucklers and buccaneers. Willing the undead to move ahead of him again, the Captain begun to move through the base.

Every fight was the same as the first two. These pirates and smugglers offered no significant struggle to the epic undead that tore through their numbers and ranks. Whatever small injuries the mummies sustained regenerated in moments. In their wake the Captain pushed forward through the barrage of horrific sounds and carnage on the floor. He was used to the smell and unbothered by it all; he'd seen it, heard it, felt it, and caused it enough times that men's deaths seemed insignificant to him. All the while he maintained a grim resolve as he marched towards his objective in coming here.

Not even fifteen minutes and the Captain had reached the back of the base and stood in a hallway looking at the rusted iron door of the main hall. Torch light peeking out from under it flickered from movement passing between them. This time the Captain ordered two of the mummies to stand back with him as shields between him and the door. The third he ordered to open the door and wait. As the mummy threw the door open multiple bolts flew towards them. None of them found the Captain and the few that struck the undead either bounced off harmlessly or got stuck in their flesh for a few seconds before the regeneration pushed them back out to clatter on the floor beneath them.

The Captain let go of his staff to his side. It floated there in mid air beside him on its own and waited. With his right hand free he reached into his satchel and procurred a small brown stone. It was rectangular with smoothed edges and corners with runes on one side of it. With a brief incantation drawn in his mind he conjured an invisible hand of telekenisis which threw the stone into the room. More bolts continued to fire towards him, but the mummies suitably defended him.

A moment later the runestone he'd thrown erupted into a cloud of smoke that filled the room past the door. Men yelled in surprise and the crunching sound of stones colliding with one another echoed down the hallway.

"Enter that room and do not kill anyone. Break any weapons you find and subdue everyone inside." He spoke the command outloud. Complicated orders to simple undead always needed a verbal component. Without hesitation all three mummies rushed into the room. A cacophany of shattering stone, metal, thudding, and the grunts of men being thrown around rang out before everything finally went quieter. Only the groaning of the injured remained. The smoke began to clear and the Captain walked forward to enter the room beyond the door with his staff floating in the air behind him.

As he entered he looked down at eleven men scattered throughout the nearly twenty foot wide room. It was well lit with two overturned tables meant to be used as cover in the middle and a shoddy wooden throne on the back wall next to a large chest. The men were all gripping various injuries; noteably broken bones, bruises, and two of them were already unconcious from head injuries. The mummies stood over three seperate men which were likely their last victims. So far as the Captain could tell the men were all still alive though badly wounded. He walked towards the nearest concious man and spoke with a harsh, demanding tone.

"Who is Captain here?" After no immediate response he asked again louder and more quickly. "Who is Captain here!?"

The injured man pointed towards one of the overturned tables. The Captain stepped away towards it and used the same invisible telekenetic hand as before to slide the table aside as he approached. Behind the table laid a man in a blue trenchcoat clutching his stomach. A gruff looking man with a burly moustache, long red hair, and a broken scimitar beside him.

"Are you Captain Reliff?" The Captain asked in the same harsh tone. Eyes of contempt stared back at him from the injured man on the ground. "Do not make me ask again."

"Aye. That's me." Weak words sputtered out of his lips as the man struggled just to get enough breath to talk. The Captain nodded and waved his right hand idly towards the rest of the room.

"Kill them all except this one." Captain Reliff's eyes widened as the undead surged into action yet again. Brief screams and pained grunts denoted each execution one by one as the undead did as they were told. Meanwhile the Captain stepped over the injured Captain Reliff towards the wooden throne on the back wall and dragged the overturned table with him by the telekentic hand he yet controlled.

The wooden table creaked as it slid across the floor then was lifted to stand up straight in front of the throne in which the Captain sat. He leaned his chin on his curled fingers with his elbow on the arm of the throne while watching Captain Reliff. Further controlling the mage hand spell the Captain pulled another chair in the room towards the table and sat it upright across from him.

"Come sit, Captain." He ordered with an impatient tone. The injured survivor hesitated from the pain in his abdomen as he tried to stand, but made his way to the chair regardless. He grimaced in pain while still clutching his stomach and turned a shaky gaze towards the Captain sitting across from him.

"What do you want?" Reliff inquired with a weak, gruff tone.

"I am Captain Isley, of the Witching Hour. I've come to settle a dispute." He reached forward to set the skull with its still dimly glowing, blue eye sockets on the table facing Reliff.

"You!" Croaked the ghostly voice from the skull. "Brandon Reliff."

The injured man's eyes flared wide open and his face grew pale. Whether his shaking was from the voice from the skull, the cold, or from his injuries was difficult to tell, but it slowed to a shudder.

"Captain Vane," Captain Isley spoke calmly and with an amused smirk on his face. "Has been courteous enough to teach me quite a lot about being a Captain. I saw fit to return the favor." He paused for effect, savoring the expression of dawning realization on Captain Reliff's face. "You see, Mister Reliff, I don't want anything from you, but your Captain does."

"Ye' filthy mutineer!" Bellowed the croaking voice of Captain Vane from the skull. "Your time is up, boy! Down the depths with ye' to pay for what ye' did. The price for your betrayal's come due!"

"No! Please! I ca-" Begged Reliff before his pleading was drowned out by the sound of a mummy lord's fist cracking his skull. His body was thrust from the chair down to the floor with one strong swing and went still.

A shuddering moan swept across the room which emenated from the skull.

Captain Vane sighed before his croaking voice called out once again. "Thank ye', Captain. Ye' 'ave done me a service. I've nay felt so calm in all these years as I be now."

"I can tell. I can sense your peace trying to pull you away from me." Captain Isley commented contently.

"I reckon I owe ye' before ye' let me go, aye?" His inquiry was less confusion than it was pleading. He knew the necromancer's hold over his spirit was too strong to break to be free without his permission. He waited anxiously to hear what service would be commanded of him.

"No. We are square. I've held you long enough and you've taught me much. The rest I can learn on my own. I will not withhold you from peace any longer." His words were offered callously as if the notion of keeping the spirit would've been a burden. Whether it was arrogance or sincerity poorly disguised Captain Vane couldn't tell, but even dead he was surprised. The sound of a sigh of shuddering relief escaped him. "I command you to rest and never rise again."

"Thank ye', Captain. Than-" His expression of gratitude faded away into silence as the dim glow of the skull's eye sockets flickered out and it was once again, truely lifeless. Captain Isley took a moment to smile in satisfaction at the skull before he rose from the throne to leave.
Don't use cross-area parties and -dispel while idle. Every bit of lag less is a penny in my therapy jar.

Bones - Necromancy, Life, Death, Creation, Time.
Mist - Mystery, Secrecy, Mysticism, Beauty.
Moons - Light, Dark, Space, Magic, Travel.

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