The last sail
Fog Bound
Dense, thick fog surrounded the moderately sized vessel made of wood and steel beams. The kind of fog that a man could drown in. The ship glided over the water, pushing the fog away, groaning under the rocking of its own weight. The sail of the ship had been brought down, just hours previous when the fog had enveloped the vehicle and its lone pilot. In fog this thick, one expects there to be silence enough to hear even the subtlest of sounds, but that was far from the truth. A symphony of sounds coming from unseen sources, shrouded by the curtain of fog. Each one watched the ship as it slipped through the mist.
A pirate has lived for too long when he feels there is nothing new left to experience. When he has plundered and pillaged every possible treasure there is on the mortal plain. Left with nothing but the cold blooded desire to kill, driven by others to kill. Barbarossa taught him many things, and above all else, one of the lessons burned a hole in him. A pirate that kills not for his own personal gain is no longer a pirate, but a mere murderer.
His only farewell to Rune Midgard was a burning cigar tossed into a pile of dried up leaves in his Comodo shack. He never looked back, even as the bottles of rum ignited. A crudely built ship, once used by the Brethren was tied carelessly to the dock, easily set free from its bondage by a knife.
He didn't know the way, nor did he have a map, but the bow of the ship pointed toward the azure horizon, meeting the sky in a glorious union. Sails hefted, days moved end on end for an eternity as strange lands passed by. He pushed through storms, towering wakes and overpowering winds. His will would keep him afloat, until he was no longer willing to.
Memories from the past flooded back as the fog entered his mind. The wide open sea of Britannia, rogue water spirits that the crew had to battle to keep the sea calm. The unsuspecting merchants whose ships were plundered by the pirates...
There were no clear seas, no vast expanses of water. Just the tiny domain of the ship. Hundreds of sea dragons and wild water spirits surrounded the water, their cries of an intrusion ever eminent, but none ever approached beyond the barrier. All silently watched. This was their domain, he knew it, and payed every proper respect. These seas once belonged to him, his crew, but now the land and ocean of this world had fallen to the elemental spirits.
Loose sand scraped the bottom of the boat. Heedlessly the pilot swung his body over the edge and landed in the water, standing in the water which was now up to his knees. A presence in the water slithered away, making way to the shore.
Up the shrouded beach, the sounds of the spirits changed, he was in the domain of the earth and wind. A fierce gust pushed him back, but it did not succeed in forcing him away. Nor did he retaliate. He stared blankly ahead, until it was gone. Past the overgrown dunes, a pile of stones lay in a shapely but ruined array. His feet tread through the fallen stone. Without looking, his hand reached out slightly, touching a stone obelisk about 5 feet tall. Fingers glided down the stone, feeling the grooves and bumps that had long ago been carved into its surface. A gentle warmth filled him, the icy embrace of the mist released his body.
Lips curled into a smile. Not his usual grin, smirk, or devious snicker, but a true smile. He continued on. Golden coins flickered near his feet among the rubbel, but never reached his eyes. The mist revealed to him another erect stone, but this one time worn that one would not recognize it as something carved by the hands of man. His knees fell to the moist earth, callous hands dug into the soil, working to remove the layers of dirt. An old skeleton, buried with possessions from long ago revealed themselves, wanting to be free of their restraints, but beckoning him. His hand wrapped around the hilt of a rusted cutlass buried with the skeleton, and the ever growing presence of the earth spirits became known to him. He had disturbed them.
He's a Pirate
Reaching forward, he grasped the skull and wrenched it free of its place, half buried, covered in dirt. The skull's jaw fell open as he lifted it, pressing his lips to the upper set of teeth. As his lips parted from the pearly whites, dirt fell from his mouth. An eerie laugh resounded, echoing, for now the earth spirits were all around him, encasing him in their embrace.
"Ashes to Ashes..."
"Har... tha's my job."
Holding the skull aloft, he flipped the blade around, placing the rusted tip to his navel.
"Ah kept yer promise, cap'n..."
Dense, thick fog surrounded the moderately sized vessel made of wood and steel beams. The kind of fog that a man could drown in. The ship glided over the water, pushing the fog away, groaning under the rocking of its own weight. The sail of the ship had been brought down, just hours previous when the fog had enveloped the vehicle and its lone pilot. In fog this thick, one expects there to be silence enough to hear even the subtlest of sounds, but that was far from the truth. A symphony of sounds coming from unseen sources, shrouded by the curtain of fog. Each one watched the ship as it slipped through the mist.
A pirate has lived for too long when he feels there is nothing new left to experience. When he has plundered and pillaged every possible treasure there is on the mortal plain. Left with nothing but the cold blooded desire to kill, driven by others to kill. Barbarossa taught him many things, and above all else, one of the lessons burned a hole in him. A pirate that kills not for his own personal gain is no longer a pirate, but a mere murderer.
His only farewell to Rune Midgard was a burning cigar tossed into a pile of dried up leaves in his Comodo shack. He never looked back, even as the bottles of rum ignited. A crudely built ship, once used by the Brethren was tied carelessly to the dock, easily set free from its bondage by a knife.
He didn't know the way, nor did he have a map, but the bow of the ship pointed toward the azure horizon, meeting the sky in a glorious union. Sails hefted, days moved end on end for an eternity as strange lands passed by. He pushed through storms, towering wakes and overpowering winds. His will would keep him afloat, until he was no longer willing to.
Memories from the past flooded back as the fog entered his mind. The wide open sea of Britannia, rogue water spirits that the crew had to battle to keep the sea calm. The unsuspecting merchants whose ships were plundered by the pirates...
There were no clear seas, no vast expanses of water. Just the tiny domain of the ship. Hundreds of sea dragons and wild water spirits surrounded the water, their cries of an intrusion ever eminent, but none ever approached beyond the barrier. All silently watched. This was their domain, he knew it, and payed every proper respect. These seas once belonged to him, his crew, but now the land and ocean of this world had fallen to the elemental spirits.
Loose sand scraped the bottom of the boat. Heedlessly the pilot swung his body over the edge and landed in the water, standing in the water which was now up to his knees. A presence in the water slithered away, making way to the shore.
Up the shrouded beach, the sounds of the spirits changed, he was in the domain of the earth and wind. A fierce gust pushed him back, but it did not succeed in forcing him away. Nor did he retaliate. He stared blankly ahead, until it was gone. Past the overgrown dunes, a pile of stones lay in a shapely but ruined array. His feet tread through the fallen stone. Without looking, his hand reached out slightly, touching a stone obelisk about 5 feet tall. Fingers glided down the stone, feeling the grooves and bumps that had long ago been carved into its surface. A gentle warmth filled him, the icy embrace of the mist released his body.
Lips curled into a smile. Not his usual grin, smirk, or devious snicker, but a true smile. He continued on. Golden coins flickered near his feet among the rubbel, but never reached his eyes. The mist revealed to him another erect stone, but this one time worn that one would not recognize it as something carved by the hands of man. His knees fell to the moist earth, callous hands dug into the soil, working to remove the layers of dirt. An old skeleton, buried with possessions from long ago revealed themselves, wanting to be free of their restraints, but beckoning him. His hand wrapped around the hilt of a rusted cutlass buried with the skeleton, and the ever growing presence of the earth spirits became known to him. He had disturbed them.
He's a Pirate
Reaching forward, he grasped the skull and wrenched it free of its place, half buried, covered in dirt. The skull's jaw fell open as he lifted it, pressing his lips to the upper set of teeth. As his lips parted from the pearly whites, dirt fell from his mouth. An eerie laugh resounded, echoing, for now the earth spirits were all around him, encasing him in their embrace.
"Ashes to Ashes..."
"Har... tha's my job."
Holding the skull aloft, he flipped the blade around, placing the rusted tip to his navel.
"Ah kept yer promise, cap'n..."