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Coralyn
Posted: 04 Mar 2010 03:40 AM |
Reluctantly Corbin yielded from disappointment to despair. The time was coming when he had to face the facts. Coralyn was lost. Lost not only to him but to herself. They had stolen everything from her, cut her soul from her body with a jagged … a jagged what? A knife? Is that how you did such a thing? However it was done, it had been a messy job. Only pieces of her soul, mere scraps, remained. It seemed to have little more than the vaguest of memories of her life. She did not know her name, did not know him, not really, not like she should, not like a mother should, not even like an old acquaintance would, and no one knew her, other than Corbin. Now broken, she seemed to be all that was left of his life. But what exactly was that?
Coralyn's remains, little more than a shredded soul, were stuffed in a patchwork corpse that inexplicably lived on. This thing was incapable of fending for itself. The Seven Sisters held her (it?) out of compassion only. Nevertheless Corbin had stayed by her side. Refusing to give up hope he had salvaged an artifact lost at sea that he thought would restore her to herself. But without the rest of her, without her flesh to return to, even with this magical artifact, the Sisters could do nothing more than provide a place of refuge.
Corbin resented the ugly thing she had become. He was helpless before this thing, this monster. Was this all we were? Lost souls clothed in ill fitting flesh? She had been so beautiful. He had loved her voice, loved what she meant to him, loved her, but all that he loved was now a memory fading with time. Without her, the love was unreal. The faint glimmer that he saw of her in this monster poisoned him with hope in a hopeless situation. It blurred with her in his mind. His love for her poured into it. It however gave nothing back. He desperately wanted his mother restored, and this monster out of his life. Yet his mother was now a monster. What was to be done? Monsters should be slain.
At least her name would be remembered with his ship. The Coralyn was a beautiful ship. He had rescued it from Gukathul's undead thralls. Things that his mother seemed to resemble now. Yet for the past year while tending to his mother's remains, he had neglected The Coralyn. Thankfully his crew were loyal, but they would not wait forever. It was time to face the facts. He had not yet lost everything, but why did it seem that the choice before him was to give up hope, or lose everything else? |
Famous last words:
Mykal> it's my new wireless router.
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Coralyn: Letter From Alaric
Posted: 04 Mar 2010 02:19 PM |
Alaric sent a letter to the Seven Sisters along with a shipment of medical supplies.
Corbin,
A gang forced their way on to The Coralyn at Darby’s Landing. They’d tried several times prior unsuccessfully. This last time they must have lured Barge to the dock. Thats where we found him after we repelled the thugs.
He’s dead, Corbin.
We still have control of The Coralyn, but our situation is tenuous. We need you here. Morale is low, and we are now short of crew.
Hurry,
Alaric |
Famous last words:
Mykal> it's my new wireless router.
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Vulpina> Hey!! IRC didn't boot m.....
* > Vulpina has quit (Exit: DarkMyst WebChat) |
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Coralyn: Cast Out to Sea
Posted: 04 Mar 2010 06:42 PM |
Corbin visited Barge’s grave above the cliffs, where they laid him out in the branches of the trees. He and Barge had worked out their differences long ago, but it made little difference now. Corbin knew that he could bring the man back to life with the artifact, but he would not. He would not use the artifact for anything other than his main intention, undoing what had been done to his mother. DeBreenie’s resurrection had resulted in enough trouble.
Though he did not seek trouble, trouble found him there at Barge’s grave. They were waiting there for him, hidden. While he was lost in thought, they hit him with a club in the back of the head. He lay there dazed.
Their voices rang out in excitement.
“We git ‘im!”
“Issat tha Cap’n Cor’in?”
“Check ‘im.”
They rummaged through his pockets.
“‘as ‘e ‘ave et?”
“‘ows et look?”
And so they searched him as his mind floated aimlessly like a rudderless boat.
His instincts took over when they tried to truss him up, and his rage boiled over. In anger he drew a knife from his sleeve and continued the motion in a wide arc, spinning to his right. The first of them was caught across the face trying to turn away. Corbin buried his knife in that man’s throat.
Their morale broke when they saw their friend fall so quickly. Backing away they abandoned his sword and thus lost the initiative when he retrieved it. Corbin was safe. He need not kill again, but he wanted more.
These men were ugly wretches dressed in crude clothes and poorly fed. The lowest of the low. None carried a blade.
A year’s worth of frustration boiled over and he let it carry him murderously forward. He had killed before with this sword, but not like this, killing to satisfy his anger. Two more lay on the ground bleeding out before the rest escaped.
He was still unsatisfied.
Soon he came to his senses, realizing how needless was the killing. Alaric who still tried to guide him to The Greater Good would be disappointed. Corbin wanted to atone. He brought the bodies to an old man on the cliffs.
“I want to bury them. They attacked me, but they still deserve burial.”
“Deserve? Them?” The old man spat. “They don’t deserve but nothing. Look at them.” For emphasis, he disdainfully pushed an arm away from him with his boot. Then the old man whistled sharply and called for help. While waiting for his comrades, he added, “Don’t you worry, Captain. We know what to do with wretches like these.”
Several old timers sauntered up to look upon the dead men disapprovingly. Corbin had never distinguished between the local factions around Darby’s Landing before. Before this encounter they all just looked like coastal folk to him, but now he could see there was some difference. The men that had attacked him did not wear clothes like these old timers. No one made clothes for these men.
“Who are they?” asked Corbin.
“Thems just outcasts. Riff raff. They don’t have no one.”
“Put em in the sea. The trees are too good for em.”
And so they did. The three outcasts were dumped from the cliffs into the waves below.
“Let the sea have em,” they said.
“An offering to the sea.” Laughter.
“Its better they not taint the trees, nor the ships be builded from em.”
Corbin watched the bodies below, ignominiously tossed out like garbage. The old men went back to their work without another thought about the matter. He remembered the man who he had killed for raping his mother all those years ago. They had dropped his body in Port Royale’s harbour from one of the docks.
An offering to the sea, he thought. He knew little if anything of spiritual matters, but this felt wrong. |
Famous last words:
Mykal> it's my new wireless router.
* > Mykal has quit (Ping timeout)
Vulpina> Hey!! IRC didn't boot m.....
* > Vulpina has quit (Exit: DarkMyst WebChat) |
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