The ship's core thrummed with power as everyone on deck assumed their positions, ready for departure. "Activate the oxygen shields!" Darby commanded, directing his order at a stout ogre who presided over a vast console bristling with buttons and controls. The ogre manipulated a few knobs and switches before announcing, "Shields are up and operational." A radiant blue sphere of energy enveloped the vessel.
As the Crimson Lady lifted from the docks and ascended into the resplendent afternoon sky, I rushed to the railing to catch a final glimpse of Ravenside—the squalid place I had once called home. A farewell to nothingness. My heart raced with anticipation as I prepared to explore the unknown worlds awaiting me.
Our ship pierced the heavens, entering the star-strewn cosmos, Ravenside diminishing to a mere pinprick of light in the distance. "How long until we reach Orecon B?" Darby inquired, his hands deftly managing the central controls.
"Perhaps a day or two, depending on the space currents," Zig replied, his eyes scanning a vast holographic display that projected myriad numbers, statistics, and a celestial map. "There don't appear to be any storms that might cause a rift in the cosmos."
As we embarked on this journey, I could feel the vastness of the universe stretching before me, my heart swelling with the weight of adventure and the promise of discovery.
Hours elapsed as I meandered about the ship's deck, marveling at the myriad wonders contained within the Crimson Lady's hull. "Hey, lad, let me show you to your quarters. Follow me," the stout ogre beckoned, gesturing down a lengthy corridor.
As we traversed the lower decks, I was captivated by the exquisite artistry woven into the very fabric of the vessel, from the intricate carvings that adorned the walls to the ethereal lights that illuminated the ceiling. At the end of the passageway, the ogre halted. "Here's your room. Name's Drill," he said, a perplexed expression etched upon his features.
"Thank you, Drill. I'm Leon," I replied, gratitude in my voice. With that, the ogre ambled away, presumably to attend to his duties on the upper decks.
I stepped into my new chamber, and an immediate sense of belonging washed over me—a sensation I had scarcely known in my tormented existence. The room was modest yet welcoming, furnished with a small bed and a wooden table. A tiny window offered a breathtaking view of the cosmos, galaxies unfurling before me like a celestial tapestry. It was a rare moment of genuine happiness in my dark and twisted life.
I allowed myself to bask in the comforting embrace of the snug chamber until the shrill call of an alarm heralded supper time. Ascending to the upper decks, I discovered a grand table lavishly adorned with a sumptuous feast fit for the gods themselves. Goblets brimmed with frothy ale, and a veritable cornucopia of delicacies – from succulent chicken to tender ribs – lay scattered across the table.
Darby, the formidable captain of the Crimson Lady, held court at the head of the table, gesturing for everyone to partake in the bounty before us. Assembled around the table was a diverse assortment of characters, each more fascinating than the last.
There was Opol, a statuesque elf with midnight blue skin that seemed to shimmer like the night sky. The slender goblin Rad, his verdant, forest-green skin in stark contrast to the deadly grenades that adorned his waist. Petre, a stout dwarf with a mane of braided beard that cascaded down his chest like a waterfall, exuded an air of wisdom and experience. Finally, Rudo, a proud member of the Wolven, a lupine race renowned for their prodigious strength and keen senses, surveyed the feast with a primal hunger in his eyes.
The motley crew, each occupying their own corner of the table, eagerly reached for the delectable offerings, the camaraderie and conviviality of the moment a testament to the bonds forged in the crucible of adventure.
"Here, here, a toast to the Crimson Lady! May our fortunes swell, and our adversaries be scattered to stardust in the vast cosmic abyss," Darby proclaimed, hoisting a chalice with a flourish. Zig and the rest of the motley crew followed suit, raising their cups in unison. "C'mon, lad," Rudo bellowed as he clapped me on the back, urging me to join in. I raised my cup, hesitantly taking my first swig of beer, the unfamiliar bitterness assaulting my tongue. As I gagged, the crew erupted into laughter. "You're one of us now, kid," the dwarf declared, draining the remainder of his cup in a single gulp.
"One of us?" The notion reverberated through my mind. To be embraced so swiftly by this band of outcasts felt strangely comforting. I had never known companionship, save for Marley back in Ravenside. The novel sensation almost coaxed a genuine smile from me, one not born of malevolence. But the fleeting moment of joy dissolved as quickly as it had arrived.
Supper concluded, Darby announced his retirement to his quarters, demanding he not be disturbed for precisely twelve hours. Curiously specific and peculiar, I mused, recalling our time in Ravenside when the enigmatic pirate would retire to his room at the inn each evening, only to reappear the following morning without fail. Darby rose, bowed to his inebriated comrades, and stumbled through the locked doors leading to the upper decks. As far as I could tell, his chamber was the sole one on this level, befitting a captain. I dismissed the oddity; perhaps Darby merely adhered to a disciplined routine, a trait that could serve a pirate captain well.
As the remnants of supper dispersed, I found myself back on the upper decks, awestruck by the boundless expanse of the cosmos. Myriad stars and celestial bodies stretched out before me, filling me with an inexplicable sense of unity with the universe. In that moment, I could have perished, and it would have felt right.
Rudo and Opol stood nearby, sharing the same aromatic herb joint that Darby had indulged in earlier. "Come here, kid," Rudo beckoned, igniting the joint. "Quite a fine evening," Opol murmured, his gaze lifting toward the heavens. Adorned in beads, his arms bore enigmatic, tribal-like tattoos that seemed to glow a ghostly gray beneath the starlight. "What brings you on this journey?" Opol inquired, his voice carrying an air of mysticism as he lit his own joint and drew in a lungful of smoke.
"I'm not quite sure. I only met Darby a few days ago, and now I'm here," I replied. Rudo chuckled, "And you trusted that mad pirate so quickly?" His grin broadened as he coughed from the smoke. "Well, he didn't seem like a bad person, at least compared to myself. I felt like I had nothing to lose," I admitted.
"What makes you think you're a bad person and not Darby?" Opol probed. "I don't know how to answer that. I've seen Darby kill a man in the street, but there was reason behind it," I hesitated, reluctant to reveal more. "Go on," Rudo urged with eager anticipation. "I've killed the innocent, and I fear that I may end up killing more," I confessed, the weight of my past threatening to spill over in the form of tears.
"And so you think you are a bad person?" Opol replied, drawing in another breath of smoke and exhaling intricate patterns. "What do you know of Darby?" he inquired, gesturing for Rudo to hold his tongue. "Not much. I know he's a bit unhinged, but that's about it," I answered.
Opol chuckled, his voice tinged with mystery, "Darby the Saint was not always his moniker, some say he traded half of his soul." I looked at him, intrigued. "Traded half his soul for what? And what was he known as?" I pressed. "Half his soul for his freedom. He was once called the Harvester of Souls," Opol whispered, the air thickening with tension and the weight of secrets untold.
Opol exhaled a slow, smoke-laden breath, his eyes distant as though he were gazing into a world only he could see. "Darby was once bound in servitude to Orphease, the God of Destruction," he murmured, his voice thick with a weight I hadn't heard before. "Eons past, Darby was no ordinary pirate; he was the god's executioner, his harvester of souls. They called him the Doomed One, and every life he took drew him further into Orphease's darkness." Opol's voice trembled slightly, and he paused, his hand absently tracing the faint lines of a scar across his palm, as if the tale brought his own ghosts to the surface.
Leon watched Opol's face in the dim light, noting the flicker of something—a shared sorrow, or perhaps regret—that softened the elf's usually impassive gaze.
"Darby endured endless years of bloodshed, driven by a pact he was bound to honor," Opol continued, his voice now softer, almost reverent. "But it broke him. He sought to escape, to sever his bond with Orphease." Another pause, this one longer, as Opol's gaze drifted downward, the words seeming to tug at a deep wound. "It was then that Orphease made his final demand, one that would haunt Darby for all time—he ordered Darby to kill the Goddess of Light, Ethlys, the one being in the cosmos who dared to love him."
Opol's hands clenched around his empty goblet, his knuckles paling. "But he couldn't do it, lad. He couldn't destroy the one pure light in his life. This defiance drove Orphease to fury. In retribution, Orphease dragged Ethlys before him, slaying her as Darby watched, helpless and bound by the chains of his god."
Opol's voice faltered, and he closed his eyes briefly, as though willing himself back from that memory. "And for his rebellion, Orphease took half of Darby's soul—devoured it—and cursed him to live on with the empty half, an exile from the Realms of Destruction. Since that day, Darby has walked the cosmos, an immortal shell carrying a broken soul, his freedom forever tainted by a curse that won't let him forget what he's lost."
A chill settled over the deck, the weight of Opol's words hanging in the silence that followed. Leon's gaze drifted to Darby, who was leaning against the railing, eyes shadowed, his face drawn and tired, as if burdened by memories that would never fade. The laughter and bravado he'd shown in the inn seemed like a mask—a shield that only barely concealed the scars etched by a god's vengeance. In the pale starlight, Darby looked more than ancient; he looked haunted, a man caught between worlds, carrying the weight of lives lost and love betrayed.
"Do you understand now, lad?" Opol's voice was low, tinged with a strange sadness. "Darby may be a rogue and a pirate, but he's more than that. He is a man bound by wounds he'll never heal, scars that go deeper than flesh."
Leon felt a pang of something he hadn't expected—an understanding, or perhaps a kinship, with the cursed captain. He, too, knew the weight of being bound to a god's will, of being drawn into darkness by forces beyond his control. For the first time, he saw Darby not just as a captain or a mysterious ally, but as a soul as fractured as his own, striving for something he might never find.
Opol's words lingered, heavy and cold, casting shadows across the deck as we each absorbed the weight of our captain's story. My thoughts felt entangled, a knot of fear, empathy, and the unnerving realization that Darby's tale could one day be mine.
"So, you see, lad, the distinction between good and evil is not so clear-cut," Opol continued, his voice now soft with the kind of sorrow that only comes from witnessing a lifetime of shades between right and wrong. "One may be a virtuous soul forced to commit heinous acts. But ultimately, you must find your own path in this tangled web of existence. These are merely the tales of old, the whispered legends I've heard since childhood on my distant home world."
A chill gripped me, sinking deep into my bones as Opol's words sank in. I felt the weight of Darby's tragedy, the anguish that came with servitude to Orphease, the scars it had carved across his soul. Could I really believe I'd fare any better? After all, my choices had already begun to blur. I'd taken lives under Orphease's dark influence, knowing his power was too great to resist. The thought of becoming like Darby—immortal, fractured, shackled by past mistakes—gnawed at me, and a shiver of dread slithered down my spine.
As Opol exhaled the last of his smoke, his enigmatic gaze met mine, as though he sensed the turmoil his story had stirred within me. "We've all committed our share of terrible deeds," Rudo said softly, turning his eyes toward the stars. "And we'll likely do many more. But what I know is that he's our captain, and I'd spill blood for him, as I trust he would do the same for me." Rudo's words echoed with a quiet loyalty, his mournful howl reverberating through the boundless cosmos, but they only tightened the uneasy knot in my chest.
I turned, retreating to my room as the others remained on deck. Alone, my mind reeled with images of Darby and Ethlys, of Orphease's merciless grip, and the price of power. What if I was already too far down the path to turn back? What if my own soul had been marked for something darker than I could understand? The question twisted in my gut, leaving me feeling hollow and unsettled.
Lying in my bed, I closed my eyes, but Darby's fate haunted me. If his struggle had only ended in suffering and exile, what chance did I have?
Could I be an unwitting pawn in Darby's quest for vengeance against Orphease? I mulled over the possibility. Regardless, I was already entwined in this enigmatic crew's fate, and there was no time to dwell on such uncertainties. I closed my eyes, allowing the serenity of the surrounding void to envelop me.
Suddenly, the shrill blare of an alarm pierced the silence, ripping me from sleep. "INTRUDER ALERT!" The announcement boomed through the ship, a voice rough with static but heavy with urgency. Before I could gather my bearings, another call rang out, sending a chill down my spine: "INVADERS ON THE UPPER DECK!"
My heart thundered as I scrambled from bed, grabbing my sword in a single, swift movement. The ship gave a violent lurch beneath me, as if something immense had gripped its hull. I stumbled into the corridor, feeling a creeping dread coil in my gut. The metallic groans of the ship echoed through the narrow passageway, each step punctuated by faint tremors that rattled the walls, as though something massive was pressing down upon the ship.
Shadows flickered in the dim light as I raced toward the deck, my senses alert to every shifting form. A loud, sickening scrape reverberated from above—metal grating against metal, the hull groaning under what I imagined were gigantic, relentless coils. An eerie green light flickered through the portholes, casting spectral shadows across the walls as I ascended. In that half-light, I thought I saw flashes of movement—dark forms scuttling across the ceiling, quick and grotesque.
My fingers tightened around my sword's hilt, my pulse hammering as I crept up the final steps. I barely had time to brace myself when a new sound sliced through the air: a high-pitched screech, piercing and inhuman. I reached the doorway and hesitated, catching sight of twisted, rope-like shapes shifting over the deck's edge. The ship jolted again, almost knocking me off balance as I grasped the frame for support.
Taking a breath, I stepped onto the deck, where the full horror unfolded before me. A monstrous kraken floated beside the ship, its massive tentacles sprawled over the railing, their slick, glistening lengths twisting like serpents. Each tentacle was thick as a tree trunk, its surface lined with pulsing suckers that gripped the ship with merciless force. My breath caught as I saw the creatures scuttling down its writhing limbs—Squiblins, squid-like humanoids with spindly limbs and eerie, bulbous eyes, pouring onto the deck like a wave of unnatural flesh.
I readied my blade, my senses heightening with every heartbeat. My gaze swept over the deck, tracking the Squiblins as they descended, their shadows casting a nightmarish tableau against the starlit sky. This wasn't just a fight—it was a siege. Little did I know, the battle ahead would not only test my mettle but also unveil the darkest secrets of the Crimson Lady…