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The Depths of Madness 9 (story)
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Post by
oneforthemoney
Karfiz woke with a start at the pounding on his door from the other side. Blearily, the goblin forced himself upright from his bed and twisted his feet over the side. He had gone to bed almost fully dressed aside from footwear which he now donned, tugging on a pair of boots while he blinked furiously to try and dispel the fog of sleeplessness that gripped him tenaciously. Karfiz cursed the night’s activities that had kept him awake so late into the wee hours and as a result fueling his exhaustion come morn.
Of course, the nightmares had not aided to alleviate his state either. Karfiz paused, a boot half on his foot as his face twisted in the pain of the memory.
He had been somewhere dark, shadows all around him and blinding the goblin to his surroundings. Dreams for the goblin generally had a nonsensical feeling about them, vague with perhaps sights and sounds at best but most gone by morning.
His dream last night however… It had been vivid, as if reliving the moments piece by piece but everything warped to cruel farce of fact. People’s face had been distorted to terrifying visages, cruel and horrid mockeries of reality. Even worse were those who were precisely as they had been, experiences best left in the dust of life yet seemingly brought forth like actors to replay a scene long since passed, the purpose to shock the audience and doing so quite thoroughly.
It had been entirely unwelcome.
The loud crack of knuckles against the wood of his door resounded in the captain’s cabin once again, the incessant noise snapping Karfiz back from his reverie and giving him pause when he noticed the wrinkling of the leather boots, his fingers gripping them harshly. He did not have time to be lost amongst thoughts he reminded himself, tugging the boot on viciously to punctuate his point.
Snatching the loaded musket from where it had lain by his bedside, primed and ready just in case, he slipped over to the door frame and leaned against the far thicker wood of the wall.
“Whos’it?” He called out, the sleepy slur not entirely a ruse to lower the guard of the as of yet faceless individual on the other side of the door.
“Cap’n, it be Hookjaw. Can I come in?” Karfiz scowled but eased the door open all the same, the troll darting in quickly and shutting the door behind him once again. Hookjaw quickly shoved the deadbolt into place and breathed out in relief.
Karfiz tapped his booted foot on the floor expectantly, a glare shooting towards the troll at his entrance. “Well, whaddya want?” Kariz demanded, his mood irritable from the events the preceding night, both real and illusory.
Hookjaw looked back to his captain, concern etched on his visage. He looked back and forth and leaned in closely, as if afraid to be overheard in the captains own cabin. “Cap’n, da crew haven’t come out of deir cabin yet and dere be lot of mutterin goin’ on.” Hookjaw hissed conspiratorially.
Karfiz was silent for a moment, contemplating the implications of such events. Should the crew be yet to go about their duties and to still be all together, muttering, then it had few good implications for him. Karfiz may have been willing to overlook it another time, simply moving to the cabin and berating the crew into motion with shouts, threats and a the cat of nine tails in hand.
Yet recent events forced him to re-evaluate that thinking. That the crew were co-operating independently had dire connotations for him, as the sole thing they had to draw them together considering the recent distrustful air was that they had someone to pin their blame on. The most obvious choice was, sadly, Karfiz, particularly if someone had seen the scene involving Darvey the previous eve.
Karfiz looked to Hookjaw, eyes steely with resolve. “Hookjaw, secure th’ weapon locker, make sure they ‘aven’t broken intah it last night.” Hookjaw nodded, a hand touching the key hidden beneath his shirt compulsively as if to assure him its presence remained.
“Aye cap’n, I’ll be back in no time.” Karfiz nodded and glanced about for a moment, passing his sole pistol at hand to the troll reluctantly.
“Take it. Ya have my permission if one of ‘em tries ta grab ya.” Karfiz grimly informed his first mate. Hookjaw stared at the firearm, eyes wide as the full weight of being granted such an armament struck him. With nearly reverent care he took the musket and slipped it loosely into his belt, ready to be drawn in a moment.
“I won’t let ya down mon.” Hookjaw assured his captain. With a final nod of farewell, both realizing this may well be the last time they met, Hookjaw unlocked the door and plunged back out and into the sun.
Karfiz slipped the door closed as soon as the troll’s foot passed the entrance way. Sliding the deadbolt into place once again he permitted himself a moment of reflection, calming himself of the growing anxiety as he prepared to face the coming day. With a last rueful shake of his skull he turned back to his cabin and quickly marched towards the trunk at the foot of his bed.
Unlocking the box, he hefted the lid revealing the trove within. Fancy trappings of many styles he wore when forced to attend nobler gatherings than those of a seaside pub lay within, the elaborate buttons and frills glinting in the daylight. Yet these were the opposite of what he needed for the situation at hand, unless his plan involved blinding his crew with the garish clothing.
Shoving them aside he found what he wanted. Several muskets, all of generic make, lay in a row at the bottom, small bags of powder lying next to the weapons along with cotton and musket balls. Picking up the various guns he wasted no time admiring them, favouring to load them quickly as only an expert shooter could. Pulling a pair of straps with various loops built in from the chest he strung them over his shoulders, sticking a musket into each loop once finished.
By the end of it he was a walking arsenal, sporting ten muskets primed and ready, his cutlass sheathed at his hip and a dirk hidden in his boot. Karfiz straightened his belt, adjusting it to a comfortable position while still not placing anything in an obstructed position.
“All right ya #$%^&sons. Just try ‘nd take my ship from me.” The captain growled. It was then that a voice rang out clearly from the deck, signalling it was time to draw the curtain for this opening act.
“Captain Karfiz! We have something we want t’ talk to ya about. We don’t want anything else, just a chance t’ say our piece.” Karfiz ground his teeth slightly, he knew that voice.
It was Peter, the damn gimped fool. With a final huff of preparation Karfiz stalked over to his door and threw it open, striding into the morning sun with a strong purposeful gait.
Sharply he eyed the crew assembled on the deck before him, the goblins sole orb travelling over them with scathing intensity. Nearly the whole personnel of the ship were before him, the exception being the cook, galley boy and naturally Hookjaw. The sailors shifted uneasily beneath his scrutiny, none willing to meet his eyes and more than a few glancing back towards their cabin, wistful expressions painting their features.
They were only armed with the daggers each were allowed, a fact Karfiz found more than a little reassuring. So long as they had only those they had not broken into the arms locker, meaning that Hookjaw was still with him, and also that they were only before him as a show of force. That they were unwilling to go as far as actually arming themselves for real combat reassured Karfiz more than anything, his own show of artillery strapped to his stocky body making most of the sailors shift uneasily when catching sight of the gleaming weaponry.
Yet none made a move to retreat. This did not sit well with their captain. If such was the case, that they were willing to lay their lives on the line then they were clearly afraid. They knew how it would appear, them making such a scene before him. To anyone it would seem a mutiny, though it appeared they were not willing to go that far yet. The ship hands were showing their leader that if push came to shove, they were willing to turn against him. Clearly whatever they stood before their captain about they feared far greater than then any punishment Karfiz could mete out.
But their captain would be damned if he would let that determine the fate of his vessel. “Well now, doesn’ this paint a pretty picture.” He scorned with a sneer, instantly reinforcing his confident facade before the ramshackle front the crew displayed. “To what do I owe the pleasur’ of havin’ everyone comin’ ta greet me? Birthday party?” Karfiz barked harshly. There was a short silence before Peter stepped forth from the crowd, a scowl twisting his face.
“We came about the Ellis.” He declared pointedly. Karfiz narrowed his eye in response, the corner of his lip twitching in an effort to sneer derisively. He denied himself the expression however, the scene before him making it all too clear that it would be a mistake to do so.
He heard rather than saw Hookjaw slide next to him, the troll’s presence a comforting one for both his sword arm as well as the reminder that the crew were lacking heavy armaments. “I see, and what exactly ‘re ya thinkin’ ‘bout by callin’ the whole crew out here?” Karfiz demanded icily.
“We want him off the ship.” Peter spat in retort. There was a murmured assent from the crew, most losing the unsure and shifty stance they had adopted with the reminder of why they had lent their presence in the first place.
“We can’t just throw a man overboard. It’s against the measures and you all know it.” Karfiz spat at the crew, his one eye moving over the assembled sailors caustically, daring one to make a claim otherwise.
“Why not, it happened to Darvey last night.” Peter challenged. Karfiz froze, his sole eye widening in shock. Had he been discovered? The goblins bloodshot orb narrowed once again, glaring at the human in smouldering rage.
“Just what makes ya say that?” Karfiz asked very slowly. Peter snorted and gestured at the crew.
“We all figured it out. Ever since that brat Ned came on board we’ve been followed by bad luck and the like, and I asked Darvey to pass the word I figured out who it was and look what happens! He dies during the night ‘mysteriously’. We’ve had enough cap’n, damn the measures if it makes us keep the brat onboard. We’re getting’ picked off so it’s either him, or us.” There was a slight roar of agreement from the crew at that. Though it was still admittedly somewhat subdued, they nevertheless expressed their determination in their chosen path.
Though relieved no one had in fact seen the scene from the prior night Karfiz was torn. To be sure he had sent men to their deaths before, be they the gallows or by his hands (Darvey but the most recent example). But to do as the crew demanded, it went against his very principles. Ned had signed on to the charter of the ship, and as such was held within the protective or punishing hand of Karfiz’s own laws depending on his actions. Though Karfiz regretted Darvey’s death it had been an accident, and as such not his burden to bear he figured.
Ned had done nothing to warrant punishment, or at least nothing worthy of an assured death penalty by the hands of the paranoia driven ship hands. If Karfiz agreed to what the crew was suggesting, he would be going against his contracted word, against the very laws of his ship that he himself wrote and lived. The measures were his pride and joy, and if he damned them now and killed Ned not only would he slay an innocent, he would openly flaunt his own regulations in the very faces of the crew.
As Karfiz had been taught and himself proclaimed, a goblin was only worth his word. He would be going back on not only his oath, but a contract. He could perhaps convince the crew to remain silent, speak not a syllable of what he did to save the ship, yet he would know. He, Captain Karfiz Pugsprocket would have gone against everything he was, to save everything he had.
The only other option was telling the crew about the saronite, and merely pray that ridding the ship of the foul ore would placate them. Yet if he did so, then Karfiz would just be exchanging a circumstance for another in which he breaks a covenant, and that decision would return to haunt him when he made port as well.
Hookjaw looked at his captain with pitying eyes. It waschoices like these that separated a captain from the crew. But he knew the goblin would make the right one. It was obvious really. If Karfiz rid the ship of the saronite the bad mojo would disappear and everything would go back to normal.
He knew what the captain would do what he had to do.
It was all or nothing for Karfiz. If he refused the crew would turn on him. Perhaps not immediately, but they would in good time. The captain dug a hand into his pocket, the motion expressing his frustration at the situation. It was within that cavernous compartment that he felt it, facets he had run his fingers over countless times before until he had memorized every one, the sharp corner that could almost slice the skin if pressed too hard. The goblins mind conjured the image of the gem in hand, the light shining through and making the stone sparkle animatedly with glee.
He knew what he had to do.
“Hookjaw.” Karfiz called out at once. The troll at his side stiffened smartly at the cool summons of his commander.
“Aye cap’n.”
“… Bring Ned up ‘ere would ya.”
Post by
oneforthemoney
And now it's hit the fan.
This was the easy chapter, the next one is going to be a bugger to write properly.
Post by
kemppy
if u kill ned i will cry, he has done nothing :'(
Post by
oneforthemoney
Sometimes bad things happen to good people...
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