Lauryan

Best

• The Mad Captain

  Lauryan had been near the ocean for as long as he could remember. He grew up in a small fishing village, the son of a tavern owner. Patrons of his bar claimed jokingly the barkeep brought a dolphin to his bed, his offspring always seen swimming far past where any other boy dared. The child loved the salt sea, he would glide around the sparkling blue water until his arms were heavy with fatigue. When the sun drifted below the ocean line he would shake off and sit along the beach, staring at the bright night sky and fantasizing of the days he would own his own ship. As the kid grew into a young man his hair grew long and golden, his skin toned by the sun. The nights went from laying on the beach to drinking with patrons at 'The Sailors Solace' and listening to fabricated tales of great adventure. One night the teen spotted a large ship pulling into the docks, 'The Bull's Bitch' a known pirate vessel. The bar was unusually full tonight, though no one was familiar. Thick, hardened man filled the seats and bellowed loudly at each other with stories that did not seem quite so fake as the ones he had heard a thousand times by local sailors. Lauryan knew immediately that these were the kind of men that he wished to be. He paid for drinks and joked with the marauders making sure they always had full mugs. The group of brigands had mentioned their next destination and by morning he was on the bitch with them. He gave no farewells and left no letters, people would know what had become of him when they heard his name in songs.
  
  Within three years he had distinguished himself on the ship as an able fighter and a skilled navigator. Everyone on the ship loved him, all but the captain, Brak the Bull. Brak was an impossibly large man with an stump for a neck and hairy, broad arms. He had taken to naming Lauryan 'the lass' for his long hair and slender figure, the pairs disdain was clear everytime they passed by each other. The shipmates knew the captain would cut down the ambitious privateer, it was simply a matter of when the two decided to sort each other out. Lauryan had the love of his companions, though it was Brak's ship and the only way to take a mans ship from him was to kill him, a heavy task for anyone. The bull was infamous on the seas for his skill in battle and more for his cruelty to foes, women and children. The golden boy had a budding reputation of his own however, nicknamed 'Lightfoot' for his swift movement and graceful step. It was a windy night when he entered the captains quarters to challenge his rival to a duel, slamming down two large tankards of ale. "I shall have your life tomorrow, and then I will have your bitch." The older man flashed a confident grin and slapped a hand on the table, slopping liquid against oak. "You won't be the first woman I killed, lass." Lauryan felt hatred bubble up in his stomach and scowled. "Then you accept, drink on it and prepare yourself for daybreak." They both finished their cups, Brak first, smashing it against his wooden desk in triumph. The slender man took some time to finish his, setting it down lightly and smiling. "Typical of a lass to use a womans weapon." The younger male spoke, green eyes flickering wickedly. The feral looking man turned white as his hands grasped at his throat, spitting hard against the table, attempting to force oxygen out of his tightening neck. Lauryan kept his eyes on the dying man as a small gasp escaped his dried lips, before collapsing onto the floor.
  
  A decade had passed since Lauryan began his life as a criminal and the songs he always dreamed of hearing about his deeds were played in several ports. The Lass and the Bull had been the first, though that was the only time he heard the nickname anymore. Bards now strummed the adventures of Lauryan the Lightfoot, the bane of merchant ships and outlaws alike. The Bull's Bitch was no longer its name, but 'The Lass's Revenge', The new captain had a fondness for the irony of it. Unlike his predecessor, Lightfoot did not terrify the townsfolk, he was adored by man and woman alike. A new song needed to be written however, and he had an idea of where to look for the inspiration. Storytellers told of the whispering woman, a demon that lived on a small island shrouded by darkness who would grant the wish of any sailor that could make it to her island alive. His ship mates seemed wary of the idea, knowing the treacherous path they would have to take to get there, but Lauryan knew his skill as a navigator were unmatched, this would be his crowning achievement.
  
  Two men had died making the trip to the islands, it seemed as soon as they got close the worse storm he had ever seen ravaged the sea, giant waves splashing hard onto the deck of The Lass. It was a risky journey, but after a torturously long trip they made it. His crew refused to leave the boat, everyone looked gaunt and terrified. The man now grown had not lost two men for nothing, he cursed at his craven shipmates and descended onto the island. The sandy shore was filthy, covered in rotten fish and ripe corpses of the unlucky bastards who had previously tried to make the voyage. Lauryan brought his shirt to cover his nose and trudged on. The thunder and rain were gone, though the gloomy atmosphere persisted. He walked further into the island, past a wall of trees until his massive ship was out of view, and continued. The island seemed small when they came upon it, but the man guessed he had been walking for hours. It was hard to tell, the trees and charcoal clouds covered the sky, any chance at seeing the position of moon or sun was gone. Lauryan spotted a small clearing ahead, jogging past thorns, branches and exotic leaves to reach it. His stomach tightened with apprehension as he took in the malevolent environment. The stream that looked clear and lively was now crimson red and still, the tropical fruits that hung off tree limbs were brown and covered with maggots. "Sinful Lauryan, disloyal, dishonest and daring." The words came from every direction, but most prominently in his mind. His stomach tightened as he felt his throat go dry, steadying nerves the captain spoke, "Only a few of my many virtues." He heard a soft giggle from the trees as something he had never seen made itself visible. Serpents coiled around her as she walked, wrapping themselves around her figure like scaled clothes, her hair was thick curls of fiery red locks that fell to her shoulder, she had reptilian pupils with deep green coloring. As she got closer he felt nausea bubble up in the pit of his gut. "You are the first to make it to my domain in centuries, what is your wish?" He had put little thought into it, what was the wish of a man who had everything? "I want to live forever young, roaming the seas as able as I was forty years before. Others will grow weak and feeble, but not I." The graceful woman offered a tilt of her head and a smile that suggested she had known the answer before he spoke. "Aye, Lightfoot. Not you." The smile faded as her snake eyes turned serious, "This may not bring the happiness you think it will. Loved ones will perish, but not you. Civilization will crumble into dust, and you will stand alone. Your life will change under these new circumstances and soon you may find eternity an unwelcome gift. Is this your wish?" The captain did not need riches, they were his. Love was found at every port, a warmed bed was nothing new to him. Time stopped for no one though, and before long he would slow and tire a bit quicker then usual before becoming a shell of his former glory. "It is." He said decidedly.
  
  His men had to help him back onto the ship, the woman had sealed their deal with a kiss, and his body had felt weak ever since, legs buckling under his weight, the skin on his stomach feeling as if it had burning metal pressed against it. Once his feet hit the wood of his beloved vessel, he collapsed onto the floorboard. In his dream he was in the captain's cabin, making love with the demon woman he had met earlier that day. It was not as pleasurable as he would have assumed, the entire time he felt sick and reluctant, green and red serpents swirled between the two ominously. 'You are mine now, Lauryan.' He heard a voice say inside his mind, before a large black snake impaled itself into his stomach. Lauryan woke up screaming, sweat drenched and out of breathe. His hand moved to his stomach which felt hot to the touch, a huge dark bruise began at the top of his abdomininal muscles and ended towards his pelvis. His footing was unsteady as he stumbled to dress himself, acid filled legs trembling with every step. Rays of light beamed through the window of his room, a welcome sight. When he talked to his first mate the man said he had slept for three days, they lost countless more on the voyage out and now only six remained on the vessel, not including the captain. The remaining members of the Lass looked exhausted and sick, the island had affected them as well. Lauryan spent the rest of the day trying to move them on track to the nearest port of Stone Harbor, a place swarming with militant naval guards and few holes to hide in for a pirate as well known as him, though his men were dying and they were running low of provisions, it was a necessary step. He had another troubling dream that night. The smell of sea air was familiar and welcoming, the stars stuck out in the sky as if they had gotten closer then usual. Dread washed over his body as he saw a woman walking above the water towards the ship. Panicked, he ran for the sails gripping scabbard and slashing at the rope that tied the sail up, hearing a snap as the fabric fell into form. The wind was gone however, as were his crew. When he turned around she was inches from his face, grinning maliciously. 'They're dead, Lauryan.' He greeted consciousness with a dazed shout. When he walked out of his cabin he saw six corpses sprawled across the deck, infested with maggots and looking as if they had been decomposing for weeks. He stumbled to the edge of his ship and almost retched as the smell hit him, a womans laughter interrupting the dead silence. 'It would be wise to hurry, Lauryan. They are fast approaching.' His mind could feel the words as if they were whispered in his ear, the tone was playful and amused, as if his life had become a new game for the inner creature.
  
  Lauryan never made it to the Stone Harbor, his ship had been far to big to be manned by one person alone, and his once beloved galley had been surrounded by three naval brigs with the collar and chain flag of Rorick 'The Redhanded' a admiral known for his inhumane treatment of prisoners. They found him sitting alone on the edge of his ship, though the stench of decay lingered to the point that one of the men had lost his lunch once on board the stinking Lass. They placed him in chains and threw him into a small jail cell below deck, next to a large man who looked quite similar to his former captain, Brak. Lauryan remained silent for days, all questioning met with an empty stare. When they hit land they went to the prison cell to find the larger man wide eyed and pale, his throat savagely ripped apart and his hands wrapped around the bloody gash that exposed his windpipe. Lauryan was on the other side of the small cell, hands and mouth coated in dried blood. "He shouldn't have taken the drink." The confused captain said, with a sad smile.