Shut your mouths and listen up. 

 

The storm’s not abating and Miss Kalikmorím has

proven less than useless on the compass, so we’re

going to ride out the night here. 

 

Didn’t I tell you to shut your mouths?

 

There’s nothing to be done about it. And you’ll listen

to what your damned captain says or you’ll find

yourselves taking a long swim to that isle over there.

That would be ironic, no? Sending you back to the

filthy lands from which your kind first spawned. 

 

Seeing as we’re here for the night, let us have a story.

You, cook, get started on something hot to eat. Who

here can tell us a tale?

 

                                        Suppose I can, Captain.

​

It isn’t one of your backwater folk stories, is it? I warn you, I cannot stand kudran fables. 

​

                                        No, Captain. It's a true story about my brother.

​

I’m already… riveted. Continue.

​

                                        Well, see, this was nigh on eight years ago. Few folks around here are old enough to                                           remember it like it was, but I remember it clear as Boar’s Bay shallows. It’s his story,                                         not mine, but I’ll tell it to ye best I can. 

 

Oh, for Sun’s sake. Start with the blustering story.

 

                                        ‘Pologies, Captain. See, where I come from, takes awhile to get a story started right.                                           But seeing as you’re a busy man and all. 

 

                                        My brother Kharekolezh was never one to sit still for very long. Folks liked to say he                                         had the winds in him; they wouldn’t let him be. Charming, too - coulda talked a                                                 serpent out of its own stinger. That’s how he ended up with a ship, a crew, and a                                                 bearing. Out to the place they call Storm’s Maw. 

 

I’ve read about that, I believe.

​

                                        And that’s about all ye could do, for no-one’d seen it with their own eyes. It’s just a                                             folk tale - a place in the eye of the great, unending storm over the eastern sea. It’s                                               been the death of dozens of seasoned crews, yet Olezh, he couldn’t get enough of the                                         place. Said he was convinced it held the greatest treasure the world had ever seen.                                             Somehow he talked us into his vision - never work a day again in our lives, wine and                                         magic and cards in Boar’s Bay until we couldn’t stomach no more. We were young                                             and rough and trusted in him more’n anything.

 

                                        So near about eight years ago we made sail for the place. Now, all of ye know me - I                                           seen my share of rough waters and sorrow skies. I tell ye now, sure as I’m sitting                                                 here - only once else have I ever been so fearful for my life. 

 

                                        We didn’t have the kiss of Sun on our skin for weeks. Didn’t have so much as a fair                                             headwind the entire time. Waves coming broadside four, five times as tall as our                                                 ship - mountains of water, yawning over us, then pitching us down into the brine                                               until we were sure we’d never come back up. On edge every single moment, ‘cause                                             any single misstep can kill ye. 

 

A tad overdramatic, don’t you think?

 

                                        Oh, no, Captain. If anything, I’m playing it less than it really was. Folks’ve been                                                 ‘round a ship long enough know what I’m trying to explain. An anthrid can really go                                           mad out there, nothing but rain to see, nothing but muck to eat and that narrow deck,                                             getting smaller, smaller every day. You’re never allowed to rest, not for long. And those                                             few sailors who hadn’t gotten rid of their moonborn - those who got two whole days of                                           sleep while the rest of us were battling the sea - we started to get real short with them. 

​

                                        I… I can remember one Moonday, standing over one deckhand’s bunk, empty bottle in me                                             hand, just hating her. Remember really thinking how weak they are when asleep. How                                                   simple it would be for an accident…

 

                                        There was another day when three of our crew were lost in a single flash of                                                         lightning. That day I finally blew over and asked Olezh to turn us back around.                                                   Nothing could be worth this, I thought. You know what he did? He just turned to me                                         with those mad eyes of his and grinned. “Fine weather we’re having, eh?” he said.

 

                                        Now ye have to understand - by that point we were all firmly convinced of the                                                     Captain’s Moon-madness. There were mutterings that he actually wanted us dead,                                             so he could take the treasure for hisself. And of course the words sound crazed to me                                         right now, but at that time, with the Sun so far away and the near season we’d been                                           battling against the storms… they had a ring of truth to them. Even to me. 

 

                                        So we began to plot a mutiny. Olezh had let three of us die, and we’d be damned if he took                                             the rest of us down with him. We’d hide all our weapons in the hold, we said. Put ‘em in                                                 barrels with the dry foods. Lure the captain down for dinnertime, sit him amongst his crew                                           for one last hot meal… then go to work on him. Cut him once for every time he should have                                             turned back. 

 

But he was your captain! Your brother!

 

                                        Aye, he was. But that’s the thing ye have to understand, Captain. He was putting us                                           in danger, all for his overblowed fantasy. That’s not something any crew can take,                                               leastaways not when they’re in the middle of an endless gray sea. 

 

                                        It was only timing that saved us. The storm began to let up, piece by piece. We were                                           getting closer to the eye, and that meant closer to the Maw. All thoughts of mutiny                                           gone - but not the kind of relief ye’d expect. See, cause we knew that whenever we                                             finished exploring the island, we’d have to go back through it. And at that point I                                               don’t think none of us believed we’d make it through again alive. 

 

                                        We laid anchor right at the edge of the storm, and sure enough, there was an island.                                           Sun-forsaken little spit of land, barely anything able to live on it. More a rock than a                                         proper island. But you know what was the strangest part? Right at the top, just up a                                           small crest, there were timbers and beams - the ruins of a house. Waiting for us.

 

This is ludicrous. You really expect me to believe the island was inhabited?

​

                                        Not telling ye what to believe at all, Captain. Wouldn’t dream of it. Just telling ye                                               what we saw, is all. But I do say, seeing those Sun-damned ruins, it made us balk to                                           send a dinghy out to the island. Folks were saying it might be cursed. Only reason                                             we didn’t turn around and leave was that we couldn’t just leave with nothing, not                                               after all we’d lost. 

 

                                        Well, that Moonday Olezh told us he was going to go to the island alone. He didn’t                                             know what was there, he said, and he didn’t want to risk our lives anymore than we                                           already had. If anyone or anything dangerous lived on the island, he’d be the one to                                           face them. Pah! As if we couldn’t see through his greedy little plan.

 

                                        Oh, but that just about did it for me and the others. We stormed up to his cabin,                                                 hammered on the door for him to come out. When he didn’t answer we kicked the                                             thing to splinters. Swept into the room like a storm, blades drawn. 

 

                                        But of course he’d gone out the back.

 

                                        Nothing but a dagger stuck in the oak with a note telling us he’d gone. Trust him to                                           explore the island, he said. Let him take on the danger hisself, he said. Two days, he                                           said, and then he’d be back. 

 

                                        We waited for three. 

 

After you were just planning to kill him? Why not

simply maroon him on the island?

 

                                        Oh, we were of many minds. Some of us wanted to do just that, turn tail and leave                                             back into the storm, strand Olezh with his treasure and his curse. Some others                                                   wanted to take the island with blades out, finish what we’d prepared to do. Some,                                               like me, just wanted to wait and see what happened. We held a vote - most folks                                                 agreed to give him three days. 

 

                                        Three days, and not a sound from the island. The whole thing was so silent, so still.                                           Not a breeze nare a drop of rain in sight. Couldn’t even tell the passing of the Sun. It                                         was like the whole thing was frozen in time. 

 

                                        When those three passed, I told the crew I’d go look for him. Don’t rightly know why                                         - I was just as terrified as everyone else. I just remember thinking, no matter what                                             brand of Moon-mad he is, Olezh is still my brother. I have to know. So I swam                                                     ashore and made my way towards that cursed house. 

 

                                        It was just three half-crumbled walls huddled against the wind, carved from single                                             planks of driftwood. Wouldn’t have held up anywhere on the Stormshatter Isles, but                                         here there was nothing but time to knock it down. A few chunks of stone and more                                           wood around the area. And a hole in the floor with a ladder leading underground. 

 

                                        I never seen nothing in my life as dark as the depths of that hole. 

 

                                        I called down in there. I dropped a stone and listened for when it hit the bottom ‘bout                                           fifteen feet below.  After a minute, I began to hear the scraping. 

 

                                        It was just ever so slight, like somebody scuffing their foot on a rock or dragging their                                         hand across gritpaper. But that little sound in the stillness of the Maw was so loud to                                           me. 

 

                                        I realized I was breathing real hard, like I’d just swam a channel. I could just feel that                                               whatever was down there, it wasn’t right. It was old, but it didn’t smell musty. It was                                                 quiet, but it felt like the darkness was screaming. And those scraping noises… they were                                           working their way under my skin, itching and weeping. Sitting heavy in my marrow.

 

                                        See, I thought I’d faced the worst of it with the storm. I was wrong. I’d rather go back                                                 through a thousand knife-edged storms than step down that ladder. 

 

                                        But in the end, there was nothing to be done for it. I had to know Olezh’s fate.

 

                                        The darkness was complete at the bottom. Couldn’t see my hand an inch from my face. I was                                         feeling around, waiting for my hand to brush a wall, and I couldn’t feel nothing. For an                                                   instant, I got a feeling like I haven’t had since my first days at sea - the first time I scaled the                                           rigging and looked down. Ye know that feeling, right? Like the sea and the ship are                                                         stretching out before ye, always lower, always smaller. 

 

                                        My breath was hitching in my chest and it wouldn’t come in evenly - it would jerk in and                                                   wheeze out. It took several tries to get a match in my trembling fingers, but I got it all right.                                               The flame was so bright it blinded me. And then my eyes focused past it, at the creature in the                                           corner of the room. The creature that had once been my brother.

 

He died, didn’t he?

 

                                        He’d died, aye. And he’d done worse than that. He was Woken.

 

Oh, for Sun’s - you expect us to believe that?

 

                                        Believe what ye want, Captain. I’m telling ye what happened. See, Olezh wasn’t facing me. He                                           was turned towards the wall in the corner of the room. From the back, he looked completely                                             fine. There were bloody streaks all across the wall and at first I thought that he had fought                                                 something in here. But then I put a hand on his shoulder and turned him around.

 

                                        And, Gods above, below, within, and between… He was. He’d. Well, see, he was scraping his face                                           against the wall in the corner. That’s what I’d been hearing. And he must have been scraping it for                                         those three days, because he’d… he’d rubbed half of his face away.

 

                                        The skin was gone, the muscle torn up and bloodied. His eye had been mashed up and mangled.                                               He’d rubbed right through his cheek and I could see his teeth and gums through the gap. His mouth                                         kept working like he was trying to say words, but no sound was coming out. I remember straining                                             my ears, straining and straining, needing to hear something, ye know? Needing to catch what it was                                         he was trying to say. But he never did say nothing, just kept working those pulpy muscles in his                                                 cheek.

 

                                        And all along his front, there were these deep wounds. Like sword cuts, ye know, except far, far too                                               many of them. Kudrans here know what it looks like when a moonborn attacks somebody. They know                                         what those claws can do. Olezh had been slashed near to ribbons. His insides hanging out, his face a                                             sunken nightmare… 

 

                                        And his eye. The one good eye, the one that hadn’t been ground into a wall until it wept, that one eye just                                           stared into and through me. I said his name, I shook him, I even slapped him. He didn’t say nothing. Just                                           kept trying to work his mouth and kept staring through me, seeing things no living person is ever allowed                                         to see. 

 

                                        And I - I left him there. I turned like a frightened child and I left him there in the darkness, didn’t even put                                               him out of his agony, just left him there to keep scraping himself against the wall until there’s nothing left but                                         bone, and even maybe then he’ll keep scraping himself until even his soul is worn down to nothing and then                                           maybe finally he’ll have peace.

 

…but there was no moonborn, was there?

 

                                        …what?

 

On the Storm’s Maw island. There was no

moonborn there?

 

                                        No. No, there wasn’t.

 

So your brother couldn’t have been Woken.

 

                                        Captain, have ye ever seen a Woken afore?

 

Watch your tone, Deckhand. 

 

                                        There’s no mistaking them. Not the way they look, not the way they move. It’s a                                                 horror beyond anything any woman can ken. My brother was Woken, sure as the                                               seas turn and the winds blow. 

 

Well, that was quite the story, Deckhand.

Now, I suggest we - 

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                                        But I haven’t even gotten to the end yet.

 

That’s quite enough for the - 

 

                                        See, there wasn’t anything else left on the island. It was as barren as that island ye can see out                                         the porthole right now. No treasure, no magic, nothing. It cost us nine more lives coming                                               back through the storms. So what I learned - 

 

Deckhand, be silent.

 

                                        - what I learned on the Maw is that it doesn’t matter how much ye love your captain - or how                                                 much ye hate them. If they put ye in harm’s way, if they threaten the lives of the whole crew just                                             for their own wretched gain, they need to be taken out the captain’s seat. Not just for them, but for                                         every sailor’s life and soul.

 

That is it, Deckhand. First thing in the morning,

you’re going off the - 

Wait. What are you all doing?

 

                                        They have to be cut down. 

 

What is in those food barrels?

 

                                        Even if it seems like a horrible act in the moment, it truly isn’t.

 

Unhand me, you FILTHY DISGUSTING

INSOLENT LITTLE SHITS - 

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                                        It’s survival.