Captain Tory

April 19, 2012
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He swung his lantern three times and slowly the schooner appeared. As he watched the ancient ship's sails still full of life pushing the teetering boat ever closer to the deserted docks. The old man trembled from a chill that worked its way through his body on this peculiar breeze-less night. Before attempting to ponder on these facts further the old man was interrupted by a gentle tugging. A small young boy had appeared at his side; the boy pulled at the old man’s hand until his attention was drawn from the ancient boat.

Surprised by the child's chilling touch, the old man nearly emptied his entrails and dropped his lantern. Trying to regain his composure, he managed to relight his lantern and stutter a question to the child's persistent, pestering, pokes.
“Wha...Wha..What are you doing out this late? You nearly scared me to death.”
The boy smirked impishly at this remark, but kept his solace, all the same.
The man turned back just a moment later, and saw that the boat was already moored, and tied down to the dock gangplank drawn and all. Only then did the boy choose to speak.

“Would you like to get a closer look at our vessel,” said the boy pointing at the schooner that caught his attention. “If you wish to indulge your curiosity, I might be able to get you an audience with my captain,” he said in a thoughtful tone. “He always seems to enjoy a bit of bragging about a long journey before he feasts. Who knows you might just sate his appetite,” (Foreshadow)(Verbal Irony) he added with a chaotic chuckle. He sluggishly corrects himself... “His appetite for a small sustenance for attention is what I mean.”

The old man remained skeptical but excited (zuegma) about the sailor child's promise, cautious that he may just be another pickpocket, thief, or mugger. Yet, his curiosity trumped age old wisdom, and he accepted the offer from the tin, tongued, twaddler.

The two set off to the docks together they introduce themselves as two men do through exchange of name and birth. Twelve years of life that child claims to hold, Dae-mo-nic Sanguis (Dramatic Irony) (His name means blood demon in Latin) his title by birth.

“I prefer Damion though. What name were you given?” said the child.

“The name I was given is Johnathan Albus, but I'm much to old for formalities now so please just call me John,” he said with a grin.

“A pleasure to meet you John,” said Damion as the two shook hands, John got a chill up his spine as their two hands met even on this warm summer night his hands were cold as ice. The cold touch of the boys hand reminded him of the caution he buried in his heart, toward this odd boy who appeared out of nowhere just before the ancient ship docked.

The time for worrying had come to an end he stood before the point of no return the dock where the ship was moored and the gangplank laid before him and Damion.
“John if you don't mind standing here for a bit I need to go speak to the captain, and make sure he's in the mood for guests,” said Damion.

That's fine by me. I don't mind I'm just going to study the build of the outside of this masterfully crafted ship,” said John enthusiastically examining the build of the boat. The only thing between him and the boat now were a few steps.
From afar the boat looked both sturdy and lively, yet from this close he truly saw the majesty of this vessels exterior ornate carvings dawned every inch of the wooden wonder depicting biblical events along with Greek and Roman mythological legends. The details were exquisite they hardly seemed scathed by the wear and tear that time normally brought to all things himself included.
Just when he thought he had found the discovery of a life time Damion came out of the captain’s quarters with a toothy grin.

“He says” 'it's fine' “come on aboard I'll show you to the captains quarters just follow me,” Damion said. “I hope you're hungry the captain has already sat down for a feast of delicacies.” “You do still wish to meet him John?” he asked.

As John crossed the gangplank he got another shock, which crept up his spine like a winter chill, yet he managed to push it from his mind and continued forward, the temptation trumped his curiosity, so he continued into the captain’s quarters greeted by the smell of a banquet of food stuffs and unique cuisines. A table that took up the majority of the space in the room housed the feast it looked like mahogany and the finish as fine as French gold trim.

“Sit down,” said the captain. “You’re a guest on my ship make yourself at home enjoy, indulge, eat as if this meal were to be your last,” said the captain with a toothy grin.
Strangely enough, John immediately forgot his long entrenched manners, sat down and began to gorge upon the enchanting feast set before him.

“Slurp... Gulp... Crunch” (onomatopoeia) Once he sat down and began ravaging the banquet his manners became truly barbaric. The quantities were large and the dishes varied greatly: round things, odd smelling meaty things, salty snacks, and cuisine he hardly knew anything about, yet he sampled it all, and once his belly was set near to burst he stopped. He looked up and noticed the captain again, he had removed his large suave coat, and hung it on his chair; yet his face still remained hidden by his large ornate hat. The only facial feature visible the measure of a mouth, he was not a large man but a healthy size, it gave him finesse with each step he took he seemed to float between space and time quickly closing the gap between our dazed guest and table. With each step the captain took towards him he regained a bit more consciousness, his mind wakened and better judgment returned. Embarrassed by his gluttonous actions the old man apologized.

“No it's fine.” said the captain now standing behind the chair dear John sat. “You are not the first to have reacted in such a manner nor will you be the last; a feast such as this can hardly be ignored,” gesturing at the table with a sense of pride and satisfaction.

“You're right about that it seems, yet I can't continue this meet with clear conscience on mind without first knowing the name of this magnificent ship and its generous admirable admiral,” said John.

“My full name is Terreo Panima Hagist or so that's the name they gave me so very long ago. I however prefer you call me Tory.”

“Captain Tory then, what name betroths this work of art you have docked so late in this gloomy harbor town.

“Are you sure you wish to hear its name spoken, it may break the illusion your mind has made of it,” asked Cap'n Tory

“Yes I believe I must know.”

“Such a pity I had hoped to enjoy your mundane presence a while longer very well,” said Captain Tory. “Navis Vorator Mortis” He chanted its name like it was some kind of sacred mantra stressing the ending of each word.

Each time he repeated a word of the mantra something in the room changed “Na-viss” he watched the words form on the captain’s lips ending in a quiet hiss. He froze in place as the graceful captain evaporated little by little.

“This is what you wanted,” bellowed some deformed creature from hell that had appeared in his place. With menacing eyes and scarlet stained horns the creature now uttered the second word “Vor-a-tor” as the word echoed throughout the cabin into the old man’s mind and soul the contents upon the table turned to something much more gruesome. The bodies of the patrons of the harbor city lay sliced to delectable salami chunks blood oozed from the corpses like dressing on salad slowly slithering to the bottom over the side of the table and onto the floor.

“Please stop I can’t take anymore. Make it stop! God help me!” The old man croaked in a hoarse voice devoid of hope.

“There is no God, only death in this realm” the demonic monstrosity spoke this final rebuke then began the end of the mantras curse.

“Mor-tisssssssssssssss.” The violent hissing sound of the ending verse was the final thing the old man heard as his skin turned to tar and his bones became dust his devoured soul absorbed by the





Terreo Anima Phagist.
(Terrible Soul Eater)





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