Chapter Text
“Heave, lads, heave!” The boatswain’s voice could hardly been heard over the sound of crashing waves. “Heave to!” Cried the boatswain as the crew struggled to slow the ship. They were drawing dangerously close to the shore now, but almost begrudgingly the vessel heeded to her crew’s demands. With her sails drawn, she slowed.
“Stubborn girl, almost like her captain.” The quartermaster muttered. He gave a curt nod to the boatswain who signaled for the anchor to be dropped. The quartermaster's skin was worn from the cold sea air and his foreboding mood was common for a man who had seen too much of the world. He stroked his long beard as he surveyed the crew scrambling along the deck to settle the ship.
“Shall we ready boats for landing, sir?” The boatswain asked, his nervous voice betraying him. The quartermaster had sensed a growing unease amongst the crew once word of their destination had spread. He could hardly blame them. He gazed at the vast shoreline; it was a grim sight. The white sandy beaches were not accompanied by a quaint seaside town, ripe for raiding, but a nefarious place. A place no Gods-fearing, self-respecting person would ever settle. Whatever they had come here to do, he prayed it would be quick.
“We haven’t received our orders yet, now, have we?” The quartermaster answered, brushing off the man. “Tell the lads to wait at their stations while I go tell our captain the good news.” The boatswain began to shout out orders as he made his way towards the captain's quarters. A shiver run down his spine, but it was not from howling winds or the icy sea spray. No man would call Curly Joe was lily-livered, lest they wanted to see their own lily-liver, but this woman made him gutless. He hesitated for a moment to steel his nerves before pounding on the door.
“Oy, we have arriv– ” He began to shout, but the door swung open rather abruptly, causing him quite a start. He sang a short string of curses as a long golden snout greeted him.
“Yes, sir?” The dragonborn eyed him, looking irritated at his brashness. Curly Joe adjusted his composure, but his scowl remained.
“I was just coming to pass along a message.” He said, squaring his jaw. The smell of the dragonborn’s smoke was an unpleasant one. Smelt of burning woods and carcass.
“Let him enter.” A woman’s voice said from within. The dragonborn dutifully stepped aside to allow him to pass; he gave the attendant a foul look before walking into the room. The dimly lit room smelled of damp parchment and candle wax. The open window brought fresh air of the sea, full of life and full of death. The smells with the slow lull of the ship made him feel queasy, a feeling only worsened in her presence. His captain was seated at her desk, pouring over her many scrolls and maps. She did not look up to greet him when he entered, rather she merely signaled for him to speak.
“My lady, we have arrived at the destination.” He refused to even say the cursed name.
Still, she said nothing. His innards twisted. The ship swayed. The rancid smells weighed heavily in the sea air. In this wretched moment, he was struck by a boldness. He was a cursed man. What more could be done to him?
“Actually, the crew was wondering how long we’d be anchored here for.”
“As long as it takes.”
“Ay, right.”
“Is that going to be a problem?” Liliana asked, her voice as cold as the wind. For the first time since he entered, she looked up at him. Under her cold, piercing stare, Curly Joe flinched.
“I just mean to say that the crew –”
“The crew what?” Her voice was sharp like steel. “Are they afraid? I did not mark you as a superstitious man. I would have thought you casted aside such notions with your undeath.”
“Now about that! Didn’t we have a deal that you would put an end to this curse?” He snarled at the mention of this black subject. It spurred his rage. “We’ve been sailing at your fancy for months. I am starting to think you aren’t ever going to uphold your end of the deal!” His rashness took him too far. Liliana stood suddenly, knocking her chair back. He heard the floorboards creek as the dragonborn moved behind him.
“Why do you think we came here? Have patience! You will have your end of the bargain once I have mine. I will not hear of this again. Now go, and tell the crew to rouse those below deck, we will make for land in an hour.” With no more to say, he bowed awkwardly and made his leave, the door slamming shut behind him. The crew did little to hide their stares as he returned to the deck. He beckoned the boatswain over to him.
“Ready for land in an hour.” Curly Joe relayed. Grabbing back of the boatswain’s neck, he pulled the man in close. “She also says to bring them up from below deck.” The boatswain swayed a little, he gripped the man’s neck tighter.
“All of them?” He could hear a note of panic the boatswain’s voice. He didn’t envy the men who had to stir the beasts below boards. Unnatural creatures they were.
“Ay, all of them.” He released the man, letting him stumble backwards. He pulled his collar up against the leering stares as he walked the length of the ship. At the bow, Curly Joe stared out at the grim shoreline. The grey skies looming above them threatened a storm to match the broiling waters. At the very top of the cliff stood the manor at Necropolis-on-Sea, a dreadful, cursed place. Perhaps it was for the best that their lady and her army was coming to raid the place, it didn’t look long for this plane. It stood so crooked it looked though it might fall into the sea’s icy depths. A blight on any man who owned it. But he felt no pity for the bastards who lived there. The wind howled over the black rolling waters. Out of habit, Curly Joe pulled his coat in tighter to fend off the cold winds.
As long as it takes… They have waited long enough to bring an end to this miserable curse. He only prayed that whatever the Lady Liliana had planned, it would be fitting for the damned traitor, Corazon de Ballena.