Tareleton
The cry of gulls sound different today; as if they know that this day will be one of mourning. The sea is still with anticipation, its blue only broken by the wake of The Empress Death. Captain Tareleton “The Smiler” Zelwrath stands on the poop deck peering down at the pirates at work. One of the many baubles that adorn his royal blue hat and coat swings into his view which he; it’s shaped like a pearl but infused with a magical red glow. The sag around his mouth twitches as the pearl brings forth a memory of screams. He snatches the pearl and rubs it against his protruding ribs as despite his thin figure his coat is always open. He proceeds to pocket the pearl and brings a cigar to his mouth. He takes a long, slow inhale feeling the tar and smoke black his lungs. After enjoying the heat, he lets the smoke dribble out his mouth.
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As expected, a wooden dot ascends over the horizon. Tareleton looks down at his first mate.
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“PREY SIGHTED BOYS! FULL SPEED ’HEAD! THERE’S NO SLACKING ‘ERE! GET THE FUCK ON WITH IT!” The orders that Ike has barked a thousand times before are barked once more and in an instant the merriment silences and the drinks are thrown aside as all the crew man their stations; the oars fly out, the cannons are pulled in, the sails put at full mast, but Tareleton stays still as he takes another drag of his cigar. For just a moment, instinctually, a smirk on the right side of Tareleton’s face flickers as he cannot help showing his pride for this machine where he need not even pull the puppet’s strings.
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The captain of the Eastern star is going through the morning routine; he begins by re-examining the native metals from their dwarven home which will be forged into legendary weapons and the gems which are so beautiful and rare that they will be sold exclusively to royalty. He proceeds to check the integrity of the hull which is made of the wood of the Praleean Tree that has been burned for thirty years in the Sigmis flames to strengthen it so it can bear the weight of the precious cargo. He then greets each member of his crew. He has earned the respect of every one of them as he has defended them against fearsome creatures of the deep and rogue pirates. However, the captain now stands petrified in the shadow of The Empress Death as it blackens the entirety of The Easter Star as a silence, that will prove to be The Eastern Star’s last, falls upon the ship.
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The air and sea are as still as the two ships, even the seagulls do not cry fearing the consequences of breaking the quiet. Although a sigh would be heard for miles the silence is shattered by the bells that Tareleton wears ominously tolling with every step. The sheer volume is from every conquest; the curious are entangled within the tendrils of his greying beard and long unwashed hair, they dangle off his long trench coat and are attached into every crevice of his skin. The fluorescent blue in his eyes is now diminished by the black void of his expanded pupil as it fixates on his small prey. Knowing what is to come next, the slight smile Tarleton always tries to cover gently creeps onto his face once more before he forces it back into a grimace.
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Tareleton’s voice effortlessly booms forth, louder than a Kraken’s warcry:
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“You have been chosen for death. Do not fight but welcome the next stage of your existence. If you attempt to fight back, you will wish for the painless death we will grant to the rest of your peers. Make peace with those you’ve sinned against and pray that the gods are merciful. If we are to meet again then you may take vengeance against Tareleton, Avruumore and The Empress Death.”
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He then lowers his voice turning to Ike once more.
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“Make them one with death.”
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“KILL THEM ALL! TAKE THE CARGO! LET THE GODS DECIDE THEIR FATE!” screams Ike.
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Before the first word had finished exploding out of Ike’s mouth the resemblance to anything human left of the crew disappears as they become animals in a feeding frenzy. Tareleton walks back up to the poop deck for the best vantage point. He watches his pack feed. Soon after, Ike kneels before Tareleton and presents him with a green jewel cut like a diamond. As he examines the magnificent stone, finally the smile is inescapable. It takes the perfect shape of a crescent moon though it is unnaturally wide and long as though his face is being stretched by pliers. His lips curl back to reveal his yellow, rotten, decaying teeth and bloody gums. Tareleton cares not for the torture he is putting himself through as the cold sea air bite at his exposed flesh for this is when The Smiler smiles.