Nocturna League- Season One Box Set

by Kell Inkston

  “I DEMAND BLOOD, FLESH AND BONE. THE CRAWLING DEMANDS BODIES, THE CRAWLING DEMANDS SOULS, SERVE AND COLLECT SOULS!”

  Grancis takes what she assumes is her final breath before she’s impaled and left to bleed slowly to death as her soul is rent from her body and then who knows what else. She does not close her eyes, however; she’s decided that as unbelievably stuffed full of horror this new reality is, she will not deny it. She levels her gaze with the beast's singular orb; she will accept it for what it is. Grancis told Colette that she was with her every step of the way, and she realizes that she meant it in full. Just as she feels a hooked, lance-like, obsidian-colored tooth push accurately to her stomach so as to pierce out her bile and cause agony dimensions above what she’s dealt with thus far, she sees the faint, sharp glint of a pair of glasses coming out from the dark.

  The next moment is incomprehensible to Grancis. There’s a flash of light, a great cry, and then that strange feeling one gets when they’re rolled by a heavy wave, as if they’re wrapped in sand. Her eyes adjust, and she sees herself in the arms of The Captain. “Please excuse the delay, my pursuers were particularly—why, so impeccably timed,” The Captain suddenly shifts as he looks across the sewer, across the now-furious abomination’s lair, over to the approaching squad of policemen.

  “We have you now, Capta-” the leader stops in his tracks, seeing the furious tentacled horror flailing back to its senses. The beast lifts itself to its long-unused set of eight legs and turns to The Captain, who quite curtly produces a jar of salt from his coat. He gently shakes a line of salt across the entrance to his selected escape route, puts the salt away, and with Grancis in tow, bows his head.

  “You gentlemen have a good evening,” he says before turning to run.

  The abomination, foiled by the wall of salt, turns to the policemen.

  The chief of police’s expression is something one would find on a man who was outwitted and outdone in a way most only are victim to once in his life. This is an embarrassment beyond reprieve— the fodder for the sorts of stories that will be spoken of so long as one’s alive. “Captain, you’re without a doubt the greatest scoundr-”

  “THE CRAWLING FLESH!” the hideous creature screams over the chief as The Captain makes his escape.

  While gunfire and screams fade off behind them, The Captain speaks. “Just so you know, Miss Vereyrty, the others made it out quite alright. You, however might need to work on your evasion skills. I’m not accustomed to taking extra trips to escort my crew members.”

  Grancis isn’t sure what to say. “Y-yes sir,” is what comes out.

  “But that will take time before you can run like the rest of us. We’ll need something more suited toward your… hrm, abilities. I think I know just the job for you upon the Nocturna.” The Captain ups a ladder to the first level of the sewer, fighting against a disgusting torrent of waste as he covers her with the back of his coat. “I think you’d be best suited to serve the men of the crew with a service quite unique to someone like yourself. You’d be fine as-”

  “W-” Grancis stutters at the statement. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Well, as Colette will be training as a bit of a mercenary, you will be the only female on the ship I could ask to ensure that the crewmates are satisfie-”

  “Dammit!” she cuts. There’s a moment of disbelief as the very last spark of hopeful innocence leaves her eyes. Grancis flinches, cringes, and finally just goes limp in some form of helpless, bitter acceptance.

  “Watch your language young lady. Now what’s the matter?”

  “Hey Gran, I’m gonna go and get the shit beat out of me in an alley so you can end up the comfort girl on a ship full of freaks!” she mocks, her impersonation of Colette spot-on.

  The Captain hums with an awkward sort of confusion. “Please expand on this for me.”

  “I knew this was how it was going to end up. This is what I get for going on an ‘adventure’…. My gender’s fucked up everything else in my life, so why not this? If I was a boy I wouldn’t have become Colette’s friend, everything would’ve been okay!”

  The Captain stops traversing and looks down to Grancis in surprise. “Your gender, Miss Vereyrty?”

  “Yes,” she says in hopeless disgust. “It really is a man’s world, and only crazy girls like Colette can exist in it without being beaten into submission and made slaves... though I’m sure she isn’t far behind either, you bastard. I’m going to tell her, you know. I should have—”

  The Captain clears his throat with an awkward inflection. “Well, I’m terribly sorry, Miss Vereyrty,” he shakes his head. “I suppose this is an age of empowerment for women in many ways. I didn’t know you felt so strongly about being confined to the kitchen for service— I expected you to be a bit more traditionally-oriented.”

  Grancis jolts back to life in confusion. “Wait… kitchen?”

  “Well, yes. Our cook’s sense of flavor can be a bit… artistically liberal at times, and I thought a human taste-tester slash cook’s assistant would be just the thing to improve the vessel’s cuisine. You see, many of the sailors aren’t quite used to the manner in which he cooks, so I figured having a human spend time in the kitchen should help make dishes appropriately satisfactory for them,” he explains in an almost sheepish tone.

  Grancis sighs and smiles in relief, her countenance lifting in a flash. “Oh, yes. Yes I’d love that. That sounds lovely, actually.”

  The Captain hums. “So you’re perfectly fine with that job?”

  She winces with an embarrassed grin. “Yes, sir. Sorry.”

  The Captain hums. “…Then what did you think I was referring to, Miss Vereyrty?” he asks with a curious tone.

  She looks away to the slimy sewer wall. “Er... nothing, sir. You just could have… chosen your words more… uh, less poorly,” she corrects.

  The Captain just shakes his head. “I’m not sure if I’ll ever understand you youths,” he says before leading into a pause. Without warning, he lets out a knowing snort.

  ‘Yeah, got it,” she responds crassly.

  “Is that actually what you thought I’d have you do?”

  “Look, it’s been a long fucking day, okay?”

  He chuckles. “Very well.”

  “Yep,” Grancis says plainly, marking the end to this topic.

  He clears his throat again. “Right then. I’d like you to clarify things you’re uncertain about in the future right away. Yes?”

  “Yes, sorry.” Grancis curls her arm around The Captain’s own. Seconds later, the two exit the sewer system and emerge near the port streets.

  The Captain rests Grancis on the street, supporting her with his shoulder. “Can you walk?”

  Grancis flexes— it hurts, but her legs work. “Yeah.”

  “Very good. Now just around this corner will be your first ever view of your new home. Are you excited?”

  Grancis takes a breath of the misty air on the now calm, quiet streets; it’s surprisingly nice here this early in the morning. “Yeah.”

  “Excellent, this way~” he states with an uncharacteristically cheerful tone, marching her alongside him, but she drags her feet.

  “…Captain,” she addresses, looking at the ground with a slim gaze.

  He straightens his cap, glancing back at her. “Yes?”

  “We could have run into anyone here.”

  His jovial vibe drops back into seriousness. “Yes, I suppose you could have.”

  Her gaze glances across him and then to the empty street. “… I’m… I’m relieved that it was you. Thanks for not killing us… and stuff.”

  There’s a pause between them, and The Captain pats her on the head like a father to a daughter in the weirdest form of the relationship imaginable. “I’m glad it was me, too. You’ll have to tell me more about how you and Colette came about here, but not until we take a full overnight dock. Though we can be perfect friends in private, in the eye of the crew you’re just a cook’s assistant, you
understand?”

  She nods. “Alright.”

  “I’ll tell our little macaroon Miss Ketiere the same thing once we’re off, but you may not speak over me, speak out of turn or in disrespect, and you must do as you’re told by your superiors— with courtesy, respect and efficiency.”

  She bows. “I expected nothing less.”

  He smiles under his bandages and focuses his gaze. “Very good… and most importantly, trust me, and trust the crew. Whatever you see as we sail, you must accept it as your new reality— don’t deny it, don’t run away, and don’t close your eyes. Instead, band up with your fellows and embrace it together. Do you understand? We are each other’s strength out here.”

  She stares into The Captain’s spectacles, searching for some sort of concrete expression. She finds nothing. “…Alright. I’ll do my best.”

  “The Eversea is a place of great danger and horror—and yet, beauty too. It’s a beautiful place, Grancis— you just need to understand it.”

  She nods. “Okay.”

  “Are you ready?”

  They stare into each other as the sea-breeze blows overhead; Grancis feels that there’s a very small part of her that finds this “man” charming, and a very large part that finds him terrifying and dangerous— but she’ll do her best to act the part. Perhaps this will be her last night, and perhaps it will all go to hell in a handbasket, but she’s not afraid of it. “I’m ready, sir. Thank you,” she says.

  “You’re welcome, Apprentice Chef Vereyrty.” He rounds the corner to the docks with her. “Now just around here, is our fine vessa-… ahhh....” He stops short just at the corner, peeking around.

  “What?”

  “They searched the entire dockside already. They’ve gotten faster it seems.” He notches Grancis over to peek and motions over to a large, metal ship of some kind, back-dropped in front of the glory of the Eversea. There’s a group of people being shown off the ship by a large group of men with guns. Colette’s there with Luisoix, both handcuffed and being led off.

  “Colette?... What’s going on?” Grancis asks The Captain.

  “Greedy degenerate scum. They caught wind that we were busting up the necromancers and came a bit late to protect their investment. They’re the same lot as the ones I encountered at the inn. I’ll handle this.” The Captain pats Grancis on the head and hands her another gun just as he steps forward. “Wait for my signal.”

  “W-wait… uh, sir?” She steps out with him as if to grab him, but he’s too fast, and she really doesn’t want to stop him.

  “I’ll just be a moment.” He steps off, and Grancis merges back into the corner. The Captain makes his way to the group of armed men, numbering in the dozens.

  Grancis affords one serendipitous moment of déjà vu as she recalls a limping Colette stepping into a herd of men to kill the leader and run them out of town. But, somehow, this feels like it’ll end differently.

  “Oh, good morning gentlemen!” The Captain gallivants up to the squad of policemen with a swaggering, dainty trot. The shackled up crew members of The Nocturna cheer out in excitement and relief as The Captain continues. “How may I help you all this fine d-”

  “That’s him. Fire!” one of the men exclaims to the rest. The Captain’s filled with lead in a second’s notice; the same moment, the sea breeze picks up. Grancis can’t quite make it out, but his blood looks like… sand, of all things. The men fire into The Captain until their guns are empty, but he’s stills on his feet, slouching and deflated.

  He hums. “Well, frankly I was expecting you all to try and arrest me.”

  The head officer flinches. “Reload!” The men exchange frantic glances and start reloading.

  “However, this will do just as well… Blustery out here by the docks, don’t you think?” The Captain asks with a deep-sea tone.

  The head officer points his reloaded gun forward. “Aim for the head, an-…” then he stops. In the same moment, all of the policemen buckle in a wave of pain that attacks every single one of them individually. Some drop their guns, others drop to the ground— but all are incapable of any controlled movement. “Wh-what the hell?!” The head officer sputters in confusion, groveling upon the slick streets.

  “Boris,” The Captain says.

  A chef hat-wearing lobster of considerable size who was just a moment ago being tugged away by a pair of very nervous police officers addresses The Captain in the thickest (and only) crustacean accent that Grancis has heard. “YES, CAPTAIN?” Boris says, practically yelling with his deep voice.

  “I found you your new chef’s apprentice.” He says this with a mild almost casual tone, as if there aren’t twenty six armed men writhing on the ground spouting agonized curses at him.

  Grancis pauses dumbfoundedly. The head chef is this lobster thing? She takes a deep breath upon the realization that she’s going to be taking orders from a giant crayfish.

  Boris breaks the eighteen sets of chains set around him in a burst of excitement. “NO! IT CAN’T BE OF THE TRUE!”

  “Yes, Boris! She’ll assist you with cooking of all sorts until her employment contract is finished.”

  “THIS IS BEING OF THE GREATEST OF DAYS ALREADY! THE CREW WILL BE SO WELL OF THE EATIN-”

  “You can’t eat this one, Boris,” The Captain interrupts plainly.

  There’s an awkward chuckle shared between the crew members who are now undoing their binds. “I… I CAN’T BE OF THE EATING OF THE NEW APPRENTICE OF THE COOKING?” Boris asks in a truly disappointed tone, as if his birthday party were suddenly canceled on grounds of being a giant red nerd.

  The Captain shakes his head as he waves Grancis forward. “No. I suppose it was my fault that I didn’t tell you last time. I simply assumed that ‘chef’s assistant’ and ‘food’ were intuitively separate concepts for everyone. That was my mistake.”

  “BUT CAPTAIN, I’M NOT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. ISN’T AN APPRENTICE FLESH SUPPOSED TO BE OF THE HELPING WITH THE COOKING?”

  “Yes.”

  Boris extends his claws in enunciation as if proclaiming a great Athenian truth. “AND THE BEST WAY FOR THEM TO BE OF THE DOING OF THAT IS TO BE OF THE BEING COOKED AND THEN BEING OF THE EATEN!”

  “No.”

  The giant lobster huffs, crossing its massive arms as best it’s able. “YOU ARE OF THE CONFUSING, CAPTAIN.”

  “They help prepare and serve the meals, not to be prepared and served,” The Captain corrects, “eating them is not part of their terms of employment.”

  Grancis steps up very close to The Captain, almost behind him. “Hi.”

  Boris’ obsidian-colored stalk-like eyes lock onto Grancis like an apex predator upon its next meal. “WHY HELLO APPRENTICE COOK MEAT! ARE YOU TENDER OF THE BODY?”

  “No no,” The Captain corrects. “It would be far finer to address new recruits politely: ‘Good morning, Miss Vereyrty. My name is Boris, The Nocturna’s head chef. You will be working under me during your employment.’” The Captain recites all of this with an expectant glance toward Boris, just as Colette finishes working through her binds with the help of Luisoix and approaches. The Captain stops the bewildered, relieved Colette with a raised hand. “One moment, Miss Ketiere, official introductions first.” The Captain looks to Boris, who nods and looks to Grancis.

  “HELLO, MISS… COOK APPRENTICE MEAT?” Boris looks to The Captain for assurance, and after a pause, The Captain just shrugs and nods.

  “Now shake hands,” he instructs with a leading tone. The sun begins to shine over the horizon, illuminating the wide and mysterious Eversea for all to behold.

  Boris forces out his torso-sized claw in front of Grancis’ face; she’s certain a claw like that could split her from one end to the next in a fraction of a second. Grancis very carefully takes up the bottom of the claw and shakes it gently. “Nice to meet you, Mister Boris.”

  The Captain nods. “Very good.” He turns to Colette. “Go ahead.”

  Colette leaps forward and nearly strangles Grancis in an embra
ce. “You’re alive!”

  Grancis grins. “I… think so.”

  “What happened? How’d you get away?” Colette asks just as some very loud sirens blare out in the distance.

  “Eh, well I’m actually not sure myself.”

  “And just as well,” The Captain butts in as he stares at the sky above where the sirens came from. “We need to shove off immediately.”

  “B-BUT CAPTAIN.”

  “Yes, Boris?”

  “DOES THE COOK APPRENTICE MEAT BE OF THE COMING WITH A CHART OF THE CUTTING? JUST IN THE CASING THAT THE CREW IS OF THE HUNGRY FOR HUMAN.”

  Colette squints at Boris in some kind of confusion as Grancis just grins awkwardly.

  “No, Boris. Get on the ship. By the way, apologize to Luisoix for swapping out his occult salt jar with a sugar jar. Sugar does not repel agents of evil. If you need more salt for your cooking next time, you should let me know rather than taking it from others. Now shoo.”

  Boris raises a claw in protest. “BUT CAPTA-”

  “Ship.”

  The giant lobster sighs animatedly and turns to the boarding plank. “AS YOU ARE OF THE WISHING, SIR.”

  Boris stomps off defeatedly and The Captain turns to the two ladies. “You two as well. I’m afraid we’ve overstayed our welcome.” The entire crew rushes up the plank and onto the metal deck of Her Dark Lady The M.S. Nocturna, and The Captain leads the two girls up to the helm.

  “So what are we running from?” Colette asks, taking one last look at the group of men on the street, slowly recovering from whatever had assaulted them.

  The hole-filled Captain waves his finger as if to say 'one moment,' and pushes the ship to full throttle. Colette and Grancis jolt as the vessel shifts under their feet.

  “Cool!” Colette exclaims; she is suddenly so much more interested by the fact that they’re riding on something so big and yet moving so fast, that she momentarily forgets her concerns for what they’re running from.