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[Graded][Flashback][Solo] The Last Secret Pt. 1
Topic Started: Sep 19 2017, 07:07 PM (28 Views)
Sabre
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Fearsome waves crashed into the side of the galleon, throwing the topside munitions and crates all over the top deck. Hail the size of golf balls pelted the ship from all angles. Splinters of wood broke off from the hull and were sucked into the gale force winds blowing all around. The sky was filled with the flash and explosion of thunder, with stray lightning bolts smashing into the water all around the ship. Tied to the broadside of the ship was another vessel. A standard marine ship, broken and battered by the vicious storm. It’s mast and sails were shredded, and a patchwork bandage on the underbelly of the ship was barely keeping it from sinking into the depths. The outer shell of the ships were under attack from nature itself, while the interior of the secret was locked up in its own assault.

The ship itself was a three-leveled fortress. On the first floor was the standard travelers level. High class merchants and the aristocracy took up the back half of this level, while the remaining civilian passengers were crammed into the front. All of these people had paid significant money to be granted passage on the vessel known as The Hangman’s Last Secret, the greatest storm runner in all of East Blue. Days before the ship was to set off, reports of a ‘storm of the century’ riled up fear throughout the island it had been stationed on. Evacuation orders were given to the citizens, and the Last Secret was one of the few ships capable of holding most of the island’s residents. Families paid every cent they had to the ship’s captain to bring them aboard, while the poorer folk begged and pleaded to be spared from the wrath of the storm. The captain of this vessel, a man known only as York of Salt, accepted any who asked to board. All he asked of them is that they provided their weight in salt.

It was on this ship that Winston and his crew found themselves in. Their ship had been caught in the storm after they hit an unexpected trade wind. Gales of wind whisked the marine ship off course and into the heart of the weather. Along the way their ship met a pirate crew also affected by these winds. A fierce combat erupted between the two sides, leaving mass casualties on both sides. Every officer on the marine crew apart from two lowly ensigns were either killed or left comatose. Winston happened to be one, and he was thrust into the position of keeping the rest of the men alive during the storm, which crashed into the marine ship shortly after the battle ceased.

It was only the mysterious appearance of the Last Secret that saved them from certain death. Winston had done what he could by sealing the many leaks in the hull with his own candy, but the fear of seawater caused him to retreat and attempt to abandon ship. The crow’s nest sniper spotted the galleon through thick fog. His screams of “By god we’re saved boys!” whipped the crew into a paddling flurry. Their rudder was damaged beyond repair in the previous battle, and so the crew used their might to row themselves towards the massive galleon. After reaching the boat, all the marine soldiers threw themselves on board and rushed inside to avoid the deathly rain of ice. At this point none of the marines cared for official orders, and they eagerly forced their way into the cabin’s first deck. A few of the wiser grunts stayed to secure their own ship to the side of the Last Secret. It was the silence and emptiness of the deck that scared them more than the storm.

After Winston made his own way to the first deck, he encountered the mass of marine troops standing around the entrance. He bullied his way to the front, shoving aside the confused grunts. At the front of the line was the other low-level officer Eastman, who was visibly perplexed. “A radio transmission from the nearest island said there should be over 200 refugees on this ship.” The marine crew stood on the side of a massive dining hall, with dozens of tables and benches all strewn about. Broken plates and full wine goblets were sitting on the non-damaged tables. A rogue wave smashed into the eastern side of the ship, sending everybody off balance. “By my count, we’re looking at over 200 missing persons. We gonna worry about why this ship is fuckin’ empty? ‘Cause at this point I’m not sure if I can take another battle.” Eastman was not the best man for keeping morale up. The thirty men the marine crew had left weren’t in any position to do anything but rest. Even Winston was exhausted.

“Men, take positions at the non-damaged tables,” Winston called, “and get your fill of whatever hasn’t hit the floor.” Exhausted cheers from the crew groaned out. Winston made his way to the tables with the rest of his men. With their low numbers, only two tables were necessary for the whole crew. The marines pushed them together to make one long dinner surface. Scraps of food and wine were scavenged from the surrounding area, and the crew began to dig in. Whatever mystery was going on here, the marines were too broken to attempt to respond. It was only after a couple plates that Winston tried to bring up any sort of conversation. As one of the two surviving commanding officers, he felt responsible for the men.

“Let us recap the situation before we go further. We entered an unknown ship that was reported as holding 200 refugees. We know this because of Ellis over there,” Winston pointed to their intelligence officer, who gave a thumbs up between bites, “who got that information relayed to us when he put out a distress signal. What we don’t know is where all of those people are, and why we haven’t been greeted by anything in the last ten minutes. I’m not asking for help from any one of you. We just barely dodged a watery grave, and I can’t ask you to dance with the devil again.”

One of the surviving marines called out, “We all know how good you and devils get along!” A riotous laughter came from the marines. Even Winston had to chuckle. “It’s a damn shame Carlton over there didn’t die. Maybe we could’ve had somebody useful here.” Hearty laughs were exchanged as the men started their usual banter. It was good to hear them in good spirits again. “Now I know you lowlifes are too weak to do anything but drink and eat, but someone has to step up and search the lower decks. I need nine of you to join me, while the rest of you dopes maintain this position and try to call for help. Any objections?”

Nine volunteers immediately stood up. “Aye aye sir,” they cheered. A smile hit Winston’s face. I absolutely hate talking such filth, but these men respond better to some gruffness. Sacrificing his usual polite demeanor was necessary if he was going to get any backup. They all grabbed their weapons and rifles, heading towards the door that led deeper into the ship. “Eastman, keep everyone alive. I don’t need 20 more corpses.” Where Winston smirked at his snark, Eastman seemed to become more afraid. He was putting a lot on the officer, but Winston knew that he was the only person capable of leading any sort of exploration team. Stepping through the first door out of the mess hall, he switched to a mission mindset. They were entering the unknown, with no guarantee of their survival behind it.

Passing into hallway, Winston observed that all the doors were open from end to end. Another doorway could be seen down the hall, but this was closed. The soldiers slowly moved up the hall in a tight formation. Rifles were pointed at each door, ready to strike at any incoming targets. These rooms were completely empty, with no signs of violence or struggle. Hammocks, pillows and suitcases were neatly packed and arranged all throughout. It didn’t seem like there was anything wrong. “Oi Winston, what you think ‘appened ‘ere? Don’t look like they got invaded or nottin’.” Iscariot didn’t have any sort of answer to the question. He continued to press onward.

At the end of the hall came the next doorway. Winston pressed his ear against it, trying to hear for some sort of life. Only the sounds of falling hail could be heard. Shrugging his shoulders, he went to open it. Turning the knob forward and pushing, he encountered significant resistance. First trying to push it with light force, he found that it wouldn’t budge. There wasn’t a lock on it, it had to be some sort of weight pressed against it. “Forget how a door works? They make anyone officer these days.” The men laughed.

Stepping back, Winston decided to get more forceful. With all his might he kicked the door, swinging it wide open and sending a black mass flying. The object that had been blocking the door was now in the middle of a pitch-black room. One of the men who had a torch quickly entered, illuminating the subjects. Inside they found their first clues to the mystery.

The black mass that Winston had kicked was revealed to be a cloaked person. Their body had been stuffed at the foot of the door, preventing anyone from coming through. Winston coated his hand in candy to peel back the hood. Previous experiences taught him to avoid poison skin. It was a middle-aged woman, and judging by her masses of jewelry she was probably wealthy. He turned her over to her back, revealing an open cloak and an even more open torso. The front half of her body was completely hollowed out and her skin torn off. Besides half of her face, only her skeleton remained, as the exploration team got a full glimpse of her ribs and spinal cord. Only one of the marines puked.

“I’ve seen this shit before,” said one of the marines. The rest looked at him with horror. “I seen what rats do to left out bodies. They pick ‘em clean then run off into the floorboards.” It was a reasonable explanation. “Sounds reasonable,” Winston said, “but it doesn’t tell us why she was alone here, and propped against the door. We have to move on, we’ll deal with the body later.” He stood up and started walking to the next door. Some of the marines took it upon themselves to grab some jewelry. It couldn’t be helped. She wasn’t getting any use out of it.

The team continued through multiple rooms. Nothing had anything out of the ordinary inside, the skeleton lady was the only abnormality. Soon the team, who had now dubbed themselves the Emergency Exploration Night Inspector Squad, or EENIS for short, had reached the staircase to the next floor down on the ship. A simple wooden spiral, having all the makings for a trap on the floor below. Winston figured he would go first in a sludge form to avoid harm. Shifting himself into a watery sludge, he dripped down the stairs to the floor below. When he reached the bottom, he was greeted with a sight he had never seen before. “EENIS, down the stairs now!” His men rushed to the second floor, all stopped short once they saw what Winston was seeing. He returned to his typical form to walk forward and investigate.

Splattered against the wall in front of EENIS was a mural, painted in copious amounts of blood. It depicted some sort of shelled monstrosity with what seemed to be people bowing down and praying for it. On the ground were cloaked people positioned in the exact same manner, only they did not budge at the arrival of EENIS. Walking over to the cloaked devout, Winston removed their hoods to find a similar sight from before. Their heads were completely intact, but only skeletons remained of the people’s bodies. They had been deliberately placed in the praying position, as there was no blood pooled on the floor. This was in the middle of a particularly big room at the front of the ship, meaning they had to come from deeper within. Winston turned to EENIS, now genuinely scared of what was to come.

“We have two options here. Turn around, lock up the main hall above and wait out this storm. Or go forward and kill whatever cult slaughtered all the passengers onboard.” Winston put forth his two options to try and gauge the men’s reactions. They all said the same thing, “We know you’re being nice by giving us a way out, but we’re not letting you go it alone.” Another spoke up, “The boys upstairs would probably piss themselves if they heard, and I ain’t cleaning up piss.” Winston laughed, “Well said. I just wanted to make sure nobody wanted to chicken out.”

Turning to the grand doors in front of him, Winston began his march forward. In his mind, he genuinely thought retreating was the best option, but he couldn’t back down here. His men needed a strong leader to keep going. It was not caution that made men great, but action. And Winston’s first action was to charge in headstrong against whatever horror on the high sea was going to raise its head against innocents.
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