by C. Vandyke
They said they would take the map home or they'd take the immortality, but either way they'd be damned if they were going to die here without seeing their own world again.
Ship exploded. Burned.
We hope they were wrong and they are not damned. We hope their soul found their way back to that strange sounding world of stars.
May They Find Another Kind Of Immortality.
Here Flies Quicksilver the Messenger Fish, of the Bayside Municipal Aviaquarium and AirMail Postal Service, Braddock's Bay, Frostborne
Carried a message addressed to me, Saiseriat of the Ninerville Graveyard, presumably as the only scavenger with a known and fixed address. Must have become caught in the air currents trying to reach me and got sucked into the storm. But he pulled free and managed with his little body's last strength to deliver the messenger capsule warning Us of the coming of the Red Ship.
Broken wingfin, scraped scales, battered by flying debris.
He was a very brave fish and his postmistress should be proud.
May He Find Another Kind of Immortality.
Here Fly Two Severed Hands
Owner unknown. We think they are from the same body. We cannot be sure.
Dismembered.
May They Find Another Kind of Immortality.
Here Flies "Petey"
Small child, about seven or eight. I thought she had come to visit someone's grave. I am a fool. Should have watched more closely.
She left a note written in coloured wax crayon. "My fish Stripey died. Mommy died. Dying is too sad. I will find the magic water so I never die and I will fill my purple cup for Daddy and Grandma and Chuckles so they never die and we won't be sad ever. Petey."
How did one so small move so fast?
She is still now.
Blow to the head.
May She Find Another Kind of Immortality.
Here Flies the Harbinger in Red
Came ahead of the Red Ship on a smaller, faster sky dinghy to warn us of their current course and ETA that we might better avoid them, communicating from a safe distance with signal flags and lantern. Even from that distance, we could see the boils and lesions between the gaps in their red robes. They proceeded ahead towards the Isle instead of returning to the Red Ship, we think because they knew they would not survive the journey back.
They did not survive the journey ahead, either.
Body seen floating Southwest and moving Widdershins. Has been marked and will be collected when the quarantine period specified in the fish message has passed. This place in the crypt will be reserved for them until then.
Cause of death to be determined.
May They Find Another Kind of Immortality.
Here Flies Scavenger Treasure-Among-Trash of The Leftovers
As is the custom with one of our own, we tried four times to discourage him, and he allowed us to try. He has collected trinkets from the wreckage to be his funeral decorations. He came to me to reserve a place should it be needed. All has been observed.
I asked him upon the Fourth Discouragement why he would leave us, when it is far more likely that he shall be one of the nine hundred and ninety nine in a thousand who fail, rather than the one who succeeds. He said he has spent his whole life scrounging for diamonds among the detritus of other people's grand quests, and took his name from it. How could he resist searching for the greatest treasure of all?
How could I resist it?
"Aren't you the least bit curious, Sesariat?"
Found crusted with hailstones in uppermost currents.
Frozen.
May He Find Another Kind of Immortality.
Here Flies Chuckles
A green parrot.
Spoke in the voice of the child Petey.
"Hi Chuckles!" it said, and "Peekaboo! Where's Chuckles?"
Perhaps I imagined it, but it sounded sad.
Stopped at the Crimson Cog to charm scraps of toast and crackers off of the patrons. Bit my thumb. Cannot blame it. Flew into the storm.
Broken neck.
I would not let our scavengers pluck it to sell the feathers. It has earned a place in the Crypt with its mistress.
May They Find Another Kind of Immortality.
Here Flies Shefferton Bezoarg of The Hub
Wealthy merchant fleet admiral. Purchased an expedition to the Font of Souls in Kimichula. Lost a leg but claimed to have found the font and seen his death in the reflection: mauled by shark. Terrified, he tried to purchase guides and passage to the Well of Immortality. Told him it didn't work that way. All you can do is listen to the whispers, and hope. He cursed our names and commissioned the building of an elaborately outfitted and well stocked armoured dirigible in the hopes of weathering the storm.
Our scavengers will be able to support Us for months on the remains of his shattered dirigible, and so we honour him with a place in the Crypt.
Mauled.
May He Find Another Kind of Immortality.
Here Flies A Shark of the Ocean
Must have been sucked up through a waterspout into the maelstrom.
Choked to death on Shefferton Bezoarg's gold prosthetic leg.
May They Find Another Kind of Immortality.
Here Flies the Ship's Medic of the Red Ship
It finally arrived. We were as prepared as we could be. We cleared a path and watched from a distance. The plague ship was painted all in crimson, every sail, every balloon, every wing and propeller. We could see the crew, what remained of them, wrapped in crimson rags, their blistering and bleeding skin painted with red dye between the lesions. We are grateful to them for this great courtesy, undertaken despite their suffering. We will avoid all red debris for one year from this date.
The doctor, in her red robes and her plague mask, had taken command of the helm, the helmsman collapsed at her feet. We feared she might not be able to steer the intended course, being accustomed to fighting sickness, not wind and storm. It looked for a moment like the ship might be blown off course and crash into Rustowne, and the infection unleashed on the city. But she wrestled the wheel with all her strength, and sailed true, away from certain disaster and into uncertain one.
We have found the ship, almost intact. We have seen her body, still clutching the helm.
We do not know if there are other bodies. We do not know if any of her patients were saved.
In one year's time, she will have her place of honour here.
May She Find Another Kind of Immortality.
Here May Fly Sesariat of the Leftovers
I have been discouraged three times. I have allowed myself to be discouraged three times.
I have not yet decided what I will decide upon the fourth.
Each time so far, the other scavengers, those who gather and tend to what is left over after others have tried, have pointed out that as keeper of the Crypt, of the graves of lost hopes and failed attempts, I should know better than anyone how futile the quest for immortality is.
I do know.
And yet...
Each and every one of my charges, each floating grave and hovering stone that I have carved, is someone who loved life so much that they wanted it to last forever. Each of them looked to the future, and saw a place they wanted to go.
How can I not admire that?
My fellows see this crypt as a caution. But I remember every one I've set to flight, and see so much inspiration.
Perhaps I shall be discouraged once and for all upon the fourth time.
Or perhaps I shall listen to the whispers, plunge into the storm, and be buried here among those I buried.
Or just maybe I shall come out the other side, and back again, and I will tend my graves knowing that I will be able to keep doing so, and remembering them, for always.
May I Find Immortality. Of One Kind or Another.
The Final Testimonies of Dr. Issen Weiland on the Occasion of His Death
Jeremy Pak Nelson
By Order of The Third District Fulcrum Court, the follow
ing transcriptions are entered into evidence. Speakers have been identified, where possible, and have signed affidavits attesting to the authenticity of the recordings. The contents of Dr. Issen Weiland’s “phonocorder” device, recorded on wax cylinders, are thereby placed on the record in all matters pertaining to the suspected arson of Dr. Weiland’s home and office, and to all matters pertaining to the suspected murder of Dr. Weiland.
Weiland: What? Is it working? Stop it, you’re wasting wax.
* * *
Hwyer: Fantastic bit of equipment, Issen. Can’t wait to hear what you bring back.
* * *
Kan: Are you two serious? Issen, learn shorthand like the rest of us. You’ll get the wrong sort of attention carrying something like that around.
* * *
Weiland: Quit being a squeaky cog. This will change field research, mark my words. First-hand accounts! We’ll make cryptozoology a science, bring respectability back…
Weiland: Right. Issen speaking. First day out. At the Merry Grappler. We hope collecting field histories will—
* * *
Jacques: What you want?
* * *
Weiland: We’re collecting accounts of the kraken, as told—
* * *
Jacques: Ale or lager?
* * *
Weiland: Oh! Lager please. A half-pint.
* * *
Jacques: [Indistinct] … pissant bookballoon …
* * *
Weiland: Well! First to survey the room, find somebody who knows somebody …
Weiland: Please introduce yourself, here into the phonocorder.
* * *
Unknown: What’s this? A drinking horn?
* * *
Weiland: Ah, it collects ambient sound and transmits vibrations … Please don’t touch the phonocorder.
* * *
[Loud crackling]
* * *
Unknown: No good, got all this nonsense at the bottom.
* * *
Weiland: Please don’t touch the phonocorder, sir—
* * *
Unknown: Nah, not put together right, all those holes. Look, you pour the ale in …
Weiland: Back at the Merry Grappler. After the last … research attempt we’ve improved upon our preparation. We’ve a list of names, descriptions; everything we need to identify those who’ve claimed to have witnessed the kraken themselves.
* * *
Mettlesworn: You buying this round?
* * *
Weiland: With us is Sigurd Mettlesworn, legendary Corpsman from Halfaway. Which can be confirmed by these distinctive tattoos …
* * *
Mettlesworn: Thank you, barkeep. No, no he’s not bothering me.
* * *
Weiland: Sigurd! Tell me about when you saw the kraken. Or have you had the privilege of multiple sightings?
* * *
Mettlesworn: What we agreed was that I’d tell you about what I know. About the Shadow.
* * *
Weiland: Yes, the shadow, yes, go ahead.
* * *
Mettlesworn: Something sailors and airmen speak of. The sky goes dark. There are… visions. Glimpses. Sometimes, more unbelievable tales…
* * *
Weiland: Nothing you’ve experienced firsthand?
* * *
Mettlesworn: What can I say? Tales to frighten rookies. Been around for as long as I remember. The visions, the stories, are what stick with you, it’s those descriptions.
* * *
Weiland: How do you mean?
* * *
Mettlesworn: The ones that see visions… They tell of tentacled arms reaching across the sky. They see eyes the size of moons. The concept of a giant squid in the sky, you think it would be funny. What’s more absurd? But those sailors spoke like their stories haunted them. That’s what I know.
Weiland: … Yes, we call it Architeuthis obscuratus.
* * *
Flaxus: That’s, like, the kraken?
* * *
Weiland: That’s our taxonomic name. Like any other animal, the kraken should have a place on the taxonomic charts. It’s only logical.
* * *
Flaxus: What makes you think it’s an animal?
* * *
Weiland: All accounts describe a giant squid. It’s a perfectly reasonable deduction.
* * *
Flaxus: What if it’s, like, a squid god? The big squid in the sky?
* * *
Weiland: There’s no… No evidence for such a claim.
* * *
Flaxus: You got like, no evidence for anything, man. Holy sky squid. Keeping an eye on the squid world.
* * *
Weiland: This is not a productive conversation.
* * *
Flaxus: You see the sky squid and survive, you’re blessed, man. That’s what I know. Ask the pirates, they got the ballast.
* * *
Weiland: Pirates, you say! Do any frequent the Merry Grappler?
* * *
Flaxus: Sure, sure, they come to the nicer pubs to listen. For clues. Possible targets, know what I mean?
* * *
Weiland: This… is one of the nicer pubs?
* * *
Flaxus: Oh indeed! Isn’t that right, Sigurd?
* * *
Mettlesworn: So bookballoon’s back. Buying? No? Then leave me be.
Stubbs: Took a wrong turn, did ya?
* * *
Weiland: Isn’t this the Ugly Ambergris?
* * *
Stubbs: Not your type of establishment.
* * *
Weiland: My name is Issen, I collect accounts of the kraken—
* * *
Stubbs: What makes you think I’m interested?
* * *
Weiland: Can I, er, can I have a lager, please?
* * *
Stubbs: … If you bother anyone I’m throwing you out. For your own good.
* * *
Weiland: Thank you.
Oh, sir, I think this glass is dirty, look at… ah. He’s left.
Weiland: Can you say your name again, for the record?
* * *
Sixwind: They call me Sixwind. Long story. Corpsman emptied a revolver into my lungs.
* * *
Weiland: … Is that the whole story?
* * *
Sixwind: What, trying to start something?
* * *
Weiland: No! Please, don’t leave. You were telling me about the kraken…
* * *
Sixwind: It’s good business. Kraken comes, chaos follows. Easy pickings. And, if you’re lucky…
* * *
Weiland: Yes?
* * *
Sixwind: I don’t like the way you look. Has anyone told you? All that damned excitement on your face. What they call it? Animated features. Makes me want to knock it out of you.
* * *
Weiland: I’m sorry. I’ll… I’ll do what I can not to let my face, er, offend you.
* * *
Sixwind: See that you do. Now, the kraken, when it comes, people almost never expect it. But the real treasure is the kraken’s wake.
* * *
Weiland: Like behind a boat?