Nocturna League- Season One Box Set

by Kell Inkston

  Worry not, however!

  Over this time we’ve spent together, you’ve shown considerable improvement and I have many a fond thought of the various memories we’ve shared. I do want to see if you’re a bad enough lass to finish the job, so we’ll see now if you’re really as good as I know you are.

  Very soon, you will hear screaming in a certain spot in the island. Go there and defeat the warlock that will probably be resurrected by the time you get there. You’ve used my rifle before. You know what it does. Of course, you can choose to run from your youthful mistake and take a boat back to The Nocturna. You can probably see it from this distance, that majestic metallic beauty. I know you better than that, however; and I’m sure you’re going to fix the problem, probably for the better this time! I trust your decision and I know you’ll do the right thing.

  Oh, and if you brought the cheese and crackers I asked for, thank you. It was probably a very enjoyable meal, because I love cheese and crackers.

  Love,

  The Captain, now expired,

  (P.S. Drinking vinegar is a disgusting, degenerate activity reserved for children and criminals. I’m frankly completely shocked you didn’t call me out on it. You are somewhat of an idiot, Miss Ketiere. Just thought you should know.)

  Colette looks up from the letter with a completely dumbfounded expression. She sits down on a rock, reloads her gun with her remaining bullets and begins eating some of the cheese The Captain left. Staring into the distance for a full minute, The Captain’s hat upon her head at a slant, she finally speaks. “Captain, you fucking idiot.”

  The wind blows, and she’s quickly beset with a strange, out-of-nowhere headache. She braces in pain, and soon after, hears a group of screams down two miles in the distance in the forest. She knows what she must do. Starting down the peak towards the screams, she fails to inspect The Captain’s coat. Had she done so, she would have noticed an extra spool of bandages in his left inside pocket.

  How very mysterious.

  Colette does her Finest to be an Upstanding and Capable Captain of Merit

  Colette rushes through the deep woods, the sound of a screaming chorus growing ever nearer as she advances upon its position. Something’s changed in her, she’s certain of that. She feels stronger, faster, smarter… but also ascended from her previous state. She feels as though she’s something completely new. Something that has a natural authority over lesser humans- a captain. With every running step, she feels the push of something more helping her along, as if the blood of The Captain himself were inside her. Now reaching the rim of a large clearing with an encampment and ruins within, she begins entertaining the thought that by killing him, she has gained his authority by right. It is time for her to take the reins.

  Rather than going straight for The Captain’s rifle, she takes up her pistol and approaches. At the encampment, she finds dozens of men and women of all ages grasping at the dirt, curled in pain, and writhing in confusion. Colette doesn’t know why they’re like this, but she’s not going to waste the opportunity. She only has five bullets left, and there’s at least twenty of them. She mulls over her options as a distinct, powerful, salty voice rings in her mind:

  “…Fight them with your hands, Miss Ketiere…”

  She feels led, she cannot say no to the voice. She puts away her pistol and takes a deep breath. She swings around and makes herself known. Itrim, among the pain-racked Kalamests, spots her. He’s standing at a large stone coffin with four gauntlets and several magical instruments lain out over the lid.

  “Wh-what the hell are you doing here!?…” he asks, bent over the coffin in agony.

  “It’s that bitch that took the orders from that bastard,” says another, struggling to raise his knife, much less his own body from the ground.

  She pulls down the visor of The Captain’s hat not in shame, but as a sailor annoyed by the sun. “I’m The Captain now, kiddos. The gauntlets are coming with me.”

  The crowd stirs, and Itrim especially looks displeased. “N-n-…” he takes a breath as he struggles with the pain, “not… after all we’ve done! All we’ve accomplished! We’re so close!”

  Colette steps forward to Itrim and the coffin.

  “You… bastards… coming all the way here just to ruin everything for us. We were so close. We could have gotten the other pair without your help… You don’t even… Somebody, for the love of anything, stop her!” Itrim commands. One man musters the strength to take her ankle from the ground, but with equal speed she turns and slams her boot into his face. A couple of people get to their feet, doing their best to ignore the infernal pain in their heads while they step up to pick a fight with her. Their movements are too sluggish to stop Colette, however, and she ousts them back to the dirt with alarming speed. She reaches the coffin and goes right for the Gauntlets.

  Just as she touches it, her finger making contact breaks with a magic force. Colette cringes in the pain as Itrim draws back in awe. “It can’t be… Is that you, Aganoth?”

  A voice emanates from the coffin. “It is I,” the voice from the gauntlets speak: a dark, powerful tone.

  Colette attempts to take one of the gauntlets again; this time her index finger touching it is broken.

  “I can’t believe it! You’re finally here!” Itrim says to the spirit of the gauntlets.

  “How long have I been gone?” the voice asks.

  “Hundreds upon hundreds of years. Your son, Ganas, has turned the entire town against us! Now his ancestors, the Ganasteres, are taking over the island! We need your help!”

  “And just who are you?” the voice says to Itrim amidst a Colette cringing in pain, and a crowd that, regardless of their splitting headaches, are fanatical with joy.

  “Itrim Kalamest: your loyal son’s heir of many generations.”

  The voice laughs. “Excellent. Are you willing to be the vessel?”

  Itrim grips the coffin. “I am!”

  “Then wet my body and the contract will be sealed!” Aganoth's spirit commands. Itrim piles everything off the coffin lid, and pulls it off to reveal the ancient corpse of Aganoth. Just as Colette feels another powerful rush through her body, Itrim takes a dagger and slices into his hand, running blood over the length of the corpse. Everyone and everything except Itrim is blown away from the coffin; Colette is sent flying twenty meters out.

  “IT… IS… DONE!” cries Aganoth, this time out from Itrim’s own mouth. Aganoth/Itrim takes to the air with magical power as his body is consumed with mist. “NOW, I SHALL BEGIN WITH YOU, ‘CAPTAIN’,” the warlock says with an immaculate voice, the humidity in the air reverberating every syllable.

  Colette draws her pistol, and she feels uncommonly… sand-like. Aganoth flies forward as an aberration of mist and delivers a bone-crushing upper strike, which by some miracle Colette counters perfectly by swinging around and delivering her foot to the mist-beast’s face; she hadn’t even practiced the move; it’s almost as if The Captain has affected her subconscious, their muscle memories combining to create a superior seafaring predator. She fires a point-blank shot between every strike and dodge, each one hitting Aganoth with blind, reflexive, perfect accuracy. The crowd members slowly master their pain and lunge for Colette, but as the new captain, she refuses to be caught off guard. She exchanges each strike from the crowd with a perfect, practiced blow that instantly puts each enemy back on the ground with more pain than ever before. With each hit she takes from the unbelievably fast Aganoth, her reddening body only seems to increase in strength and endurance, like the insides of her body are recomposing into steel. At the same time, Aganoth becomes slower, weaker, and easier to predict.

  “I-IMPOSSIBLE! I WON’T BE DEFEATED BY A MERE SCUPPERING BARNACLE! YOUR BONES SHOULD HAVE BEEN SHATTERED IN THE FIRST STRIKE!”

  Colette thinks of a response, but her voice moves for her before she can speak. “Your first mistake was guessing that she’s the only one fighting you,” Colette says just as everyone in the crowd, amidst moaning and struggl
ing, start for Aganoth, rather than Colette.

  “WHAT ARE YOU FOOLS DOING?! WHOSE SIDE ARE YOU ON?!” Aganoth cries as he struggles against the rallying, screaming humans.

  Colette smiles a wry smirk that looks exactly like the Captain’s. “They’re on mine. They cannot defy what is inside of them.”

  Aganoth screams out in furious confusion. “THEN THEY ARE ALL USELESS, JUST LIKE YOUR DEFIANCE. LET US SEE HOW WELL YOUR VESSEL OPERATES WITHOUT A SPINE!” Aganoth exclaims as he charges a seething, accursed spell.

  “She is my ship-hand. I will ensure nothing happens to her unless absolutely necessary,” 'Colette' says, putting away her revolver and drawing The Captain’s gun: that long, strange rifle that glows a sanctified gold. Colette feels an unseen magic force attempt to break her neck, but something on the inside resists, providing a counter-force. 'Colette' pulls the trigger, firing the one, single bullet contained in the rifle, costing as much as a month’s paycheck while crewing for the Nocturna, out from the gun in a blinding flash of light. Aganoth shifts his magic to those restraining him, blowing his servants every which-way so he can dodge the shot; but this time, Colette hits who she means to. She’s certain that somehow The Captain is alive and within her, just as he’s alive within the others, but he didn’t help her aim, he knew she could do that part by herself. She become an exceptional shot, after all.

  Everyone is temporarily deafened by the absolute authority of destruction that the rifle expels, and then after a sweeping gust of wind, it clears up.

  Aganoth, his new reign of terror cut short, is presented and horrified with a hole the size of his head in his chest. The hole stretches and fluctuates as some magic presence encroaches across his body, slowly burning out his form. “H-how?!” He demands.

  'Colette' smiles. “It’s been many years since your first death, so I’m not surprised you don’t know of me. I’m The Captain: the greatest commander in history.”

  Aganoth is silent and wide-gazed as his spiritual presence disintegrates completely, leaving a bleeding, unconscious Itrim with only a common bullet hole through his stomach. All at once, all of the people sneeze out, including Colette, small black particles of sand… The Captain. The people rear back in horror having, beyond their will, turned against their own master. Without a reason to fight, they flee, leaving a bleeding Itrim, who’s just on the verge of regaining himself from Aganoth’s waning spiritual hold. Colette looks down and sees the wind blow, straight through the forest. The peculiar breeze picks up the little bits of The Captain, and he blows away somewhere— she has no idea where to. She’s like to think it’d be somewhere far off and nicer, where he won’t have to worry about The Nocturna.

  She muses briefly on just what death would be like for The Captain, when she hears a moaning from next to the coffin.

  Itrim slowly opens his eyes. “Y-you ruined… you ruined it all,” he says, grasping at his center to try and stop the bleeding.

  Colette looks away, as if she has more important things to see than him and she gives her response. “You almost ruined it for everyone, I had to. Aganoth was beyond his time, and he was supposed to stay dead. Now that he’s been dispersed for good, you can live the life you’ve always wanted to do.”

  Itrim scowls. “And what would that look like, Captain Colette?”

  She adjusts her cap smugly. “Well, what do you want to do?” She asks, looking to the sky.

  He looks aside to the ground. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll just die- that sounds okay about now,” he says with a fatalist scoff.

  “Yeah? Then let me rephrase the question. What do you really want the world to be like? What’s a world you’d like to live in look like to you?”

  Itrim laughs weakly. The answer is easy. “Better. I wish the world was a better place. I just wasted the past twenty-four years of my life, and I’m twenty-four now. I have no idea what the hell to do.”

  “You know. A wise man once told me that the world is a great painting, and if you never travel, and never read, you only get to see a single stroke of the brush,” Colette says, readjusting The Captain’s hat one more time; getting used to the feeling of it upon her head.

  Itrim is quiet as the wind blows. A moment passes, and Colette offers him the bandages she took from The Captain. As the bandages are spooled around him, another smile starts to cross his face; this smile, however, is hopeful. “I can really do anything, now. I guess.”

  She nods. “That’s right. You can go to places that have been in books— important places: where there are spiraling towers and terrible beasts. Lots of danger, but lots of treasure, and not just the kind that shines in the sunlight. It’s a mysterious life, the sailor’s, but I find myself appreciating the value of it more and more.”

  Itrim stares blankly out into the woods, and then he looks up to the sky. “You know,” he starts, “maybe that’s just what I need. Something new,” he says as Colette finishes bandaging him up.

  “Well, you know. I’ve been looking for members for my crew,” she says, delivering a superior, but compassionate glare. Itrim is silent, sitting up and looking at her. “Turns out we just lost a good man and could use a replacement,” she adds

  Finally, he nods, and smiles. “Okay. I’ll do it. I’ll join your crew. I thought my whole life’s purpose was to bring back the power of the old age, but it seems as though that’s not what I’m for; maybe if you hadn’t come, I would have succeeded. Looking back on it, I guess it’s for the best. The Ganasteres and all the islanders are afraid of the warlock. Maybe… life would be best for the most people if I were to just disappear from here.”

  Colette nods. “It would. You’re not helping anyone here. While you can just live for yourself, you might as well make yourself useful. I know it feels strange, but you’ll get used to having your individuality stepped on out in the real world.”

  Itrim chuckles, slowly taking a stand using Colette’s shoulder for support. “Yeah, alright. Let’s go to your ship… I suppose. I don’t want to spend another second here.”

  As they walk through the forest, Colette spots a wound on Itrim’s forearm. She remembers the first fight with the assailant of mist, the one she shot in the forearm. “So,” she says, “You were the one who started all of this? The one who did the kidnappings, paid off the Ganastere guard?”

  Itrim nods with a perplexed look on his features. “Yeah. It was me. I just wanted my dad to be proud of me, but he’s been dead for years now. I could’ve moved on. Really, we couldn’t have gotten the other pair of gauntlets if you hadn’t come around, the guard I paid couldn’t sneak around and extract the password from the head of the Ganasteres like that. I guess it’s best that you were here for this. Provided me with… closure, I guess.”

  Colette smiles. “Well, a new chapter of your life will begin once we get on the Nocturna,” she says, stepping out of the woods and into the town; people are still partying.

  Itrim smiles back. “Alright… I’d like that. Thank you.”

  “Sure thing… Oh, and Itrim?”

  “Yes?”

  They connect gazes. Her expression is dead serious. “That girl you kidnapped on my ship; her name’s Grancis, and she’s my best friend. If you touch her again I’ll do more than shoot you in the stomach.”

  Itrim is a little short on breath for the rest of the trip to the docks. They use Itrim’s fishing sailboat, and the strange wind blows them all the way to the Nocturna, kilometers off shore. Itrim said that he never had seen such helpful winds. They seemed almost alive.

  Jim is Almost Let Out of The Brig “or” Colette and Grancis Have a Fine Reunion “or” The Captain and Jobber Ketiere Enjoy a Grandiose Exchange of Philosophy and Tactics

  Colette and Itrim are hoisted up by some of the crew members onto the deck of The Dark Lady Nocturna, and at once everyone spots The Captain’s hat upon her head.

  “Ey, Kipper,” Dunklestein addresses with a hint of instant suspicion.

  Colette turns Itrim over into Dunk’s arms. “T
his man’s wounded. He wants to join the crew,” she says with a no-nonsense expression.

  “Why you got Cap’s cap on? You stole it?”

  Colette winces and recalls that the others don’t know. “The Captain’s dead, Dunklestein. He put me in charge. Now you will respect my authority as the new captain, or this port is where we’ll leave you.”

  Dunklestein looks confused. “Wh-what? The Captain’s dead? But I ju-”

  “Colette!” a purely feminine, entirely gentle voice calls from the cracked kitchen door.

  “Gran!” Colette rushes over and embraces her good friend, the two meeting each other half way. A grumbling Dunklestein takes the wounded man to the infirmary as Colette speaks up with her friend in her arms. “I thought you… I thought I’d lost you! When you got kidnapped I just…” Colette wipes her eyes with her coat-sleeve.

  “I’m okay. The Captain came into where I was held and he rescued me. Then he sent me back on the ship with Boris. He turned around because he said he had to help you take care of something,” Grancis says with a smile.

  Colette squints an eye in suspicion. “Wait, so he said he wanted to help me with something?” She asks as a pair of long, red crustacean whiskers poke out from the kitchen door.

  “Mhmm! Then he went on up a trail into the wo-”

  “I SEE THAT THE COLETTE MEAT IS OF THE RETURNING!” Boris proclaims as he bursts out from the door. In a second’s time, Boris breaks the five meter distance and embraces Colette richly, crushingly, and compassionately.

  “I- guh! Uh. Nice to see you too… Boris,” Colette says, feeling her spine threatened by the massive strength of twenty hardened men.

  “S-senior chef Boris! Please don’t break her! I need her unbroken!” Grancis weakly protests, pushing against Boris’ executional embrace.

  “I AM OF THE SORRY. I AM SIMPLY OF THE EMOTIONAL SEEING YOU BACK AND NOT OF THE DEAD.” Boris releases Colette, and she takes in a deep breath to make up for oxygen lost.