Nocturna League- Season One Box Set

by Kell Inkston

  A Peculiar Happenstance and Talking Things

  This chapter upon the M.S. Nocturna begins calmly enough. It is a quiet evening, the green sun bending over the misted horizon. Grancis and Boris are quietly maki-

  “BE OF THE SMASHING, COOK MEAT! BE OF THE DESTROYING!” Boris yells as a twelve-legged mammal-like insect scrambles about the floor wildly, screeching arcane curses as it rushes for a hiding place.

  “Got it!” the apprentice says. Grancis, now a trained killer when it comes to using cooking utensils, tosses a spice jar to stun the two-mouthed horror just long enough for her to bring her pan to the floor with absolute, cast-iron judgment. The creature squirms under the pan, speaking of an incomprehensible, unbearable death for Grancis as she slams the pan down once more, finishing the creature and lining the underside of the pan with greyish gore. With not even a squeamish gasp, she raises up the corpse, places it in the pan, and brings it to Boris. “Here you are, sir,” she says with a wince; she can do it easily now, but that doesn’t stop it from being ridiculously weird.

  “YOU ARE WELL OF THE DOING, COOK FOOD! THE MANY-LEGGED BEAST FOOD MAY BE OF THE QUICK RUNNING, BUT YOU HAVE BECOME OF THE QUICKER WITH THE PANNING AND THE SMASHING. I AM OF THE PROUD,” an emotional Boris says, embracing Grancis and forcing all the air from her lungs.

  “Th-thanks, sir,” she says with a bearing smile. She’s quite used to this by now.

  Boris turns about and after smashing the creature to a more-complete pulp, scrapes it into the pot and stirs with a massive claw. “DON’T BE TELLING THE CAPTAIN THAT THIS WAS OF THE HAPPENING. HE IS OF THE STERN WHEN HIS FTHHOGANOTHS AREN’T OF THE MOST FRESH- HE IS OF THE ENJOYING WHEN HE POPS THEM HIMSELF,” the massive red Boris says, waving his claw about in warning.

  Grancis smiles awkwardly at the thought of The Captain manifesting teeth from his body of sand and crushing something as small and cute as a Fthhoganoth. “O-oh, I see. Okay.” She takes up a fishing rod, a harpoon, and a bucket containing some unknown squirming bait, and she exits to the outside deck to get another little beasty. The twilight of the day looms over the sky and the deep blues and grays are preluding the great starless black that waits just around the corner, like a death sentence of dread.

  Not many people are around, as usual. The outer deck becomes an unpopular place once the sun has gone; people, even sea sorts know that’s where it gets really weird. She hooks a squiggling, cursing monstrosity, looking more like an internal organ with teeth than anything, and she casts her line out over the deck. A few seconds pass, and she sees the water below the Nocturna change shades- something gigantic is below them. She smiles sheepishly down at the water as a thousand eyes open to stare up at her.

  Colette, toweling off after a workout, passes by and spots Grancis. “Well hey,” she says, rubbing her face into the towel as she dries her short, fairy-like locks of blond.

  Grancis’ smile instantly becomes genuine. “Oh, Colette! Hello,” she says, looking back to the shadowy monstrosity below in the water.

  Colette takes one look over the deck and winces. “W-wow.”

  Grancis nods. “Mhmm. I’ve seen a few of these while fishing for Boris. They start talking after a while. Once I heard one speak a full sentence,” she says with a pure interest.

  Colette ranges back, tightening her grip on the railing. “I see. So uh… Why are you out here?”

  “Like I said. I’m fishing for some ingredie-”

  “Help,” a voice comes from below, the beast’s many eyes staring at the two young ladies. “Pull up.”

  “Ho-holy shit!” Colette leans back, doing her best to stay as far away from the thing over the deck as possible, while still holding onto the railing should a tentacle come reaching out. The creature’s voice was not human-sounding. It was blunt, with improper emphasis on certain syllables- as if an animal were just mimicking what it heard from its master.

  “Please,” it says again, slowly reaching out an ink-black tentacle towards the two. “Pull up.”

  Colette holds her breath in horror as Grancis laxly takes up the harpoon and impales the dark tentacle, just a meter from her feet. The beast squeals in pain and retreats back to the depths, oil-like blood reflecting off the dreary deck lights. Grancis neatly places the harpoon aside and recasts her line. Colette just stares in shock as her best friend hooks a catch and pulls up a strange, furry insect… fish thing.

  “So, how was your training today?” Grancis asks, tossing the little horror for safekeeping.

  Colette takes one last look at the water and nods. “It was… good. Been having a little trouble sleeping though— some weird dreams.”

  Grancis raises a brow and lays a motherly gaze on her friend. “Eh? Well you really shouldn’t drink so much coffee. There’s a lot of beverages out here, but you know I don’t think our bodies are quite used to it yet.”

  Colette averts her gaze with a scoff. Grancis has a point. Back at the village the only thing they had to drink was water and tea. “Thanks, Gran, but I need it to get through the day,” she says while creeping away from the railing.

  Grancis shrugs. “If you say so. Just drink lots of water, alright?”

  Colette nods, spins her towel up into a more-manageable shape and sets off toward the mess hall/bar. “Sure thing. See ya’.”

  “Bye,” Grancis says, leaning onto the railing and watching squirming, toothed eels travel through the water in a pack, just a centimeter below the surface. A long, tolerant smile crosses her face. As unnerving as all these underwater beasts might be, she does appreciate the visits, even if they just care about her because they want to eat her. Grancis takes a quick take over her shoulder and spots Colette entering the mess hall. Grancis sighs and decides to get back to her line. Only seconds later, a man pushes his way out of the living quarter doors- Grancis has seen him before, but never like this. His face is now dark, sunken, and his eyes are wide with horror. He takes lumbering, trembling steps as he goes onto the main deck, as if walking up to a noose. The sailor stops at the railing, right where Colette was standing just a minute ago.

  “The bells,” he says. His voice strikes Grancis as the voice a man would sound after realizing how terrible this world truly is.

  “What’s the matter there, sailor?” She asks with her go-to disarming smile; she’s found people tend to enjoy seeing you if you act like you enjoy seeing them.

  His eyes are still focused down into the depths, now a pure, consuming inky blackness- even a meter below the deck lights cannot pierce through the water- anything could be waiting down there. “The sunken bells, they call for me…” His gaze is not lifted from the water- he watches with complete intent, the one point of his focus.

  “O-oh… What bells?” She asks.

  “The bells… the deep cathedral. I must be taken… I will be taken. The drowned lungs sing out for me.”

  Grancis has a bad habit of smiling more whenever she’s disturbed- she’s grinning ear to ear now. “Taken? I don’t think that’s-”

  “The time has come. I commit my soul to you, God of The Drowned.” The sailor starts tilting over the railing, eyes still focused on the consuming dark below.

  Grancis tosses her rod aside and grabs onto the man’s legs. “Captain!” she calls out. The man, years over her and a lifter no less, shakes her off and shoves her onto the deck with ease. “I will be taken.” He says, grasping the railing again. Just as he lifts to send himself over, he feels the deft, shifting grasp of bandaged hands wrapping around his body.

  “Good evening, Mister Turranine, Miss Vereyrty. What might be the matter? Certainly there’s no form of degeneracy taking place, is there?” The Captain says like a creeping shroud of authority. Neither of the humans even heard him approach- it’s somehow both terrifying and comforting, knowing your commander can hear you from just about anywhere on the ship and be upon you in the next moment.

  “Captain, this guy tried to jump overboard!” Grancis starts brushing herself off, looking up with determination. />
  “Oh? Is this true, Mister Turranine?” The Captain unhands Jess Turranine, and the man swings around to meet The Captain face to face.

  “No, sir. Just a little drunk is all. She was under the impression I was going to off myself or some rubbish like that,” Jess says, appearing as normal as he can.

  The Captain looks over to Grancis, and she shakes her head. “N-no! Captain! He was about to jump in! I swear!”

  “You’re sure about this?”

  Grancis nods. “Absolutely, he said some-”

  “Rubbish. Only a drunken sailor’s… Oh my, here it comes again.” Jess interrupts Grancis as he leans over the railing and empties his stomach into the drink; Grancis is surprised- maybe he really is drunk.

  The Captain nods upon seeing Jess’ “outburst”. “Very well.” He turns to Grancis. “I applaud your initiative, Miss Vereyrty, but it seems as though he truly is just inebriated.”

  Grancis nods, gaze pointed straight at her feet. “Yes, sir.”

  Jess scoffs and turns to leave to the mess hall, gently pushing Grancis aside with his shoulder. “You best learn to stay outta other’s businesses, lass,” he says.

  Grancis nods again and after a moment, takes up her rod.

  The Captain inspects her demeanor and then gives her a pat on the shoulder. “You did the right thing, Miss Vereyrty. Be sure to let Doctor Estradia or myself know if you see him act amiss again.” The Captain points his finger aside casually as he steps from the railing and to the mess hall. Grancis smiles, says “thanks” and realizes that she needs to sneak this catch to Boris in time.

  Dinner is enjoyed by all but two that night. Grancis, paying close attention, notes that, unlike the others with cooked dishes, The Captain bites into the small, fuzzy live thing with his teeth of black sand- it popped and, like a balloon, her apatite flushed out like the air. There’s something truly horrible about seeing The Captain eat something, when those white bandages press aside to allow the food through, watching it struggle under the grasp of the black sand. She feels like he’s not something that should need food, or even be able to eat, and yet there it goes, that poor, scary little animal, engulfed and crushed all at once. She stares wide eyed at The Captain with a cold sweat, until the other person who has a less-than-stellar dinner sits up from his corner.

  Boris tries for the first time in years to take up the piano and play Arpeden No. 8, the Captain’s favorite piece. The piano breaks instantly.

  Silly Boris: you can’t play the piano with claws.

  A Cold Realization, and Considerable Spookery

  After supper it’s business as usual. Crew members are delegated to their cabins after the night bell is wrung. Colette and Grancis are in the common cabin, filled with all manner of men, fish-men, and fish; even that doesn’t explain everything living in the bunks in that room.

  Grancis lays herself into her cozy hammock, in a pair with Colette who is at the front so that she can accept all challengers who would strike in the night. Grancis cuddles in with her stuffed octopus, Colette descending into her bunk right after, and after a moment of staring up at the ceiling, roll call begins. Their names are called by Dunklestein, and they give their answers. He goes down the list of names.

  “So, how was the fishing?” Colette asks.

  Grancis hums. “Short, I just had enough time to get Cap’s for the night. Some guy was drunk.”

  “Jack Backhem?” Dunklestein calls.

  “Here,” Jack, a man with a sea lamprey for an arm, responds.

  “Drunk?” Colette says. “Did he do anything?”

  “Tried to kill himself… I think,” Grancis answers.

  “Nert Bertaloux?” The next on the list is called.

  “Oi, here.”

  “Kill himself? Holy shit… was he like, depressed?” Colette asks.

  Grancis shrugs. “I don’t know. He kept going on about some b-”

  “Jess Turranine?” Dunklestein calls. The cabin is silent. “Jess Turranine? You here?” Dunklestein calls out again. Another pause. “Anybody seen him?”

  “I saw him at dinner.”

  “Yeah, me too,” a couple of voices respond in the dark.

  Dunklestein sighs. “Hey, Captain.”

  The wind blows, and everyone can hear someone speak from the other end of the cabin door. “Dunklestein?” The suave, thoughtful, voice of The Captain chimes in.

  “Did you see Jess recently?”

  “I didn’t. I assume he’s not in the cabin?” The Captain asks.

  Dunklestein takes one last look over to Jess’ empty bunk. “No.”

  “Most concerning. I’ll take a look around. I’ll ensure he’s promptly punished once I find him. He should know what happens to sailors outside the living quarters after curfew.”

  There’s a conjoined sighing and cringing, everyone in the cabin remembering the one and only time they had broken a rule on the Nocturna. Everyone save Grancis- she’s a good girl, really.

  “W-well good luck, Cap,” Dunklestein says with a hint of forced professionalism.

  “Thank you. Good night, everyone,” The Captain says, turning from the door.

  “Night, Cap’!”

  “Sweet dreams, Captain.”

  “Hope you find ‘em, Cappy!”

  “Stay cozy, Cappin’.” A group of at least a dozen voices respond with more tenderness than a hardened sea dog like Dunklestein finds appropriate. He sighs and takes up his own bunk.

  Grancis turns to Colette. “Jess, that’s the guy that tried to jump in.”

  Colette furrows her brow. “You don’t think that… Naw, he’s probably just sleeping at the bar…” Colette yawns. “No big deal. Goodnight.”

  “Night, Colette, hope you have good dreams.”

  “Thanks, hopefully the night bell will be the last I hear tonight,” Colette says, snuggling into her blanket complete with her knife kit in case of an ambush.

  Both Grancis’ gaze and smile widens at the utterance. “W-wait, what? Bells?”

  “Nothing, just something from the dreams. Ni-”

  “W- a-are you being called?” Grancis mutters.

  Colette looks over her shoulder with a weary distaste. “Am I what?”

  Grancis clears her throat. “Eh, n-nothing, sorry.”

  Colette stares at Grancis a moment and then shakes her head. “Get some sleep, Gran.”

  “Y-yes ma’am.”

  “Don’t call me ma’am, Gran. You’re older than me.”

  “Sure… goodnight,” Grancis says, a sense of impending tragedy overcoming her. Colette turns into her pillow, and in but a minute, she’s out and snoring loudly. Grancis on the other hand cannot bring herself to sleep.

  There’s that rare chill in her spine, when she knows something’s wrong, and that it endangers those she cares about. She needs to tell someone about Colette’s dream: the bells, just like Jess. Perhaps Colette’s on the same path. She needs to know. In the chorus of snoring, she mulls over her options. She could wake up Dunks and ask him, but he probably wouldn’t even know. She’d also wake up everyone. Would it be worth embarrassing Colette and herself? There must be a better way.

  Slowly, grievously, she turns and looks to the door, the porthole showing just a glint of the cold deck lights outside. She could talk to The Captain, but would he allow the exception? Surely if it were a life or death situation … She thinks on it and sighs. No, she couldn’t risk it. Perhaps Doctor Estradia; she’s never met him before, but she hears he’s awake all night in the infirmary. As the resident psychologist, he would know if there’s some connection, surely. She’s made her decision- even the chance that Colette’s in danger is enough reason to take action. Grancis slips into the wall-side of the bunk, compressing herself to squeeze through the slight notch of space. She then creeps below along the floor and across the room.

  The bunk of Dunklestein, the world-class light sleeper himself, is right next to the door to the outside. Quite witty of The Captain to put him there as an al
arm system in case the sailors try to ditch their bunks to sneak into the bar, or perhaps take a chance to steal one of the fabled lower decks keys. Grancis is not trained in espionage arts, so the best she can manage is to creep up to the door, and very, very slowly turn the handle.

  *cl-cl-cl-click*

  Dunklestein snorts in his sleep. “Y-yeah girl… shake that fin, deeeyam,” he mutters as he rolls over on his pillow. Grancis smiles and her brow raises awkwardly as she creeps out the door. It’s cold tonight and the deck lights have been lowered as the cruising speed has gone down. Grancis makes a cautious shoulder check to ensure no one’s around before she starts for the infirmary. Her footsteps are perfectly silenced, arching into each movement as she gradually makes her way around to the front deck and up the steps. Grancis sees a light in the infirmary- probably the only light that’s still on in the whole ship. She sneaks up to the door and in a moment of supreme coldness, realizes it’s locked. She’ll have to knock… quietly. She checks her surroundings once again - still no Captain in sight. She forces a smile, lying to herself that he’s probably happy with that single go around to find stragglers and is now snoring in his quarters… or whatever he does when he sleeps.

  Another quick chill runs along Grancis. She doesn’t even know if The Captain sleeps; probably not.

  With mechanical poise, she raises her knuckle to the infirmary door and knocks. A few seconds pass, and her face is bumped by the opening door.

  An electric eel seasort with a small pair of spectacles and a lab coat peeks his head out from the door. “Who is…” He sees her rubbing her face at his knees. His eyes glint. “Oh! One of the human girls!” He opens it wider. “Please come in, my dear primate, what can I help you with today?”

  Grancis can spot a weirdo from a mile away, and this guy’s got all the boxes ticked off.

  She takes to her feet and smiles disarmingly, putting her foot in the door with the gentleness of a butterfly’s landing. “I’m terribly sorry. I’m Grancis Vereyrty and I need your help.” The clinic is warm, well-lit, overwhelmingly themed in white, but something strikes Grancis as the sort of place she wouldn’t like to spend much time in.