1001 Hespan Nights: Deadman's Curse

The odd-minded Governor rolled the words as he looked Astra up and down. The soft silk of her dress seemed to caress every curve of her bodice, the snow-white frills accentuated her golden flesh, and even her toes brought shivers to the man. He would have her, he would make it so, maybe even this very night...but first the story.

Astra continued: "In the waters of the Karib which lie to the south of my motherland... your people call part of it the Bokh'ainer... there exists the Dread Captain Davijoan. Davijoan is a man-thing of awful proportions, its head is a bulbous sack and slithering tentacles protrude wildly from it, its eyes are beady but quick, its lipless mouth seems always to be puckering, a strange melody rising therefrom, and rows of tiny sharp teeth evident. Its great hulk of a body is carried on legs like those of an urchin, pointed and venomous while its hands are more claws than not. It is said by some that the Captain was once a man, while others say it is an Elder God brought low for unspeakable acts against its own kind. Whatever the truth, it lives now in the Karib, and it seeks ever to fill its belly with human flesh. It rides the sea upon a ship of coral, a grotesque behemoth half alive, with sails made of whale skin and rigging of shark entrails. It stinks to the high heavens, but to the Dread Captain it is an aroma most pleasing. Manning the ship is a crew of lost souls - phantoms and spirits of the half-dead: men who ran afoul of the Dread Captain and made a bargain with that beast. These poor bastards now carry shells upon their backs like those of crabs and barnacles grow freely upon their skin, they are reduced to a monstrous existance, but one that seemingly cheats death."

Governor Gilder shuddered. "I have heard of this - our Hespan sailors who have had truck with the islands of the Bokh'ainer tell tale of it, they call it Captain Dahveejon and its ship the Duch Bil. They say it has a sea monster for a pet."

Astra's eyes sparkled. "Yes, but less a pet than a trained killer. We call it the Kraken and its bulk is larger than a mountain and its tendrils and tentacles longer than our rivers. It has a beaked mouth than can crush ten men in one bite. The Kraken does the bidding of the Dread Captain.

It is fortuitous that you mention your sailors for this tale involves one just ship from these lands. The Mar deOroro sailed from this very harbor many years ago and came to be in the Karib. Her captain was a seasoned man by the name of Esteve but more important was her cook, the one called Paprik.

It was a horrible stormy night when the men of the deOroro sighted a ship to the south. In the rain and dark they could not tell that the ship was not built with plank and beam. By the time they realized what was upon them it was too late. The Dhu'tchbelle fired upon the deOroro and men went to their deaths, their flesh pierced by searock, their blood let loose by eel-spurs. It only became worse when the deOroro was boarded. Many of the men ran at the sight of the deformed ghosts, a melding of skin and shell, of seaweed and linen shirt. Those that fought did so valiantly, but in vain. Within the half of the hour the deOroro succumbed. There were only five survivors, all held stiff in the briney hands of the ghastly crew. They were given the option of eternity - one man, a believer in the tree-god Alec refused and he was beheaded with a rusty nail. The others yielded to the offer, including young Paprik.

For many weeks Paprik and the other three worked upon that scalloped barge, they hoisted, they heaved, they swabbed, they oared. One fellow was too weak for it all, the work - coupled with the shock of being cursed - caused the man to crumple. His bones were thrown overboard after the Dread Captain feasted on his flesh. Paprik carried on, you see he had a lady love back home. He had a desire in his soul. He had a reason not to die. His whole attention was focused on finding a way off the ship and away from the Dread Captain.

He had already noticed that the mates would play a game on their off time, it was a game of dice and deception. He soon came to the conclusion that the game would be his salvation. It took many months but Paprik soon collected what he believed necessary to make good his escape. During these months he had witnessed many horrific sights and had engaged in murderous mayhem. Three ships of Hespan had been taken down, one ship of my own lands too was taken. The amazons were never made mates by the Dread Captain, instead, any survivors were turned into sirens of the deep.

Finally Paprik saw his chance. He played with all his wiles and won beyond his own imagining and his winnings allowed him time in the night to be free from drudgery. A storm came up that night, not that it bothered the Dhu'tchbelle but it brought low the visibility and kept the mates' attention on their chores. It was during the medusa hour, after one in the morning when Paprik lept off the ship with nothing more than a plank-raft, rope to tie himself down, and salt. Paprik had stolen the salt from one of the ships he had helped destroy, he kept it hidden for salt was a hated evil in the eyes of the Dread Captain.

Once on the open waters, Paprik paddled as hard as his encrusted legs could force themselves and by daybreak he saw land to the west. With the sun on his back he paddled even harder, exhausted though he was. Then he heard the blowhorn, it was the sound of the marksman upon the Dhu'tchbelle, he had been found out and discovered! Without even looking back he swam, he lunged his arms forward and kicked his legs furiously, all he had to do was make landfall. The horn sounded again and again; it sounded nearer and nearer, but then it fell silent. His curiousity overcame him and Paprik looked back, the ship had turned away... she wasn't chasing after him! Land was so near he could taste the sand. With joy and renewed energy he paddled and within only meters of the shore he felt victory. Then he smelled an awful odor and saw the sea about him turn black. With great terror he kicked and lunged, praying for the shore. He knew what the smell and ink forebode...it was sign of the Kraken."

Astra sighed and fell silent.

Governor Gilder at first waited, then he grew bewildered. "Well?" he said.

Astra remained quiet.

"Dammit, woman!" growled the Governor. "What happened? Did he save himself?!?"

Astra looked at the Governor: "A great roar was heard on that shore that day. When the natives left the cover of their trees and scurried onto the sands, they saw that the sea was black and they held their noses. They found an odd shell, very large and pitted and partly crushed. They found flesh within it but dared not touch it for fear of sickness. That bit of shell was lashed by rope to a wooden plank lying upon the beach, it too had curious gouges in it. But a throw away they found a broken bottle filled with salt. In the salt they found a parchment with words written on it." Astra looked intently at the Governor now. "Those words told the tale which I have just told you, Governor Gilder."

The Governor sat at first and then smiled. "You cannot expect me to believe this."

Astra smiled back. "I don't expect anything. You can believe whatever you will. As for me, it is time for my sleep."

With that the Governor left her chambers. Astra, for her part, continued to think of her own escape plan.

1. The next night, a new tale...

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