WILL THE SHARK DROWN

[Masouri 2735]

WILL THE SHARK DROWN

“A SHARK WHO STOPS SWIMMING, SINKS”

 

 

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It was a sunny day in the capital city of Haense, the streets were bustling with townsfolk and the markets with bartering merchants. Things were as usual as any other day in the Kingdom, the tavern was exceptionally busy. The merry chants of drunken men and women could be heard as the place bustled with joy and glee. 

 

Until uneasiness befell all within.

 

The tavern goers of that eve felt their chests instantly tighten; a fear beginning to sprout. Worried eyes shot around, noticing others alike to themself were on edge too – worry worsening as the tavern was getting colder and colder. Many townsfolk wore confused expressions as some peered outside to only see the sun at its peak. What in GODs name is going on?

 

 

---

 

 

Ser Belisar, a young knight, would twitch as he froze in shock and fear. Distant sounds of whispers grew louder and louder within his mind. He glanced around quickly to see if someone was playing a trick upon him, but he only saw concerned stares. Something was wrong, something unholy was occurring. 

 

The whispers grew louder and louder until it sounded as if the entire tavern was screaming into his ear, yet he could not make out what they were saying, but some yelled in horrific pain and suffering. Suddenly the voices ceased in an instant. His heart was beating rapidly wondering what just happened. He looked towards his peers as he froze once again. Ser Belisar would hear it, that mocking laughter. A sense of dread and dizziness washed over, he knelt down to the ground as he felt a heavy weight upon him. The knight’s veins began to pop visibly as they turned black, he mouthed words but there was no sound.

 

“What is happening?” he thought, his vision blurred before the ominous laughter boomed within his mind. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, his entire body felt light as though he were in water, he was beginning to lose consciousness as the sensation flooded him. It was as if he was drowning.

 

Suddenly he awoke. He was alone. Darkness surrounded him, he looked around but could see nothing. After a few moments he began to hear a whisper, but this time a familiar voice beckoned him. It couldn’t be who he thought it was, but he had to make sure. 

 

The knight’s journey now began, traversing the void he’d been damned to.

 

 

“Belisar…” The voice echoed from within the darkness, each syllable a haunting familiarity. As he moved forward, the silhouette of his lost friend, Alexander, emerged. A rare smile broke across the knight's face as he embraced his fallen brother. For a fleeting moment, he was freed from his perpetual torment. “I’m sorry, I’ve failed you,” he whispered, tears cascading down his cheeks.

 

“You did, Belisar. I would be alive if it was not for you.”

 

Alexander's voice, now warped and sinister, erupted into ominous laughter. His eyes flickered between gray and a menacing red. In the oppressive blackness, those demonic eyes were all the knight could see. “Show yourself,” he commanded, his voice wavering, betraying his usual stern demeanor. The eyes hovered in the dark before lunging at him, and the darkness swallowed him whole. Dragged deeper into the void, he gasped for air but found none. Helpless, the knight was suffocated by the abyss, his eyes shutting as his life force ebbed away. 

 

“Belisar, take cover!”

 

He awoke within a dream, a realm of death masquerading as familiarity. BOOM! His plate armor was struck by a warhammer, the impact crushing his chestplate and sending him sprawling. “Belisar! Watch out!” Alexander's voice rang out amid the chaos. BAM! Another strike sent him hurtling back into the void. The pull of the abyss deepened, his breathing grew labored. Visions of the past consumed his mind.

 

“Belisar…” 

 

A gentle, nurturing voice called out. “Mother?” he responded, finding himself in his family’s castle, Mortevskan. His sisters played nearby, their laughter a distant melody, and his father looked on with a stern but loving gaze. His mother appeared before him, her embrace bringing a fleeting respite from his suffering. The warmth of her touch and the familiar scents of home filled him with a bittersweet longing.

 

“This is an illusion, a dream.”

 

He recoiled from his mother’s embrace. Her form shattered, morphing into a horde of demons encircling him. Their grotesque forms twisted and snarled, their eyes gleaming with malevolent glee. He stood his ground, his sword drawn, facing the encroaching darkness. Each demon's face seemed to mock him, reflecting his deepest fears and regrets.

 

“You thought you were loved?”

 

The demon taunted in his mother’s voice, the words dripping with venom. His resolve faltered, insecurities gnawing at his strength. The demons lunged from all sides, overwhelming him with a relentless onslaught. Once more, he was plunged into the suffocating depths of the darkness, his breath slipping away, the weight of his torment pulling him ever deeper.

 

 

“Can you not swim?”

 

The voice of his drowned friend, Petyr, echoed in Belisar’s mind. The current pulled him farther from the banks of the darkness where his living family and friends stood. He turned to face Petyr, who sat upon a spectral boat, observing the struggling knight with a cold, detached gaze. Desperation drove Belisar to swim closer, reaching out for his friend's help, his muscles straining against the relentless current.

 

“You will drown, just as I did.”

 

Petyr's voice was a hollow whisper as he uncloaked himself, revealing a grotesque visage: his face was half-fish, half-human, infested with sea creatures and encrusted with barnacles. The young shark’s heart pounded with a mix of fear and determination as he fought with all his will to reach the banks. Each stroke became more labored, the weight of the water pressing down on him, his armor dragging him deeper. The current, relentless and uncaring, continued to push him out into the distance, tiring him with each passing second.

 

As the banks of the river slowly disappeared from his sight, swallowed by the encroaching darkness, he felt his strength ebbing away. His limbs grew heavy, his movements sluggish. He began to sink, his life essence slowly draining in the mortal world. Voices filled his head, a cacophony of jeers and taunts from all the demons who had haunted him. Their mocking laughter intertwined, creating a symphony of torment that echoed in the abyss. 

 

 

Drowning in a pith of endless darkness, as touting souls, and screaming voices ushered in this eternal void, a raucous, gravelly, and hideous voice spoke out; it was overbearing, and could be heard from beyond the shrieks of deceased men and women beset by the foul demon. "This truculent nightmare. I pity you," drawled the aged, and wise tone, as though it had lived through many years, and was filled by a breadth of experience.

 

In the coming seconds, the darkness of the void shifted into a crude taint of crimson-red, as if the world was filled by a pool of blood. At the center of Belisar's periphery, he would gaze upon the large, grotesque, and unkindly form of an owl, its eyebrows crooked into a hideous leer. There was an otherworldly presence that escaped the features of the all-knowing owl, "We can make a deal," soothed the words of the devilish-owl, whose words were filled by a certain venom.

 

Belisar felt something tugging at his soul, incoherent drab voices of the deific owl erupting in his ear, before jolting him awake. 

 

 

Spoiler

Thanks @Petsch2kfor the roleplay and everybody involved. This is a narrative post, so please don't metagame my greatest fears...

 

[DahStalker 3692]

Yvaine Conradine stood wordlessly, for only a moment as she regarded that fallen Ork, jaw churned with hatred. She knew the race to be ignorant, but to crack a man’s neck, at the plead of others. The common woman bid Gentry a brief slap of their hands in mute victory, heading back to the City with her Brothers in tow. 
 

She would not sleep well that night with the cries of Tatiyana in her head, tormented by them. She prayed she would never have to stand in her position as an elder sibling - to see the younger suffer. 

[GMRO 6187]

Ser Rickard Tosali Ruthern puffed cigarettes in a faraway land, worrying on behalf of his storied children, including Belisar.