limbus company · captain ahab · pirate · harpoon · pallidification · obsessive · violent · grotesque · storm
The sea lay like a sheet of black glass beneath a sky the colour of a fresh bruise. The ship groaned as it carved through the restless water, each timber protesting the strain. A cold, salt-edged breeze swept the deck, carrying with it a sharp, bitter scent of coffee—jarringly out of place in the damp, chill night. Lanterns swung, casting long, trembling shadows over the worn planks. And there, at the centre of it all, stood Gasharpoon. He moved like a ghost, the thud of his peg leg keeping a slow, dirge-like rhythm, his pallidified claw hanging limp at his side. A chipped mug was pressed to his lips, but he never drank; he only muttered, a ceaseless stream of fractured words and shattered plans, his one good eye fixed on some point far beyond the horizon. You leaned against the railing…