EVENT #04 - POST-WAR FUNERAL LOG

[vivalamods]

FROM THE SEA WE ARISE, FROM THE SEA WE RETURN

Whenever there is a mass casualty event, the Crimson Corsairs always follow a strict protocol. Since these events invariably occur in Flotsam, the storage of bodies in the salty sea environment the city rests upon is nigh impossible. Shipwrights and artisans from all Corsair cities work through the night, frantically creating coffins for the dead. As the Corsairs sort through the belongings and personal effects, they begin interring the bodies into the coffins within specialized cooling ships - not a long-term solution but the best that can be managed under the circumstances.

Once all the coffins are completed and the bodies gathered, the Corsairs gather in whatever is serving as Flotsam’s town square at the time. Today, as is often the case, Grand Admiral Hildegard is giving the speech, flanked by the flag of Flotsam and the admiralty council.

“Today is a day of sorrow, but also a day of triumph. For the first time ever, we met an Imperial Legion in battle. And today, we won. The foe was routed, their airships and Armors lie at the bottom of the Eternal Ocean, ripe for our salvage. The brave souls who joined the battle, knowing that it might be their last, the ones who gave absolutely everything to turn the tide and give the Crimson Corsairs a chance to triumph over the Empire’s cruelty and greed, to restoring a way of life that means more than toiling unto death, we salute!”

The admiralty council and the admiral give a sharp, military salute, that is mirrored with varying degrees of crispness by the assembled Corsairs.

“We will now begin the reading of names. When a name is read, we will release their coffin and return them to sea. From the sea we arise, from the sea we return.”

“From the sea we arise, from the sea we return,” the assembled crowd intones.

“Let us begin. Aaron Adel!”

Two workers remove a coffin from an enormous stack on a barge and send it to sea. The broken sobs of his husband can be heard as the coffin slowly makes its way out to sea, the small holes in the bottom allowing water to eventually fill it and sink beneath the waves, returning it to the Eternal Ocean.

This ceremony continues for hours. The Admiral reads steadily, her voice never wavering although she has to take frequent short breaks to drink water as she continues her grim duty. Sometimes, there are sobs as a name is read. Other times, a drink raised or the clatter of bottles. Occasionally, silence. But not a single assembled corsair leaves until the final name is called.

“Zyra Zvera.”

As the final body is cast out to sea, the Admiral lowers her head.

“We, the Crimson Corsairs, vow to carry on your fight. As you have laid down your lives for us, we know that we may someday be called to lay down our own lives. When we return to the sea, we know that we shall meet you again, to break bread and share a drink in Valhalla’s vaunted halls. To those who yet live, we thank you for your presence today. We know the souls are at peace knowing you who remain to mourn and carry on. The celebration of the dead and celebration of victory will begin now in the grand hall. I hope to see you all there.”

And with that, she turns on her heels and heads below deck, the admiralty council accompanying her. She will later reappear in the grand hall’s banquet and celebration, her face once again stern and unyielding, although the sharp eyes will note a hint of redness, artfully concealed with makeup. A mark of humanity on an Admiral that does her damndest to be the steadiest rock in the fleet.

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Comments

[achelord]

Ziel hadn't been here, he'd been in Hesaeth, fighting to make sure the Corsairs could extract all their people and resources before collapsing the mines behind them. His actions had saved dozens of miners and Corsair fighters. Several people had called him a hero.

And while he had done that, the Empire had been here, slaughtering hundreds.

He could justify it a dozen different ways, and they were all perfectly legitimate justifications. He wasn't suited for naval combat. He couldn't have changed the course of the battle by himself. His injuries were still not done healing and he couldn't strain himself too much without collapsing.

Listening to this list of names, Ziel couldn't make himself care about that. He still felt like he'd failed them. When he'd ruled the Dawnwings, he'd told himself he would die for them. Then they died and he lived. Now, once again, hundreds more had died while he'd lived. A black anger was slowly filling him with every name, equally directed at the Empire as it was at himself. Showed how much his oaths were worth.

So all he could do was stand there and force himself to listen to the entire list. It made it feel like he hadn't abandoned them, quite so much.

Once the list was done and people started dispersing, Ziel set off at a steady pace to the nearest bar so he could drink until he passed out.