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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[singlemilletgrain]

It has been many years since she has seen so many dead. An unusual event, though not one entirely unprecedented. She has seen famine and war, pestilence and Catastrophe claim souls in the hundreds and thousands. She could not count the number of all those who have passed from this world in her lifetime. And yet it never did grow any easier, in any sense. She is the caretaker of the harvest, the spirit of cultivation, the anthropomorphic embodiment of sustenance and nurturing life.

She watches the proceedings with clasped hands and sighs lightly at the words spoken by the Admiral meant to convey strength and unity, to heap glory upon the deceased. She understands the need for this, the comfort it might bring. But she cannot agree.

There is nothing glorious about death. Whether one dies well or dies pitifully, all reach the same end. That is the conclusion she has come to. And that is the reason she wrote every name taken by the corruption and tied it to the guardian trees on the other banks. All were unified in death and all deserved to be remembered with dignity and honor. But it was not something she could think of celebrating.

As the proceedings disperse, Shu faces the ocean and murmurs her own prayers in her language for a considerable length of time afterwards. She concludes with a long, deep bow towards the turgid waters.

"Forgive us, those who live on. Forgive us, those who could not protect you. Oṃ vajrasattva samayam anupālaya vajrasattva..."