Thanks you two!
Time to put that little cliff-hanger I gave you all to a rest - told you it'd be out quick! So, without further adue...
Devil
The warm, murky water hit Delmaria like a brick to the face, freezing his nerves in pain. His muscles loosened as he absorbed the shock, his limbs flurrying to try and prevent him from drowning. He mustered to open his eyes, but was surrounded by a dark, cloudy brown water, swirling in it debris and chunks of unknown things. Delmaria reached up towards the surface without looking upwards, his body slowly rising towards the top. He pushed his arms and legs down to sending him upward, until he finally peaked over the water.
Delmaria's soaked head peaked out of the water, his heard and beard dripping wet. As he gasped for breath, he looked at his surroundings - a dim, large, dome shaped room, the rotunda of black stone reaching overhead. Above him was the hole where he fell down from, the black abyss staring back at him. The water line against the walls of the room had little sewers leading to it, some of the bars completely bent and broken open. In the center of the room was, of all things, a sand bar, which filled the entire center of the room. Delmaria scooped up his hat, which floated next to him, and cautiously eased his way towards dry land.
As his feet climbed him up on to the little island, he realized just how deep the waters in the room were. A normal structure like this in a sewer system would stretch maybe ten feet, but he could tell the floor of this place reached down, far down, a few stories, at least. As he was completely out of the water, he shivered, not by the fact he was soaked, but because of the eeriness of the room.
He sat turned around looking back to the spot where he had landed, and sighed. He still was unaware why he chose to come here, although an overpowering urge was ringing in the back of his head to do so. All of a sudden, he realized that just a few feet to the side of him was a skeleton, draped in a long, purple robe. He wandered over to it, and knelt down, to inspect it.
Delmaria could feel something strange as his fingers ran over the corpse. It was that same feeling he got every time he just so happened to rub shoulders with Grace while she walked through the hull of the ship. It was a tingling sensation, but this time, it was greater. He could feel a pulsating his hands, like something were flowing from the bones, through him. He rolled the body over, but jumped up in a gasp. That same thick, putrid, yellow, green, and purple puss that covered the bodies of the skeletons covered the face of this one, freezing his face as though he were screaming in terror. Delmaria looked at the badge over where his heart should have been, where its name was written in a lost language. Yet he knew that this was the man he had come down here to kill. So if he wasn't running this all, then who was?
Delmaria suddenly felt a shake down his spin. He stood up slowly, as a voice called from behind him. "Hello Delmaria."
1
Delmaria turned to a tall, old, handsome man, with short white hair that hugged the top of his head, and a small white beard. His skin was almost red, a black robe that hung from his shoulders, down his body. His eyes bore in to the pirate in a dark, empty manner, their red, evil tint staring in to him. His face was aged and cracked, but it still had the vitality of a wise, able man. He took a few steps towards Delmaria, before extending out a hand. "Welcome to my domain." he smiled.
Delmaria was firm, yet terrified. He sucked up, and stared down the figure. "Are you who I think you are?"
The man tilted his head at the pirate. "Well, it depends on how you think of me, doesn't it?" The figure then turned his head away from the pirate, and snapped his fingers. Slowly, Delmaria could see the sand in front of him begin to part, and rise. A flat, brown surface came out of it, spilling the sand to it's sides as it rose. It was a table, lifting out of the ground, accompanied by two chairs, one on each side. The man slowly took his seat, and gestured to Delmaria. "Sit, please."
Delmaria walked over to chair and eased his way in, never taking sight off the man. He wiggled in to his chair, before slinking his body forward and leaning back. He crossed his arms and questioned, "Why have you brought me here?"
The man chuckled. "Same reason I bring all people here. It is for a purpose."
"And I suppose that purpose is service?" Darkskull asked.
"Who says you don't serve me already?"
Delmaria fell silent. He knew that he wouldn't win this battle if he started one, but if he was dead, he wanted the answers he had been waiting for his entire life. "If we're playing question and answer, then, answer this; why have you played your games with my life?"
The man giggled again, in his rough, dark voice. "I play games with the lives of all people. Like on Earth, some toys are more enjoyable than others to play with, and you, sir, are definitely up there."
Delmaria stormed up, but the man reached out his arm and thrusted his hand downward, forcing Delmaria telepathically to sit. Darkskull was shocked, mystified, but he struggled not to show it. "There's no need for that, hm? I'd hate to break my favorite toy."
Delmaria leaned back again, in a frustrated, angry huff. "Why haven't you taken my soul yet?" he asked him.
"Because you are not ready, nor ripe for the picking." The man said. "All lives have a certain destiny they are to fulfill - of course, how you get there is completely up to you. If one can reach that destiny before their time is up, they may live, or die, depending on how I see fit. If one fails to - well" he snickered, "that's when I have my real fun."
"So where am I?"
The man leaned over the table. "You, fine sir, are...." the man instantly looked as though he were very serious, and angry. "You're not going as planned."
Darkskull's heart skipped a beat. Looking in to the soul-stealing eyes of this man, stern as stone, he couldn't tell whether it was proper to celebrate, or be afraid on a further scale. Instead of taking the opportunity to make a smart remark, he sat still, not choosing to do anything that could be interpreted as an insult. It was one of the rare times in his life where he would be submissive to another. Yet upon realizing sitting there would only bring about a closer death, he asked another question. "So, if I was clearly not meant to kill that voodoo priest you have on the floor behind me, then why am I here?"
"Numerous reasons. Self-vengeance, anger, retribution- oh, I assume you mean why I brought you here?" the man smiled again, but his attempt to make Delmaria lose his strictness was at a loss. "I had no such hand in the matter, my friend. I let my victims come to me, so then I can
really watch them suffer. It's much more fun that way."
"Then answer me this - what is Jolly Roger doing?"
The man chuckled, once more. "Ah, Roger. That's a fine soldier, indeed. He's guaranteed himself that he serves no man, but in the end, all villains are but disciples in my army. Each of them has played such a vital role in history, and will play a role in history in the future. A man set out to conquer the world... a man set out to kill all in his path... a man to brainwash the masses... ah, yes. But, I get ahead myself, don't I?
"Each and every villain in this world works under his own mystique, not mine directly - oh, you get that by now, hmm? Well, Roger is a complex one. Most men are revived by jealousy, greed, or any of that. But Roger, he is driven purely by hatred, and hatred embedded in his soul. He wants something out of everyone, but nothing in particular, the true symbol of a tyrant. The world will be his, or at least, the world of pirates. And he's devoted to that, surely."
"So what does kidnapping civilians have to do anything with this?"
The man wandered his eyes around the room, before returning them to the captain. "Each one of them is in blood with people that have wronged him in the past, yes?"
"Aye."
"Well, I'll put it simply. Each person is like a structure; they are at the top, and supporting them are their closest friends and relatives. Take away them, and the structure becomes weaker and weaker, until it finally chooses to collapse in on itself. Funny how weak your souls really are. It's already shown - one official in New Orleans, whose wife's corpse sits right about our heads, has already claimed his own life. I'm sure he'll be glad to know they aren't in the same place." He then cackled a sinister, diabolical laugh, humored as though what he said was a self-pleasing joke.
Delmaria's body shaked with rage, as thoughts of his own family coursed through his veins. He saw his son, his mother - and his wife. Delmaria slammed his hand on the table, shutting up the figure, and leaned over. "Where is my wife."
"Haha, oh, I'm afraid I can't tell you that. But at least you have a fifty-fifty chance, my friend!"
Delmaria had enough. He whipped out his pistol with a quick bolt, and closed his eyes, shooting a bullet in to the heart of the man himself. He could hear the ring pierce and echo through the room, and waited for it to be overpowered by the sound of the fury of the eternal man coming to damn his soul. But he heard nothing, and felt nothing. And when he opened his eyes, he saw nothing.
As Delmaria opened his eyes, he looked around. He was on his knees, in the middle of the sandbar. He held no gun in his hand, and there was no table, or man in sight. He turned around, hoping to confirm his sanity with the moss-covered corpse of the mystic, but it was not there either. It was only him, the sand, the sewage, and the darkness. He was alone, and so was his mind - was it really all in his head?
"CAPTAIN!" an echo ran through the room. He watched as the hole from which he came through dropped down a rope, which hit the water. He slowly came to his feet, and headed towards it. His body shivered and ached, in pain, and in uncertainty.
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The shortest chapter of this entire thread, but I'm still confident it was one of the most indepth. Rest assured, the 20-pagers will be returning real soon
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Thanks mates!