Prologue
This is merely a fan fiction and I do not own a copyright over anything (at least not the things that I'm writing about)
For once, his life seemed calm, the only sound was the water, a faint pitter-pater of droplets on the cold metal Floor and the rhythmic slosh of foamy water against the stalwart hull, this seemed true, then why is isn't it. He suddenly felt a sickening lurch in his stomach as memories flooded into his now lucid mind. Muscles stiffened; quickly he shot off the floor. Equilibrium quickly restored itself to his rapidly shifting body as he scanned his surroundings and matched them to memory. His body relaxed as he deeply observed his world.
It was dark near pitch, even to the adjusted eye. Mere shapes of large dark brown crates encircled him in the void like darkness. The ground was a dark grey nearly black steel tiling. The walls were no different in this underworld except with girders visible throughout like ribs of a whale. The rats frequented the small clearing he slept leaning on a crate in; funny how they weren't there when he first arrived but now are, stowaways stick with stowaways it seems.
The sudden outburst of movement caused by the man seemed to cause fright in the groups of wretched vermin. There shrieks of protest were familiar but nonetheless grating to the man, but after that the vermin kept their distance for a while. In his present state of mind he could not care at all; his mind was quickly enveloped by guilt and the past. His body leaned back onto the crate, and then slowly he slid back down to a sitting position. His eyes, glazed over stared out into the dark void stretched out before him, the abyss. All that was left for him after all he had done was to reflect over his failures and regret his wrath.
He had been sleeping there with his grey jacket; it kept him "warm", the hood was up to help obstruct his face. All he had with him was a dagger, the clothes on his back, and three provisions in his satchel, food, water, and money. He had found the dagger a while back, he liked because it was light, and sharp, but what he liked the most about it was the lack of stains on the blade. The rest of the things that he had, are for the most part irrelevant, except the money of course, 800 coins of it, more than enough to bribe silence out of any sailor, and maybe even a captain. It was simple, all the bribe required was that you toss ten or twenty every now and then and it seemed to be sufficient for the crew.
This voyage was one of the last vessels out of Dunwall to Pandiisia. "The Wailers Hope" was its name of the ship ironically. More importantly it was an escape from Dunwall for all aboard the vessel. Some like this man have their own private reasons, but most if not all are escaping certain death from a city being torn apart externally by plague and internally by a power vacuum in a government corrupted to its core. The imperial line is dead and the last two regents have been killed along with a large portion of the ruling class of the city, noble and religious. Almost all the lower class and most of the middle class are dead from plague. The remaining survivors are fighting over the last scrapes as the finale vestiges of civilization collapse on top of them. It is only a matter of time before the city and most if not all inhabitants are dead.
Already he knew that it had to been at least a week since he embarked on this voyage. He sat there for what must have been hours; he could no longer tell whether it was night or day. His mind so far had been as if on a piece of debris floating on a sea of guilt and self-loathing, but not in these long periods of solace from the world only interrupted by dreamless sleep and biological necessities. He lost his hold of the debris and has been drifting further and further as he treads water. Soon he feels, he knows, he will lose strength, sink, and then drown. The strength to swim is waning and his dagger has started to look enticing.
He remembers what happened to him six and a half months ago, the fingers of his right hand twitch. The death of an empress, his eyes wander downward. The kidnaping of the heir, his eyes lock upon the hilt of the dagger, hidden in his jacket. The framing of the crime, his hand slowly crept up to the now exposed hilt. The Imprisonment, torture, and dishonor, his hand shakily grasps the hilt. The bloody vengeance, his hands grip firms. Betrayal, slowly the blade lifts out the sheath. Just the nature of man, the daggers blade seems to shimmer in the darkness. A blade, the blade covered in the fresh blood of the assassin, in his outstretched arm the daggers blade takes a warm inviting, ethereal glow, a glow that promises. Burn them Pierro, he holds the dagger up to his neck, his hand is shaking. At the lighthouse, for blood, for her, grip firms. The last screams of Emily Kaldwin as she plummets to her death" Corvoooo!" Corvo plunges the dagger into his neck. A laugh from the void reverberates throughout the cargo hold.
Corvo awakens to a loud, long, and pained creak. A creak, that of a door with rusty hinges makes when opened. The laughter of the Outsider himself echoes in his mind
Authors note:
This is my first story so please be gentle. Now that I have that out of the way, I would like to say that Pandysia will not be the elemental continent that would be stupid and sorry other people who have or have already done that I'm calling you stupid unless of course you make it work, then I will give you a hand shake (metaphorical of course) but I will not eat my hat. But if you do make Pandysia the elemental continent and make it a super tiny portion of the fanfic and just use it so that a main character of the show and/or game and/or OC have dishonored powers your fine in my book just a little lazy(WOW? That started of bad but at least it got better as it went). Anyways I will make my to the continent with Void magic, ship drama (that almost hurt to type), and a vengeful and/or bored godlike entity. Also finally can anyone tell me if I am spelling flour wrong? Also am I using the right Pandysia Spelling?
In conclusion see you later
Rambler