The Vileness of Man: Mission Seven – The Storm (More than a Man)
"Chapter 4, page 31:
The Abbey of the Everyman lives for the sole purpose of annihilating the Outsider, the source of all magic present within our world. But just who, or what, is this obscure supernatural being, and what does he want with us? If one listens to the Abbey for this question, their words will be riddled with speculation of demonic contracts amongst a mindless cult-like following heeding his every word. They will tell of a snake-like being with wings that strangles idol men who stray too far from the path of righteousness, or a leviathan that haunts children who don't abide the Seven Strictures and drowns them in the Void. However, those actually lucky enough to have seen this mysterious figure will soon learn that all of the Abbey's teachings are much more severe than is his true nature.
He appears to us in multiple forms, man, beast, shadow. For me he has always came as a man, with sickly sunken features, empty black eyes, and a smirk that would make even the High Overseer cringe. His purpose is always cryptic and whimsical, as if he preys off of our suffering, our success, and especially our choices. He does not lead us to do anything in his name, nor does he desire the erection of the many shrines present throughout the Isles, although this does not anger him. He is seemingly incapable of anger or happiness, and perhaps that very fact is what makes us mortals interesting to observe and interact amongst, as if we were ants building our colony under the shadow of his thumb. This is not to say he's malicious though, only gifted with a powerful curiosity, for he sees through the folds of time and ponders on how our actions will affect his wavering predictions.
The reason for the Abbey's inquisition against this fairly ambiguous deity is his unbiased nature towards the people upon whom he chooses to impart his gift. Simply stated, they are jealous. For the Outsider does not base his decisions on status nor effort put forth by his gift's recipient. This seemingly random nature and is what infuriates the Abbey, for they wish to harness his power for their own devices and believe their position more than qualifies them to be counted among his chosen beneficiaries, rather than the murderers and ruffians that generally fit in the trickster god's scope of interes—"
"Shit!" Corvo yelled as the ship jerked forward, causing his pen to splotch ink over two hours of work. The wind had greatly picked up since his breakfast in the galley, and black clouds spanned over the horizon. Rain pelted the upper deck as waves crashed against the exterior metal hull, and their thunderous sound echoed throughout his small cabin. It looked as if the captain had been right about a storm, despite the Lord Protector's initial doubts. At this rate they wouldn't reach the port of Cullero until at least sundown, which only further annoyed the already agitated man. He could hear the wind as it howled and whistled, like a siren's moan, and the glass in his port-side window unnervingly rattled under the pressure of the irate waves. The intense motion of the ship caused his stomach to turn and twist, and he could taste fried hagfish and ale sticking sickly in his throat.
The ship careened sharply to the right, sending Corvo (and almost his breakfast) with it as he crashed into his metal bedpost. The sudden jerk had also caused his whale-oil lamp to fall off the nightstand and shatter across his wooden flooring, and the volatile liquid caught aflame as it burned off its pungent fumes. Hastily, he stamped out the small fire, grinding the heel of his boot into the smoldering blubber. This storm was growing violent fast and the abrupt rocking motions was giving him vertigo, much unlike the gentle, nurturing swaying a calm sea bestowed. Without the trans-powered lantern to illuminate the small area, his cabin was pitch-black, and only the cracking of lightning just outside his window guided his path. He needed air. The stress of the current situation accompanied with his unfamiliarity of any boat larger than Samuel's dingy was beginning to eat at his mind. He had always been on a much larger and sturdier vessels when traveling on open waters, and that was over seven years ago.
Corvo quickly activated his Dark Vision to ease his movement throughout the blackened hold, though this perspective did throw off his depth perception rather crudely and he winded up bumping his head onto the doorway on the way out. The hallway was spinning. Cargo was pressed precariously against their security nets and barrels slid unchecked across the flooring, creating a labyrinth of obstacles in which to hurtle over before he could even reach the main deck's stairwell. A simple Blink quickly remedied this though. As he clenched his fist his mark glowed white hot, and he traversed the wreckage in an instant, appearing on the other end of the hall. Blink was his favorite ability bestowed upon him by the Outsider, and second most often used. He regularly used it to discreetly circumvent noisy servants who tried to invade Corvo and Emily's privacy after spotting them with his enhanced eyes. And now it had helped him again by avoiding yet another potentially hazardous situation.
The moment he took a step onto the upper deck, he instantly wished he hadn't. Black clouds blocked out the midday sun, seemingly isolating them from the outside world. Enormous waves pulled the ship into the depths of its trough, cresting over the entirely of the bow and crashing into the deck with a woman's fury, sweeping away sailors under her grasp. Thankfully, they were physically tied to the ship, so no one went completely overboard, though the ocean would have been more than pleased to have swallowed any of these brave men. The storm was much worse than Corvo had initially thought and as he stood, body halfway between the hull and the deck, he thought about retreating back to his cabin. He didn't know anything about ships, and would only be a hindrance to the men diligently working to keep themselves (and him) alive. That was, until something inconceivable happened.
A blue streak of lightning split the sinister clouds as it hurtled towards the small fishing boat, blinding all who dared to glimpse upon its sublime terror. With a sickening flash it collided with the main-mast's yard, ripping through its center with untamed electrical power. The spar plummeted into the sea, its splash muted by the roar of the tempest. Shards of the shredded wood penetrated into the deck's flooring and the sail flapped violently as its support sank into the watery depths. The blood drained from Corvo's face in horror as he was confronted with the familiar possibility of death. He didn't want to die like this, not on a ship out of his control, before even reaching Serkonos and seeing his family, or feeling the warmth of Emily's sweet embrace on his bare skin again. But what could he do? Grab one of the hagfish swimming agitatedly in their tanks, toss it into the sea, possess it, and pray to swim far enough away from the storm before his dominion over the creature exhausted? As plausible as that sounded, they were still hours from the shoreline. Surely, he would drown from fatigue before reaching the southern Isle.
"Frap the outhaul! Secure that stay!" the captain bellowed to his crew from the bridge, attempting to steer his ship into the calm eye of the storm, "Milord! Go back below deck. Up here's no place fer someone without thar sea legs." Yet the old skipper's words fell deaf upon Corvo's ears as he continued to stand motionless in the stairwell, with only the salty water stinging his face as evidence he was still alive. It was a man's scream that finally woke the nobleman from his petrified state, for a sailor helplessly dangled from the remnants of the broken spar, begging for his crewmates to save him before he plummeted to his death. However, the ship was swaying too fiercely to allow anyone to climb to the seamen's rescue, and his weakening grip would not last much longer. "Simons! Hold on, matey!" the captain called, hands clenching tightly to the helm.
Of course, Corvo could reach him, given that he climbed to the bridge deck and Blinked up the busted mast. But should he so openly use his abilities to save a stranger? He had done it before, but at least then his identity was concealed. What did it matter now though? He was already framed a heretic, with no empress to govern his actions. However, if this was what he truly felt than why did he continue to stay his hand? As the man precariously dangled over the edge, Corvo's thoughts began to reluctantly reminisce back to events surrounding a similar time, when Emily had first learned about his abilities, in hopes his subconscious would decide on a course of action.
It was a warm and sunny summer day at Dunwall Tower. The sky was cloudless; seagulls were squawking merrily, and it seemed like all the troubles of the world—the rat plague and its increasing death toll—were far away. Empress Emily had recently turned eleven, and as such her rebellious streak had kicked in. The frustration being considered too young to run her empire—an empire so scarred from the claws of that tyrant—showed in her everyday tirades against her caretakers. It was little annoyingly defiant acts at first, like hiding from her tutors, or refusing to accept the assistance of her handmaids, any tiny action that would inevitably frustrate her subjects, causing them to suffer alongside their empress. But as time dragged on, her temper only worsened and she grew more bitter as she watched her capital slowly wither and die from within. It seemed like only I could alleviate her suffering, a role I gladly accepted, for it was I who took back her throne, protected her from would-be assailants, and guarded her keep on restless nights. Today, however, was one of those unfortunate days.
I was atop the Tower roof with General Tobias, discussing what improvements needed to be made to the empress' safe room. It had far too many exploitable points that had to be sealed if I was to sign off on its security. My line of thinking was rather simple—if I could break into it, than others could, such as one of Daud's assassins or anyone else with abilities similar to my own. True, there weren't many others like this, especially since Daud had retired from his dark business, but they existed and so the threat continued on. The walls were made complete, without any windows holes I could Blink up to. The ventilation shafts had metal mesh woven into them to prevent possessed rats from crawling through. The door was impervious to my Wind Blast, and could only be opened from the inside. The last part was the most important, in my opinion. There were no key holes or any locking mechanism to be able to break through. Because of that, it was always unlocked when not in use, and always readily accessible in times of crisis.
Tobias thought me insane to order all these renovations, then again he never saw how easily I penetrated the Tower's walls and slipped past his "well trained" guards, or how I eluded all of Sokolov's fancy technology which the general constantly assured would be enough to protect my empress. He knew nothing of the willpower and cunning of an assassin that an Arc Pylon or Wall of Light was incapable of subjugating. So as he belittled my reformations as waste of the capital's finances, I saw them as an investment towards Emily's safety, so that no one could ever harm her the way Daud and his Whalers brutally slew her mother, or my covert takedown of the Lord Regent, when I played his crimes to the world.
Though I wouldn't have called it arguing, we bickered back and forth like an elderly married couple until Callista came hurtling through the rooftop access. I could tell she had ran, for her breath was heavy and strands of hair defiantly strayed from her auburn bun. Her hazel-green eyes searched rampantly across the area until they set themselves on my person and like a crazed beast she rushed forward. Honestly, for a moment I had thought the woman had lost her mind, for the way she madly dashed across the way and forcefully grasped onto my hands surely deserved some sort of psychiatric attention.
"Corvo!" she gasped, choking on air as it hastily refilled her tired lungs, "Have you seen Emily?" My chest clenched at her words and I felt my skin begin to pale. Today was the day Callista always came over to tutor Emily in her studies. She was supposed to be with her at all times, so why was she asking me for my Lady's location? She must have noticed the slightly deranged, confused look scowling my face, for her anxiety only increased with my silence, "She excused herself to the lavatory; I thought she'd only be gone for a minute, but she never came back! I've searched everywhere in the Tower. She's hiding from me again."
I probably should have been more upset with Callista for failing to do her only job, but panic muddled my thoughts as I pushed the woman aside and rushed down the stairwell, "I'll find her," I called before disappearing back into the Tower, a sense of urgency following my hasty steps.
I had a good idea of where Emily was hiding already, and exited out into the main courtyard. She tended to bully and pick on Callista fairly regularly, but I was typically nearby to redirect the young monarch's hostility. However, today I had to abandon her to meet with Tobias, to secure her future endeavors, but by leaving her to her own devices, I had inevitably only placed her closer to the fire. Emily wasn't irrational though, just rebellious. She wouldn't do anything so overtly outlandish as to worry me for too long, and that thought alone eased my anxious heart.
I descended down the steps past the gazebo, giving a small sigh as I caught glimpse of Jessamine's tomb. Besides having barely any voice in Parliament, part of the reason for Emily's bratty behavior was definitely attributed to her mother's death. It had been about a month since our return to the Tower, and Emily had just recently learned about her father's true identity from me. It was astonishing how the late empress was able to fend off the unrelenting questions asked by her daughter's curious self. Like a ravenous dog, Emily hungered for knowledge, and with her mother now passed from this world, her appetite had only increased. I tried to steer her away from the truth as Jessamine always had, but I was not as strong willed. When Emily directly asked me if I was her father, my resolve finally crumbled, and I told her everything she needed to know about Prince Aeton Trinci and why it was so secretive. I still don't know how Jessamine prevented her daughter from knowing anything beyond her father being a "man of high class", and how it got to the point that even Emily believed she was truly my seed. Perhaps the realization that she was without parents is what soured her attitude further, and the thought that her citizens pitying their orphaned empress drove her to hide away from society's false sympathy.
As I reached the small stone bridge that connected the palace courtyard to the building that housed the hydraulic water-lock, I peered over the edge and scoured the area below. Just as I thought, Emily was there, though I didn't imagine she'd be precisely where she was. She sat on a lower edge of the castle wall, overlooking the steep cliff side down to the rocky shoreline. Her back was pressed against the barely blossoming rowan tree and her feet dangled hazardously over the edge. An agitated scowl ruined the aloof appearance she attempted to emulate. I didn't exactly know how she managed to climb the partition, as that particular section rose roughly five feet above the ground and she had only recently broken that height. It worried me that she'd be adventurous enough to scale the wall without supervision, but it certainly didn't surprise me that she'd be so daring.
"Empress!" I called from my position on the bridge, hoping to catch her attention. I must have been about twenty feet away, for she didn't hear me the first time and I had to shout again, slightly louder, "Empress!"
Upon my second exclamation, Emily tilted her head up towards my direction, and her sour scowl instantly softened, "Corvo!" she yelled back, a large smile coating over her obvious agitated façade, "You're getting much better at this game." Was that this was to her—a game? All my anxiety and exasperation was for her inevitable enjoyment? I felt my eye twitch at her words as I withheld my frustration for fear of seeming uncouth and further upsetting the youth monarch.
"You scared Callista," I carefully responded, watching her smile begin to fade as she realized the severity in my tone. Truthfully, I should have been far angrier with her than I was. Running off and hiding from her tutors, causing me to search rampantly to alleviate my anxiety, it was reckless and unmannerly, and yet I wasn't as upset as I should have been. Perhaps it was because I too pitied her, though my feelings were sincere. I understood the reasons for her temper, and I indulged her periodic tantrums so that these emotions wouldn't go unchecked until they boiled over in a furious tirade against the aristocracy that took her only family. No, I wasn't as upset as I was disappointed.
Still, Emily continued to act defiantly, and scoffed at my words, "She's so boring, she never lets me do anything fun," she complained, crossing her arms over her chest.
"You worried me as well."
My response seemed to quell her aggravation, as she slowly uncrossed her arms and wearily sighed. "I'm sorry Corvo. I didn't mean to. I just wanted to have some fun. I'll go back inside now," she solemnly groaned, and stood atop the wall.
Even now I'm not exactly sure what happened, but as Emily prepared to hop off the low partition, she somehow lost her footing and began to topple backwards. Her ear-piercing shriek surged through the air as her body lurched over the cliff side, and the fear in her tone as she screamed for me stopped my heart. My reactions from then on were pure instinct, and before Emily could disappear completely over the edge her body froze, like a statue still in time. Terror warped her petrified face as I bent the fabric of time, and fear-induced tears floated above her in a suspended animation. My mark burned brightly as I clenched my fist and peddled backwards, preparing to rescue my empress. With all my might I ran across the small bridge and leapt into the air. As I reached the apex of my jump, I relaxed my knuckles and flashed onto the wall. I could feel time ceasing its halt, and hastily grabbed onto Emily's outstretched arm, pulling her up to safety. When reality resumed after a mere eight seconds, I was left standing atop the stone fixture, holding the frazzled girl securely in my arms. The horror of nearly falling to her death had sent her into panic-induced convulsions, and as she gently shook, tears staining my satin vest, I nestled my nose into her soft hair and assured her that everything would be okay.
"How d-did you d-do that?" she choked, tears breaking her words, "Y-you were on the bridge. You c-couldn't have reached me."
I gently cupped her cheeks within my hands and dried away her tears with my thumbs, smiling softly down upon her, "I jumped," I lied, though it wasn't a very good one. I wasn't exactly well versed in lying to someone's face. Even when faced with a person exclaiming the rumor I had started about Jessamine and myself, I wouldn't outwardly promote or deny it, but just give a small smile in recognition to the comment.
Because of this weakness, Emily was easily able to pick apart my mediocre falsehood, and immediately threw it back into my face, "You would have broken your neck."
Yet that didn't keep me from being persistent, "I guess I was lucky." Persistence is key when constructing a fictional statement. Always stick to your lie, even if it's completely bogus and you're sure to prolong the inevitable trouble. That is, unless you have a large glowing mark clearly imprinted into your skin. Visible, concrete evidence always complicates things.
These were the days before I wore gloves, which was Emily's suggestion after she discovered my abilities. For in that moment she grasped onto my left hand in shock, fascination prolonging her gaze as she watched the skin fade from an eerily luminous greenish-white back to its blackened brand. To attempt to explain away the bizarre phenomena she had just witnessed would have been a foolhardy endeavor, and so I reluctantly told Emily about my gift, and all its implications. I told her the truth about the Outsider, whom she claimed to have seen once in her dreams as a "scary ghost with black eyes". I explained how he had bestowed these mystical powers upon me to aid my vengeance of her mother's death and secure her ascension to the throne. Shockingly enough, none of my tales seemed to startle her, and even stranger, they actually seemed to keep her quite entertained. She demanded a demonstration of all the abilities I claimed to possess, and I loyally obliged her request.
The Outsider gave me seven powers which I've since utilized to my benefit. They are: Blink, Dark Vision, Devouring Swarm, Possession, Wind Blast, Bend Time, and Shadow Kill, which I can control to varying extents. As I demonstrated each of these (except for Devouring Swarm and Shadow Kill, for fear that the rats would accidently bite her and I had no one to demonstrate the latter upon), Emily watched with much enthusiasm and mystified disbelief. Even when I explained to her the need for secrecy, especially around members of the Abbey, her enthusiasm did not waver. She understood how discovery of this seemingly black magic could put me in harm's way, and she diligently undertook it upon herself to safeguard my secret. Her hero now transcended beyond the boundaries of man, became larger than life, and near god-like in her youthful gaze. Perhaps it was in that moment that I transcended the role of a parental figure in her mind. In any case, I was now more than a man to little Emily. I was the very essence of a protector, and I would do my damnedest to uphold this responsibility.
That solved it. He couldn't just allow the man to fall into the sea when he could do something to stop it. It was his duty, nay, his responsibility to protect, even if recipient was not his clumsy little empress. With much determination uplifting his step, Corvo ran to the bridge deck and bolted up the stairs. It was just high enough to Blink to the mast with if he gained a running start. The harsh waves caused him to briefly stumble, but he quickly regained his composure and dashed across the small way, pushing off the metal railing with his heavy leather boot. Archaic words whispered in his head as he was pulled through space and time in an instance, traversing the large gap and landing firmly on the broken mast yard. Just before the sailor could plummet to his death, Corvo madly latched onto the seamen's arm, and hoisted him atop the pole. Relief brimmed off of both men's faces as they sighed heavily and warily chuckled, each knowing the proximity the other was to meeting death.
As they perched above the deck, the dark clouds began to part and the rain ceased its assault upon the small vessel. They had reached the eye of the storm, and its calm waves were a blessing to the crew below. The sun shined brightly through the breaking of clouds, and Corvo could see the very edges of Serkonos far off on the horizon. They had made it, despite all the trials and turmoil their ship had endured. They had reached their destination, and as the Lord Protector gazed upon his homeland all the fear that once clouded his mind instantly disappeared, and a wave of serenity washed away his troubled façade.
EH MEH GAWD! This is the longest chapter I've EVER written. T_T My fingers hurt. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it, but it certainly was exciting to construct. The Corvo I built in this story will have 7/10 powers, each mastered to various extents. His Blink is Level II, Dark Vision Level II, Possession Level II, Shadow Kill Level II, and Bend Time Level II. Wind Blast and Devouring Swarm are at Level I. This is actually possible to do in game because there are 39 available runes (granted you go stealthy), and all this takes 36. Screw passives (except Shadow Kill), who needs 'em? REVIEW!
Edit 9/1/13: Changed Emily's age from 13 to 11 to account for Emily's age difference I discovered a while back. Oops.