The Memorial of the Ramshead Pirates

Wul  would stand upon the banks of the great lake of the fifth floor of Naraka, the reward for all that they had lost in their determined efforts to proceed forth through the depths of that hellish pit. Staring into the reflection of the water, he found only a sense of hollowness in the recollection of all he’d lost. It felt as if he’d finally arrived upon the coast and was ready to set sail with his crew, and yet now upon the sea, he was all that was left.

Coco, the absent minded, foolishly innocent chef, always full of cheer in spite of her complete inability to actually cook.

Shino, his helmsman, who had dreamed of becoming a god and found death in the hellish wastes.

Tsubaki the effeminate, his doctor with notably no actual medical ability, intoxicated by their mortal blade, driven to an early end by its dreadful pursuit.

Lettuch, his first mate and closest friend, who’d been with him since almost the beginning of their adventures. Fallen now in the depths of Naraka, soul vanquished by the resonant malevolence.

And even the crew mate he’d desired most, the only being he ever bore honest, familial affection for, his late sister Deidamia. She who’d beaten him by a hair in their youth, and said the day he won was the day she’d join him.

A rematch he’d never have.

Staring sadly over the depths of the lake, Wul would hum steadily as he looked for nearby twigs, greenery, shells and rocks in the lake that bore the waters of life. Clasping his blade lightly in his teeth, the other two would be hooked under his horns before, with destructive force in equal tandem with precise application, the various materials would be repurposed into a stalwart, memorial spire.

His crew would not be forgotten, they lived on through him. He would become the greatest swordsman in the land, help save the universe from this threat, and drink to their names when all was done. But for now, they had made it to the sea….the best they’d got in this dreaded colony.

On the spire, clear, stoic words were carved.

"This spire stands in memory of the fallen Ramshead Pirates, swashbucklers of the colony who sail the seas beyond now. First Mate Lettuch, Cook Coco, Doctor Tsubaki, Helmsman Shino, and she who never had a chance to join, my sister Deidamia."

The sheep would set his blades down as he meditated before the memorial in silent introspection, he knew what was necessary going forth. They had ten years to prepare for what came, and the sheep had tasted Kombu’s master swordsmanship in their mortal struggle. He’d seen just how far of a gap there was between the pair.

The time would not be wasted. He would be the solemn blade of the colony, stand beside their greatest and fight against fate itself. He would not allow himself to stagnate, in memory of those who had fallen to let him come this far.

He was Captain Wul, the last of the Ramshead Pirates, and it was time to get to work.
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