The Pearl

That sound, this wood creaking, intermingled with the subtle wind blowing, I’ve heard it before. This musky smell tinted with mildew, very familiar. This sensation of itching, I remember, around my nose, this crust of salt, having filtered this air all night. On the walls, I can see, rays of light seeping from cracks, dancing and painting those ugly rotting walls. I can feel my whole body, rocking at this same pace. And then this feeling of dread.. Oh yes, it’s morning, and I’m still alive.

“I am Basil of the Gnostics, and weeeeelcooooome to a spectacle of optics, a night of might and magic!”

This sentence, I can’t stand it anymore, but the worse is seeing their innocent reaction on their face. Like a canvas painted from honest emotions, amazed, eyes shining, pleasure running through their neck down to their toes, draped in their velvet robes. They look happy. For some, they’ve been working days in days out for years to afford a ferry to The Pearl, and twice that time for a one-night ticket in my tower, a night of thunder and wonder. Most of them won’t even remember. Most of them will go under.

The pleb will work all their life to come here in the hopes of making it big, or simply having a purpose, a goal to look into and convince themselves that, somehow, their everyday life of suffering will be worth it.

Of course, you also have the aristocrats, magistrates, Big Potion investors, sons of prince this, daughters of queen that. Except, for them, there are no risks, the game’s rigged

Those prosperous, pompous Landies come over here because for them they’ve seen everything they need on land, they’ve already experienced what mountains of gold can offer over there. They’ve seen, heard, ate, and felt everything there is ..at least on Land. See, within the limits of the Realms, there is a certain code to follow, at least if you have a certain reputation to maintain. Certain “experiences” are not accepted over there, frowned upon. All a bunch of hypocrites to me, those who write these laws can’t even stop coming here.

And therefore something like The Pearl exists, a wonder of the sea they say! Shining so bright in the darkness of the night. So bright that anyone can find it just by heading to the nothingness of the ocean and follow this beacon of light. Miles out of the nearest shores, in constant flow, where no laws exists, this self-sustaining marvel of engineering is so immense, no one calls it a ship, it’s a floating city, a multi-leveled floating city of lust and debauchery. It would take over a week for a Landie just to visit all the casinos, arenas, taverns, cabarets or exclusive clubs like the one I run.

And that’s just what they’re allowed to see, for all this majestic appearance is only a shell, hiding an underbelly of kitchens, steam rooms, slave quarters, and those chains ..those chains dragging against the ocean floor, reminding of us of what would happen if we were to disobey the Baron.

“I am Basil of the Gnostics, and weeeeelcooooome to a spectacle of optics, a night of might and magic!”

At least I’m one of the lucky ones, these dancing rays of light, a constant reminder that I’m living above the sea line, unlike my best friend Grog, despite being the main chef on board. But alas, he’s a Kobold after all. What would those pureblood wizards say if they knew their fizzle cake was made a dirty Kobold! Nonsense.. I may run one of the most exclusive club on The Pearl, we’re all equal in the end, a slave is a slave. Oh, I’m sorry, not a slave, a “debtor”..whatever..

See, remember when I said the game was rigged? Anyone is welcomed on The Pearl, as long as they have gold of course, and that rarely lasts long. This predatory ship will play with your mind, planting this seed making you believe you can win big at the games, and come back as rich as the local Lord of your unremarkable hamlet. You may win at first, but you’ll come back, you got the taste. And then all these substances you’ll inevitably end up taking will make you want more and more, until your pockets are empty. And that’s when you get approached, “Oh sir, you could sell your return ticket and make it back”. Guess what happens if you lose that one too, the Baron’s servants, the mind flayers, will be happy to lend you some.

Then it’s over, they got you. You’ll be forced to wear the Glyph and work here to pay back your debt before you can leave. Interest, accommodation tax, food fees, it’s one big trap.

And what did I do you might ask?

My ancestor Bergamot of the Gnostics, four generations over, decided to gamble a ship he didn’t own like an imbecile, and here I am paying back debt for someone not even breathing anymore. Born on the Pearl, Die on the Pearl.

Some do try to escape, but they inevitably get the chain. Yes, those chains I mentioned earlier, hanging under the Pearl’s belly, dragging across the abyss, vibrating through the current, reminding us of the horror that would occur if we were to disobey. Thousands and thousands of bodies left to drown and rot, attached to those tentacles of death and sorrow.

They do serve another purpose, Grog told me to never repeat, as I am not sure the guests would appreciate where all their delicious molluscs come from. See, turns out that rotting bodies are an excellent source of food and anchor for hundreds of species of clams, mussels and other sea delicacies, all served directly onto the plate of oblivious Landies.

I guess that’s the price to pay to have a self-sustainable floating city. For every marvelous, engineered innovation, you have a darker twin, hidden from most eyes. Anyone still awake before sunrise can head on the deck and see the hoist of the Collector, this giant contraption of nets, capturing moisture from the early mist. And for a brief moment, I wonder if after all the Pearl really is stunning with this giant white tree floating in the middle of nowhere.

I’m then reminded of its dark twin. Every time, every time you marvel at something, you learn of another horrific contraption. Grog told me about the source of their Milk. It is said to be imported from the finest the Milk guild can offer, but then strangely, you never see Canaanite debtors roaming on the Pearl. Somewhat, somewhere, these poor beasts are prisoners of their own chains, being milked until they die so that a Prince gets to taste a fine cheese before heading to my club.

No, this ends, tonight.

No one has seen what the Baron looks like except for the Mind flayers, occasionally paying him a visit at the center of the ship. And I’ve heard the rumors, about how he doesn’t look like us, how he doesn’t even talk like us. Arms as big as towers, a beak that could crush the biggest of galleons, an invincible beast of the abyss. Nonsense, that can’t be, can’t scare us with these stories. He must be like you and me, he must have a flaw.

Tonight, yes, tonight is the night.

Storms are approaching, heavy storms. They won’t have a choice, won’t have a choice but to conjure the orb and submerge the whole thing into the darkness of the ocean void, with occasional luminous spectacles of this glowing plankton, unaware of how they falsely shine a veil of beauty on this vessel of misery. This is when we strike, once everyone is too intoxicated by their own false happiness. Grog needs to know, he needs to have the stolen ingredients prepared for the feast, I’ll send him my crow. As for me, I’ve prepared too. Tonight they’ll experience the most epic celebration of their lives ..a night they will remember, or will they?

“I am Basil of the Gnostics, and weeeeelcooooome to a spectacle of optics, a night of might and magic!”

Entered by: 0xFd90…887B and preserved on chain (see transaction)