literature

Dredge - Introduction

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Deep beneath the dark waves lies a myriad of truth clutched against the loving bosom of the sea. But few brave her turbulent waves and catastrophic storms in search of such immeasurable treasure. Amid the ballet of vessels entering and leaving the port of Everdeen, one small craft passes almost unnoticed, ever so cryptic in its intentions. Manned by a solitary sailor, the Walkure departs to the setting sun and returns well before the night's end.
Born with a warrior spirit, the once proud whale catcher drifts to sea with the air of a soldier long since relieved of his duties resolutely returning to an unfinished, thankless task. For she has been reborn for a much less industrious purpose; to aid her skipper's endless crusade into the depths of their shared mistress, to whom he is just as much a servant as the loyal Walkure.
Scars litter the coarse flesh of the man known to those in the small port as a shadow at the bar's edge. Those familiar with him are few, making his name as tentative in the sea breeze as the chilly breaths upon which it rides. Clyde is not a man of renown, but his deeds reach across the cresting waves, over the rocky cliffs, and beyond the grassy plains without notice or acknowledgement. Even the legacy of offspring eludes the tireless sailor.
Precious to his long life are but a few close friends. Far along the tall cliffs stands the lighthouse, visible for miles around but visited by few. Religiously, Clyde makes his way up the overgrown trail with simple provisions for the woman who maintains the light, one Victoria Winston. Ill in spite of her strength, the widow mourns her husband in quiet isolation as she tends to the stoic lighthouse between sympathetic visitations by townsfolk.
She and Clyde grew up together, dashing across the grassy hills and watching the ships dock with all the innocence and wonder of childhood. Their lives would part as Clyde embarked across the tragic waters and a gentleman took Victoria's hand. But it wasn't the changing of the world that brought them so intimately back together, but the ebbing of bliss as the cold realities of their once beautiful world crept in from the edges.
Crucial to Clyde's work is the town's assistant butcher, Tobias Engelhart. Young but long since grizzled by the trials of war, his grim determination makes the veteran an ideal accomplice to noble endeavors too ghastly for most to bear. For it is no longer whales the Walkure dispatches, but the abyssal creatures from depths unknown that subtly threaten those sleeping with minds at ease. Monsters, as it were, that pry at the fragile world man has built atop a reluctant foundation.
I was going to name the whale chaser "Geiravor", but it's far from an elegant name for a ship.

Honestly I'm not sure where I'm going to go with this story. The whole thing is a massive metaphor for something much deeper than an old man battling Lovecraftian horrors, but I've yet to construct a coherent story arc about it.
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