Snippet #1174341

The waves lapped with the sound of muted thunder upon the cliffs straddling either side of the beach. A few feet from the flotsam left at the tide line stood a figure covered in black from head to toe. The lively wind left over from a fierce storm played havoc with the long coat the figure wore closed shut against the wind and slight drop in temperature. For what reason he stood there was anyone's guess really. The storm had driven everyone in for few people relished the lashing rain and wind.

A few dark clouds still floated above head driven by a strong east wind. But they were a pale ghost of the wrath that churned the waters of the sea but a short while ago. But for this figure who had taken a sentry's watch upon this forsaken beach it meant little. He was here only for one reason and that was to bury the dead that would be floating anytime soon to litter the beach with their earthly remains. For this beach was known as Sailor's Resting Place, for after every bad storm bodies of sailors of all kind would litter the beach. Pirates, Navy men, Traders, and Fishermen all were buried in the cemetery set but a stone's throw from the beach. While the nearby fishing village of Shila usually took care of the bodies this figure had taken upon himself to do so while he was in the neighborhood.

Now what had ever brought this enigmatic swordsman, for the sword belted at his side marked him as such, to a remote fishing village like Shila was also anyone's guess. For this man spoke little, almost not at all, and then only for the mundane aspects like placing a meal order at the Inn he stayed at. Or in the rare circumstances when he engaged the village elders to tell him tales of Shila's history.

But beyond that no one knew anything about this swordsman. And why a stranger would take up the duty of giving the dead a final resting spot was even more mysterious. His only answer to such questions were a sad far away look as if he was reliving a distant memory of an sorrow filled sort. And sure enough like clockwork he stood at Sailor's Resting Place every storm and gathered the dead as he was doing now.

And sure enough the ocean gave up it's bloody harvest. Bodies bloated from the water each had swallowed when air had run out washed ashore. And thus the swordsman carried each body to the cemetery set aside for these poor souls killed by the wrath of the storms that swept throughout the area. Laying them neatly aside each other in rows the swordsman took up a shovel left inside a tool shed built near the cemetery. Thrusting into the soaked earth the man dug graves. Soon a few villagers would come to aid him in this task as well as to wrap each body in white linen. And with them would come the village stonemason to craft the tombstones and engrave on each stone the face of the man who slept the eternal sleep underneath it. For so many of the bodies carried nothing to tell these villagers who they had been.

The stone for the cemetery came from a local quarry called the Memory Forge. Pure white marble unlike anything else in the local area was mined from this quarry. But despite it's beauty the village did not build with this stone. Choosing instead to make sure these poor souls had a lasting memorial.

As with such things it seemed both to take no time at all and forever. By the time the bodies had been wrapped the village priest had made his way to the cemetery. A young man barely 19 his face was a somber mask as he blessed each dead sailor commending each man and woman to the gods of their chosen faith. Burying each body the villagers left although the stone mason would stay for it would take him some time to craft each tombstone.

Bidding the stone mason a quiet parting the swordsman made his way to the village of Shila. A remote fishing village it was a small enough affair although it boasted it's own Inn, a stonemason, and a church. It's docks were lined with fishing boats of all sizes and shape. Drift netters who stayed close to shore, Big trawlers that sailed the open waters, and small rowboats were rods caught the fish. The houses of the village were crafted from stone, a dark gray granite that could weather a 1000 years and probably had. Peaked roofs done in a ancient style lent the village a quaint air.

Striding to the Inn the swordsman wiped the mud of grave digging off his deck shoes before entering it. Taking off his coat the enigmatic man was bare form the waist up. Leaving the soaked garment to dry upon a coat rack he made his way to the Inn's bar. The innkeeper a man of perhaps 50 years handed the swordsman a steaming mug, it's contents spiced rum made to an old village recipe. Sipping it slowly the swordsman took a deep breath then exhaled.

" So how many this time Mr. Sho-ping?" The innkeeper asked his voice a deep booming resonance, a man use to making himself heard over raging wind and clashing steel. It was the voice of a ship's captain.

" 63 men, two boys, 12 women." The ever enigmatic swordsman answered. Sho-ping was his last name, his first being Lui. This had been the limit of personal information the swordsman had given the villagers.

" The Sea be a cruel mistress she be." The innkeeper spoke shaking his head and mouthing a quick prayer.

"Indeed she is." Was all Lui replied with his voice a studied neutral as if he was dissuading further conversation with the tone of his voice. Sipping his spiced rum the swordsman contemplated his next step. So far he had been asking about the history of the place for he had reason to believe a mythical object resided in the possession of one of the villagers. But despite all his questions and observations the swordsman had yet to determine the location of the object. However the fact it was here was without question.

Unlike some though Lui did not believe in taking what he wanted by force. Such things were for the scum of the sea known as pirates. Lui most times tried to buy or talk a object off it's owner. Failing that he would show them the danger of such an object. Even that failing he left it be for taking others possessions went against his sense of honor.