The Duel of the West Wind and the Traitor Gondolier

On that day, the seas themselves did weep. On that day, the waters turned to salt. I miss how it used to be.

— An individual of questionable mortality, recounting the events of the Duel

On the Pariah's Tides, one thing is generally understood by all: There are powers in this place beyond your ken. Do not even dream of challenging them. One's own place in the pecking order becomes clear the moment they set foot upon the sea. Despite this understanding, some choose to ignore it, decide to take up arms against that which is so much greater than them. This is one such story. It is a tale of love, of grief, of ultimate sacrifice. It is a tale of music, sweet and somber. It is the tale of the Traitor Gondolier, and their ill-fated conflict with the West Wind itself, known by today's sailors as Davy Jones.

A Tender Tragedy

The Traitor Gondolier's story begins with a death. Not an ordinary one, however. A death that was never meant to happen. The West Wind has, since its role was first breathed to it by its dying father, taken it upon itself to silence those who reach beyond their station. Those who seek achievement beyond that which a creature of their magnitude should be capable of. It uses the power of its daughter, the Serpent of the Garden, to stretch the marble-scaled roots of the Tree that she is and that is her across the Tides, to slither through windows, under doors, and deliver saline venom into the veins of those marked for death. However, these extensions of the Serpent are not infallible, and in one instance the wrong target was struck. Namely, the Lover of the talented musician who would later be known as the Traitor Gondolier.
Overcome with grief, the Gondolier-to-be followed their lover's body to the place all the dead are bound: West of West, until the sea turns slick and grey with corpse-wax and rotten effluvia. The Sea of Bones, where the West Wind dwells. They called out to the West Wind, begged it for a chance to win back their love from the sodden grip of death. Any opportunity, they would take, even if it meant giving up their own life. The Wind, uncharacteristically, accepted. After all, it bubbled from below the waxen waves, it was an erroneous death.

The Duet-Duel

The challenge was as follows: the challenger must best the Wind at a task of their own choosing. If they succeeded, their love would be returned. If they failed, they would remain in the West, never to live again. Predictably, the Gondolier-to-be chose their greatest talent: music. The lyre was strung and tuned, and as the young musician sat on the prow of their little boat, they began to play. It was a tune like no other. As the notes washed over the waves, the dead stopped their moaning and bickering, set down their sodden cards and moldy dice, and turned what was left of their ears to the music. The song was one of such sorrow that the Gates of the Garden trembled with grief, and the clouds let their burdens go, letting rain fall like teardrops. The waves themselves shook with sobs, and all the tears caused the ocean itself to raise an inch. At last, they finished, the full expression of the musician's guilt laid out.
Then, the West Wind began its piece. For all the beauty and sadness of the Gondolier-to-be's playing, it was reduced to mere ash on the wind in comparison to that of the Cardinal Wind. After all, it was the Wind who had strung the first lyre, who had first brought music into this world. There is a reason that the sailors' afterlife is called Fiddler's Green, for the instrument's creator itself rules over it. The West Wind played, and from its strings sprang joys and sorrows, hatred and love, far beyond the understanding of common man. It sang, from deep below the Sea of Bones, and the words bubbled up from the depths and overwhelmed the Gondolier-to-be with a thousand lamentations in a hundred dead languages, and a hundred more that never had been and never would be spoken again. The song was so powerful, so deeply dolorous, that all the water of the Pariah's Tides turned to salty tears, forever imbued with that ancient, incomprehensible woe.

Perfidy for Passion

The Gondolier-to-be was beaten, that much was clear. The West Wind, however, saw more in the youth than a lovestruck idiot. There was talent, as much as could be possessed by one such as they. A conclusion was reached. The musician would never again leave the West, but neither would they be just another corpse. They would serve the West Wind directly, easing the burden of the endless job of processing the dead, listening to their stories and extracting them through song. They would become a Gondolier, paddling through the Sea of Bones, crooning and playing, proceesing the stories of the dead.
The Gondolier, however, had other plans. They located their Lover, and, instead of taking their stories, began to take something else. It took a long, long time, but eventually through the art of abstraction they had removed everything that made their Lover... well, them. At last, they began to build their Lover a new body, one that could not fall victim to the venom of a snakebite. By the time the West Wind caught on, it was too late. They Lover had their new body, and was free to leave the West, once and for all. The now-traitorous Gondolier was no longer fit to work, and was instead made into an axample. Bound in place by the serpentine roots of the Tree, displayed for all to see, their once-beautiful face ruined by the steady dripping of salty venom. Despite this all, the Traitor Gondolier is happy, for they know that their love is watching over them, and is always out there somewhere, even as they suffer.

Conflict Type

Duel