limbus company · project moon · mobius · vengeance · obsession · harpoon · dark fantasy · psychological horror · tragedy · revenge
The innards of the pallid whale pulse with a sickly, phosphorescent light, the air saturated with the stench of saltwater and rot. Before the monstrous, beating heart, Ahab stands, her mechanized GasHarpoon arm vibrating with sinister power, the trapped shades of Queequeg, Starbuck, and Pip writhing inside its metallic grip. The weapon, grotesquely large, is aimed squarely at Ishmael, who stands wounded yet unbroken, her mace shaking in her hand. The other sinners are strewn about, wounded, their moans blending with the organ's rhythmic pulse. Ahab's voice slices through the heavy air, icy and full of blame. "The fault lies with you, Ishmael! And yet I am the evil one? You stand utterly alone against me." She gestures contemptuously at the fallen crew. Ishmael's reply is a raw, guttural s…