[He'll have to tell her about Leitner's library later. Jon sips his wine periodically as he speaks, barely noticing as he refills for a third glass or the fact that he's getting increasingly verbal with his hands as he tips further into drunkenness.]
Most of Salesa's cargo finds its way around the world via ship. He's been a sailor most of his life now, or at least the life I've read about in the Statements. During one of his voyages when he was getting started out, he let the crew check his more... unusual cargo. He had the cook on the ship minding it for this particular voyage and he found that the man was taking increasingly long in his inspections. Finally, he went down to confront him when he'd taken an age and found Cook staring at an antique meat grinder. Salesa didn't know there was anything particular unusual about the meat grinder then, so he offered to sell to the man on the spot. A tidy deal, he though. Cook accepted and that was that as far as Salesa was concerned.
Almost immediately after that, Cook began serving portions of meat at the meal. Not unusual, really. A man might like to test his new 'toy.' But it kept going. Meat and meat and meat, far more than they should have had available in the stores on a voyage like this. He also noticed that Cook, himself was changed. He'd always been a meticulous man, but now there were small bloodstains on his clothes. Not something most would pay attention to on a ship, but enough that Salesa noticed. Cook had also started hiding his left arm. Always with a coat or something draped over it, even when it was too hot to warrant it. Salesa stopped eating the meat at the meals.
It went on, though. The quartermaster couldn't account for it in the stocks, so Salesa went snooping in the kitchen. He found the meat grinder there, perfect, polished, looking practically brand new. There was also a stock pot with rather suspicious-looking bones in it. He didn't have time for too close a look, though. So he came back when he knew Cook would be there...
[A pause for effect as much as to take another sip of wine.]
He broke into the kitchen, surprising the man. He found Cook's severed arm on the counter, the stump shoved deep into the meat grinder. He was grinding away with his free hand an ecstatic look on his face. It wasn't his own flesh coming through as mince, though. No. Cook was pulling a new arm out of the grinder's funnel. Slowly, painfully, blissfully.
Of course, Salesa grabbed the man, demanding answers. Cook panicked, tried to kill him, and Salesa dispatched the man. The crew threw him overboard, but Salesa kept the grinder, sold it to some Canadian who went missing a few years later. If that meat grinder or something like it found its way into the kitchens here... that might be why we've come here.
cw: cannibalism, body horror
Most of Salesa's cargo finds its way around the world via ship. He's been a sailor most of his life now, or at least the life I've read about in the Statements. During one of his voyages when he was getting started out, he let the crew check his more... unusual cargo. He had the cook on the ship minding it for this particular voyage and he found that the man was taking increasingly long in his inspections. Finally, he went down to confront him when he'd taken an age and found Cook staring at an antique meat grinder. Salesa didn't know there was anything particular unusual about the meat grinder then, so he offered to sell to the man on the spot. A tidy deal, he though. Cook accepted and that was that as far as Salesa was concerned.
Almost immediately after that, Cook began serving portions of meat at the meal. Not unusual, really. A man might like to test his new 'toy.' But it kept going. Meat and meat and meat, far more than they should have had available in the stores on a voyage like this. He also noticed that Cook, himself was changed. He'd always been a meticulous man, but now there were small bloodstains on his clothes. Not something most would pay attention to on a ship, but enough that Salesa noticed. Cook had also started hiding his left arm. Always with a coat or something draped over it, even when it was too hot to warrant it. Salesa stopped eating the meat at the meals.
It went on, though. The quartermaster couldn't account for it in the stocks, so Salesa went snooping in the kitchen. He found the meat grinder there, perfect, polished, looking practically brand new. There was also a stock pot with rather suspicious-looking bones in it. He didn't have time for too close a look, though. So he came back when he knew Cook would be there...
[A pause for effect as much as to take another sip of wine.]
He broke into the kitchen, surprising the man. He found Cook's severed arm on the counter, the stump shoved deep into the meat grinder. He was grinding away with his free hand an ecstatic look on his face. It wasn't his own flesh coming through as mince, though. No. Cook was pulling a new arm out of the grinder's funnel. Slowly, painfully, blissfully.
Of course, Salesa grabbed the man, demanding answers. Cook panicked, tried to kill him, and Salesa dispatched the man. The crew threw him overboard, but Salesa kept the grinder, sold it to some Canadian who went missing a few years later. If that meat grinder or something like it found its way into the kitchens here... that might be why we've come here.