The Last Will and Testament of Derick Keyman

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Derickkeyman
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The Last Will and Testament of Derick Keyman

Post by Derickkeyman » Thu Nov 03, 2016 6:47 pm

The Last Will and Testament of Derick Keyman
To the Friend He’s Known and the Women He’s Loved

To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover’d country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?

I have, finally, died. If you’re reading this, I am finally laid to rest, no doubt either completely obliterated from the universe or killed by ironically mundane means, since no other death would do. And the first thing that I want to address, the first thing that must be said, is that I do not want you all to mourn. Miss me if you want! Kiss my corpse if you please! But don’t mourn. I’m at rest now, at peace, in the blackness that’s chased me since birth, I am finally finding peace. A nap in the crow’s nest on a New Moon.

But, in my travels, I have gotten a lot of stuff and I have a lot of it to give out. If I died around Yule, all the better. Wrap me up in packaging and scare the kids. That’ll teach Zoe to out-game her old man. Now, I guess I’ll start with the nearest and dearest to my heart and move out from there. I hate funerals myself, so I promise to make this short and quick. Keep it to the point. Nothing too impressive to give out, anyway. So artifacts, no relics, just mementos, yeah? Alright. Here we go.

To my daughter Xanni, at rest she may be, I dedicate an eternal flame to be found in the lockbox at the foot of my bed. It is to be lit on the front door of her tomb, so I might keep eternal vigil of her.

To Si Howe, my dearest friend and bottom bitch for life, I bequeath the entirety of my stock of rum, three hundred cases in all, of the rarest sorts from throughout Imarel. Have a drink to me, Si! Tell your kids who I was when you’re good and drunk. And for star’s sake, don’t cry. I love you to much to want to make you cry.

To Moon Howe, my protege, I bequeath my secret recipe for Gutter Rum. By now, I have given you the key to the foot locker at the foot of my bed. Give Dean the Eternal Flame and take the recipe for yourself. Make a big bomb of it for me and kill some fuckers in my name, eh?

To Tanna, I bequeath the Windsong house that we owned for twenty years together, along with all the memories in it. I also give you my journal, to do with it what you see fit. Publish it, hold it, strap it to a dildo and fuck yourself senseless, I don’t care. I’m dead, anyway.

To my daughters Zoe and Tlag, I bequeath the sum of two-thousand and five hundred gold each to use as they see fit. Zoe, don’t con Tlag out of her share. Tlag, don’t spend it all on food. Use it wisely, girls. It’s gonna be tough times ahead, and I wanna make sure you can put food in your bellies and clothes on your back. And in the name of that, I also leave you both a hidden ship I’ve neither used for trade nor pirating, docked in Sundown under the name of Jonathan Stride. Name her and make her yours.

To Berwyn, I bequeath a few things. First, I’m giving you my whole armory. If it ain’t on my ship, it’s yours. That’s about fifty men’s worth of decent supplies, along with rare poisons, a bottle of Never-Aging, and some Barnacle Eggs. I also bequeath to you my arm! Bludgeon some people with it for me, alright? Smack Tolliver in the face with it a few times. And finally, I give you my old Sheriff’s Deputy badge. Just as a memory.

To Dean McNamara, I bequeath forty percent of the holdings in my shipping company, along with the right to challenge for Captain in the pirate crew. I also give back the Voraath Killer. Shoot someone in the face with it for me. Be damned if a good fuckin’ gun by the best fucking gunsmith goes to waste cause I fucked up and died. Don’t screw it up, lad. And shove y’bloody holy beer up your snot-hole.

To Lauryl Arthandas, I bequeath my witchfire repeater and forty percent of the holdings in my shipping company, along with the right to challenge for Captain in the pirate crew. By now y’see what I’m trying to pull here. Good luck you to! See ya on the other side. And don’t let any more strange pirates stick keshra down your corset, damn it!

Everyone else may take their fair share of what’s left in my Estate. Aerisaen, I give the Strange Gun to your first born baby boy. Carmen, take my maps of the Ether and Astral, see what you can do with them. All the rest may go to how anyone sees fit.

Now, I am gone on my journey, and for many of you, these will be the last words by my that you will ever see. If you ever need a boost, a thought, a hand on your shoulder, think of me. For stars sake, don’t let my memory die like I did. Bloody, alone, and final. We die alone and live together, and when you’re together, lemme know and I’ll be there. Sing a song for Derick Keyman, will ya? And fuckin’ laugh about it.
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