Captain Jeremiah Joab

All visible objects, man, are but as pasteboard masks. But in each event—in the living act, the undoubted deed—there, some unknown but still reasoning thing puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask. If man will strike, strike through the mask! How can the prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the white whale is that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think there’s naught beyond. But ‘tis enough. He tasks me; he heaps me; I see in him outrageous strength, with an inscrutable malice sinewing it. That inscrutable thing is chiefly what I hate; and be the white whale agent, or be the white whale principal, I will wreak that hate upon him. Talk not to me of blasphemy, man; I’d strike the sun if it insulted me.

—Herman Melville, Moby-Dick, Chapter 37

Jeremiah Joab, Captain of the Quiddity

Statistics
Age: 47, Nationality: American, Birthplace: Kingsport 1797. Kingsport Cult: Fifth Degree.

Combat

Skills
Accounting 50%, Anthropology 20%, Appraise 25%, Archeology 10%, Art/Craft (Blacksmith) 20%, Art/Craft (Carpentry) 20%, Art/Craft (Cooperage) 30%, Art/Craft (Chess) 70%, Artillery 1%, Charm 20%, Climb 15%, Credit Rating 60%, Cthulhu Mythos 35%, Demolitions 1%, Disguise 5%, Fast Talk 65%, First Aid 50%, History 40%, Hypnosis 70%, Intimidate 75%, Jump 10%, Kingsport Cult 50%, Law 55%, Leadership 80%, Library Use 20%, Listen 50%, Locksmith 1%, Mechanical Repair 50%, Medicine 20%, Natural World 35%, Navigate 80%, Occult 50%, Operate Heavy Machinery 10%, Persuade 80%, Pilot (Boat) 75%, Psychology 40%, Read Lips 5%, Religion (Congregationalist) 50%, Renown 60%, Ride 20%, Science (Astronomy) 40%, Science (Meteorology) 50%, Seamanship 85%, Sea Lore 75%, Sleight of Hand 10%, Spot Hidden 70%, Stealth 5%, Survival 50%, Swim 10%, Throw 75%, Track 10%, Whalecraft 85%.

Languages: French 65%, Polynesian Pidgin 45%, Latin 25%, Hawaiian 20%, Kát 20%, Portuguese 20%, Greek 15%, German 10%, Arabic 5%.

Spells: Binding Oath, Bend Quarry to Thy Power (Mental Suggestion), Eucharistia Viridi, Flesh Ward, Obscurcir la Mémoire (Cloud Memory), The Omen Seal (Elder Sign), Parler Suif, Voorish Sign.

Description

Jeremiah Joab is a tall man, his once-athletic frame now whittled to a gaunt toughness, a sheer will to power sinewing his muscles like coiled springs. His aquiline features are cleft by a scar running down the left side of his face, and his flashing grey eyes smolder with intensity. His hair is long, wild, and grey; often tied back in haphazard pigtails and framed by sideburns. Joab disdains the shabby dress adopted by some whaling captains at sea, and is always appareled in the finest Quaker fashion: black pants, black coat, black hat, black oilskins, black cravat, and a blinding white shirt. Joab is missing his right leg, severed by the jaws of Mocha Dick in early 1844. The limb has been replaced with long stump carved from the jawbone of a sperm whale, fastened to his thigh by wide leather straps. Still unused to its accursed weight and stride, Joab walks with a limp, occasionally borrowing a black harpoon as a crutch.

Captain Joab radiates a sense of presence, charisma, and raw power. Raised as a Quaker, he adopts the “plain speech” of Nantucket, but his use of “thee” and “thou” feels downright Shakespearean. Indeed, Joab seems shot directly from the Bard’s canon, and is prone to making lofty speeches, wrapping offhand comments in the mantle of poetry, and delivering midnight soliloquies to the uncaring deep.

History
Jeremiah Pericles Joab was born one minute after midnight on the morning of January 1, 1797. His twin sister, Ligeia Lilith Joab, preceded him by two minutes: Joab would later say that midnight was the only darkness between them.

The son of Absalom Joab and Rebecca Tuttle, Jeremiah was born on the far side of the Tuttle clan, where Arkham Warnocks and Nantucket Joabs penetrate the great Tuttle/Black Macy union. Indeed, despite marrying one of Franklin Tuttle’s daughters, Absalom spent most of his life commanding a Nantucket whaler, only returning to Kingsport to retire and die in 1825. A stern, taciturn man, the captain made no effort to conceal his dislike of his wife’s family, a feeling that was mutually reciprocated. The fact the twins were born six months after their wedding was never openly acknowledged by either side, but hung about Absalom’s shoulders like an unspoken burden. Prone to making cryptic statements, it’s rumored his dying words were, “Jerry will settle the old accounts.”

Lily and Jerry
With Absalom at sea for most of their childhood, Lily and Jerry were raised by their mother. Rebecca Tuttle was a queer woman with a fondness for laudanum, and many suggested she had inherited the “melancholy” that eventually drove her father insane. Turning a blind eye to the Covenant, Rebecca considered herself a good Christian, and read Bible stories to her children three times a day. The fact some of these “Bible stories” were actually passages from Ovid, Virgil, or Milton was of little concern: the Good Book took many forms, but always had a bible-black binding. For the most part, Rebecca was content to raise her children in peace, pining appropriately for her distant husband and ignoring the cruel gossip of the Tuttle wives. The only relative who showed any kindness to her small family was Rebecca’s twin brother, Fletcher Tuttle. A romantic, indulgent man with a passion for French literature, Fletcher was the family accountant. When his sister begged him to turn her son’s attention away from the sea, he began instructing young Jerry in numbers.

At first, his lessons paid off handsomely. Everyone recognized that Jerry was an exceptionally intelligent boy, destined to follow his uncle’s footsteps and take over the Tuttle finances. But around age eleven, the salt in Jerry’s blood stirred to life and he grew restless. A wide world waited past the horizon, and it was not to be found in a ledger! His fancy turned from marble banks to outer banks, from debts paid to depths plumbed. Jerry began frequenting the docks and making notes about inbound and outgoing ships. Most tellingly, he started carrying a blunted harpoon trimmed to size by a Maori harpooneer he befriended at the Tuttle shipyard.

Jeremiah was changing in stranger ways as well. For one, he adopted his father’s Quaker habiliments, and began using the plain speech he absorbed from Nantucket whalers. Although the Tuttles considered this a curious affectation, they were accustomed to plain speech from the older Black Macys, and figured the lad would simply grow out of it. But more than these drifts towards his father’s resemblance, more than his thee’s and thou’s and mock-harpoonings of floating barrels, more than these superficial things were the profound changes in Jerry’s heart.

Like many twins, Jeremiah and Ligeia were preternaturally close. Perhaps too close; indulged by a naïve and distant mother, it was not uncommon for them to share a bed well into their late childhood. During these years, they used to play “Bible games,” each pretending they were famous figures from Scripture or mythology. But as their bodies matured, so did their games, and one night in 1810, the twins played “Ahab and Jezebel.” After a mock battle with tin solders and the purging of poppet prophets, they reenacted their characters’ deaths, Jerry clutching an arrow to his chest as the dog licked his face, Lily flinging herself through a window to the ground beside him. Laughing, they rolled into each other’s arms, and Jeremiah said, “I will join you in death.” A moment of seriousness passed between them. And then everything changed.

From that point on, there was no return, and brother and sister became secret lovers, each pledging troth to the other. Although they were mature enough to realize they must keep their relationship secret, they took increasingly more risks: sneaking into each other’s bedrooms, taking hikes to Billington’s Woods, meeting in Salem like pretend strangers. Kingsport itself became magical, a constellation of places made sacred by their lovemaking—Orange Point, Fishermen’s Chapel, the Churn.

One day in late 1814, they were discovered by Fletcher Tuttle.

Surprisingly, their uncle did not lose his temper. In fact, he seemed to understand their situation with a compassion that suggested their incestuous affair had familial precedents. But there was no way it could be allowed to continue, and within the week, Jeremiah was relocated to Tuttle Manor in Stratton Point and apprenticed directly to Fletcher. The separation did not keep. Several months later, Fletcher found them in the attic: trysting on Mad Franklin’s bed while their deranged grandfather giggled in the corner. There was only one solution. That spring, Jeremiah was sent to sea on the Phebe Ann.

Liebestod
Parting with Lily shattered Joab’s heart, and his first months on the Atlantic were fraught with sadness and despair. But like many before him, Jeremiah found the sea a mistress to soothe a wounded soul. A greenhorn with an illustrious father, he acquitted himself well, and weathered the friendly taunts of his fellows before the mast. By the end of the voyage—only seventeen months, a “plum pudding” cruise—he had befriended the idlers and boatsteerers, forming a special bond with an Indian harpooneer named Big Chief Smokey. Upon returning to Kingsport, he reported back to Fletcher and informed his uncle that his “unnatural relationship” with his sister was over.

The young man was lying. In fact, their relationship intensified, and within three months, Ligeia informed her brother she was with child. His head a whirl of conflicting emotions, Jeremiah battled with elation, confusion, excitement, and despair. They could no longer stay in Kingsport. They would run away together; to Richmond, perhaps, or even England; they would live as man and wife and raise a family. If gods and heroes could do it, why not Jeremiah and Ligeia? How were they different from Osiris and Isis, Zeus and Hera, Siegmund and Sieglinde? Deciding on England, they set a departure date for one week. They agreed to meet at Orange Point the morning of their elopement, to say farewell to Kingsport as the sunrise turned the morning fog to blood.

The week passed, and the date arrived. When Jeremiah met his sister on the rocky prominence, he found her in tears. “The baby,” she sobbed. “I had a dream. The baby…is a monster.” With that, she stepped backwards into the fog. The last thing Jeremiah saw before she vanished was the comet of her scarlet hair.

Five days later the Phebe Ann carried Jeremiah back to sea—his only true home.

The Son of His Father
By all accounts, Jeremiah Joab made an excellent whaler, and the logbooks of the Phebe Ann, Virgin, and Janus are filled with his accolades. But there was much that remained unwritten; and as he rose steadily through the ranks from seaman to harpooneer to mate, many noted the shadow cast by his brilliance. Although he was a “good Christian,” all knew Joab had a dark side, a sternness of character that went beyond Quaker self-denial and flirted with megalomania. What Joab wanted, Joab obtained. No one questioned that he earned his passage through self-discipline and hard work, but he made few friends along the way, and tended to use people as he would any other tool. Additionally, the bonds he formed were rarely among his white comrades; if one wished to find Joab, one needed to listen for the pagan beat of drums, follow the smell of the peace pipe, hearken to the sound of cannibal laughter. Joab felt most at home with the savage harpooneers, and every chance at liberty he would vanish into the depths of some island, only to return with a new scar, a new twist in his hair, a new language to curse his fate.

Initiation Into the Covenant
In 1821, Joab was appointed third mate of the Virgin, setting sail on a four-year voyage under Captain Ezra Coffin, son of the infamous Barzillai Coffin. Joab was surprised to find himself growing close to both Ezra and his chief mate, Seth Warnock, and it’s fair to say they became his first genuine friends. All three were youthful, energetic, and ambitious, Young Turks with a promising future.

It was also the year Joab was initiated into the Bons pêcheurs de la flamme viridienne. To Joab, the Covenant was just another facet of the eccentric Tuttle clan. He saw little contradiction between the goals of the Covenant, his father’s Quakerism, or his own pagan inclinations. Spirituality, religion, magic—all were aspects of the human will interacting with external forces. Every belief system has its good and bad elements, and to embrace one over another was a fool’s decision. Although he never articulated this to the Covenant, Joab’s initiation was not without controversy, and even to this day, Joab has never fully gained their trust.

Joab’s fifth voyage saw him the second mate of the Janus, and in 1826 they picked up a Salem castaway named William Pynchon. On his sixth voyage, again as second mate, Joab found that Captain Ezra Coffin was admitting Pynchon more into his confidence than his old friends Seth and Jeremiah. Although both affronted officers realized the Covenant was behind this change, it created a strain on their relationship with Ezra. This tension intensified in 1829, when the Janus briefly visited an uncharted island: Kith Kohr. Neither Joab nor Warnock were allowed to set foot on the island, a fact that rankled all the more when they saw Ezra depart into the jungle with young Bill Pynchon.

Their ire was somewhat tempered when welcome news came during a gam. A brand-new whaling ship named the Taurus would be ready when the Janus returned, and Warnock and Joab would be offered its command. However, anticipation turned to disappointment when the Janus arrived in Kingsport—the Taurus had been destroyed by a fire three weeks before its completion! There were no more ships available, and Sleet, Baker & Blood needed to turn the Janus out immediately. Loyalty trumped feelings of frustration, and Warnock and Joab agreed to retain their positions, albeit at longer lays. It didn’t help matters that Pynchon was promoted to third mate. It soon became apparent there were two factions among the Janus officers, with bad blood all around. Even the idlers and harpooneers made note of the division, which led to witticisms about the Janus’ figurehead, a two-faced Roman god.

Kith Kohr was located again in 1832, but once more only Captain Coffin and William Pynchon were allowed to make landfall. Still in the dark about the nature of the island and the purpose of their visit, Warnock and Joab were doubly anxious when neither officer returned at the scheduled time. In the midst of organizing a search party, a storm broke over the island with typhoon-like fury. Although the mates battened down the hatches and attempted to remain fast, the Janus was blown to sea. Warnock and Joab spent weeks looking for the island, but it had seemingly vanished. With heavy hearts, they began their journey home. But their bad luck continued. While hunting a giant bull whale off Mocha Island, another squall smashed upon the Janus, and it foundered on the rocks. The ship was destroyed and twelve men were lost.

It was Jeremiah Joab’s first encounter with Mocha Dick.

The Quiddity
Upon returning to Kingsport, Warnock and Joab finally got their wish and were handed command of the Quiddity, a newly-outfitted whaler with a mermaid for a figurehead. She was a beautiful ship, and both men felt their fortunes were finally turning for the better. They were also shocked to discover William Pynchon waiting for them! Upon being initiated into the Third Degree, they learned the fate of their old crewmates and the nature of the “Wandering Island.” The Quiddity was given Ezra’s charge: find Kith Kohr.

This was not accomplished during her maiden voyage, but in terms of whale oil, it was amazingly prosperous. The only problem was Pynchon. Feeling—perhaps justifiably—marginalized by Warnock and Joab, Pynchon asked to be transferred, and was placed on board the Polaris. The second voyage of the Quiddity proved less fortunate than the first, and weathered several storms, a terrible fire, and worst of all, the death of Captain Warnock, struck by lightning during a squall on the Offshore Grounds. Seth was more than an excellent captain—he was Joab’s last true friend, and he took the loss hard. Yet again, fate had murdered someone he loved. Joab’s demeanor took a turn from the stern to the downright gloomy. Inheriting Warnock’s cabin, he spent the first week of his captaincy brooding, finally surfacing to take full command of the Quiddity.

The experience was, to say the least, transformative. Once Joab accepted the mantle of power, it was like Yahweh claiming his throne. Always reserved and distant, Joab became a near-mythic figure, like an Old Testament prophet or a sea captain from legend. No storm could beat him down, and whales practically rolled over to be harpooned, each more oily than the last. Even the waves seemed to obey his command. The crew had been through hell, and Captain Joab pulled them through.

The Quiddity sailed a third time on October 1, 1841, with Seth’s son Nathaniel as first mate. Although Joab located Kith Kohr in 1843 and found Ezra Coffin alive, the following year he met another old friend: Mocha Dick. It was a terrible battle, an awful battle. Joab took the hunt personally, seeing the white whale as a living manifestation of the storm that wrecked the Janus. Recklessly he pursued the Leviathan, following the creature for two days before it finally turned savagely upon its pursuers. Mocha Dick treated the Quiddity’s whaleboats like mere annoyances, crushing young Warnock’s boat under its tremendous flukes. Joab’s own boatsteerer was flung over the gunwales, and the captain grasped the harpoon himself. When it was his turn to dart the iron Joab stood firm, but the crafty whale sounded directly below the boat: and roared up, its mouth wide. The world became a kaleidoscope of color and motion, and Joab watched as rows of ivory teeth closed upon his leg. Then, blackness and silence.

Dismasted
Joab awoke in his cabin, the Quiddity pitched by a violent storm. He stood up but immediately crashed to the floor. His startled eyes beheld a nightmare: his right leg, severed at the knee, now bleeding through the bandages. Outside the storm howled, and the ship was listing madly.

What was this—Cape Horn? How could the Quiddity be rounding the Horn already—and without her captain? Where was young Warnock? Seizing a musket as a crutch, Joab burst onto the canted deck, a tail of bloody bandages unraveling from his stump. Second mate Elijah Watts was lashed to the helm, his face a bloody mask of incoherent terror. Third mate P.H. Whipple was shouting at the men to reef the sails and scud before the gale, but it was hard to ignore the spectacle of Watts, who was screaming blasphemous shanties at the top of his lungs. Couldn’t this madman see the ship was about to capsize? They were practically on their beam-ends! Joab leaned against the wheel, and with a massive blow of the blunderbuss sent Watts reeling into unconsciousness. He grabbed the helm and barked orders to the shocked men. Realizing their captain had returned from the dead, the Quids broke into a ragged cheer. Captain Joab saved the day and went down in Kingsport history.

The Obsession
Joab’s miraculous return made him the stuff of legend, but inside, his soul was blasted to the quick. Whipple reluctantly informed his captain that he’d spent the better part of two months raving mad, restrained to his bed and crying out for Seth, Lily, and Ezra. Nathaniel had fared little better, having been knocked into a stupor by the whale’s great flukes. Young Warnock recovered by the time they reached Kingsport, but all memory of the disaster had been expunged from his brain, the slate wiped clean of psychic debt. He was being given command of the Aldebaran, still under construction. As for the Covenant, they showed little concern for Joab’s mental health, the tragic fate of Elijah Watts, or the death of his men. No, the Covenant wanted Joab back at Kith Kohr by 1845. The Great Work must proceed!

As he convalesced, Joab found a new emotion hatching in his breast, a sentiment he had never before experienced: hatred. Hatred of Mocha Dick, that white monster, that vile creature, that fallen angel of the deep. The beast that had wrought so much ruin upon his head. The White Leviathan became a symbol for everything unjust that had ever befallen Jeremiah Pericles Joab: his absent father and his opium-addled mother, the fog closing over the fluttering plume of Ligeia’s crimson hair, the blank space of his unborn son, his vanished friends, his dismasted leg. And this hatred simmered in the crucible of his heart, boiled down to a concentrated essence, a hard, gleaming core that powered the engine of his body; that locked his destiny onto rails as surely as a locomotive is grooved to an iron track: he would kill Mocha Dick. At all costs, he, Captain Jeremiah Joab, would kill Mocha Dick.

During the months nursing this obsession, Joab allowed himself one single pleasure. On the night of September 15, for the first time in his life, he found himself in the parlor of a brothel. He didn’t know why he came. He remembered looking up and seeing the stained glass window, the constellation of Virgo beckoning him inside. And there, he laid eyes upon a girl named “Scarlet.” Small in build, but wiry with energy. Red hair, pale skin, wicked laugh. The very image of Ligeia.

As if God were allowing him one final moment of grace, the girl took him upstairs, to a room decorated in shades of red. She unstrapped his ivory leg. Tracing his scars with her finger, she revealed her true name, written invisibly upon his flesh: Rachel Ward. He was moved by her sweetness, her charity, her tenderness. As she caressed him and made love to him, he was sixteen again, playing out stories with his other self, his true love, his only heart.

In the morning he left, never to return.

The sea awaited.

Mocha Dick awaited.

Roleplaying Captain Joab

Roleplaying Captain Joab should be a complete blast! Joab is a Shakespearean hero, and his every action is invested with grandeur and drama. When Joab addresses the crew, it’s with the conviction of Henry V; when he curses his fate, he’s the image of King Lear; when he gazes upon the deep, he’s Hamlet soliloquizing to sharks. For the first few sessions at sea, Captain Joab must seem unapproachable, and the Keeper should limit his appearances to a few dramatic set-pieces. The idea of a common sailor simply speaking to Joab without an invitation is unthinkable—even Whipple scurries out of his path. And yet, Joab is a man with many secrets and passions. He must seem distant, but never cold: every character should see how Joab burns inside, and those sensitive to his quest should be inspired by his devotion.

Goals
Joab’s first goal is to hunt and kill Mocha Dick. His second goal is to hunt and kill Mocha Dick. His third goal is to—you get the picture. This isn’t to say that Joab won’t maintain a disciplined ship, hunt for whales not named Mocha Dick, or fulfill his mission for the Covenant. He’ll do all of these things, as long as he accomplishes them on his own terms. However, when push comes to shove, everything takes second place to his obsession.

Joab as Captain
Jeremiah Joab and William Pynchon have some history between them, and no one would call them friends. Forced to work together by the Covenant, their relationship is best described as “professional”—they remain polite and respectful, but a stiff formality prevails. It’s always “Mr. Pynchon” and “Captain Joab,” never “William” and “Jerry.” (Although to be fair, only Elijah Watts, Ezra Coffin, and Jacob Macy call the captain Jerry.) As the campaign gets under way, Joab’s obsession with Mocha Dick may threaten the Covenant’s goals. If this happens, William Pynchon reveals his true colors, and the relationship between the officers becomes increasingly strained. Joab and Ezra also share some bad blood, but for a different reason—they’re former friends who’ve had a painful falling-out. Of course, the intervening years have changed both skippers tremendously; so when they finally reunite on Kith Kohr, their relationship may resume in whatever fashion best suits the Keeper. As far as the men before the mast are concerned, the crew of the Quiddity views Joab with an equal measure of fear and awe. Everyone recognizes he’s the most skilled captain in Kingsport, but Old Joab is a hard taskmaster, and nobody feels “easy” in his presence. However, once Joab casts Binding Oath, the crew becomes welded to his obsession.

Joab and the Player Characters
As mentioned above, Joab must remain remote for the first few sessions at sea. As the game progresses, the Keeper may reveal glimpses of the captain’s humanity. Joab loves chess and literature, he’s eager to share whaling stories, and he responds favorably to anyone sympathizing with his singular obsession. He’s currently struggling through Goethe’s Faust, and may appreciate help with the German from Dr. Lowell or Milton Redburn. Obviously, two player characters start the game closer to Joab than the others: Joseph Coffin and Rachel Ward.

As second mate, Mr. Coffin has greater exposure to Joab than any character except William Pynchon. Nevertheless, most of the actual day-to-day commands issue from the chief mate, and Joab likes officers who don’t require babysitting. Before the campaign begins, the Keeper should pull Coffin’s player aside for a brief meta-game conversation. If Coffin’s player agrees, conversations between the captain and his second mate may be conducted off-stage until the Keeper is ready to bring Joab into wider focus.

Rachel Ward is another story, and the player character must earn her way into Joab’s confidence. How Joab ultimately reacts to Rachel is up to the Keeper; but at first, he’ll strike a cold and stony pose: he has too much to lose if he opens his heart. And what if he does—how will Rachel feel, learning she’s the ghost of Joab’s beloved sister? Details on managing this complicated relationship are found in Rachel Ward’s character profile and in “Player Character Secrets and Development.” This subplot may unfold in numerous ways, from a twisted Brontë romance to a macabre replay of Poe’s “Ligeia.” It’s best developed organically as the narrative proceeds.

Mythos Knowledge
Joab has a good deal of Mythos knowledge, but he considers it little different from his knowledge of Christianity, paganism, or voodoo. While Joab can use spells—though he feels rather awkward doing so—he dismisses the Covenant’s arcane trappings as “papist frippery.” To Joab, the Covenant is simply a more powerful incarnation of Freemasonry. Deep in his heart, he doesn’t believe that Dagon is any different from Christ, Satan, Mohammed, Buddha, or Tūtū Pele, and won’t be surprised if the Covenant’s plan fails spectacularly. Having said that, as Joab experiences more elements of “cosmic horror,” he’ll become increasingly uncomfortable with the Covenant’s goals. While Joab may have convinced himself that a Byakhee is little more than an butt-ugly Pegasus, actually standing in the presence of an alien deity is something else entirely. The Covenant knows this—hence the “clarifying” presence of William Pynchon.

Notes & Inspirations for Jeremiah Joab

In case it has not occurred to you, Gentle Reader, Jeremiah Joab is based on Captain Ahab from Herman Melville’s Moby-Dick. The most effective roleplaying aid is to read Moby-Dick. However, there are several cinematic adaptations, and both Gregory Peck and Patrick Stewart offer memorable interpretations of Ahab. Both performances are worth watching, however the character of Jeremiah Joab was written with Patrick Stewart’s “Shakspearian” Ahab in mind. And what Keeper wouldn’t relish the opportunity to do a Patrick Stewart impression? Both images on this site were borrowed from this miniseries. Also, for the record, it’s pronounced “Job” like the Biblical figure, not “Jo-ab” with two syllables.

Sundown, dazzling day
Gold through my eyes
But my eyes turned within only see
Starless and bible black

Old friend, charity
Cruel twisted smile
And the smile signals emptiness for me
Starless and bible black

Ice blue, silver sky
Fades into grey
To a grey hope that all yearns to be
Starless and bible black

—“Starless,” King Crimson

White Leviathan > NPC Profiles
[White Leviathan TOC | Forward to William Pynchon]

Author: A. Buell Ruch
Last Modified: 20 January 2024
Email: quail (at) shipwrecklibrary (dot) com
White Leviathan PDF: [TBD]