The Unknown: A Game of Fear, Ignorance, and Adventure
- Thread starter Zemalac
- Start date
Recommended Videos
OOC: Oh may i join haha dont mean to bother but if there is a spot in this id be happy to oblige in this. ;p
EDIT: Also if i may join later on im currently catching up on the story.....Thanks....
EDIT: Also if i may join later on im currently catching up on the story.....Thanks....
Ticky sighed. Stories of sadness, loss, death and destruction. Back where he was from, the stories would have been lighter; heroics, saviors, the epic poems of yore. Humans, orcs, elves... all their stories were depressing.
As the old man finished wheezing out his tale and was consoled by some members of the Expedition, Ticky continued eating quietly. He watched over the rim of his cup as a younger man stood, babbled something about villainizing species and left. The elderly gentleman screamed obscenities at the boy as he walked away.
Ticky smiled ruefully into his cup. The boy kept a cool head, despite the old man's rasping voice. He had guts, for sure. Ticky could appreciate that, even in a human. The old man, however... What to do there?
"The man is clearly unwell. To have your love and life torn away and destroyed in all possible ways before your very eyes; no man could exist wholly after that. He grew angry at a boy simply expressing distaste. They will come to blows, or my name isn't Tickyvanillius." He glanced once more at the elderly gentleman, who had settled once more into his meal. "If they don't... I fear the worst may come."
Ticky sighed once more, pulling himself to his feet. He stretched for a moment. "Well, chaps. That was quite a series of tales. More than enough to entertain a gnome during his luncheon." He chuckled a bit before leaving for the deck.
As he stepped into the open, the cool sea breeze whipped his wispy hair into a storm. Mumbling quietly, he made his way to the stern of the ship. He stared after the swiftly retreating mainland, shivering under the sea breeze. He whispered quietly, wrapping his cloak tightly around himself, and shivered no more.
'twas to be a long night.
As the old man finished wheezing out his tale and was consoled by some members of the Expedition, Ticky continued eating quietly. He watched over the rim of his cup as a younger man stood, babbled something about villainizing species and left. The elderly gentleman screamed obscenities at the boy as he walked away.
Ticky smiled ruefully into his cup. The boy kept a cool head, despite the old man's rasping voice. He had guts, for sure. Ticky could appreciate that, even in a human. The old man, however... What to do there?
"The man is clearly unwell. To have your love and life torn away and destroyed in all possible ways before your very eyes; no man could exist wholly after that. He grew angry at a boy simply expressing distaste. They will come to blows, or my name isn't Tickyvanillius." He glanced once more at the elderly gentleman, who had settled once more into his meal. "If they don't... I fear the worst may come."
Ticky sighed once more, pulling himself to his feet. He stretched for a moment. "Well, chaps. That was quite a series of tales. More than enough to entertain a gnome during his luncheon." He chuckled a bit before leaving for the deck.
As he stepped into the open, the cool sea breeze whipped his wispy hair into a storm. Mumbling quietly, he made his way to the stern of the ship. He stared after the swiftly retreating mainland, shivering under the sea breeze. He whispered quietly, wrapping his cloak tightly around himself, and shivered no more.
'twas to be a long night.
"Name's Mark, and its a pleasure to meet you."
Marneus took the offered hand, before replying.
"Marneus Calgar, glad to make an acquaintence on what shall no doubt be a long trip. I was fearing I would have nothing to look forward to but ramblings of painted elves for conversation."
Marneus took the offered hand, before replying.
"Marneus Calgar, glad to make an acquaintence on what shall no doubt be a long trip. I was fearing I would have nothing to look forward to but ramblings of painted elves for conversation."
Alexis listened in silence to all the going abouts of the expedition. He listened with a saddened heart at the old man's tale but couldn't help but feel a lack of sympathy for him. His rash type casting of different members of the team concerned him. "Where are we getting these characters from?. A wood chipper?. Why must they come aboard with extra baggage and dump it on us?" he muttered to himself faintly.
He looked around the table, so far the only friend, if it was too early to call such a thing, was his fellow dwarf, Mareck. Perhaps this new dwarf, Kirk McKellen will prove to be a friendly source as well. Alexis returned the handshake.
"Aye, indeed the beer is good and the journey long. I must say it is nice to see a few dwarves here along with them elves and humans about. What do you think?" he asked causally gulping down a pint for the tenth time.
He looked around the table, so far the only friend, if it was too early to call such a thing, was his fellow dwarf, Mareck. Perhaps this new dwarf, Kirk McKellen will prove to be a friendly source as well. Alexis returned the handshake.
"Aye, indeed the beer is good and the journey long. I must say it is nice to see a few dwarves here along with them elves and humans about. What do you think?" he asked causally gulping down a pint for the tenth time.
Shocked by Mark's story, Mareck decided to turn away and leave, after looking at the observation that he wasn't the only one shocked. As he walked along, he saw people gasping, a knight trying to offer bravery and even a painted elf was crying; and for once, Mareck felt sympathy for their species. As he walked, he passed by two dwarves who were on the expedition as well, including the one he had talked to before. They were conversing, but Mareck only got a glimpse of what they were saying. Something about beer and the other voyagers on this journey.
He left the room and went for the decks. The sun was still blazing in the thick, afternoon sky, sending heat down on the shapes of the ship in a rhythm as constant as a breeze. A fine, salt water air was upon him, pushing the drunk out of him, as he looked around. There was the painted elf who had been crying (It seemed as that he had left as well) and a human who seemed to be in conversation with him, as well as a gnome looking out at the sea. He decided to give it a try himself.
He went to the back of the ship, and stared out into the abyss. Land was already a faint line on the horizon, and waves whipped at the ship like this voyage was whipping at his heart. This had been the first time he had been out of The Merchant's Water for about 6-7 years, and he was starting to miss it already. A salty breeze struck him, getting him out of his distracted state, as he tried to drown out this reminiscence of his former life, and carried on to stare out at the sea, as if he was searching for something very specific, but he coudn't quite tell what it was yet.
He left the room and went for the decks. The sun was still blazing in the thick, afternoon sky, sending heat down on the shapes of the ship in a rhythm as constant as a breeze. A fine, salt water air was upon him, pushing the drunk out of him, as he looked around. There was the painted elf who had been crying (It seemed as that he had left as well) and a human who seemed to be in conversation with him, as well as a gnome looking out at the sea. He decided to give it a try himself.
He went to the back of the ship, and stared out into the abyss. Land was already a faint line on the horizon, and waves whipped at the ship like this voyage was whipping at his heart. This had been the first time he had been out of The Merchant's Water for about 6-7 years, and he was starting to miss it already. A salty breeze struck him, getting him out of his distracted state, as he tried to drown out this reminiscence of his former life, and carried on to stare out at the sea, as if he was searching for something very specific, but he coudn't quite tell what it was yet.
The conversation continued in fits and splutters as the meal was consumed and the sun arced across the heavens. The adventurers joked and glared, were grim and jolly as their natures took them. The ship sped on evenly under a bright, hard sky, cutting through waves like a smooth knife.
Deslock smiled. Everything seemed to be going smoothly. The first day of an expedition set the tone for the rest, and with a few exceptions this one looked to be pretty well off.
Eventually the day ended, as they always do, and the members of the Expedition took to their beds. Captain Grummond was the last to leave the deck for his cabin, after making sure the sailors on the night watch were at their posts. He set the lantern to make sure other ships could see them, fastened the clamps on the wheel, checked the anchor chain and finally when he could think of nothing else to do went to his bed and collapsed.
He was woken by a desperate pounding on his door. The sailor there, usually a stoic man, looked like he had stared into the face of death.
"Someone's killed Feron," he said.
Grummond threw on his coat and all but sprinted out. Five minutes later he was staring grimly down at the body of the man who had been standing watch at the prow of the ship, the deck slick beneath his feet. Everything glistened by the pale light of the moon, blood running down the deck and through the cracks in the planking.
And in the middle of it all lay poor Feron, his throat cut and the top of his head slashed open. The captain tried to analyze the scene dispassionately, and found it to be almost impossible. Little details kept jumping out at him: the way the bone shone white through the gore, or the way someone had thoroughly and neatly removed the brain from the skull.
The sailor who had found the body was busy throwing up over the side. Grummond took the dead man's cloak and covered the body with it. The least he could do now is show the man some respect in his death.
"This," he muttered to the midnight air, "is a helluva way to start a voyage."
They didn't see each other, but they were there, the thieves and the watchers and the assassins. Some searched for a weakness or a clue, some played pranks and deadly games, some used magic and some used poison.
And one used a blood-stained knife.
Far away in the air over the water, three birds flew to three destinations, bearing messages for hidden eyes...
Deslock smiled. Everything seemed to be going smoothly. The first day of an expedition set the tone for the rest, and with a few exceptions this one looked to be pretty well off.
One shall slay on golden dreams
And one on nightmares pure...
And one on nightmares pure...
Eventually the day ended, as they always do, and the members of the Expedition took to their beds. Captain Grummond was the last to leave the deck for his cabin, after making sure the sailors on the night watch were at their posts. He set the lantern to make sure other ships could see them, fastened the clamps on the wheel, checked the anchor chain and finally when he could think of nothing else to do went to his bed and collapsed.
He was woken by a desperate pounding on his door. The sailor there, usually a stoic man, looked like he had stared into the face of death.
"Someone's killed Feron," he said.
Grummond threw on his coat and all but sprinted out. Five minutes later he was staring grimly down at the body of the man who had been standing watch at the prow of the ship, the deck slick beneath his feet. Everything glistened by the pale light of the moon, blood running down the deck and through the cracks in the planking.
And in the middle of it all lay poor Feron, his throat cut and the top of his head slashed open. The captain tried to analyze the scene dispassionately, and found it to be almost impossible. Little details kept jumping out at him: the way the bone shone white through the gore, or the way someone had thoroughly and neatly removed the brain from the skull.
The sailor who had found the body was busy throwing up over the side. Grummond took the dead man's cloak and covered the body with it. The least he could do now is show the man some respect in his death.
"This," he muttered to the midnight air, "is a helluva way to start a voyage."
_______________________
They didn't see each other, but they were there, the thieves and the watchers and the assassins. Some searched for a weakness or a clue, some played pranks and deadly games, some used magic and some used poison.
And one used a blood-stained knife.
Far away in the air over the water, three birds flew to three destinations, bearing messages for hidden eyes...
Metagame: Results of the Night said:
Well if no one else is having a crack then I'll go for it. Being second is much nicer, it's true.
Jonas awoke exhausted. But by the judge of the candle it had been too long already. He pushed out of bed. The ship bobbed underfoot. He paced to the door and opened it.
There were raised voices squeezing through the planks now, sounding urgent. Jonas turned to his bunk to grasp his sword - he had forgotten it! - and ran. The ship rocked steadily, but still too much for Jonas: he struck his head on a wall as he came up the stairs onto the deck.
The sun and sky were bare and calm. Warm yellow and light blue, with no clouds as far as Jonas could see. Cresting the stairs, he cast about for the commotion. Sailors were tangled together in a bunch a few dozen yards away, chattering amongst themselves. The source of their clear unease couldn't be seen through the crowd so Jonas hurried to them.
Elbowing his way through too hastily, his foot struck something hard, yet soft. He looked down. There lay a man, clearly murdered in the most gory fashion Jonas had seen outside a battlefield. Blood pooled above his head in a manner that in a moment of macabre whimsy Jonas took for a lone blood-red thundercloud. Jonas turned to find a source of authority, someone who had taken command and would know the facts best they could be. He found the explorer Deslocke and the orc captain Grummond.
"What happened here?"
Zemalac, I choose you!
"Okay Let's go over this again," Deslock said, rubbing tired eyes. "This guy was out on night watch, like usual. When the next shift comes he's dead, with a cut throat and no brain, and in the middle of the night on a crowded ship no one heard anything. Am I right?"
"Yes," Grummond said tersely. He'd been up since midnight trying to figure out what had happened, his sailors were already muttering of claws in darkness and ghosts, and now Deslock was running through the same thoughts that the captain had been pondering all night. He'd hoped that the explorer would have some fresh insight, but rather than seeing something Grummond hadn't Deslock was blearily repeating questions and statements that had already been suggested.
"Do you know who did it?" the explorer asked.
"If I knew who did it, the murderer would already be feeding the sharks," the captain growled.
"Ah," Deslock said with a yawn. "Right." He stared at the body for a moment longer, covered in its faded grey oilskin cloak. "All gods damn it," he muttered. "Things were going so well, too..."
Jonas Thrace, pushing through the bunched sailors, almost tripped over the body. The blow dislodged the cloak just enough to expose the full horror of the shattered head: the one-armed man stared for a moment before turning to look for someone with answers. He found Deslock and Grummond instead.
"What happened here?" he asked. Grummond grunted sourly at the repeat of the question he'd been hearing all night, leaving Deslock to reply.
The explorer sighed wearily. "Damned if I know," he said. "There's a body, there's blood everywhere, and that's the whole story as far as anyone can tell."
He paused to tug the cloak back over the dead man's head.
"Whatever killed him, it means bad news for us, that's for sure."
"Yes," Grummond said tersely. He'd been up since midnight trying to figure out what had happened, his sailors were already muttering of claws in darkness and ghosts, and now Deslock was running through the same thoughts that the captain had been pondering all night. He'd hoped that the explorer would have some fresh insight, but rather than seeing something Grummond hadn't Deslock was blearily repeating questions and statements that had already been suggested.
"Do you know who did it?" the explorer asked.
"If I knew who did it, the murderer would already be feeding the sharks," the captain growled.
"Ah," Deslock said with a yawn. "Right." He stared at the body for a moment longer, covered in its faded grey oilskin cloak. "All gods damn it," he muttered. "Things were going so well, too..."
Jonas Thrace, pushing through the bunched sailors, almost tripped over the body. The blow dislodged the cloak just enough to expose the full horror of the shattered head: the one-armed man stared for a moment before turning to look for someone with answers. He found Deslock and Grummond instead.
"What happened here?" he asked. Grummond grunted sourly at the repeat of the question he'd been hearing all night, leaving Deslock to reply.
The explorer sighed wearily. "Damned if I know," he said. "There's a body, there's blood everywhere, and that's the whole story as far as anyone can tell."
He paused to tug the cloak back over the dead man's head.
"Whatever killed him, it means bad news for us, that's for sure."
Mareck was asleep like a very patient brick in his bed. Not moving a single muscle a single inch distance, to the point where you would think that something was seriously wrong with him. He stayed this way throughout the night, and only rose after being rudely awoken. By a scream. A particularly loud scream as well, and one which he was sure the others had heard as well. And this specific scream didn't sound like a good one.
What was that?!
He rose up and jumped off the bed, before getting his clothes on in a major rush and fiddling at the door out of sheer panic almost as if he was still drunk from the tavern two days before. He ran down the corridor, and turned at the open door to see two humans talking with the ship's captain. One of the humans he instantly recognised as Deslock, as for the other one, he struggled to recognise, as he wasn't at the tavern.
Something like... Jonas Thrace?...
Nonetheless, he stepped forward and decided to put on his powerful voice when asking the following question:
"What the hell's going on?!"
What was that?!
He rose up and jumped off the bed, before getting his clothes on in a major rush and fiddling at the door out of sheer panic almost as if he was still drunk from the tavern two days before. He ran down the corridor, and turned at the open door to see two humans talking with the ship's captain. One of the humans he instantly recognised as Deslock, as for the other one, he struggled to recognise, as he wasn't at the tavern.
Something like... Jonas Thrace?...
Nonetheless, he stepped forward and decided to put on his powerful voice when asking the following question:
"What the hell's going on?!"
Marneus was awoken by the scream, much like Mareck. Hoppping out of bed, he tripped over his helmet.
"Damn helm..."
The realization hit him like a warhammer, he was wearing his helmet when he went to sleep. His trunk was also unlocked, despite him having locked it the night before. He grabbed the helmet and looked at his reflection in it.
Someone had drawn a moustache on his face.
Growling, Marneus wiped in off with his bedsheet and stormed out the door, only stopping to pull his sword out of the floorboard and put his helmet back on. One thing you never want to see is an angry knight with his sword drawn, therefor it was understandable when several sailors backed away at his arrival.
Noticing the body, Marneus spoke.
"It would seem, captain, that this ship is woefully unsecure. I awoke to find someone had been sifting through my belongings."
He spoke the word captain vehemently, glaring at Grummond.
"Damn helm..."
The realization hit him like a warhammer, he was wearing his helmet when he went to sleep. His trunk was also unlocked, despite him having locked it the night before. He grabbed the helmet and looked at his reflection in it.
Someone had drawn a moustache on his face.
Growling, Marneus wiped in off with his bedsheet and stormed out the door, only stopping to pull his sword out of the floorboard and put his helmet back on. One thing you never want to see is an angry knight with his sword drawn, therefor it was understandable when several sailors backed away at his arrival.
Noticing the body, Marneus spoke.
"It would seem, captain, that this ship is woefully unsecure. I awoke to find someone had been sifting through my belongings."
He spoke the word captain vehemently, glaring at Grummond.
Whatever killed him, whoever is more like it. I'm sure Deslock wouldn't appreciate me eavesdropping but it's good to know what goes on in the heads of the higher ups. He's the final authority around here, so I need to get on board with whatever his plan might be.
Keeping my head down seems to have been the right plan. This poor fucker must have stuck his neck where it didn't belong. In between the sword and the chopping block to be specific. We'll see just were this pans out to. Maybe I can't keep staying the course myself. I need to rethink my strategy and integrate. I need allies, and I need to make sure that if I'm next that I am sorely missed.
I wasn't the first to see the body but I'd be lying if I said I hadn't been the first to see it all coming.
I can only hope that Deslock is wrong. One's normally die a lot easier than things.
Remember, was informed by fellow sailor of appearance of strange being stalking the expedition. Could be rumor, keep eyes open. Someone on this ship is responsible for this death, either by proxy or by direct action. Someone is harboring secrets.
-An entirely mental note
Keeping my head down seems to have been the right plan. This poor fucker must have stuck his neck where it didn't belong. In between the sword and the chopping block to be specific. We'll see just were this pans out to. Maybe I can't keep staying the course myself. I need to rethink my strategy and integrate. I need allies, and I need to make sure that if I'm next that I am sorely missed.
I wasn't the first to see the body but I'd be lying if I said I hadn't been the first to see it all coming.
I can only hope that Deslock is wrong. One's normally die a lot easier than things.
Remember, was informed by fellow sailor of appearance of strange being stalking the expedition. Could be rumor, keep eyes open. Someone on this ship is responsible for this death, either by proxy or by direct action. Someone is harboring secrets.
-An entirely mental note
Keil awoke at his usual ungodly hour and began to get dressed, deciding on a grey double breasted coat, a white shirt with a black ribbon tie and navy, fitted pants.
Another day on this cramped ship. Oh well, it should be interesting. Derlan seemed nice, at the very least. I wonder what will ha- His musings were interrupted by a sudden scream, causing him to quickly finish his preparations and exit his room, while still attaching his eyepatch.
Upon arriving at the scene of the clamour, Keil stopped in shock. There was cloak on the ground, with a body sized lump in it and red where the head would be. Nothing else registered. He did not see the large, aggravated knight nor the other shocked crew members. He sunk to his knees, his face blank, his eyes unfocused.
"[small]"No no no no no no nononononono[/small]nonono no no NO!"
With his final, aggravated exclamation, Keil stood back on his feet. "I am sorry for that. I just... Excuse me, I will be right back."
Keil quickly went back to his room, then returned with an ornate rapier resting in its scabbard on his hip.
"Sorry about that. Now, tell me. What happened?"
Another day on this cramped ship. Oh well, it should be interesting. Derlan seemed nice, at the very least. I wonder what will ha- His musings were interrupted by a sudden scream, causing him to quickly finish his preparations and exit his room, while still attaching his eyepatch.
Upon arriving at the scene of the clamour, Keil stopped in shock. There was cloak on the ground, with a body sized lump in it and red where the head would be. Nothing else registered. He did not see the large, aggravated knight nor the other shocked crew members. He sunk to his knees, his face blank, his eyes unfocused.
"[small]"No no no no no no nononononono[/small]nonono no no NO!"
With his final, aggravated exclamation, Keil stood back on his feet. "I am sorry for that. I just... Excuse me, I will be right back."
Keil quickly went back to his room, then returned with an ornate rapier resting in its scabbard on his hip.
"Sorry about that. Now, tell me. What happened?"
Marneus shifted his gaze to Keil, and chose to ignore his outburst. "It would seem the security on this ship is horrible enough to allow for a man to be murdered and someone to sneak into my cabin."
He sheathed his sword, if only to prevent the nearby sailors from fainting from fear of decapitation. "I can only imagine how many of our fellow expedition members survived the night."
Marneus turned to Deslock and gestured to the corpse. "When shall his funeral be?"
He sheathed his sword, if only to prevent the nearby sailors from fainting from fear of decapitation. "I can only imagine how many of our fellow expedition members survived the night."
Marneus turned to Deslock and gestured to the corpse. "When shall his funeral be?"
Derlan awoke to a scream, he jumped out of bed and threw his clothes on. Running to the deck he saw a dead body and a gathering of people, the body had a cut on the throat and the top of the head removed.
"Christ, what happened here?!"
Derlan saw Keil looking at the gruesome sight, he walked over to him and pulled him away from the body.
"Nothing a young man like you needs to see." Derlan looked at the group of people, "Who to trust, who to trust? I can trust you can't I?! What do you say we form a bit of an alliance? Not a blood bond or anything, but merely watching each others backs, at the very least promise to not kill each other!" Derlan laughed, "So waddya say?"
"Christ, what happened here?!"
Derlan saw Keil looking at the gruesome sight, he walked over to him and pulled him away from the body.
"Nothing a young man like you needs to see." Derlan looked at the group of people, "Who to trust, who to trust? I can trust you can't I?! What do you say we form a bit of an alliance? Not a blood bond or anything, but merely watching each others backs, at the very least promise to not kill each other!" Derlan laughed, "So waddya say?"
"Derlan, I promise not to kill you."
Keil paused mid flow, thoughtful.
"Unless, of course, you attempt to kill me first. In that case, I will have to consider our alliance invalid.
But yes, you can trust me. I, oddly enough, trust you as well. I will watch out for you."
Keil extended his hand to Derlan, a hint of a smile on his face.
Hmm. Maybe, just maybe, I have made a friend on board here.
Keil paused mid flow, thoughtful.
"Unless, of course, you attempt to kill me first. In that case, I will have to consider our alliance invalid.
But yes, you can trust me. I, oddly enough, trust you as well. I will watch out for you."
Keil extended his hand to Derlan, a hint of a smile on his face.
Hmm. Maybe, just maybe, I have made a friend on board here.
"I wise decision my boy, or is it?!" Derlan laughed as he shook the boys hand, "I would expect you to kill me if I tried to kill you, but that problem should not arise any time soon, hopefully never!"
Derlan glanced back at the body, then looked out into the sea,
"Now who do you think did this? A pretty gruesome crime to have the culprit walking around on the ship. And why?"
[Just to clarify, how old is Keil?]
Derlan glanced back at the body, then looked out into the sea,
"Now who do you think did this? A pretty gruesome crime to have the culprit walking around on the ship. And why?"
[Just to clarify, how old is Keil?]
The gentle rays of the morning sun beamed through the dusty porthole illuminating Raven's cramped quarters. The man himself was still asleep, nestled chin deep under a blanket dreaming of dreams in far away lands. It wasn't until the footsteps of the people on the upper deck grew incessant did he finally awake with a start. "What in the name of Orfik's beard is going on up there?" he growled to himself as he stared up at the wooden ceiling. The sound of heavy boots against the wooden floorboards still echoed through his cabin and mingled in with the natural groaning of the ships timber against the seas. It was enough to make a grumpy man grumpier and Raven was just that man in the morning.
"Oh Sod it all!" he spat out a silent curse towards the owners of the pair of feet that had woken him up from his slumber. It wasn't everyday that Raven gets to sleep in late and he was rather looking forward to the opportunity to catch eighty winks on this voyage and to wake up just in time for supper. Today it seemed, was not destined to be that day. Within minutes he was on his feet and dressed in his usual faded blue cloak. He hastily splashed some water on his face and swallowed the contents of a bottle marked 'Allusian Breath Freshener'. He checked his teeth against the reflection of a spoon, satisfied, he walked up to his bed and pulled out his sword that he had kept hidden under his pillow. The blade glistened in the sunlight, it's edges dulled with time and use. He gave the weapon a quick twirl from his wrist, satisfied by the swooshing sound it made as the blade sliced the air.
He wasn't particularly excited to walk amongst the other members of the expedition again, he had very little trust in them and their words, but if anything this was going to be a long voyage; contact seemed unavoidable. He let out a sigh before sheathing the sword behind his robes, "Let's hope I don't have to use this anytime soon"
The morning sun was barely fighting off the nights chill as he stepped onto the deck, the sea seemed calm, only a gentle breeze was in the air. Several figures, including Deslock and Grummond, were huddled in a corner standing over a grey cloak. The rampant activity on the main deck seemed to have ceased, a quiet had settled over the ship. Too quiet it seems!. Raven made his way silently to the gathering of people and the cloak that lay on the ground, curiosity drew him on. As he got closer he noticed the telltale signs of a body concealed beneath the cloak, a slick pool of blood nearby revealed the occurrence of either a murder or a massive accident involving a hemorrhage. The amount of blood spilled on the deck was a clear indication that the event was undoubtedly fatal for the victim. He turned to look at Deslock and Grummond; the concerned look on the faces of the explorer and the captain told him that they were just as clueless as he was about the nature or reasoning for this crime. There was little sense in asking them what happened. The gathering crowd around him spoke in hushed whispers or echoed aloud his own thoughts and questions.
"So who's this then?" Raven finally asked nodding towards the body under the cloak.
"Crewman Feron, he was on night duty the last time I saw him alive" came the grim reply from a nearby sailor.
His words had hardly left the mouth when a sudden gust of wind swept over the ship. The gale was strong enough to cause the ship to lurch and blow the cloak away from the corpse, revealing the brutality of the murder to everyone once again. Raven inhaled sharply at the sight of the body, the throat was cut and the head was split open, the brain was removed with precision from the skull; this clearly was not an accidental hemorrhage.
"Ethain caedo hal!. Erhisthu unad, Feron. Erhisthu unad!" he uttered a simple prayer as he grabbed the fluttering cloak and placed it over the body once again.
He got up slowly and turned to the gathering mass of bodies before him. "Should we not bury him at sea?. Or do we return him to his family once we get to Tyb?"
"Oh Sod it all!" he spat out a silent curse towards the owners of the pair of feet that had woken him up from his slumber. It wasn't everyday that Raven gets to sleep in late and he was rather looking forward to the opportunity to catch eighty winks on this voyage and to wake up just in time for supper. Today it seemed, was not destined to be that day. Within minutes he was on his feet and dressed in his usual faded blue cloak. He hastily splashed some water on his face and swallowed the contents of a bottle marked 'Allusian Breath Freshener'. He checked his teeth against the reflection of a spoon, satisfied, he walked up to his bed and pulled out his sword that he had kept hidden under his pillow. The blade glistened in the sunlight, it's edges dulled with time and use. He gave the weapon a quick twirl from his wrist, satisfied by the swooshing sound it made as the blade sliced the air.
He wasn't particularly excited to walk amongst the other members of the expedition again, he had very little trust in them and their words, but if anything this was going to be a long voyage; contact seemed unavoidable. He let out a sigh before sheathing the sword behind his robes, "Let's hope I don't have to use this anytime soon"
The morning sun was barely fighting off the nights chill as he stepped onto the deck, the sea seemed calm, only a gentle breeze was in the air. Several figures, including Deslock and Grummond, were huddled in a corner standing over a grey cloak. The rampant activity on the main deck seemed to have ceased, a quiet had settled over the ship. Too quiet it seems!. Raven made his way silently to the gathering of people and the cloak that lay on the ground, curiosity drew him on. As he got closer he noticed the telltale signs of a body concealed beneath the cloak, a slick pool of blood nearby revealed the occurrence of either a murder or a massive accident involving a hemorrhage. The amount of blood spilled on the deck was a clear indication that the event was undoubtedly fatal for the victim. He turned to look at Deslock and Grummond; the concerned look on the faces of the explorer and the captain told him that they were just as clueless as he was about the nature or reasoning for this crime. There was little sense in asking them what happened. The gathering crowd around him spoke in hushed whispers or echoed aloud his own thoughts and questions.
"So who's this then?" Raven finally asked nodding towards the body under the cloak.
"Crewman Feron, he was on night duty the last time I saw him alive" came the grim reply from a nearby sailor.
His words had hardly left the mouth when a sudden gust of wind swept over the ship. The gale was strong enough to cause the ship to lurch and blow the cloak away from the corpse, revealing the brutality of the murder to everyone once again. Raven inhaled sharply at the sight of the body, the throat was cut and the head was split open, the brain was removed with precision from the skull; this clearly was not an accidental hemorrhage.
"Ethain caedo hal!. Erhisthu unad, Feron. Erhisthu unad!" he uttered a simple prayer as he grabbed the fluttering cloak and placed it over the body once again.
He got up slowly and turned to the gathering mass of bodies before him. "Should we not bury him at sea?. Or do we return him to his family once we get to Tyb?"
Deslock groaned inwardly as the deluge of questions arrived, falling like hail on his ears.
"What the hell's going on?!"
Ask a question that hasn't been said yet, why don't you.
"It would seem, captain, that this ship is woefully unsecure. I awoke to find someone had been sifting through my belongings."
Oh, wonderful, more shit in the night...and yes, looks like Grummond took offence, it's gonna be a while before he's calmed down enough to help...
"[small]"No no no no no no nononononono[/small]nonono no no NO!"
Aaaaaand yes, there's the noble-born kid, completely losing it. Right on godsdamned schedule.
"Christ, what happened here?!"
Okay, I think I can understand now why Grummond was so annoyed when I asked him that when I saw the body. How many more times am I going to hear that question today?
"Should we not bury him at sea? Or do we return him to his family once we get to Tyb?"
...you know, that's actually a reasonable question. Good to see someone kept their wits about them.
Unfortunately, the answer is "I don't know."
Deslock sighed and rubbed his eyes, feeling a headache coming on. He needed more sleep, he really did.
"All right," he said. "We have a murder. I don't know what we're doing with the body--that's Grummond's call, and it looks like he's busy glaring at the knight. I'd say we'll probably send him to his family from Tyb, since we should be there soon."
The explorer warmed to his theme, his thoughts starting to come in something other than a slow, stunned trickle.
"We have a murder. If anyone knows who did it, or has any information that might help us, come and tell me or the captain. The sooner we figure out who did this the better."
Who was it who wrote that poem? "What joyous days are these / when we sail on waters green / and the nights alive with laughter / and warm starlight on the breeze / blah blah etc"
Yeah, I'd say the night is alive with something other than laughter and starlight.
"What the hell's going on?!"
Ask a question that hasn't been said yet, why don't you.
"It would seem, captain, that this ship is woefully unsecure. I awoke to find someone had been sifting through my belongings."
Oh, wonderful, more shit in the night...and yes, looks like Grummond took offence, it's gonna be a while before he's calmed down enough to help...
"[small]"No no no no no no nononononono[/small]nonono no no NO!"
Aaaaaand yes, there's the noble-born kid, completely losing it. Right on godsdamned schedule.
"Christ, what happened here?!"
Okay, I think I can understand now why Grummond was so annoyed when I asked him that when I saw the body. How many more times am I going to hear that question today?
"Should we not bury him at sea? Or do we return him to his family once we get to Tyb?"
...you know, that's actually a reasonable question. Good to see someone kept their wits about them.
Unfortunately, the answer is "I don't know."
Deslock sighed and rubbed his eyes, feeling a headache coming on. He needed more sleep, he really did.
"All right," he said. "We have a murder. I don't know what we're doing with the body--that's Grummond's call, and it looks like he's busy glaring at the knight. I'd say we'll probably send him to his family from Tyb, since we should be there soon."
The explorer warmed to his theme, his thoughts starting to come in something other than a slow, stunned trickle.
"We have a murder. If anyone knows who did it, or has any information that might help us, come and tell me or the captain. The sooner we figure out who did this the better."
Who was it who wrote that poem? "What joyous days are these / when we sail on waters green / and the nights alive with laughter / and warm starlight on the breeze / blah blah etc"
Yeah, I'd say the night is alive with something other than laughter and starlight.