The Unknown: A Game of Fear, Ignorance, and Adventure

[Bluedemon322]

John listened as Deslock gave out orders to the various sailors, and as soon as he looked like he was done talking, went over to him and whispered,
"I neglected to mention this earlier, but that wound was from a bullet, which means that whoever shot Royka was one of The Expedition. It means that whoever we find out there, could, from what we know, be Royka's would-be killer. That said, I would like to take the next longboat off of this godforsaken island with your permission."

 

[ThePuzzldPirate]

"I neglected to mention this earlier, but that wound was from a bullet...

Rhee had a hard time keeping a straight face before, but this was too much.

""

Rhee broke out in laughter, "I take bath now, Deslock, make man eye Rokya, killer could kill." And with that, she jogged towards the river not even checking for directions.

 

[Sporky111]

It was several minutes after the quake that Kadeam finally gave up on his foot. Sweat was beading on his forehead and his breathing was shaky from his excruciating attempts at self-repairs. As he discovered, it wasn't his ankle that was broken, rather it was several of the bones within his foot.

He grabbed his makeshift crutch and got to his feet with a groan, then followed the edge of the beach towards the congregated expedition members.

"Is there anyone here that can set bones?" he asked no-one in particular. "My foot's been crushed, and I . . . I can't fix it on my own."

 

[Zemalac]

Deslock stared after Rhee with a bemused expression on his face. "Yes," he muttered, "you do that. Go take a bath. Calm down." The Explorer was, to put it lightly, unhappy. Things were going wrong. His area of expertise--his arena of intimate mastery--was adventuring. He knew how to explore, map, and deal with dangerous situations. He had been on many expeditions, led most of them in fact, and he knew when things were about to fall apart. He knew that trust and camaraderie were necessary ingredients for any expedition, and he always did his best to foster them.

And right now he could feel things slipping out of his grasp.

"Is there anyone here that can set bones? My foot's been crushed, and I . . . I can't fix it on my own."

Deslock seized the excuse to explode. "The hell is this? Another one? Gods damn us all, everyone who isn't grievously wounded, put your hands up! Hands in the air! I was being sarcastic sailor, put your damn arm down before someone puts it down for you!"

He took a moment to regather his thoughts. In a low voice, he said to John, "You seem to know what you're doing. Ignore Rhee--she's had a bit of a shock, I expect. I'll have a word with her. In the meantime, if you could take a look at the elf's foot, I'd appreciate it." There was a pause. "That is to say, no, you can't go back to the ship yet, because I damn well need everyone I can get here. In case you haven't noticed, we still have a mast to move. And apparently half our damn crew is dying on their feet."

He smoothly shifted his attention to Kadeam. "Hello, sir," he said. "Don't think we've met. I'm Tyrone Deslock, and this is John Piercefield. Mr. Piercefield seems to know a little about first-aid, so he'll take a look at your foot, until we can get someone more qualified. Speaking of which, has anyone found the signaling flags? We really do need the Doctor over here." His attention shifted focus once again. "Ah, right, you've got 'em? Good. I assume you know the signals...yeah, no need to prove it to me, just know them. Now, here's the message I need you to send...

_________________________​

The Doctor was walking down the stairs towards his cabin, slowly, examining a remarkable plant. There seemed to be no distinguishable veins anywhere on the specimen, yet it still was able to spread moisture from the roots in some mysterious manner. He was absorbed in the curled flowers when a panting sailor blocked the path to his room. With a hint of irritation in his throat he addressed the obstacle. "Excuse me".

The sailor didn't move, and Nexaddo was momentarily confused as to why that might be so. The mystery was quickly resolved, however; "Doctor, you've been called back to the island."

The Doctor's irritation grew. There is a major discovery to be had and the obstacle did not seem to be moving. "First," he said loftily, "I act voluntarily, not on a summons. Secondly, why would I go back to an island which is about to explode?"

"Did you not hear the alarm on deck?" asked the sailor, but received only the evil eye in reply. Flustered, the man continued, "The signal asked for immediate medical help, and since you're the only Doc-"

"I have more important matters to attend to," said Nexaddo. "There is an extremely skilled group already on the island; I'm sure at least one of them has the competence to clean and wrap a paper cut. Now, I will be in my room and I require that I am not disturbed for... hmm... three days. Just leave food in the hall." Without another moment's hesitation Nex stepped past, continuing into his room, eyes again fixated on the plant.

_________________________​

"White-red-cross...uh...medical...negative?"

"The hell are they saying?" demanded Deslock, shading his eyes as he glared out at the Cepolada.

"Well, the flags can't really convey details very well, sir," said the sailor, "but I think they're saying that the Doctor isn't coming back."

"The fuck he isn't," said Deslock. He rounded on his men. "Mr. Piercefield! Looks like you're getting that trip to the ship after all! Find out what the hell is up with the Doctor and drag his highly-skilled ass back to where it's needed! Go!"

 

[Bluedemon322]

"Mr. Piercefield! Looks like you're getting that trip to the ship after all! Find out what the hell is up with the Doctor and drag his highly-skilled ass back to where it's needed! Go!"

Relieved he didn't have to use his basic first aid skills again, John turned and saw the longboat, which was just now leaving, laden with sailors. John sprinted as fast as he could to the boat, leaped onto it, and tossed one of the sailors into the shallow water to make up for the additional weight. He then leaned back, and spent the ride resting and testing his own wound while all the sailors who weren't rowing stared at him.

As soon as the ship reached anchor, John shoved his way to the ladder, scrambled up, and after a short detour, finally reached Doctor Nexxado's cabin. Not wanting to interrupt the gnome too rudely, he knocked on the door and said,

"Doctor Nexxado? A mans been shot, another has a broken leg or something, and who knows how many expedition members are missing. Deslock wants you on the beach to fix up any expedition members that have been injured."

 

[MintyNinja]

Slowly at first, for agony wracked his being, Rokya opened his eyes. His breathing coming in short and shallow breaths. No fluid in his lungs to cough up, in fact his pain seemed more superficial. He glanced around at the sailors surrounding him, no one was holding his bag. He was about to ask of it's whereabouts when he heard Deslock shouting, the majority of it was lost but the last word resounded throughout the campsite, "Go!

Rokya winced as a dark figure nearly flew from the beach, his nightmares returning tenfold. At that moment a sailor noticed that the previously still form was glancing around, "Oy! He's awake!"

The others turned to regard the wounded merchant as he muttered softly, "Where's my bag?"

"Ye didn't have it wit' ya Mister Nasheel. The Illarym bird dragged ye back asking for de doc an' hollerin' for a drink," the sailor replied.

"Illarym... what?"

"Da woman, the tall one, the feck's 'er name again..."

"Rhee?!" Rokya asked incredulously. "She brought me back?"

"That's the name! An' she stitched ye up by the looks of things, too. By the way, how'd ya get a wound like that?" The sailor was innocent in his questioning but the memories that he forced upon the wounded merchant nearly proved too much, his agony flaring through his grogginess. He was about to brush the question aside when Deslock, overhearing the last question, came upon him.

"Yes," the famed explorer began, "do tell about you're suspiciously bullet-like wound."

Rokya's throat went dry as the last images before his slip into the darkness replayed before him. Finally he croaked out past parched lips, "Ya know, it's the strangest thing, I just don't seem to remember at the moment."

 

[Yorgmiester]

Prithis emerged from the jungle at his usual loping pace, sauntering slowly through the tropical brush like some hairy, long-legged alien from a distance and primordial moon. His ever-present staff occupied his right hand, and in his left was held a coconut, freshly punctured and still full with succulent nourishment.

The satyr slowed as he approached the gathering of supplies and people on the beach, eying it curiously. The scene looked like washed-up leftovers from a shipwreck; a broken mast stretched across the sand, boxes of food and scientific specimens placed haphazardly about, wounded men laying all over the place without treatment.

The captain, who's name escaped Prithis at the moment, was looking much like a shipwreck himself. The man seemed at all times to be in some sort of a rant or rage; a very animated person, to say the least. After taking another sip from his coconut, Prithis approached the captain from behind and observed his antics for a few moments, then tapped him on the shoulder.

"I can heal!" the satyr announced with an amused grin.

 

[Sporky111]

Kadeam was thrown off guard by Deslock's sudden explosion, but after a few moments he seemed to blow off all his steam and get back to normal. Stress, I'd imagine. But a leader that can't handle stress doesn't inspire any confidence.

Before long they had finished their introductions and Mr. Piercefield had been assigned to look at his injury. Kadeam moved off to the edge of the forest, into the shade, and sat down on a boulder. When he looked back, Deslock was pointing his doctor towards the ship.

"What is this?" he said to himself in frustration. Piercefield ran off and practically dove into the longboat, tossing out another man in the process. ". . . what the hell?" the ice elf muttered, leaning back and sighing.

 

[Zemalac]

The Doctor had set up the plant on a crate with half the roots in a bucket of water and the other half dangling in the air, carefully sketching and noting the present condition of the specimen so he would be able to identify changes when (if) they came. He was lost in the tiny world of leaf and root, and when the knock came on the door jostled him from his concentration his irritation once again began to rise.

Without moving toward the door he responded, "I have asked to be left alone, Mr. Piercefield, and I expect that request to be respected. I'm not here to fix every issue people get themselves into. Now, leave me to do my job!"

___________________________________​

"I can heal!"

"Gahh!" Deslock jumped. "What the fuck, what the hell, why did you just sneak--did you say you could heal?" Deslock looked around, locating the nearby Royka and Kadeam. "Right--triage camp, right the fuck now. We've got a guy who's apparently been shot and an elf who says he broke his foot. Might want to check the elf first, Piercefield said that Nasheel would be fine with some rest, but I had to send him off before he could look at the elf--are you understanding a word I'm saying? Do you understand the language? Common tongue? Fuck this." He pointed at Kadeam. "That guy. He needs healing. So does this other guy," pointing at Royka, "but he's already had someone look at him. So elf first."

His eyes alighted on the ice elf Cid, just emerged from the Osprey. "And someone tell the elf in the suit we're not going to kill him, dammit. He looks like he wants to call the guard on all of us. If this island had a guard. Which it doesn't. So the metaphor fails, but you know what I mean."

 

[Bluedemon322]

"I have asked to be left alone, Mr. Piercefield, and I expect that request to be respected. I'm not here to fix every issue people get themselves into. Now, leave me to do my job!"

John listened to his words before scowling, and said, "Listen. I know you don't want to be bothered with this, but you are the only experienced doctor on the ship, and until that isn't the case, we're going to need your medical and scientific expertise if only to ensure that the injured don't die. If somebody who could have been saved dies or loses a limb because you can't be bothered to help, then the blood is on your hands. You can come with me, or you can stay here and draw diagrams of fucking plant life."

 

[Nukey]

It took a few moments for Cecia to realize the issue that was brewing on the same beach she was standing on, still not having gotten over the volcanic eruption that had excited her so much just moments ago. She shook her head, trying to shake the memory of the blast out of her mind and glanced over towards the others while attempting to figure out what was going on so she woudln't have to make a fool of herself by asking. After repeatedly hearing mentions of doctors and shootings, she came to the conclusion that there were more than a few injuries that needed treating.

With a sigh she made her way over towards the gentlemen she had identified as the group's leader, a rather intimidating looking individual who apparently went by the name Deslock.

"Excuse me, sir." the elf started, smiling weakly, "I'm a, err, physician an' a bit o' a healer, could I lend a hand? I did some studyin' at that, umm...place wi' th' short guys...along wi' a few other libraries and schools. I b'lieve I could treat any wounds yer men be havin' received while on this isle, that be, o' course, if ye`d allow 't."

 

[Zemalac]

The gnome had no intention of leaving the precious specimen. If there was one truth he had learned from life, it was that science was far more fascinating and eternal than mortal beings. The theories of the modern world were ever changing, but once one is supported by careful experimentation, well, that theory is likely to last longer than any mortal life. Then there are theories which surpass all current mortal understanding, and it is these laws which even bind the abilities of Gods, however powerful and praised they may be. This is what the Doctor believed, and this is what he followed.

So he ignored the man's rambling and continued his examination, for there was only one plant with which he could practice. By leaving its side for even a moment he risked missing the crucial moments before the specimen began to die and, presumably, lose its fascinating ability.

___________________________________​

"All right," said Deslock. "Excellent. Things are going our way for once, eh?" To Cecia: "Thank you for the offer, m'am. We've got two people--two thus far, with more on the way, the way our luck is--anyway, two people with injuries. One of 'em has been patched up a fair amount, but he's lost a lot of blood, and the other is an elf I don't know--maybe you know him, you were on the Osprey, right? He broke his foot somehow. He's over there. Sitting on the rock. Some help with healing either of them would be well-received, though I did just ask the...uh...satyr? Yeah, let's go with that, he looks like a satyr...asked the satyr to look at the ice-blood."

Deslock paused and extended a hand. "My name's Tyrone Deslock, by the way," he said. "And to say I'm glad to hear we have actual healers around is something of an understatement."

His gaze slipped past Cecia, and he frowned. "The elf in the suit is still looking at us like we're brigands," he muttered. "Sir!" he shouted at Cid, "we are not pirates! We are from the Cepolada--that's the ship at anchor out there--and we're trying to help!" A pause, during which Deslock sought to catch the eye of Riley Lynch.

"Mr. Lynch," he muttered to the Osprey's mate, "who is that damn elf?"

"Cid," said Lynch simply. "He owns--owned--the ship. Or at least most of the shares."

"Fucking wonderful," Deslock said. "Wonder what he thinks of his investment now."

 

[MintyNinja]

Deslock soon disregarded the wounded merchant, and Rokya was thankful for it. The sailor at his side, for only one remained of the previous group, offered a waterskin. Rokya drank deeply before he returned it and then asked, "Where's Rhee at? I suppose I owe her my gratitude, and then some."

"She's off havin' a bath," the sailor said, his ensuing grin reaching ear to ear. "I can go fetch 'er if ya like?"

Rokya barely had a chance to stop the sailor, surely saving the fool's life, and told him, "It's best to wait for her to come here on her own. She's deservin' of some peace." The sailor agreed reluctantly and asked the merchant if there were anything else he needed before the sailor returned to his work. "If you do see the woman, after her bath, let her know I'd like a word with her."

As the sailor turned back to his work Rokya surveyed what he could of the campsite from his position on the ground. Looks like we've still got a few adventurous souls in the wild, he thought to himself.

 

[Yorgmiester]

Prithis regarded the ice elf Deslock had indicated, sitting atop the boulder a little ways off, beneath the eves of the jungle, looking generally unhappy as usual. The only two words Prithis could ever think of to describe ice elves were "pale" and "bored".

"Hokay." the satyr muttered in response to the captain's request but to no one in particular. Tossing aside his first coconut, he produced a second and speared it on his horn as he sauntered over to the wounded ice elf. "I heal you!" he stated matter-of-factly, then took a long drink of coconut milk. He emptied the fruit of it's contents and slurped up every remaining drop, as if it were some kind of pre-surgery energy boost.

"Good begun." Prithis licked his lips and knelt down on one knee, grabbing hold of the elf's foot and lifting it up to meet his gaze. He ignored Kadeam's exclamations of pain.



"You want stupid foot? I can heal you good wood foot. Many strong."

 

[Bluedemon322]

"Ah, fuck it. I tried. Let the bastards die." John walked down the corridor, pissed. When he got to the longboat, a group of sailors were chatting in his way, blocking the ladder from him. Too annoyed to even bother asking them politely to move out of the way, he shoved his way past, knocking one of the sailors over the rails and into the water. He slid down the ladder, ordered the ship to leave immediately, then spent the rest of the voyage testing his shoulder.

When the boat arrived on shore, he walked over to the commotion on the beach, and said to Deslock "The doctor has no intention of leaving his specimen, though I see that you have somebody working on it anyway."

 

[Sporky111]

Kadeam watched the satyr with a bit of apprehension as the strange creature approached him and slurped down a coconut. He recognized him, Prithis, from the Osprey. He knew it didn't speak the common tongue very well, so he wasn't all that surprised by the simplistic words it used to say it could heal.

He yelped in pain as Prithis not-too-gently started to examine his foot, mumbling to himself in another language.

"You want stupid foot? I can heal you good wood foot. Many strong."

"What? . . . wood foot?" He was suddenly very nervous about what types of healing the satyr might employ. "No! Leave it as it is." He slowed down and thought out his response better.

"Like this." he said slowly, pointing to the foot. "Not wood. Only heal bones, please."

 

[Lost In The Void]

"Sir!" he shouted at Cid, "we are not pirates! We are from the Cepolada--that's the ship at anchor out there--and we're trying to help!"

Cid looked to the floor of the jungle and saw an angry looking human speaking to him. He was talking to the captain of the Osprey so he assumed his was friendly. Well friendly enough for a human at least. He walked towards the man and looked him over. He was human....that would make things most annoying, but he had dealt with them before.

He walked towards the group that had assembled, and located the man that had spoken to him. As he had walked he had come up with a hap-hazard plan that would hopefully get him on the ship and out of there. He spoke quickly, efficiently and if listened to properly, a touch condescending, "Sir...whatever your name is, I am pleased to hear that you and your crew are not pirates or any such raff as that. However as it is so, I do have to say you are taking what is mine for the most part and so I propose a deal, or a settlement whatever you want to call it."

He wringed his hands together, "I propose that you allow me passage on your ship as well as where you are going as it may seek to benefit me anyways."

Cid knew that it was a gamble what he was doing, but he was sure between the fact that the man now technically owed him and he had connections to...well everywhere, he was assured a spot on the ship.

 

[Yorgmiester]

Prithis replied to Kadeam's adamant refusal with a derisive snort.

Picking up the elf's foot once more, he held it in both of his large hands and felt around, moving his fingers up and down the ankle and pressing into the skin to feel the broken spots. In truth he had no need to perform such medical precautions when he could use magic, but it was sure to cause a fair amount of pain in the patient, and he didn't like ice elves very much.

"O kay, ready?" the satyr said, looking up at Kadeam with a grin.

Without waiting for a response, he began, the palms of his hands glowing a pale red. He slowly and methodically moved them around he elf's broken appendage, like a potter molding clay. There were a great many pops and crunches as bones and sinew shifted back into place, and a gentle sifting sort of noise as the skin molded back into it's original topography, without the swelling or cuts.

"Done." Prithis remarked, getting to his feet. "Stupid foot not as many stupid."

Looking down at the pale ice elf, the satyr suddenly noticed the large burn marks on it's face. He had seen them before, now that he thought about it, but they had never really caught his attention until now. It was a very odd wound for a snow-pixie.

"Heal?" Prithis asked, motioning to the scars.

 

[Zemalac]

"The doctor has no intention of leaving his specimen, though I see that you have somebody working on it anyway."

"What?" Deslock was taken aback for a moment. "But he's the..."

...Representative from the University, not your Expedition doctor...

"...Well. Okay then. His people are the ones paying me, not the other way around, so I don't suppose I can complain much. The bastard."

The Explorer turned to the elf Cid. "Okay. You want off this rock? Fair enough, I can see that, and you do technically own the mast we need to replace ours, so that seems reasonable. I have to warn you, though--same warning I gave Mr. Lynch here--we aren't going back to Lorin. The opposite direction, in fact. If I may introduce myself...my name is Tyrone Deslock, and we are the Grand Expedition. We're setting off to explore the Unknown Continent, which I believe you elves call 'The great damn wilderness,' or words to that effect. But anyway, the point is, if you come with us you won't be seeing civilization again for a very long time." He paused, considering. "Though it might not seem so long for you, you being an elf and all," he added.

 

[Sporky111]

Kadeam gritted his teeth as the satyr mercilessly prodded at his broken foot. Just fix it already you damn goat! How much to you need to feel around if it's fucking magic? he thought, but he bit his tongue so he didn't actually say it out loud.

But finally he did heal it, with a great many cracking and grinding noises. When he was finished, Kadeam took a deep, shaky breath and put his foot on the ground. It didn't hurt.

"Thank you." He said, pulling on his boot and standing up. When he looked at Prithis again, the satyr was staring at him and offering to heal again.

"What, now?" he asked. Prithis responded by pointing to his own face, then back to Kadeam. "Oh . . . no, you don't have to heal these." he mumbled, rubbing his hand gently against the hard, red scar tissue.