Syl Nerrier The captain sighed and Syl braced for what she was sure was about to be a thorough scolding. "Have you got a bloody death wish or some'ing?" The man said. "35 minutes. Now stay up here if you like but utter one more word and I'll have Mumbles escort you downstairs." "Oh, no, no, no," Syl said, speaking softly as she slowly shook her head in deference. "I see my presence troubles you, sir, and I would hate to see Mr. Mumbles pulled from his duties on my account. Such a nice lad… yes… anyway, give him my regards. I shall be on my way, sir." She bowed slightly and curtseyed in the graceful fashion that only elves could, then folded her white parasol, donned her straw hat, and gingerly departing the helm. "Such lovely weather," she whispered to herself as she disappeared down the stairs. "Lovely, lovely, weather." Syl clomped down the steps in her wooden sandals and entered the main hold, where she paused to bask in what could best be described as the scent of fresh-churned vomit mingled with the heady aroma of about a dozen people, of various ages, races, and (non)hygienic habits packed into a poorly-ventilated chamber, surrounded by seawater on all sides and tossed around by the sea. Lovely indeed. "As it should be," Syl said to herself with a smile as she slowly clomped back up the stairs. It probably looked as if she'd fled the scene, disgusted by the state of affairs. But a minute or two later, the Sun Elf returned with a mop and bucket and quietly set about tidying up, whistling a tune under her breath.
Edolas and Eva Voices. Voices all around him. Waves churning, bodies stirring, all of it nearly drove him mad. And he probably would have gone mad... or at least down a darker path had she not been here with him. Had he not worked so hard to keep them both alive until this point. Edolas opened one golden eye where he rested in the corner of their small cabin, sitting on the bed with his back to both walls and facing the door. In his lap and curled up in his arms was a small drow girl, her sleep as of yet undisturbed by the lack of music and the increasingly loud pounding of the waves. Sighing, he contemplated the small hope he had of starting a new life on the Sun Isle. Though they may not be accepted there for what they were, he hoped that no one would really have a good reason to try and harm them at least. He was pretty sure it was safer there than the human lands. Opening one spiked glove, he carefully tucked a stray lock of hair behind his little sister's ear, then began to relax against the wall again, the one eye sliding shut. "Nope." She shook her head resolutely. "I asked first!" His nose scrunched in distaste as both eyes opened this time. Did they really have to be so fething loud? Why did the captain have to give them the closest cabin to the hold? He had asked to be placed as far away as possible -not crammed in like some pig in a crate. A growl rumbled in his chest and he pinched the bridge of his nose briefly, trying to draw on what little patience he had left. Edolas had already caused a bit of an uproar a few weeks back when a sailor had gotten a little too interested in his sister. But that fool had seen him. He had known better. And he'd gotten his wrist broken -a light punishment considering what Edolas was capable of. "Alright, you're too smart for me. I'm really..." Edolas sighed when the voices grew less loud, thinking that they had moved on, but they returned as loud as ever in a burst that made him jolt in his seat. "So, I've told you my dirty little secret. Tell me about you." Laughter outside. A female. "A Prince? You? Ho, if this is true, your humans must be desperate for a leader." Another chuckle. "Sorry, that's harsh, I know..but...you're just too odd." Edolas rolled his eyes, but then cursed under his breath when the small drow in his arms stirred. "Nae Eva, go back to sleep." He begged her quietly, but the girl stretched and yawned -an action that nearly cracked her jaw for how wide it was. When Eva slumped back into the cradle of his arms, her violet eyes were confused. "But brother, I've been sleeping all day. I'm hungry." Edolas sighed in defeat and carefully picked his sister up to move her off of him so his armor wouldn't scratch her as he moved. The girl smiled at the lack of argument for once and with a squeal hopped off of the bed, springing up and down on her little feet. "Yay yay! Let's go eat!" she chimed and darted for the doorway. "Eva wait--" but the door was already open and the small drow had crashed into a strange red-robed man. Edolas caught her as she fell back -well, more like bounced off of him- and steadied her. And though he kept his gaze off of the strangers the girl quickly recovered from the incident and waved, her eyes bright. "Hiya! I haven't seen you before. Eddie keeps us locked up in our room a lot. Who are you?" she chirped. Edolas sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose again.
Vedelo was starting to have some concerns for his manuscript. He did his best to wrap the large book tightly in skins and stowed it in his small trunk with his backpack. His notes and scrolls should be safe in their wooden cases which were sealed tight. He'd never seen a storm on the ocean before. But he knew storms on land were wet enough. He could imagine it would get a whole lot wetter on the open ocean. It was giving him the jitters. He decided to go investigate the commotion going out in the hall. He had heard a lot of talking and yelling recently. He grabbed his broadsword and strapped the heavy scabbard onto his wide black belt. Next he grabbed staff, making sure the ends were tightly screwed on. He used his staff like a walking stick as he left his quarters and peeked his head out the doorway. There were people milling all about in the central hold area. And of all races. He saw Meek talking to a large dark skinned human. He'd seen a few of them and wondered if lighter skinned humans thought of them as Sun Elves do Drow. He'd never bothered to ask anyone. For now he slid outside and just watched and listened to everything going on around him.
Evan sat in the corner, still feeling ill, but less than before. Thieving seemed to have calmed him, even though he had been stopped before he had obtained anything, settling back into the familiar role of 'the great larcenist' always soothed him. As he was enjoying this probably fleeting moment of time when he wasn't vomiting on everything in sight, he began to observe the fellow passengers around him. He found other people fascinating, the way they all went about their lives, each and every one of them having a story, a reason for boarding the ship, a whole other life that for all he knew could be the complete and utter opposite of Evan's own. From where he was sat, he had a fine view into the hall that lead to the passengers room, and he watched all different kinds of people milling about. There were passengers of all races, Dwarves, Sun Elves, Drow, fellow humans, you name any race, and it seemed to be there. He saw the Dwarven violin player he had heard play earlier talking to a human, and watched in interest as a bright, energetic young Drow girl bumped into a red cloaked stranger, and was saved from falling by a much larger male Drow, before greeting the man she had crashed into enthusiastically. Evan yawned, wondering what time it was. He hadn't been on deck since boarding the Kamala, and had no idea whether it was day or night.
Shango Shango was about to further question Meek, who he realized had not really told him anything about herself, when someone bounced off of him. "Hiya! I haven't seen you before. Eddie keeps us locked up in our room a lot. Who are you?" The tall prince looked down at the girl and his thin eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "A Drow!" he exclaimed. A second later, a bigger Drow appeared and restrained the perky girl-child. "Two Drows? Wow, you two must have been holed up in your room since the first day, I don't think I've even seen you!" He stepped forward and held out his hand to the dangerous-looking Drow with the spiked armor. The Drow was tall, a hair taller than Shango, who was used to towering over everyone he met. "My name is Shango Ka," he announced. "At your service."
“The name is Caleb” stated the man who by his appearance looked to be on his early thirties. “Also known as the <Shadow under the crescent moon>” said with an arrogant smile. There was a time once a famous theft happened. An unknown figure stole the treasure of Malak's royal family. In the course of a single night the chamber was emptied, no guard was alerted not even in the slightest, weren’t to be due to the fact the treasure was stolen this would had been just another quiet night for the family. There was however a turmoil the next day, the patriarch demanded to locate the thief suspicious of him still being in the town, of course they were unable to locate him despite they investigated him for a complete week, a week adorned by a crescent moon. Little do they know that the thief used the very same castle to hid and there were reports from the guards of sometimes witnessing a shadow moving in the corners but unable to find anybody. Luckily for the thief, Malak would later enter into a war which made the king quickly forgot the crime. It became quickly a popular story known as The Shadow under the Crescent Moon. Caleb was a 28 years man when he committed this crime, during his time he became used to hear his nickname in the streets of different villages and towns. However…. Since he awoke once again he barely had if ever heard the story and many are unaware of it, this made him always wonder, Exactly, how many decades had passed? “Worry not for I won’t steal anything for you. Trust me, I could, even while trapped in this ship for several days and even after telling you I would. I’m just that confident in my skills.” The man looked around the several books and strange artifacts and added. “Besides, even if I could, I would just ruin the material. No my dear scholar, what I want is your mind and knowledge! I’m making a bet here but tell me, how much do you know about the elves’s curses? Sure, this ship is filled with them but exactly the opposite as what I expected from the dwarves, all I see are warriors and thieves. Had this world changed so much?”
Captain Issac With the last passenger down below the Captain slammed the hull trap shut and could be heard yelling muffled orders through the wood above. The storm was upon them now and everyone inside was thrown to and fro by jolts of terrible waves, and silenced by howling winds and rain. Night had finally fallen. The window shutters were locked down and only the soft light of a solitary candle lit the small mess hall. All the passengers had gathered here in a bid to relax and chatter away their discomfort, but the storm was too loud and the room too dark. There was an uneasy tension inside these creaking wooden walls. Little of the crew were below. And those that were sat in the corner in darkness, their knives scratching screams into the top of a barrel, the blades glistening menacingly under the candlelight. With not much to say, it wasn't long before the first passenger retired to their room and then another. One by one they left and all of them seemed unconsciously aware they were in for a restless night. The storm was so dreadfully loud now and they could no longer here the voices on the upper deck; tossing and turning on their hay filled beds as the thunder clapped and they tried to drift off to a difficult sleep. Above on deck, the scene was relentless, with nothing but the crew's wits and senses to help them through the blackest of nights. The storm carries over them, hulking with a drum above, banging and banging and banging and banging. The many hands of the waves grab at the deck and desperately try to rip the boat down, while the wind cuts sharp across the men, sending daggers of rain into their faces. "45 degrees starboard!" Captain Issac can be heard yelling from the helm, a nervous twitch in his eye as he consults the compass once more before snapping it shut with a violent click. The ominous crackle of lightning reveals blackened skies, rain lit up like a thousand white cuts and faces fearful and hard. The promise of coin is less tempting with every smashing wave and the mercenaries grimace at the orders barked at them, the insults cursed at them, the eyes scowling at them. "Put your backs into you blasted land lovers!" Issac whipped them hard with his words. "Tie that rope down, secure the foremast... quicker you idiot... YOU'RE LOSING IT!" It was too late. The ties on the foremast came loose and the wind quickly unravelled the small sail, knocking several sailors off the boat and into the sea. The winds pushed through the sail bending the whole boat downward into the ocean, nosediving under the water and bobbing back up just at the last moment, with more sailors washed away. "HOLD ONTO SOMETHING!" Issac screamed, tightly gripping his wheel and fighting the Kamela. She dived again, thrashing through the Marooned Sea and cracking mightily on its dark blue face. The whole foremast snapped and timbered down across the deck like an old oak in a forest. The Kamela immediately reset itself. Issac's wrists snapped away from the wheel as it spun furiously, bringing the boat somewhat safely onto the water again. But the foremast thundered onto the deck, tugging rope and lines underneath it, and splitting into large splinters on impact. Without a moment to lose Captain Issac grasped for control of the wheel, easing the Kamela down and allowing the crew to breath. "Killed! KILLED! You fucking toothless sons of whores, you coulda got us all KILLED! I am the Capt-" "You ain't nuh'ting!" The Merc said shifting from behind the Captain, hugging him and plunging a curved blade deep into his belly, pulling upwards to the sternum and out in one swift motion. Red gushed from Issac's front, covering the Kamela's wheel in thick blood. His mutilated body flopped to the floor like a bloated whale and the Merc took his three pronged hat and placed it on his tall black head. "Mumbles be Cap'tain now. Cap'tain Mumbles!" The mountain of a man beat his chest, picked up Issac's carcass in his giant hands and tossed it over the side. "Brudda's!" Mumbles turned to face the rest of the mercs, who were either looking back at him or holding a loyalist to Issac by the neck with a sword. "Kill da old Cap'tain's family." And with that, several blades sliced through flesh and the bodies were quickly disposed of overboard. "Round d'up da live cargo. Dey be all da coin we need!" There was a huge cheer and suddenly this mutinous militia ripped open the hull doors and forced their way down inside.
Damn it Caleb Perhaps the first surprise the other prisoners may found after the riot and their capture, was that from one of the brig’s walls there was half of a body. It wasn’t a body split into two or pieces of a body lying in the wall, no, it was literally half of a human body protruding from the wall, half a torso, a forearm and a complete arm as well as the neck and head, as if it were to be a mass formed by the same wall but of human flesh, if anyone were to do a careful examination of the border between the body and the wall they’ll realize there was no crack on the wall, instead, the body was somehow frozen with the wall. But what was more unnerving was that the body, although half frozen and fused with the wall was moving; the arms, the neck and his eyes signaled that he was pretty much alive. “So, here I was talking with the dwarf, then the sound of fight and wild pirates taking everyone as a prisoner. I avoided to be caught off course and once I saw my chance I went to the rescue, but here I am…. Stuck to a wall, you may not notice it yet, but the waters of the ocean are so cold that the walls here are literally frozen between the wood. I estimate that the brig may be located at the bottom of the ship or at least close” Said Caleb with an apologetic face. "It's so cold..."
Meek and Saorla Sleep never came to Meek. The noise and rocking made that impossible. Ship were awful vessels. Why couldn't someone come up with something better? She groaned and sat up in her bunk rubbing her tired eyes. A loud thump sent her hand to her bedstead for her war axe. A burly sailor burst in and threw a heavy punch at her cheek so fast she didn't have time to react. The next thing Meek knew she was being hauled out under the arm of said sailor. She screamed and called him several unflattering name whilst kicking and punching useless. "Let me go you stupid human! I will curse you with every dwarven, Elvin and even human god there is! LET GO!" Saorla had done a great job so far of avoiding interaction with everyone unless ultimately necessary. However, when she heard Meek screaming and cursing; her eyelids parted and her slumber had become a distant memory. She tucked away her notebook, which she had fallen asleep with, into her shirt, and ran for the door--right into the torso of man. He was practically a giant compared to her, and she fell right down on her bottom. A grunt escaped her lips, and she attempted to squirm away before she was snatched up and thrown over the giant's shoulders like a sack of potatoes. "You ain't goin' nowhere, woman," he said harshly. Saorla could see Meek kicking and punching at the man, but could not find such a fighting spirit within herself. Still, she reached some magic out to Meek, pleading for her to take it and be healed. A little boost of adrenaline might do the girl some good. Meek felt something flow into her. Magic. She grimaced. She hated magic. On the positive side it soothed the horrible ache in her jaw and added strength to her tired muscles. She attacked with renewed vigor, annoyed that the woman on the pirate's shoulder was laying limp as if she didn't care that she were being hauled away. She yelped and nearly passed out as the pirate squeezed her rib-cage tighter, cursing at her to stop struggling. He threw them in a cage deep within the hold of the ship. There was barely any light and the smell of mildew and sea water was overpowering. The cell door closed with a bang and she rushed over to it, trying to ignore cracked ribs while checking the lock to see if it was pick-able. Saorla made no attempt to fight when be carried down. She did not look for an escape when she was thrown into the brig. In the end she did what she does, and sat down the corner quietly. Waited a second before finally break her long silence on the ship. “You okay?” That was it. That was her big line. The first words she said to the rest of her passengers. "No! I'm not ok." Meek replied hotly, banging on the metal in frustration. Even if the lock was pick-able she didn't have any of her tools on her. She sat down against the bars, grimacing with a hand holding her ribs. "Why didn't you fight!? We could've escaped if you actually did something." She demanded. Saorla rolled up her long sleeve, showing her skinny arm beneath. “I’m not strong enough to fight. Are you hurt?’ She replied in a flat affect, as she walked slowly toward the dwarf. In her mind, escape had never been an option, and it continued to not concern her. She kept her sleeves rolled up, and began to reach straight for where the dwarf was holding, personal boundaries be damned. Meek threw out an arm to smack her approaching hand away. "Keep your damned magic to yourself. I'm fine. We should be working on a way out of here." Saorla stumbled backwards, tripping on her pants with a thump she landed. She was utterly shocked. Who would turn down help? She shook her head, her hair bouncing everywhere “I don’t want money, I just want to help.” She offered the only explanation was simple, Meek didn’t want to pay her. Meek rolled her eyes. "Why does everything have to be about money. Its not about money. Its the fact that its magic. I hate magic. Makes people, especially humans, stupid." She huffed which only caused her ribs to hurt more. Saorla just stared. She’d never heard of magic making people stupid, power hungry maybe. She shrugged “Well, I’d give you this root to chew on to numb the pain, but it’s in my room.” She stood up, brushed herself off and walked back to the corner where she was thrown, settling in close her eyes and wait this out. She peeked once more to make sure she was doing okay. Meek glared through the bars at the hall where more people were being hauled this way. She hated cages. Cages were for animals. Not dwarves. She glanced at the woman who was peeking at her. She was half tempted to accept her offer to heal her but her stubborn dwarven nature wouldn't let her. She'd just have to tough it out till it healed. She'd sworn never to trust magic again and dwarves kept their oaths.
Shango Shango did not find the rocking of the ship to be a nuisance. In fact, he imagined that he was inside a giant cradle, being rocked by the sea. He curled up under his covers and easily slipped into the realms of dreams... He was back at home in Kemet, standing on the banks of the Long River; he could see the sprawling white palace not that far away, over the crest of a golden sand dune. Big, muscle-bound guards stood around him, armed with tall spears and heavy shields, and wearing nothing more than shining gold armbands and rich blood-red kilts. To Shango's left was a trio of beautiful women under a white pavilion: his mother, Queen Hedetet, and her lovely handmaidens, Mikki and Wanonda. Hedetet was sitting straight-backed on a thronelike chair and staring out over the fast-moving water in a meditative state, her flowing white gown stark against her polished ebony skin. Her large amber-colored eyes were rimmed in brilliant gold dust and her glossy jet-black hair hung down her back in thick, intricate plaits. Wanonda was lazily fanning Hedetet with a supremely bored expression, but Mikki was smiling cheerily as she poured wine into a jeweled chalice for Hedetet to drink. Shango smiled to himself; Wanonda was eternally bored, but Mikki could find joy in the most trivial things. Sometimes Shango fancied that he loved Mikki, but he knew that he could never marry someone who wasn't of noble blood. "Shango!" a deep, powerful voice boomed. Shango turned and beheld a towering figure decked out in a billowing white cape and a matching kilt, a huge gold medallion resting on his wide chest: he was Shango's father, King Nectanebu. Nectanebu was a giant, big and strong, but his dark eyes gleamed with a deep intelligence and he was not quick to anger; it surprised some people that his statuesque wife, Hedetet, was the hot-headed one. Shango smiled at his father and waved to him. "Wake up, Shango!" King Nectanebu shouted. "You are in danger!" Shango jerked awake to the sounds of fighting outside his closed door. He jumped out of bed, wearing nothing but a plain loincloth, and lunged for his staff. The next moment, the door banged open and three ugly men barged into his room, wielding swords and daggers. Shango swung out with his staff, but one of the men grabbed it and viciously yanked it out of his grip. Breathing hard, Shango hastily called on the wind and thrust it at them, but that did little more than make them stumble back. Next, he tried to shoot fire from his fingertips but all he could manage in this damp atmosphere was a few sparks. "Alright, enough of yer blasted tricks!" The closest Merc knocked Shango upside the head with the handle of his sword and knocked him out cold. The next thing Shango knew, he was waking up in a cage next to Meek and Saorla. He groaned and sat up, mildly annoyed that he was only dressed in a loincloth, his toned body on full display. "So, Meek," he said, trying to smile his usual carefree smile. "We're in a tight spot aren't we? And who is your friend?" He pointed at Saorla, but then he grimaced and touched his head. It was bleeding from a gash caused by that awful Merc's blow. "I'm bleeding," Shango said numbly. He could already feel sweat beading on his forehead and his stomach churning unpleasantly. "The sight of blood makes me sick," he added.
"I'm bleeding," Shango said numbly. He could already feel sweat beading on his forehead and his stomach churning unpleasantly. "The sight of blood makes me sick," he added. "Ugh. Don't be a big baby." Meek rolled her eyes at him, still holding her ribs. "No doubt the witch in the corner will want to heal you. I wouldn't recommenced accepting it though. Magic is evil and dangerous." She frowned, a stark contrast to her previously jovial mood.
Evan groaned as the waved tossed the ship to and fro. He'd already thrown up again twice, and had nothing more left in his stomach to eject from his body, but he almost wished he had so that the violent pain in his abdomen could be eased, even for a second. He squeezed his eyes shut, wanting to block out the sight of other sea sick stowaways like himself lying in puddles of their own vomit, groaning and clutching their stomachs. He tried to imagine for while that he was back on dry land, in his little village of Al'vedray, and he was in bed with his mother on a chair beside him, stroking his hair and singing gently to him like she had when he was sick as a little boy. He tried to picture his father standing beside his mother, but couldn't remember his father's face, so gave up. His father had died when he was only three years old, so he could only remember him by what his mother had told him. He heard a crash, and his eyes snapped open, jerking out of his peaceful imaginings. He saw three huge men burst through the hold doors, and start grabbing passengers. Evan tried to scramble up, maybe if he moved quick enough he could squeeze behind a few boxes, and hide in the shadows until this was over. He got to his feet, but found it hard to walk as the ship swayed under his feet. He rocked back and forwards, barely managing to take a few steps forward, while one of the huge men strode confidently forward, seemingly unfazed by the rocking ship. Evan turned to face the man, his heart pounding in his chest, his eyes wide and wild with fear. The man reached for him, and Evan started desperately attacking him, but he was dealing about as much damage as a bothersome fly to the giant man, who picked Evan up, and slung him over his shoulder, despite Evan's protests. He carried Evan into to a deep, dark corner of the hold, and threw him into a cage along with a few others. He recognised the dwarven violin player, though the others were complete strangers. He heard the dark skinned man complain about a cut, and the dwarf scold him, telling him to grow up. Evan drew his knees closer to his chest, and took a deep breath. "So," He said. "Does anyone know what the hell we're doing here?"
I had been having such a nice sleep... until some assholes with swords decided to bust into my room. I shot up from my bed with an almost demonic glare. "GET THE HELL OUT!" I shouted, the shout echoing throughout the ship. The next thing they knew, they found themselves thrown out of the room, one even had a boot print on his face, not sure how it had happened... it all happened quite quickly... They sent a few more men in, but the same thing happened... After about ten minutes, I walked out of the room, completely freshened up. "Morning~!" I said with a cheerful smile, only to be met with the glares of ten men brandishing swords. I froze up for a minute. "...Mommy!" I squeaked, and then they all leaped at me at once... I was thrown in the cell with the Meek and the others, completely beaten up. "What did I dooooo?" I asked with tears in my eyes as I lied on the ground. My nose was broken, my lip was busted, I had several lumps on my head, and I was preeeetty sure that I had a broken rib or two...
Syl Nerrier Jimmy was a fisherman, and not a very good one. He had been on the sea his entire life, yet still couldn’t tie a knot worth a damn and couldn’t keep his lunch down when the waves got too rowdy. He bumbled amongst the crew, another faceless sack of meat, lost in the sea-soaked shuffle. But, Jimmy, like most men when they hit their late thirties or forties, firmly believed that his moment would come. One fine day, he would wake up and the sun would give him a great big thumbs up and say, “It’s time, bro,” and he would finally become the badass he was born to be. That’s why he’d joined the Kamela. Because fishermen didn’t pick up chicks in bars the way sailors do. When Mumbles mounted the helm, Jimmy felt it in the deepest depths of his loins. “It’s time, bro.” And so he thrust his cutlass skyward and cheered with glee. He was one of them now, one of the Badasses. The mutineers spread out across the ship, like busy little bees in search of honey. Jimmy sheathed his stinger, lest he trip and fall on it. He had a hard-on the size of a thimble and didn’t want this golden moment of badassery to end prematurely. He picked a door at random and charged inside, ready to melt faces and blow minds. But all he found was a Sun Elf woman, quietly sitting on the bed, with a parasol in her lap. For a moment, he thought she was staring right at him, but he soon realized her eyes were closed. The room was awfully dark. Jimmy hated Sun Elves. He especially hated this one. He’d seen her around the ship, minding her own business, keeping to herself, like she was better than the rest of them. Jimmy, with his deeply-rooted insecurities, couldn’t stomach this. How dare she!? “Get on the floor, bitch,” he said. “I ought to kill you right now.” Her eyes slowly slid open, scrutinizing him. She was still smiling, like this was all a joke. “I ain’t kiddin,’” Jimmy said. “You see somethin’ funny?” His hand hovered near his scabbard. “I’ll show ya what’s funny, bitch.” “Life is funny, dear… shall I end the joke?” Jimmy’s head tilted to the side, slightly. She wasn’t threatening him, was she? Nah, couldn’t be. He was a badass. “Damn elves need to be knocked down a peg,” Jimmy muttered to himself. He puffed out his round belly and chewed his lip for a moment, as if trying to decide what to do. Then, he came to a decision: “Fuck it. Mumbles won’t mind if one gets killed. What kind of name is ‘Mumbles’ anyway?” “So, it seems the storm is finally upon us,” the elf said, still smiling. “Dumb bitch. The storm’s been goin’ at it for over an hour,” Jimmy said as he nudged the door shut with his boot. His hand went for his cutlass. “I was not referring to that storm,” the elf said, as the lock clicked. * * * * * Seconds later, the door opened and Syl stepped into the hall, using her parasol as a walking stick. She paused to shut the door behind herself. Jimmy was sitting on the bed, with his cutlass in his lap, his eyes permanently staring at the door. If anyone looked closely enough, they might notice the tiny puncture wound on his chest, as if his heart had been perforated by a thin blade. His chest cavity was slowly flooding with blood. “Pardon. Pardon me,” Syl said, flagging down the nearest mutineer. A gruff-looking fellow stopped and turned to face her, with a confused look on his face. “Excuse me, sir. Would you be so kind as to escort me to the-“ He unsheathed his sword. “Oh, no no no, that will not be necessary,” Syl said, cowering. “I am just a harmless old woman, submitting herself to your infinite mercy. Would you be so kind as to escort me to the site of my indefinite incarceration?” Too many big words; the man looked confused again. “Take me to the lockup,” Syl said, offering her hand. The man roughly grabbed her wrist and led her away. A short time later, Syl stepped into the cage and the mutineer locked the door behind her. “Thank you, sir,” she said with a smile as she smoothed her dress and took a seat in the corner with her parasol on her lap. “What a lovely day,” she said to her fellow captives, with a smile. “As it should be.”
Vedelo Laying awake on his bed, when the ship had settled down a bit he had breathed a sigh of relief. He was so relaxed that that shouts and crashing hadn't stirred him. He figured the ships crew was coming down to celebrate. His book had survived unscathed as well. All in all he was in a pleasant mood. Unfortunately he wasn't ready for the three men to kick in his door. Shocked at first, the site of drawn weapons was all Vedelo needed to see. His first thought was his staff, but he realized there was no way he'd have room to wield it in his tiny quarters. Instead he reached for his broadsword. Not even bothering to pull it from the scabbard he lept from his cot. Holding it horizontally in front of him, the three mutineers faltered a moment. The one in front of him motioned towards the door, "Ere now, jus' drop ta' weapon an' it'll be easier on e'eryone." Narrowing his eyes, Vedelo flung the scabbard off his weapon so hard it bounced off the wall. Watching their eyes, he saw them follow the scabbard. He rushed one and struck with the flat of the blade, knocking him out cold. That was his only freebie. The other two began shouting curses and lunged at him. He adjusted his stance, feeling naked without his staff. He was uncomfortable fighting this way. He was doing quite well, though his reluctance to kill was only leaving bruises. Doing well until two more men rushed into the room. Vedelo saw where this was going. Leaping back, he raised a hand to stop. The sailors glanced at each other in confusion and slowly edged in. "I'm finished with this. I yield." With that Vedelo hurled his sword into the hay mattress on his cot where it stuck straight up. The sailors moved in a bit more confidently, weapons lowered but still in hand. One reached back and grabbed some rope and tied Vedelo's hands. Through it all Vedelo stood silently. Once finished tying him, the man then suddenly slugged Vedelo across the face. To the sailor's disappointment there was little reaction, though the grey skin on his face turned darker with bruising. Launching two more blows into Vedelo's kidneys this time got him to drop to one knee and grunting before straightening back up. "Told ya ta' drop ta' weapon," he growled before marching Vedelo to a cage in the very bottom level of the ship. Here he was thrown with the rest of the passengers. Stumbling in, he turned to watch them leave. Looking around at the other passengers he sighed, "Well, this is unfortunate. Anyone know what in the Hells is going on?" before moving to sit against the wall near the strange site of a man half stuck in the wall.
Saorla “What did I doooooo?” Saorla turned to see a person in tears looking far worse than the tall man from the place she had never been. First she grabbed his nose, pushed magic into her hand so he could feel her force the bones in place with a solid shove. Then more power so the bones would grow and connect. She brushed her hand along her lips, removing the blood with her sleeve, while simultaneously pushing a little more energy to seal another wound. She then fixed his head and ribs quickly. Without looking or talking to anybody in particular she asked “Anybody else?”
Shango “Anybody else?” "Um, help me, please," Shango said weakly. His vision was getting dark at the edges, he could hardly think straight, and the blood was really starting to flow from the gash in the back of his head. Shango had never seen so much blood, especially not so much of his own. He shivered in disgust and vomitted in the corner of the cell. "My apologies," he panted, wiping sweat from his face, but only succeeding in smearing blood across his brow. "I'm no better than the Bard right now," he joked, laughing shakily. His eyelids drooped and he struggled to keep them open.
I cried out in pain when the woman grabbed my nose and seemed to be trying to push it right into my skull... but when she let go and went on to my other wounds, I felt the pain ebb away, nothing but small aches remaining where I had been wounded. "T-Thank you miss, when we get out of here, I owe you one free item of your choice!" I said, sitting up. I looked around. "It would appear that the captain either decided it would be profitable to kidnap all of us and try to ransom us off, or the crew threw together a mutiny and killed the captain and then decided to kidnap us and ransom us off." I said, shrugging. "Well, so long as they don't get a super juicy target, then we should all be safe, I mean, if they found out that they could get a king's ransom for one person, they'd likely kill the rest of us. I mean, we'd just be an inconvenience, a drain on resources, and dead weight in that case." I said, my gaze lied on Shango for a second before moving on to the man stuck in the wall. I had my suspicions about him, the way he acted was... off. But to confront him now about them would be foolish, who knows if one of those damned pirates were listening in on us...? I stood up and took a look around our prison. I walked over to the jail door and examined the lock. If only I had my bag with me... I had something that could blow the door from their hinges... or just melt the lock. But of course, blowing it off their hinges would be a good idea if metal shards might not harm us, or if the explosion wouldn't punch a hole in the ship... or the concoction might spill out of the lock and set the boat on fire... Hopefully those pirates don't touch my things or else they might get a very nasty surprise and kill us all... but of course... there was one other option. "Heyo! Mr. Wall Man! Would you stop messin' around and help us out of this mess? I mean, you can grab the keys or something, right?" I asked, I didn't think that it would be wise to question why he was stuck in the wall... best to just assume spell gone awry and move on.
"Heyo! Mr. Wall Man! Would you stop messin' around and help us out of this mess? I mean, you can grab the keys or something, right?" Said the human Meek remembered as Joe. "He can't help. He's a spirit." She said, still staring warily at Saorla. She seemed to be helping...for now. But how long would that last until the Magic corrupted her? It would happen. It always happened. "Only spirits can fade from one place to another and be partially through objects."
Saorla “Um, help me, please” Saorla went the one who couldn’t stand blood, which was silly – he was filled with the stuff. She walked over, wiped the blood from his brow with her sleeve, and placed her hand on the wound, magic flowing into him numbing any pain, and forcing tissue to grow rapidly closing the wound. She ignored the gracious offer from the previous person for a free item. This was the perfect way to practice her healing, to improve on small details. She was silent as she went about her work with him. “There ya go.” She returned to the corner, everybody seemed okay for now, or hid their pain well.
Damn it, Caleb, again “It seems you have a wrong concept of spirits my lady. From what I know, spirits don’t get frozen by low temperatures.” Said Caleb while bizarrely moving his free arm and neck. “The name is Caleb by the way, not wall man though I won’t deny it suits me fine in this moment. And I may be able to get the keys as long as I get used to this temperature… which may take a while as it was so sudden… On the other hand you could try to split my body, that’s a feasible option too” Stated such gruesome idea as if it were to be as casual as eating or walking. “Oh, right, I could try this… step aside my fellow prisoners” Said and then with his free arm he aimed at the cell’s iron bars. Gradually his fingers suffered of a bizarre transformation, what used to look like four fingers of flesh were now four icicles protruding from his hand. Then suddenly, the four icicles separated from his hand and pushed by a pressure of water born from the hand itself, the icicles traveled through the room and impacted as arrows the iron bars. However it proved to be futile as it only dented them a little. “It seems ice can’t beat the iron for now…. And how fool of me, now I’ve lost my fingers. All right, let’s go with the previous plan, split my body if you will please?”
Syl Nerrier "He can't help. He's a spirit," the dwarven bard said. "Only spirits can fade from one place to another and be partially through objects." "Oh, good. You can see him, too?" Syl said and laughed. "And here I was, thinking I'd finally gone mad… rather disappointing, actually. I hear it's such a nice place to go, this time of year." She watched with intense fascination as the not-so-imaginary man introduced himself and made a feeble attempt at firing his ice-fingers at the lock. “It seems ice can’t beat the iron for now…. And how fool of me, now I’ve lost my fingers," he said. "All right, let’s go with the previous plan, split my body if you can please?” "Mmm, tempting," Syl said, tapping her fingers on her parasol, which hid a razor-sharp rapier. They didn't know that… and she had no intentions of letting them know it, yet. "But I doubt a fingerless half-man will be any good at gathering keys… not that I would ever doubt your skills, darling. Perhaps we should just make ourselves comfortable, yes?" She smiled at her fellow captives. "Sing a song? Hold hands, maybe?"
"S-Split your body!?" I asked, shocked at what the man had just done. "Uh... I-I don't have a knife or an ax or anything like that..." I said awkwardly, unsure of how to deal with this situation. I looked around for something sharp to start cutting the man with... I had the feeling he'd be fine... that or we'd see something very nasty. Either way... it was our only shot unless someone here could pick the locks on the door... I glanced at the woman that suggested we sing songs or hold hands. "Uh... I don't think that's a very productive way of getting out of here, ma'am." I said politely, half wondering if the sun elf was funny in the head...
Shango "Thanks, witch--I mean, Saorla," Shango said with a beaming smile. His wound was healed completely and he felt a rush of adrenaline. He jumped to his feet and stretched his limbs, feeling like he could run around the ship five times. "You're a miracle worker if I've ever met one!" he exclaimed. "Only spirits can fade from one place to another and be partially through objects." "You would be surprised what magic can do, Meek," Shango told her. As he spoke he held up his hand with his fingers spread apart and a flame appeared at the end of each one, bright red and dangerous. Shango had heard all of Meek's anti-magic comments and he thought it was about time he let her know that he was a sorcerer. "I hope this doesn't mean we can't be friends," Shango said, his voice soft but intense. "But if you let my natural abilities change your mind about associating with me, then I should point out that would be the same as me not speaking to you because you're a dwarf." Without waiting for Meek's response, he turned to Joe and held out his burning fingers. "Do you think I could cut the bars with these?" he asked. His carefree attitude was gone and he wore a solemn expression. If what Joe said was true and Captain Isaac was dead, then Shango would get revenge on ever mutineer on this ship. His heart ached just thinking about Isaac being murdered by his own treacherous crew. And then the partially invisible man stuck in the wall started doing weird stuff and he ended up shooting his fingers--which were now icicles--out of his hands, propelled by streams of water. And then Syl suggested they hold hands and sing songs. Shango gave her an odd look. She was weird, even to him, but something about her totally relaxed attitude made him think there was more to her than met the eye.
“I guess a proper introduction is at need then… Then please allow me to introduce myself, I’m a man of water and taste.” Stated with a smile. “As I said, the name is Caleb. Long ago I fell victim of a curse and my being became a body of water. Quite an ironic fate for a man who seek to steal immortality.” He turned his head to the dwarf and continued. “As you can see it grants advantages as disadvantages, I can for example move through thin gaps with ease, but also, as water, the sheer cold freezes my body. How can this be of help? As long as half of my body is stuck I can’t easily separate unless I split myself… ‘tis not an easy task as it sounds, at the contrary though, if someone or something were to split my body I would be free from this ice… smaller my body will be, but enough to bypass the iron and steal the keys!” He denied his head at the offer of Shango. "Just as cold freezes my body heat turns it into steam… I would be free but it would take a time before I can….. reform my body, yes strange it sounds but it happens to be like that.”
