Endless Horizons: Chapter One, The Isle of Caged Dreams.

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Ner0, Jul 26, 2014.

  1. Prologue

    Silence surrounded her thicker then the impenetrable blanket of fog that had cradled their journey for these past two weeks. The sun's rays barely penetrated it, and the crew themselves could barely see the entirety of the ship. The Keeton woman puzzled on this, something troubled her about this mist. Nothing seemed to be causing it, there was no moisture in the air, and it hadn't rained since they had left port. These clouds were unnecessary and that fact alone worried her. The Woman had been on many travels, and had learned in her time that nothing came with out reason.

    The woman was pulled from her thoughts by a familiar voice and an opening door. "Cap'n the crew are wondering about our destination. Do we have any idea where it is we are?"

    A soft 'tsk' answered her crew member's question. Allen should have known better than to interrupt her at this time. With a awkward stutter and a foolish stumble her second mate departed without another word. A soft snicker followed him out. The Pirate Captain leaned back in her chair, placing her arms behind her head and her feet upon the table in front of her, she took up a position of comfort. The sharp 'tink' of an inkwell falling caused her to let out an annoyed sigh.

    "Too many interruptions for a day like this." The Captain's voice was smoother than the song of a siren as it poured from her lips. she leaned forward and retrieved the inkwell, returning it to the already cluttered table half empty. It was then that the Captain noticed how disorganized her Quarter's were. This last week had truly been maddening. Her crew had lost all discipline in the face of this unrelenting fog, and with each day unease and strife grew. Today had been it however, for the last few hours she had been closed up in her quarters, thinking of a solution to her many, many problems. Now her Quarter's were littered with navigation tools, blank and half filled maps, and seemingly random items that she had frantically been trying to use to help. Hell she had even tried praying half an hour ago, she shuddered at the thought of it.

    "Captain Myrrh..?" Another voice, this time female. It was her first mate. The Captain sighed as she got up from her sitting position and stumbled to the door. If Sarah was here it was bound to be important.

    After reaching the door she tore it open. "What..?" The sound and tone of her voice contrasted each other as she let out a grumpy huff.

    "A fight has broken out in the scullery It's James and Sam again." Her First mate dutifully reported. Myrrh rolled her eyes as she stepped past her. Sarah was a good kid, but she wasn't good with holding back. After a few weeks of being appointed first mate she had already injured half of Myrrh's crew. Because of this she was forced to forbade her from exacting physical punishment. Myrrh regretted that decision as she stepped out onto the ships decks.

    The vessel was known as the 's.s. Marrie' Myrrh did not care to know why either, it was supplied by the council and most of it's guns were more for show than anything. Not like they were carrying any gunpowder anyways. The wind was good, and her compass said they were traveling west. So they should be going the right way. Emphasis on the should, all the council had told them was to head west after they hit the fog blanket. Well it had been two weeks and they hadn't seen any sign of land yet. When she got out of this Myrrh had a special type of punishment ready for the council.

    Myrrh was drawn back to reality by the main mast's post making a connection with her face. She cursed as she shook her head and redirected herself. A soft chuckled resounded from somewhere in the mists. She responded with a death look in it's direction and continued on her way.

    She then reached the stairs that connected the underbelly of the ship with the Deck, located at the ships middle point. She proceeded down them begrudgingly. She was not looking forward to this...
    #1 Ner0, Jul 26, 2014
    Last edited: Jul 26, 2014
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  2. Life aboard the Marrie was extremely painful on the top deck as the salty sea air knocked Grem on his ass with each breath so, for the past two weeks he has been confined below deck. Although, it didn't really bother him as much as it did everyone else bitching about his laziness, but seriously he was brought on board to act as a protective escort and the only thing in their way right now a blanket of fog. He still gets a laugh thinking back to the first day they entered the shrouded sea, he was on the bow and took several swipes at the blanket before telling the captain he tried and took his leave.

    He awoke with a loud yawn from his hundredth or so nap wiping the sleep from his eye as he exited his room, leaving behind his weapon and jacket, passing by his fellow adventurers' quarters paying no mind as to whether or not they were occupied. A few strides later he was in the galley watching as the crew filled their faces with the slop of the day, the groul smelled to Grem as though it had spoiled long before they set out but that was to be expected when the chef has never cooked before in their life; what kind of rag tag crew was this anyway?

    With nothing better to do and too well rested he took a seat at a lone table adjusting himself to a more comfortable position just as the show started. First, a frying pan came flying out of the scullery striking someone in the head, he didn't see who but knew for sure they had a pair of fox ears, oh how he was wishing it was the captain. A moment later two individuals came flying into the room in the fashion of a dust cloud with random punches and kicks erupting in a multitude of directions. Several of the crew members who just had their shit whipped by the two fighters jumped in, this is the last thing he wanted because it happened to be covered by his orders much to his displeasure.

    "Eh, I'll let'em tire themselves out first.", Grem thought watching as even more combatants entered, "Hey! Who do you have to fuck around here to get some Brandy!"
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  3. Marx had been sitting on the edge of the ship that day, looking out into the thick colourless fog wondering what sort of beasts were out there. He pondered on the events of the voyage so far, which, for him had been boring as all hell. He was here for when they got to the island, not to help with the ship. Feeling relaxed now he kept his bow and quiver in his footlocker, but he still wore his sword on his belt.

    He was interrupted by the sensation of his heart wanting to leap from its chest. He looked around, and sure enough, the captain was walking by. She seemed rather flustered and so Marx was curious. He followed her to mess. She was so distracted that she ran into the mass and Marx couldn't help but to laugh. He was only so lucky that the fog was so thick and that he ducked behind a barrel.

    The smell of poorly prepared food and the sights and sounds of a fight filled the galley. Marx noticed Grem, a man he had only gotten to know as a man without work to be done. He sat down next to him. "Should we help break that up?" The soft but firm voice of Marx pushed out from underneath the cloth over his face. "We haven't had anything to do the whole trip, and I guess that this is part of our job. Or do we just watch how this pans out for our own amusement?"
    #3 Potatocat, Jul 26, 2014
    Last edited: Jul 26, 2014
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  4. This trip was much more of a bore then he thought it would be, so far all they had seen was fog. And with how thick it has been it was somewhat unnerving, it was putting the whole crew on edge. Now it seemed as if someone had let the floodgates open, a small scuffle had turned into a almost ship wide brawl. He almost got involved just for the heck of it, at least it would fix his boredom.

    Erakio smiled as he spotted two others smart enough to stay out of the brawl. As he walked towards them he recognized them as Marx and Grem, he hadn't talked much with them before, but they seemed good enough. "Either of ya wana take bets, it could make it interestin’ for us. That bein’ said I think the captain will break it up before we have an obvious winner, anyone want ta take me up on that?”
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  5. The Marrie. Verusha had never once stepped foot on a ship before. She spent all of her years travelling the human mainland, searching for adventures honing her skills as a fighter. When she had first seen the ship she had thought it was one of the most majestic things ever and wondered why she had never done such a thing before. She couldn't wait to get this journey underway and for the first day of their journey, she didn't care if it was boring or uneventful. She was just glad to get off the human mainland for once, and to explore a new land no less! She couldn't have been more happier to have signed up for this little venture. However, two weeks later....her enthusiasm was much less obvious.

    The trip had gotten stale. Boring. Two weeks of almost nothing aside from standing here and being the best looking thing on this hunk of driftwood. Oh, she did enjoy that, but she needed to stab something occasionally or she got twitchy. She gave a tug at one of the blades sheathed at her side. She wondered if anyone would possibly like sparring? She had seen a Die Jaeger around...what was his name...Marx? Yeah, that sounded right. Maybe he would like sparring with a bit of 'post-sparring stretching'. She didn't ponder it long though. He didn't seem to be the chatty or sociable type, and doubted a Die Jaeger would give a Keeton a second thought, much less be friendly to one considering their disposition towards beast races.

    Vera sighed, and stared out into the foggy abyss as she leaned on the ships railing, propping her chin on her hand as she continued to try to find something to occupy herself with. Maybe she'd go bother the captain for the heck of it, just to see what would happen. She was a Keeton as well, so she'd be bound to have a bit of fun talking with her. Then again, she didn't know the captain that well so if the captain was in a foul mood, she may end up tied up in the brig...which may not be a bad thing.

    She was pulled from her thoughts by the sound of the captain's cabin door opening, followed by the sound of someone exiting and what sounded like someone smacking their head against a wall. She turned to face the direction of the noise, surprised to find the captain up and about. Normally she'd be in her room, doing whatever it was that a captain would normally do. Navigating or something. Was that the captains job? Or was there someone else that was supposed to do that? Meh, didn't matter.

    Vera watched the captain go below deck, and curious as to what was happening she followed shortly after Marx did. The Keeton heard what was happening before she saw it, the sound of yelling, grunting, and bottles being bashed over peoples head. Either there was a fight in the scullery, or there was a really fun party down here and no one invited her. Most likely, it was the former.

    Her suspicions were correct, upon entering the scullery she saw the fighting. She was tempted to join in herself, but decided not to. She'd rather not take her chances. Instead, she quietly watched the fight from the sidelines.
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  6. Entry Three; The Sea of Mystery

    It has been two weeks since we first encountered the mist that enshrouds the aptly named Sea of Mystery, and tensions are running high among the crew members. Fights have broken out regularly among the kitchen staff, often joined in by any available crewmembers, and our guards seem negligent in their duties. As of yet, my talents as an archaeologist have been unnecessary. Even now I can see some of the crewmen watching me with distate as I sit writing away while they toil, however, should we encounter land my expertise will be a boon to the expedition. Even now, I attempt to put my deductive powers to work for the benefit of future generations. The mist that envelops us is blatantly unnatural, there is little moisture in the air and there has been no rain since we left the port. The clouds are equally unnatural, and that which is unnatural is bound to be artificial. I have no definitive hypotheses regarding the mist, but it is not the effect of the conditions. Of that much, I am sure. I will continue to record what data I can regarding it, but this is not my field of expertise.

    The Archaeologist,​


    Halforth dabbed the tip of the quill on his tongue, moistening the ink, before finishing his signature. His finger tips were stained with ink, and his blond hair fell in front of his placid blue eyes. He looked every inch the travelling scholar. He poured sand over the ink to dry it, before blowing it off into his cupped hand and snapping the leather-bound journal shut. The sand he funneled back into its narrow mouthed jar. With land nowhere in sight he was running low on sand, so he had to reuse it as often as he could. As he placed his journal back in his neatly organized satchel, he heard more than saw the irritable captain making her way through the fog. Likely to deal with that fight that had broken out below decks. Those fights were none of his business as far as he was concerned, neither was the fact that the captain had ran face first into the mast. They were just extraneous and unfortunate things occurring on his exciting expedition into the unknown.

    Halforth stood, stretching his legs and arcing his back with a sigh before relaxing his posture once again. Then he looked down to the rapier at his side, directing the hilt upwards towards him where he could see an eye-like dimple in the pommel. "Do you wish to watch the fight below deck?" he asked, politely. "I am done with my journal entry, and I know you've been bored with no pirates or sea monsters," there wasn't much adventure to be had sitting on a ship, even if they were going somewhere never before seen the journey was relatively bland.
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  7. Mith'ral was resting hanging on the mainmast big rope net, her tail swinging, her ears moving towards various sounds: a sweet long wave against the ship, a bird screaming somewhere up above her, crew members shouting at each other on the deck, the scratching sound of a pen on paper "It seams the archaeologist is writing again", said to herself while touching her pendant repeatedly. She was nervous, those two weeks had been boring to the point of being suspect, and that strange, unnatural fog had her hairs stand on end; she just couldn't seem to calm down.

    She wasn't able to get acquainted with the other hired ones. Some where even Keeton (the captain was one too) but all of them had a strange aura surrounding them, something like: 'I already have my problems, I don't need one more'... truth speaking, she never really tried: she only talked when spoken to and most of the time she was on tall places, feeling the breeze and that strange sea's strange smell, looking far in the thick fog.

    A noise made her left ear move a bit: she heard some noises coming from below the deck "Another browl...? Captain won't be so happy about..." she stopped when she heard some footsteps "Oh, she already knows...". Mith'ral took a strand of her reddish, long hair and started playing with it. She didn't like browls, there was no honor in winning one, just bruises and headaches. They were stupid: if someone wanted to set thing with violence, then they should have a duel. Or so she thought anyway. She laid on the rope net, her arms behind her head; she closed her bloody eyes and waited for the browl to end. Because it would end. Soon. In one of the most amusing ways.
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  8. Having his inquiry for booze fall on deaf ears the half-breed continued watching as the brawl continued to encase more and more people with the exception of a few more sensible individuals, the first of which to catch his attention was an attractive white haired Keeton which he only caught passing glances of since she spent much of her time on deck. Not too long after he was joined by Marx, a man of the Die Jaegar race whom he personally thought was a rarity seeing as he was the first of his kind not to greet him with the tip of a blade and whether or not it was because his pay was determined by how many from the expedition returned alive didn't really matter for that sole reason.

    "I say we let'em beat each other to a pulp and then finish cleaning up.", a lackluster smirk appearing on his face just as the two men was approached by Eraiko, Grem remembered hearing he was a hired hand but couldn't recall seeing him do much more than scratching his own ass and hiding from the captain. Mention of a bet caused his ears to perk up rather quickly, "If money is on the line I'll have to leave you two to that while I mop the floor with these clowns."

    Getting out of his chair he rolled his shoulders a few times mockingly warming up just as someone was thrown over their table in just the right position to slam into both of his acquaintances if they didn't act quickly enough.
    #8 Helter Skelter, Jul 27, 2014
    Last edited: Jul 27, 2014
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  9. Seraia was brooding. She’d been excited to hear that they’d be ship bound again, off to explore an island. Her enthusiasm had kept up for the first four days but dropped considerably when they hadn’t even encountered pirates, and by now she’d figured that the talk of sea monsters was just folly to entice someone like her along. She sighed mentally and started dozing as Halforth started writing again.

    She heard the first clashing of swords as the pirates made it over to the opposing ship. She’d heard that it belonged to some rich family, the guards on the ship confirmed this. There were about twenty of them and so she guided Enthralk to the edge of the thick of the fighting, where he could swing her about, slashing and hacking. She thrilled at the blood arcing through the air and clashing against one of their non-sentient swords. Offering advice about weaknesses and moves to be avoided. Often she’d cry out, the sound seemingly coming from nowhere startling the opponent considerably. Just as Enthralk was finishing off his second guard with a grunt, she heard brawling coming from downstairs. Hold on, she thought, that’s not right.

    With that, she promptly woke and heard the sounds coming from downstairs and grumped to herself. She looked up as she heard Halforth pouring the sand back into his jar. She expended her thoughts to include him in them, and anyone within a ten foot radius for that matter. She didn’t mind who heard her, and hoped someone would take her up on the thought. I don’t want to watch! Her mind voice came like metal grinding against metal, rough and high. I want to spar, or fight something. With that, she shape shifted, her long legs the first things to emerge from the scabbard. She pulled herself up out of the scabbard as the rest of her body began to emerge.

    She scuttled up Halforths arm and sat on his shoulder. Not only that, but I distinctly remember that the last time I was on the sea, I was never so itchy! Suddenly she screeched, Halforth! I think I’m getting old! If she could have, she’d have slapped a hand over her mouth. She knew that her mind voice could grate against others minds in a way she would never understand, she’d been told often enough by her companions to not get so excitable because her voice could be unbearable. Sorry, sorry, I’m just so itchy and bored and there’s nothing to do, she whined. She wriggled around on Halforths shoulder to illustrate just how bored she was. I bet there’s not really an island out here Halforth, they’re just sending us on a wild goose chase. She changed her mind voice so that only Halforth could hear now, after all, she didn’t know anyone particularly well. We’ve seen dozens of brawls break out and frustrations running high. All for what? A promised island to explore? She gave a mental sigh and slumped, knowing that there was no turning around, and even if there was it was still two weeks back to land anyway.
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  10. The strings of his vihuela were plucked delicately with his fingers, allowing his music to be carried with the sea breeze. He had brought many strings and much paper to write down lyrics that would come to him over the passage of the journey. For most of the voyage Pullo was locked away in his part of the cabin, suffering from sea-sickness. It was his first time at a prolonged journey on a ship, and it made him feel dreadfully ill.

    However, the writing took his mind of it, that and his vihuela guitar. It had been the first time Pullo had came up on the deck since the ship had departed. The Captain didn't seem to miss him, as Pullo wasn't really any use at all and was more of a passenger. He tried to keep to himself and not bother anyone else, but the first few nights of seasickness had been brutal, and Pullo found himself scrubbing many of the lower decks, while simultaneous dirtying them with his vomit.

    He had not expected life at sea to be so shaky, and he hoped they would arrive soon or he'd cut his losses, jump overboard and swim back to the main land, as that would have more hope than sailing through this mist which was reported to have settled in over a fortnight ago. To relax himself the bard began to sing...

    "Beneath the mist, on the edge of sea
    I leave my poor family,
    To gain some riches
    I've endured the sick,
    But what I'd give to have--"

    "---Someone suck my dick. This is terrible," He said to himself, as he pushed a weight down on the paper and crossed out the last few lines. The music stopped, and his vihuela rested on his lap as he looked through the mist and began to think. There was a fight down below, but Pullo didn't care much for petty fights between sailors. Cabin Fever, he believed the term was, when men got so horny, deranged and sick of each other that the slightest thing could set a mutiny. Now that, he could compose a ballad about.

    However, the sea breeze was surprisingly calmer than the stuffy decks below, and staying in the middle of the ship seemed to ease his nervous stomach, he had no intention to move without reason. The strings continued to play a slow beat of a familiar song, yet he dared not say the words. That song was far too personal, and gaining fame and fortune from her just seemed... wrong.
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  11. Vera watched the fight, her hands tightening on her blade as she watched it unfold. For the love of the gods she wanted to fight so badly. However, she also didn't want to piss off the captain. She would rather not actually end up in the brig, as much fun as that could actually be in the right circumstances. So, instead, she settled for cheering the fighting men on. Wouldn't be that hard to do. Some of them were incredibly cute, hot, sweaty, and covered in bruises. Now if only she could be the one doing the bruising....

    "Come on!" She shouted with obvious excitement. "You just gonna let him do that to ya!?! Get off your sorry ass and beat his face in! I could do better than that when I was ten! What are you, nine!?" She continued. Almost the whole Scullery was a mess by now. Well, it was a mess to being with, but now it was even more of a mess, if such a thing was possible. As she shouted, a new contender entered the fight, a large human...looking thing. She was certain he wasn't a human from the way he smelled, but that could just be the stench of whatever had died down here. Grem, was his name she thought. Well, he was cute at least, which was the only real positive thing she could say at this point.

    She didn't say anything to him though, and merely gave him a friendly, somewhat mischievous grin. However, the moment she took her eyes off the fighting, a bottle of rum was thrown, missing its intended target. Instead, it flew straight into the white-hair half Keeton, completely drenching her in the alcohol. "Alright, which one of you fuckers threw that!" She shouted, eyebrow visibly twitched her grin disappearing and being immediately replaced by a somewhat crazed smile. She didn't receive an answer of course, but fuck it. She wanted to beat the hell out of something, and now consequences be damned.

    "Alright, you jackasses are gonna regret that!" And with that, she dived into the fray completely not realizing she had no real experience in hand to hand combat or any type of combat without her sword, aside from a few scuffles years ago as a kid.
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  12. The serrated screams of the drunken and deranged ground against her ears. She had only taken a single step towards the underbelly and it was already suffocating her. The smell of piss and liquor did not help this case either. Captain Myrrh Sighed as she reached into her pocket and retrieved two small balls of thick tissue and a pin of sorts. With these tools she muffled both her scent and hearing capabilities, lest her headache grow to new heights.

    A feeling of dread grew within her as she neared the bottom of the steps, behind the constantly nearing door was madness, and she was not in the mood for it. She focused her thoughts as she opened the door, signalling for Sarah to stay behind. A step forward brought her face to face with the ugly swarm that had engulfed her ship. She contemplated yelling, but realized that she would most likely not be heard. Another step and a fist came flying from the fray towards her, it's owner was met with a backhand as he tumbled to the floor. Myrrh snickered at his twitching form. It was not the strength in which she had struck him that sent him flying, but the pain that he had felt. She had dubbed the technique 'Heavy hands' and it had become on of her more staple moves. All she had to do was increase the amount of pain her target felt moments before striking, and *bam*, they were flat on their ass. It was enjoyable for her.

    Before she took her next step she decided to use another one of the techniques she had 'picked up' She had not decided a name for it yet, but it had proven rather helpful in moments like this. It allowed her to read the impulses of the opponents near her and predict their movements. It only bought her a mere moment, but it still gave her enough time to react. She dipped under another fist, causing it's owner to tumble over her and fall to the floor. She glanced around her, a few ideas came to mind on how she could stop this sporadic event, and, most likely all of them would have worked. Myrrh, however, could not be bothered. So she instead decided to join the fray, perhaps it would allow her to release some of the stress she had been building up.

    With a smirk and a snarl she dove into battle.
  13. Ghalor had been staying on Marrie for quite some time now. He hasn't communicated with anyone and he was feeling quite lonely. But all of his attempts to at the very least greet someone did not go well, as all of the Times he just felt nervous and tried shapeshifting into a random item just to hide himself. But those times failed him too cause, I mean, where could you find a bottle, for example, made out of Germanite? Even a small chunk of this sort of mineral was very suspicious to be seen on a different place than Germanite mines or an alchemic's laboratory.

    The whole time he was staying on the ship, he did not prove any use at all. Ghalor just stayed in his part of the cabin all the time, looking out of the window and wondering about the unnatural fog outside that had been there for more than a week at least. He was at least happy that he didn't require food to live, as he saved a few portions for the other members of the crew a day.

    The Germanite Iroan barely walked around Marrie, as he didn't find any reason to do so, except if they had found land. But that didn't happen for much more than a week and he started feeling anxious about that. Well, as an Iroan, he wouldn't die from lack of food or water, so he wasn't worried about that. But what if the ship sunk? Even if he did try to shapeshift into a boat, he would be too heavy to float and everyone would drown because of his terrible plan for evacuation. What if a sea monster attacked them? He would've transformed again into omega kind of armour or even weapon, but he feared he would again be too heavy. Then how would he be good for a shield if no one could carry him? Those thoughts really bugged him, all the possibilities of his mates dying on board, even because of him, were hundreds, if not thousands! Well, he has seen and read about even weak beings being able to carry heavier material than him, but he was not sure if that was true. The ship they were on was extremely heavy too, so why was it floating? He lacked so much information on weight, but did not take any books about this part of physics. And therefore, his anxiety grew more and more.

    At one time, while being in his room and reading a book about magic (to have more knowledge in advance for when he gets enrolled in the Spirit Magic School), he heard nooses coming from the bottom deck. And as his hearing capabilities were greater than the other beings', he felt as if the noise was extremely loud and couldn't just ignore it all. He tried shaping himself in a similar to a human's form, but it ended up deformed again, looking like a rock with weird limb-looking parts on his bottom, which seemed rough and barely comfortable to move with. And so he tried his usual form for moving, which included a sphere on the top, as the head, a rectangular body, four wheels at bottom on a same distance from each other and two arm-like parts coming from two circular forms, similar to shoulder, located at his upper body. That was a much easier way to move for him, as he could decide if the wheels would roll or not, without having to push himself forward in order to move. His size was similar to that of a humanoid's, but rather disformed and still rough, as he wasn't good enough at shapeshfting.

    As he moved to the deck where the noise was coming from, he saw a horrid sight for himself - a fight? He knew that was a way for the rest of the crew to amuse themselves, but he didn't like fight at all! He viewed them as something unnecessary and totally meaningless, especially dangerous! He wanted to stop them, but thought that they may hate him afterwards. Why would it matter? Someone was gonna get hurt and from a game, it was gonna end with pain! And so he quickly went over to the middle of the fight, separating most of the fighters there and turned into a shield-like form, still looking a bit wonky. He was scared of the outcome of all that and didn't look at the reactions of the others. He just remained there, standing straight and slightly trembling, waiting for what the others had to say to that.
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  14. "For fucks sake."

    A light baritone voice lifted above the hassle of combat. His golden eyes averted inward to the little bit of turmoil that had consumed the crew. it made sense they would fight. they were all at sea and the endless water was very boring to watch. He honestly would have preferred to be away from the sea himself, but this was the task he needed to complete in order to reach his goals. His charge was just as reckless, The Captain dove right into the thick of battle, much faster than he could say anything. Raijion grumbled off to the side and waited patiently. So far she was doing fine in handling herself, he would not overstep his bounds, but the moment anyone landed a blow on her, well duty before pleasure. it wasn't fair by any means, it practically made her invincible, but that didn't matter to him

    Just when he thought for sure she was going to get hit another being appeared in the center. A fairly large Iroan turned into a shield to separate the fight. Raijion scoffed to himself but he had to admire the bravery of this poor creature. He had willingly placed himself into a shark pit. At least she was safe for now though. "Oi Captain Im going above for some fresh air, between blood and sweat conditions aren't all that favorable here." The captain almost ignored him, and he took that as acceptance of his words.

    Raijion appeared above deck and was instantly with cool fresh air. A soft droning could be heard not too far from him and he looked around curiously. Off to the side sitting above was another of the mix matched crew that had agreed to go on this trip. Raijion wasn't super familiar with music at all but what he heard, the man had a talent that he could appreciate. "Even without words, you have a way with sounds sir." He spoke respectfully, as was his nature. At least there was someone he found that could have a slightly intelligent conversation perhaps. "I didn't mean to eaves drop of course but it was a pretty song so I thought I'd pass you a compliment."
  15. The unnatural compliment came from seemingly nowhere, until Pullo lifted his head to see the skinny Die Jaeger with the weird markings, with long white hair. Pullo sat back down and continued to play the melody until it was finished.

    "Ears were made to hear, sir. it is not a crime to listen," he said, and his fingers stopped plucking. He rested the vihuela back into its case and fastened it securely, and then stood and stretched out his hand to greet the newcomer. "I'm Pullo. Erastus Pullo, but Pullo will suffice,"

    "So what brings you on this merry little expedition, friend?" He asked as he bent down to collect his papers. Some of the corners were crumpled, and ink had seeped through some of the paper, staining the wood of the deck beneath. Pullo pretended not to see it, otherwise he'd be scrubbing another deck tonight. "Riches and fame? Or are you just hungry to venture into the unknown? " He rolled the parchments up and stuck them into a small red pouch that hung on his hip.
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  16. "friend?"

    He declined the hand~

    The term almost seemed alien to him but he acknowledged the musician. "I came here to protect Myyrh on orders. Theres a lot more to it but I have to wonder if we weren't all sent to the edge of the world myself. Im not a fan of the sea." Raijion chuckled a bit to himself and leaned against a mast of the great ship. "Already people are fighting and bickering, I partially hoped to escape that scene by going on this journey, but it seems it is definitely bound to follow me wherever I go." he eyed this Pullo up and down and finally deciding he was harmless extended his hand in warm greeting. "Apologies for not introducing myself sooner but Its not often people talk with me, I lack conversational skills. Despite that I am Raijion Le'Shade Commander in training for the Iron Claim. Faction to my race." It was strange to hold a mutual conversation, but it also felt good. "What about you Pullo? What brings you aboard the Marrie?"
  17. Halforth sighed. For a being that would live long after his corpse was withering in the ground, she was even more impatient than he was for this journey to be over. He supposed it was to be expected, considering they had distinctly different personalities and desires. He was an archaeologist, a scholar in pursuit of knowledge and insights that would leave his name in the history books. Seraia, however, was an adventurer at her core, she had dreams of excitement and wonder. Dreams that the high seas were not living up to, as of yet. With a shudder Halforth felt the pricks of little legs scuttling up his arm, he let the three and a half pound iron spider climb onto his shoulder with the wary patience of a parent dealing with a restless child. He really didn't like it when she did that. Not only that, but I distinctly remember that the last time I was on the sea, I was never so itchy!

    "Well wh-"

    Halforth! I think I’m getting old! Halforth's neck twitched violently as his mind was violated by her grating voice, like iron on rocks. He would have laughed at an Iroan being vain if he wasn't sure his eyes were bleeding.

    "Confound it, Seraia, you'll have my ears bleeding if you keep that up," he said once his mind had cleared, rubbing his temples profusely.

    Sorry, sorry, I’m just so itchy and bored and there’s nothing to do, he had no idea what could be causing her to itch now, but he supposed if she would stop complaining about it he would oil her blade later. I bet there’s not really an island out here Halforth, they’re just sending us on a wild goose chase. We've seen dozens of brawls break out and frustrations running high. All for what? A promised island to explore?

    "An Island? I don't remember there being any mention of an island on this expedition, the Sea of Mysteries is entirely unexplored and there are few sustainable hypotheses which can be drawn regarding its contents," he said, his voice going a clerical monotone as if he was reciting a passage straight from a text book. "Of course, the bickering has gone far enough as far as I am concerned as well," Halforth was reaching into his satchel for a pipe when he heard the delicate chords of the bard playing out on the deck nearby, and retracted his hand. The bard wasn't the most social of types, or at least he hadn't been for the last two weeks, and this was the first time Halforth had heard his music firsthand. Stepping through the cloying mist, he watched his step as he made his way to the center of the ship. The bard's music had stopped, and he was engaged in conversation with the silver-haired Die Jaeger which Halforth overheard, naturally, and seeing that they were introducing themselves he decided it was an appropriate moment to step forth from the fog, interrupting Pullo's response.

    "I am Halforth Wells, a pleasure to make your acquaintance I'm sure," he said with a flourishing bow which was more appropriate for a bard. The bow also managed to send Seraia sailing from his shoulders, though he caught her before she tumbled to the deck. "And this," he said indicating the giant metal spider before replacing her on his shoulder. "Is my Iroan companion, Seraia. I am an archaeologist, braving these dangerous tides and the horrid mist for a chance at being the first to record a new, undiscovered land amid the Sea of Mysteries...in case you were curious."
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  18. I have ears you know, she said, and if she’d been human she’d have given him a knowing look with a waggling of eyebrows. I’ve heard whispers over the years, mostly from the pirates, and later on in the inn’s throughout that we’ve visited. Whispers that the council, amongst others believe there is an island out here amongst this good for nothing fog.

    As she paused, she looked around, not having realized that they’d gotten to moving. They were making their way to the bard and his companion, and she snickered as she realized where the lewd lyrics she’d heard had come from. She stopped her conversation, with the intent that she would pick it up later.

    She was intrigued to meet these two others, she’d barely interacted with anyone but Halforth since they’d gotten on this flea infested, pest ridden, good for nothing hunk of wood, and she was well and truly wishing could be anywhere else, up to and including the tomb that she’d just gotten out of five years ago. She still suspected that there was a secret entrance down on that fourth level, but could never convince anyone else, or figure it out herself.

    Her thoughts were interrupted at that point by an eager Halforth, willing to introduce himself, and apparently eager to send her sprawling through the air. She didn’t scream, but her legs did instinctively clutch at thin air for purchase. After all, she didn’t feel pain and so the fall, and the sudden stop at the end didn’t usually bother Iroans. She said usually because there was one friend she knew of that hated falling, and would quiet often scream at the smallest of drops. When confronted, he didn’t know why he screamed. They all assumed that he must have been dropped right after birth, scarring him for life.

    She did however give a small hmph before continuing on with His companion? Did you hear that gentlemen? This young scruff of a male called me his companion? Meanwhile he’ll never grow to be as old as I am right now, and it’s still me that’s his companion. She tutted, and if she could have, she would have rolled her eyes and held out her hand to shake theirs. Instead she held out a single leg, which seemed to grow, while her body seemed to shrink. At the end of the leg grew four small fingers and a thumb. The bony hand was at odds with her shrunken body, being the size of a small child, maybe five or six years old, and gave it to each of the males in turn, fully expecting it of them to take it.

    While she waited she turned her thoughts towards Halforth, but still including the other two men. I don’t think they were curious, Halforth, I think you’re sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong again. I think you’re more curious about these two fellows.

    Again, she’d have waggled her eyebrows, but this time her tongue between her teeth, her eyes sparkling with jest and her smile a mile wide. As it was, her mental voice held as much laughter as metal could, almost a tinkling hint against the grating. As it was, she was trying to be gentle and soft spoken for the sake of the males who were more than not likely used to having an Iroan in their heads.

    She waited expectantly for both of them to shake her probably somewhat creepy hand, before she turned it back into a normal spider’s leg and her body could return back to its normal size. Now, who wants to bet on when we’ll have to start battling sea monsters or the locals that use this mist for their own protection?
    #18 Cerianis, Jul 30, 2014
    Last edited: Jul 30, 2014
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  19. "Raijon." Pullo said to himself, trying to imprint the name into his memory. "It's a small world. The only thing I like about this mist is that I don't have to see the sea. It does not agree with my stomach. I've been suffering from sickness since we left the port. As for why I'm here? I'm here for--"

    Pullo turned his head over his shoulder to see the blonde haired man bow. His sudden presence and comfort of introducing himself had Pullo at unease. When something slipped out of his possession, he grabbed it with a sudden sleight of his hand. Halforth and 'his companion' Seraia were a very unique pairing.

    "I am an archaeologist, braving these dangerous tides and the horrid mist for a chance at being the first to record a new, undiscovered land amid the Sea of Mysteries...in case you were curious."

    Pullo wasn't, but he returned the bow out of courtesy. He held his pouch to prevent the ink falling and smashing on the deck. "I'd love to share your journey then, Halforth. Perhaps we won't all be old men by the time we get there. This mist seems to be never ending. It's hard to know if we're even moving at all."

    A sudden sharpness made him hold his forehead. "His companion? Did you hear that gentlemen? This young scruff of a male called me his companion? Meanwhile he’ll never grow to be as old as I am right now, and it’s still me that’s his companion." The voice was the equivalent of cats nails scratching against a chalkboard, his eyes watered slightly and closing them seemed to help.

    "Oh, wow. That was..., " An experience he should have said in hindsight, but the words that slipped from his mouth were ones he hadn't intended. "...annoying." He didn't see the gesture the spider made, and instead seemingly ignored the hand willingly with his closed eyes.

    "I don’t think they were curious, Halforth, I think you’re sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong again. I think you’re more curious about these two fellows. Now, who wants to bet on when we’ll have to start battling sea monsters or the locals that use this mist for their own protection?"

    Pullo only winced slightly this time. "Oh, I sincerely hope not. I'm not skilled at all in combat. I mean... I can throw a punch but swordplay is an art I prefer to watch than to, well, ...participate in. There's a lesser chance of receiving a mortal wound. No, I'm just here to watch. I don't expect to be fighting at all."
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  20. The Die Jager and human went toppling over as the savage slammed into thm with great force, no doubt a blow like that would have them seeing double for a while and all Grem could do was laugh at the two's misfortune. "Hehehe, no wonder you two didn't want to fight. You gotta bob and wea-", before he could finish mocking his compatriots a heavy right came out of nowhere, it wasn't the weight of the attack that caused him to take a step back, but rather the fact he wasn't expecting someone to willing seek out his wrath. With an aside look he gave his attacker a piercing glance with his golden eyes that completely destroyed the barbarians will to continue on as he began to turn tail and run, reaching out grabbing the man's collar the half-breed brandished a gleeful smile, "And where the hell do you think you're going?" The question was rhetorical, but what followed... eh, not so much.

    With one forceful tug the ruffian was pulled back in to a left jab packed with enough force that upon contact with his face sent the man staggering forward back into the riotous mob where he was met with multiple kicks and punches from his crew mates before stumbling back out and finding piece on the floor. The sight didn't do anything for Grem, he was still pissed and the only thing that could calm him now was to release his aggression and what better way than to abuse his position as a guard. The Lucresian leapt into the fray without a second as he was met with a barrage of punches which he returned in kind.

    Five victims deep and he was met with a low blow resulting in him hitting the ground with his knees. Yeah, it was sufficient to say he was extremely pissed off at this point as he grabbed the nearest leg he could before rising back to his feet, placing his hand on their scrawny neck, he proceeded to lift them with exceptional ease before rearing back and throwing them in whatever direction he happened to be facing at this point.

    The man was so blind with rage at this point he hadn't realized he just bench pressed the captain of the ship halfway across the room; This fact would've been more than enough to bring a smile to his face and a return to his room with a contentment that would last the remainder of this trip.
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