Ghul
Haunted and Beautiful.
(A Victorian era inspired fantasy.)
William Lexington is a student at the esteemed Caeldwell University; an establishment where arcanely-attuned individuals are trained and groomed towards service to the crown. He’s two years short of graduating and at age 19, is a top prospect.
Weary of studies - and missing home - Will takes a semester off of Caeldwell with the intent of visiting his family. He buys a ticket for the Promethus, a luxury steamship to take him from Avalice (realms capital) to his home province.
Little does he know, the ship will never make it. It malfunctions in the middle of the ocean and collides with an uncharted island.
Will those aboard the Promethus ever make it off the island? And what caused the malfunction?
Let’s find out.
**STARTER**
Shipwrecked…
A day ago, Will’s biggest problem was navigating the bureaucracy of the University. Now he had much more pressing troubles. Food. Water. Shelter. A means of leaving the island.
“So how bad is it?” asked an older man, worry in his voice. William suddenly remembered he was in the middle of an examination and was holding a man’s foot. A warm breeze found its way through the cracks of the small shelter as sunlight streamed in from above.
“Oh,” Will cleared his throat, “looks like it’s just a sprain, Mr…”
“Billbury,” supplied the man, sweating and glancing at his own foot.
“Right, Mr. Billbury. Fortunately, the bone isn’t broken. If you’ve something to bind your ankle with, do so. Otherwise, do your best to keep the weight off.”
Mr. Billbury gave Will a terse nod then grimaced as he got to his feet. The man seemed very unaccustomed to pain and given he wore a finely tailored (albeit salt-stained) suit, it was safe to assume he was a nobleman - a rather proud one, at that.
“Thanks, lad. If I had anything to offer you, I would.”
Will handed Mr.Billbury a long stick he’d initially collected for firewood, knowing it would serve as a decent crutch.
It was midday when Will held open his shelter flap for the departing Mr.Billbury. Already Will felt like he’d seen to half of the shipwrecked. It was his own fault, really.
When he’d awoken on the beach it had been chaos. The ship was sinking off the coast, men were fighting over supplies, children were wailing, and Will, scrambling in the sand, had come across a young boy with a dislocated shoulder. The boy was crying and calling for help. Without thinking, Will had set the bone for him. After that, news had spread that he was a ‘doctor’ – which he certainly wasn’t – and he found himself stitching wounds, setting bones, and building makeshift braces.
The next morning, a queue had formed outside his bare-bones shelter. “Come in…” was all he’d thought to say. For the first time since dawn there was no one waiting outside his tent for help.
Will wandered out, sore and glad for the chance to stretch his legs. /Well, if we’re stranded, at least it’s beautiful.../
The ocean was clear and blue, accompanied by the sound of waves and gulls. Further along the beach were camps, shelters and folks salvaging what they could of the wreckage.
William Lexington is a student at the esteemed Caeldwell University; an establishment where arcanely-attuned individuals are trained and groomed towards service to the crown. He’s two years short of graduating and at age 19, is a top prospect.
Weary of studies - and missing home - Will takes a semester off of Caeldwell with the intent of visiting his family. He buys a ticket for the Promethus, a luxury steamship to take him from Avalice (realms capital) to his home province.
Little does he know, the ship will never make it. It malfunctions in the middle of the ocean and collides with an uncharted island.
Will those aboard the Promethus ever make it off the island? And what caused the malfunction?
Let’s find out.
**STARTER**
Shipwrecked…
A day ago, Will’s biggest problem was navigating the bureaucracy of the University. Now he had much more pressing troubles. Food. Water. Shelter. A means of leaving the island.
“So how bad is it?” asked an older man, worry in his voice. William suddenly remembered he was in the middle of an examination and was holding a man’s foot. A warm breeze found its way through the cracks of the small shelter as sunlight streamed in from above.
“Oh,” Will cleared his throat, “looks like it’s just a sprain, Mr…”
“Billbury,” supplied the man, sweating and glancing at his own foot.
“Right, Mr. Billbury. Fortunately, the bone isn’t broken. If you’ve something to bind your ankle with, do so. Otherwise, do your best to keep the weight off.”
Mr. Billbury gave Will a terse nod then grimaced as he got to his feet. The man seemed very unaccustomed to pain and given he wore a finely tailored (albeit salt-stained) suit, it was safe to assume he was a nobleman - a rather proud one, at that.
“Thanks, lad. If I had anything to offer you, I would.”
Will handed Mr.Billbury a long stick he’d initially collected for firewood, knowing it would serve as a decent crutch.
It was midday when Will held open his shelter flap for the departing Mr.Billbury. Already Will felt like he’d seen to half of the shipwrecked. It was his own fault, really.
When he’d awoken on the beach it had been chaos. The ship was sinking off the coast, men were fighting over supplies, children were wailing, and Will, scrambling in the sand, had come across a young boy with a dislocated shoulder. The boy was crying and calling for help. Without thinking, Will had set the bone for him. After that, news had spread that he was a ‘doctor’ – which he certainly wasn’t – and he found himself stitching wounds, setting bones, and building makeshift braces.
The next morning, a queue had formed outside his bare-bones shelter. “Come in…” was all he’d thought to say. For the first time since dawn there was no one waiting outside his tent for help.
Will wandered out, sore and glad for the chance to stretch his legs. /Well, if we’re stranded, at least it’s beautiful.../
The ocean was clear and blue, accompanied by the sound of waves and gulls. Further along the beach were camps, shelters and folks salvaging what they could of the wreckage.
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