Lord Aphrodite
To conquer death, you only have to die.
God? What happened?
James pushed himself up, ignoring the pulsing headache that was apparently provided with waking up in a foreign place. He willed the pain away, sitting up and resting on his knees, and looked around.
He was on a beach, with fine white sand. He was in the surf, and the beach was relatively narrow, before leading into an extremely dense rain forest. There was a small cove to his left, and debris surrounded him. He slowly got to his feet, going to the boxes to see if there was anything of value. There were bundles of replacement cloth, ruined food, and scrap metal, all useful if he was truly stranded.
As he examined his surroundings, he tried to remember what happened.
"Captain, we're headed directly into a storm!"
CRASH
"We'll be fine, keep a straight course!" The captain, did not think that they'd be fine. He'd never seen a storm like this, not in the forty years he'd been on the sea. He was too old for this nonsense. He was almost certain they would be fine, until the boat started sinking rapidly.
There was little the captain could do as the front of the shop disappeared beneath the waves, with few lifeboats making it away I’m time. Other people simply jumped off the ship.
James rubbed his head as he remembered. He was probably knocked out by hitting something, and it also explained the large gash in his arm. He hadn’t noticed it until the present moment. It was maybe an inch deep, but had since stopped bleeding, though it was pretty gunked up with sand. With the injury, it seemed he lost fine control over extending and retracting his wrist. That'd be a pain to deal with, literally.
“Hello? Anyone?” He shouted. “Anyone?”
He neared the boxes, fishing through for a first aid kit. Luckily for him, he'd washed ashore with one. He fished out a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, twisting the cap off. Five minutes of painful flushing later, he had his now bleeding arm wrapped in bandages. He stashed the bottle away, putting the kit back in the box it came from.
With that, he went down the beach, searching to see if anyone had washed ashore. As he stumbled down the shore, he looked at his surroundings. He'd need enough materials to make a hut, maybe he could dig a foxhole? No, storms would flood it. Bad choice. Hut it was. Use the tropical leaves and clay as a roof, cut logs to make thick walls, or use the clay again to make bricks?
James pushed himself up, ignoring the pulsing headache that was apparently provided with waking up in a foreign place. He willed the pain away, sitting up and resting on his knees, and looked around.
He was on a beach, with fine white sand. He was in the surf, and the beach was relatively narrow, before leading into an extremely dense rain forest. There was a small cove to his left, and debris surrounded him. He slowly got to his feet, going to the boxes to see if there was anything of value. There were bundles of replacement cloth, ruined food, and scrap metal, all useful if he was truly stranded.
As he examined his surroundings, he tried to remember what happened.
"Captain, we're headed directly into a storm!"
CRASH
"We'll be fine, keep a straight course!" The captain, did not think that they'd be fine. He'd never seen a storm like this, not in the forty years he'd been on the sea. He was too old for this nonsense. He was almost certain they would be fine, until the boat started sinking rapidly.
There was little the captain could do as the front of the shop disappeared beneath the waves, with few lifeboats making it away I’m time. Other people simply jumped off the ship.
James rubbed his head as he remembered. He was probably knocked out by hitting something, and it also explained the large gash in his arm. He hadn’t noticed it until the present moment. It was maybe an inch deep, but had since stopped bleeding, though it was pretty gunked up with sand. With the injury, it seemed he lost fine control over extending and retracting his wrist. That'd be a pain to deal with, literally.
“Hello? Anyone?” He shouted. “Anyone?”
He neared the boxes, fishing through for a first aid kit. Luckily for him, he'd washed ashore with one. He fished out a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, twisting the cap off. Five minutes of painful flushing later, he had his now bleeding arm wrapped in bandages. He stashed the bottle away, putting the kit back in the box it came from.
With that, he went down the beach, searching to see if anyone had washed ashore. As he stumbled down the shore, he looked at his surroundings. He'd need enough materials to make a hut, maybe he could dig a foxhole? No, storms would flood it. Bad choice. Hut it was. Use the tropical leaves and clay as a roof, cut logs to make thick walls, or use the clay again to make bricks?