Fantasy The Ship of Horrors - Roleplay Thread

[dazzling]

Honor grinned gleefully as Brummett welcomed everyone aboard. As he went on, talking about leaving your past behind, she gulped and just smiled wider, sheer panic taking hold of her eyes for only a brief second. I can't. She thought, tousling her waves. I can't, I can't, I can't. I can't and I never will be able to. Clasping her hands behind her back, she bounced up and down on her heels before turning to August. Shaking his hand and dipping into a mock curtsy, she smiled seductively and said, "Pleased to meet you, fellow navigator." Even if this was to be a short-lived voyage, she could at least have some fun.
She tilted her head to the side to listen to the gentle, caressing whispers calling her to give in to their hypnotic rhythm. Something's not right~ A sickly sweet voice warbled. You should know who's hiding their emotions, considering you do it too~ Honor blinked, snapping her head back to its normal position. Though she was rattled by her demonic little friends words, she supposed they were at least somewhat true. Everyone had been acting strangely, whether they tried to hide it or not.
Even Gwen, who everyone had seemingly taken a liking to, seemed a little distant. Honor gave a small smile. It took a certain kind of person to be willing to get on a ship, even if they didn't know what they were getting into. Closing her eyes and breathing in the sea salt, Honor sighed. She hadn't felt at home in a long time.

 

[Satanic Nightjar]

August grinned as Brummet shook his hand, and returns his firm grasp. "Thank you, sir," he says respectfully, maintaining a calm exterior though his mind is very distant. In the future, in the past, but far away from the present. In memories and hope but not in current accomplishments. And then he sensed it; a presence in the back of his mind, urgently pulling at him, convincing him that the very best thing he could do was fall back into the depths of consciousness. Over the years, he's learned to consequences of giving in, and deep down he knew that he couldn't allow that to happen now, not with so much at stake. But in this moment, he couldn't help himself. Gasping for air, he quickly turns, nodding to the captain, and follows Carnage back down the stairs to a lower deck. He snaked through the hallways that seem to be closing in, found a dark corner, and slid down the wall to a sitting position.

Blood soaks through his sleeves, sticking to her silky hair. August shakes his head in disbelief, in denial, because this is too horrible to comprehend. He lowers his head to her chest, hearing her echoing heartbeat slow, sensing it's inevitable end, the unbearable knowledge that one heartbeat will not echo with another weighs heavily on his heart.

"Please . . . ." The word reverberates through the dark alleyways, hopeless, defeated. Her face is forever burned into his mind.

He never got to say goodbye.

And suddenly, his sister was standing before him, leaning against the opposite wall of the long corridor. Her image is not quite what he remembered, the lines on her face have grown, and her expression has gone from beautiful and radiant to blank and far away. But she was there, and that's all that mattered.

"Collie . . . . " August feels tears forming in his eyes at the mere sight of her, at the knowledge that she's not truly real, but she's real enough and she's close enough and all he wants is to accept it and forget the problems.

The ghost smiled, lighting up her features. "August, how are you?"

"I'm-I'm great . . . there's so much I have to tell you, so much that has happened . . . I don't even know where to begin." Her face hardens.

"I'm sorry, dear brother, but I mustn't stay for long." August is devastated, crushed, but he's determined not to let it show. Slowly he nods, putting on a show of being okay, while he's really destroyed by this.

"Oh . . . okay. Hey, Collie, please just remember that I lo--" and he never finishes the final word. She slowly fades from view, lips moving in a futile attempt at communication. For a moment, he just stares at the empty space that just a moment ago was occupied, and then collapses into tears, slamming his head back against the wall, clawing at the ground with his fingernails.

"DAMN IT!" He pounds on the floor with his fists. "Damn it . . . wh-y . . . ." He weeps for his mother, for his sister, for the whole entire goddamn world that couldn't just leave him one fucking person on the planet he cared about.

 

[Magnar]

Interlude: The Prophecy
​

Elsewhere, at that precise moment in time......

***
​

The man lay on a hard, wooden bunk. His hand was stretched out to the side, over the edge of the bunk. Occasionally small droplets of blood would drip from his finger, splashing on the cold, stone floor that lay below. The floor that was stained crimson with his own life. The man stared sightlessly up at the roof above him. A short distance to the side, metal bars separated him from the outside world. His clothes were ragged and torn, and hung off him, billowing in the slight breeze that wafted through the prison cell. His face was a mass of black and purple bruises. One eye had swollen shut entirely, and the other had a large, deep scar above and below it. His chest moved upwards and downwards slightly. A faint movement, but movement nonetheless.

Sometimes, the man forgot his name. Sometimes, when the pain got too much for him to cope with, he escaped within the recesses of his own mind. This world that he escaped to was a world of sunshine and happiness. There was no pain here, and no suffering. He lay on fields of green, stretching out as far as the eye could see. There was nary a cloud in the sky, and the sun shone down on him, basking him in its warm radiance and banishing the chill from his weary bones. Here, he was safe. Here, he could close his eyes and sleep. And his dreams would be filled with warmth, and love.

SNAP!

But as always, the dream ended, and he was returned to the cold, pitiful, pain-filled existence that he lived. Every day, they came to him. Shadowy figures, their faces hidden behind masks, their bodies concealed beneath black, woolen robes. And they inflicted unspeakable tortures upon him. They burned his flesh with a hot poker. They tore his fingernails and toenails off one by one. They beat him black and blue. They opened up his flesh with surgical instruments, watching his blood drain away from him before sewing him back up again. Why they did this, he did not know. Nor did he care. The pain that had been forced upon him was unthinkable, and it blocked out all conscious, reasonable thought. Every day, he thought he would die, but every day, they stopped just short of pushing him across that threshold. It was like a vicious game to them. A test to see how far this man's endurance would go.

This time though, the dream was interrupted by only one man. And you could only call it a man in the loosest sense of the word, in that once, he would have lived and breathed. But now, he was evidently far, far beyond that. The door to his cell opened with a loud, metallic creak, before closing behind the newcomer with a rattle.

The newcomer's dried, skeletal figure was withered and puckered. The man could count every bone beneath the aged skin if he so desired to. The creature wore only a black cape across its back, and a burial shroud girding its loins. On its head was a black, iron crown.

"Rise."

His words came out as a soft, sibiliant hiss, yet his was a voice that was used to being followed, and to being obeyed. His was a voice of power.

The man on the bunk rose slowly, climbing to his feet. He was powerless to resist, even though every single inch of his broken, decimated body screamed agony. As he did so, the torn fabric that was once a tunic parted, revealing inch after inch of torn, scoured flesh. He stood, his one eye staring dully at the creature that had come to address him. The creature that smiled gruesomely, revealing rotted, broken teeth as it spoke again.

"You are Hyskosa, once sage and seer of the Vistani. You documented this warning."

It raised its left hand, revealing a tattered document on aged, yellowing paper. Unfurling it, it read the words committed to the parchment.

"The night of evil shall descend on the land,
When this hexad of signs is near at hand.

In the house of Daegon the sorceror born,
Though life, unlife, unliving shall scorn.

The lifeless child of stern mother found,
Heralds a time, night of evil unbound.

Seventh time the son of suns doth rise,
To send the knave to an eternity of cries.

The light of the sky shining over the dead,
Shall gutter and fail, turning all to red.

The bodiless shall journey to the time before,
Where happiness to hate creates land and lore.

Inajira will make his fortunes revers,
Dooming all to live with the dreaded curse.

Know thee now that the circle is complete,
What lust hath made, history shall repeat."

Having completed the recital, the creature rolled up the parchment and tossed it to one side like so much garbage. He continued to stand by the door to the cell as a faint flicker of sunlight illuminated him from a small, slitted window beyond. It served only to accentuate his unearthly nature.

"Tell me, Hyskosa, once Vistani, do you know who I am?"

The man who was once Hyskosa studied the creature with an appraising glance, looking him from head to toe. He sighed, closing his one good eye. Yes, he knew the identity of the creature, although he wished he did not.

"You are he. The emperor from beyond the wall."

The creature laughed, and it was a horrible, grating unearthly sound that echoed through the prison cell like the ghostly keening of a banshee. It walked up to the man, and a withered, rotting hand cupped him under the chin. The man who was once Hyskosa shivered, feeling the chill of the grave as it seeped into his bones.

"Now tell me, Hyskosa, he who was once Vistani. The words you penned, do you know what they mean. Do you know what this "night of evil" signifies?"

The man who was once Hyskosa looked down to the floor. There was a dull ache forming where the creature had touched him.

"The Grand Conjunction." He whispered it breathlessly, understanding now why he was here. How he would be damned for all eternity for what was about to happen.

The creature smiled again, and the man who was once Hyskosa looked away, hardly bearing to look upon the creatures frightful visage.

"Precisely Hyskosa, once Vistani. It is at hand. And I will be the catalyst that unleashes it upon the unsuspecting mortals."

The creature turned, gesturing to the stone walls aside him. "This demiplane, although it grants me complete autonomy within this realm, does so with the power of a curse behind it. Although here, at the heart of my power, I am invulnerable, I cannot ever leave my domain. Thus is the nature of the demiplane's curse. There are limits to my power, and those limits extend to the edges of my domain, and that is why I need others to fulfil the tasks I cannot. The time draws near and you will help me understand the verse so I can replicate the prophecy."

The man who was once known as Hyskosa tried to shake his head to deny the creature, but he could not. His will, and his strength had been broken. The man who was once known as Hyskosa was rooted in place, unable to move, and unable to tear his eyes away from that terrible stare.

"Yes, Hyskosa, once Vistani, you will help me fulfil the prophecy. But first my friend, we need some.....ingredients."

He raised his withered hand, forming a circle with his thumb and index finger.

"I need some dead bodies. Fortunately, they are always close at hand."

He made a sweeping gesture with his hand before he turned, leaving the cell and slamming the door behind him.

"I will return for you soon Hyskosa, once Vistani. Be ready for what is to come."

The creature disappeared into the shadows, gliding away from the man who was once Hyskosa. The man in the cell slumped to his knees, holding himself and closing his eye. As if by doing so he would wake up to discover that this was all a terrible nightmare.

Sadly, it was not.

 

[LadyLuckTakeTheWheel]

Carnage jumped down into the ship, grinning like a cat. He wandered around, making a mental note of August ducking away. He strolled around the ship, 'Somebody knows.' The voices hissed. He stood stock still. He whipped around, checking if he was alone. He held a hand to his head, 'Somebody knows what you are.' Klarion became extremely parinoid, looking behind him every few seconds, 'They don't buy it. They know you can't get a hold of yourself.' Klarion began to sweat. The voices had never said anything disernable before. Never. He became so scared, hot tears began to run down his face. It was too overwhelming for him. He was drowning again. Drowning in his own head. He couldn't breathe. It was like his father, his father wrapping his hands around his neck- He couldn't take it anymore. He took out his gun and placed it to his head. He stopped. He calmed down and the voices went back to their normal chatters. He was panting, sweat and tears mixing. He holstered his gun and took out a lighter and lit its flame. He stared at it, entranced by the dancing flame. He held it to his hand and let the flames lick his skin. He felt no pain. The blood dripped down his wrist and he calmed down, flicking the lighter shut and walking towards the others voices.

 

[dazzling]

Honor practically skipped down after August, looking for someone whom she could explain the joy she felt at being welcomed aboard. Quietly skimming around the corner, she peered out from her nook as she heard strange noises. She heard the all too familiar click of a bullet sliding into its chamber from beyond what she could see. Plastering herself against the wall, her eyes were wide with fear. I have to remain silent. I refuse to die on my first few minutes on this damned ship. Peeking out again, her curiosity peaked, she saw a faint glow illuminate the features of the man she had saw earlier up above, sipping on a flaming drink. What in the bloody hell is wrong with these people? Watching, entranced, she saw Carnage lift the flame up to his hand.
Her whole life flashed before her eyes.
Sea salt filled her lungs.
Thorns cut her arms.
A hard fist collided with her jaw.
A bone snapped.
She coughed her way through water she poured on herself, struggling against the demon inside her.

In that moment, she ran. Shifting her shoulder forward, she collided with Carnage's knees, taking him down. She planted the heel of her boot on his sternum, not too hard but with enough pressure to be uncomfortable. She breathed in relief as she saw his lighter tossed a few feet away. "What in the bloody damn do you think you're doing to yourself? I don't even want to know what the gun I heard was from-- You need to stop." Relaxing her foot and stepping aside, she looked to her right, arms crossed tightly. "I don't like seeing things like that." Suddenly, she snapped her eyes shut. A blur of colors flying through them, she fell to her knees, screaming and clawing at her eyes. Forcing them open, she saw nothing but edges of red clouding her vision. It cleared just as suddenly as it had fogged up, leaving her sitting on her knees, a drip of sweat rolling off her cheek.

 

[mothspit]

No sooner had Gwen lowered herself into the ship, had three of her newfound crewmates taken off on their own. The following sounds shocked her; Screams, bodies colliding, some yelling.. Bewildered, she shared a look with Brummett, unsure of what to do. Somewhere opposite the direction Honor had bolted, she could hear the ever-so-faint cry of August, "DAMN IT!" That.. did not sound good. Whatever was going on with Honor and Carnage, the seasoned woman seemed to have it under control. Regardless, she made it a point to stick close to Brummett's side.

"You'd think we'd at least set sail before the scurvy set in," She quipped, "Well, that's why I'm here-- To make sure you lot eat good enough to keep your sanity." She gave Brummett a playful, soft punch in the arm.

Her attempt to spin the newly-risen uncomfortable atmosphere into something charming and likeable hopefully worked. Not five minutes on this boat, and others were already starting to panic. The irony, though, was not lost on her. As if you aren't starting to lose it already, Gwen.

 

[LadyLuckTakeTheWheel]

Carnage coughed and sat up, looking into honor's eyes with his emerald ones, "I'm fine darling, I do it all the time." He sighed, "The gun you heard was mine, I got a little too," He paused, choosing his next words carefully, "Excited." He laughed, "Though I'm quite flattered you'd slam me to the ground though." He squinted at her, "Why make such a big deal though? All that screamin' wasn't for me." He leaned into her face, "Whats goin on, darling?" His usually snarky tone was softer, like he was a completely different person. He crouched down infront of her. He realised he was feeling something he hadn't felt in a long time. Sympathy. He pulled her hands away from her eyes, "And we ain't havin' no more a' that."

dazzling

 

[dazzling]

She peered up at him shyly, feeling somewhat like a little kid. Whatever had just happened, which she did not know, she knew what had caused it. She bit her lower lip to the point of drawing blood to keep it from trembling. "Uh-h... thanks..." She said shakily. This had never happened to her before, and she had thought her curse couldn't get any worse. Slowly getting up from the ground and breaking their gaze, she stumbled up to the deck, rubbing her arms to stop them from shaking. Realizing that there was still remnants of a blush on her cheeks, she shook her head and let out a small chuckle.

 

[LadyLuckTakeTheWheel]

Carnage watched her go. He raised an eyebrow, "Odd one that one." He stood and cracked his back, "Damn she can fuck someone up." He cracked his neck. The voices in his head grew louder. He swatted them away as if they were flies. He shoved his hands in his pockets and began to whistle a sea shanty he picked up one time. He stopped and turned, staring at the place where she had been. He shook his head and laughed, "Funny girl."

 

[Satanic Nightjar]

August heard the screaming, it yanked him out of the dark haze he'd found himself in far too frequently. He swallowed his tears, locking his uncontrollable emotions into a neat little prison that he'd created as a small child, when the abuse started.

Fists. shattered bones, shattered heart. The burning smell of alcohol in the air. On his lips, fragmented mind searching for relief . . . .

No. He will not go down this path, will not fall into this dark, endless spiral of futile blame and resentment and broken promises and unforgivable mistakes. He didn't have time. He didn't even know if he would survive a relapse of this hell. Brushing his hair back, August stumbled down the corridor, adjusting his leather jacket and his stance to give off an aura of confidence. His face betrays no emotion. Only his eyes show a window into the pain he's experiencing.

He moves toward the screaming, hoping no one's hurt. He didn't want to see anyone hurt--August had seen enough suffering in his time. He was unsure of what he'd do when he arrived, but that didn't matter. He'd figure it out when he got there.

As he rounded a corner nearby the sound, he smashed into a bloody Honor. He lost his balance and fell against the wall, throwing out his arms, trying to regain his balance. Honor was thrown to the ground, eyes wide with shock.

"Shi--oh, god, sorry, Honor." August reached down and offered her a hand. "You okay?"

 

[dazzling]

Gingerly taking August's hand, she stood up and brushed herself off. "Yeah, thanks!" She said, smiling cheerfully. Despite what had just happened, she was elated, filled with a meaningless, fluffy rush. "Ya ok? Sorry I crashed into you!" She said, swinging her hands behind her back and bouncing with nervous energy.

 

[Satanic Nightjar]

August smiles kindly back at her, but the tears in his eyes are still obvious for anyone looking closely. "Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry, shoulda been watching where I was going; I'm not used to looking out for pretty girls around every corner," he smirks, but he's not entirely joking. He becomes aware of the fact that he's still grasping her hand and quickly lets go, blushing slightly. Oh God help me . . . .

 

[dazzling]

Honor stares straight ahead, slightly over his shoulder, her face burning like a wildfire. "Um.. thanks?" Forcing her focus back to him, she noticed the remnants of tears in his eyes. Smiling gently, she got up on her tiptoes and lightly brushed them away. Swinging an arm lazily over his shoulder, she lightheartedly said, "Hey, don't cry! The voyage hasn't even started yet, so I'm sure we'll have time for that later~" The last part hung in the air and she playfully ran back up to the deck of the ship. Tossing her hands out and laughing, Honor felt safe as she felt the sea breeze and tender rays of sunlight.

 

[Satanic Nightjar]

August returns her warm smile, now slightly sad, lonely, yet grateful. "And I'm sure you're right." His smile lingers on his face, and even he's surprised that it's authentic, pure. It's been a while since someone brought him one of those. He watches her run up the steps, confused but not entirely opposed to being so.

Then he shakes his head and walks off, reminding himself of all the promises he made himself. It could never work--he should banish the very idea from his mind.

 

[mothspit]

Lo and behold, the man of the hour return-eth. Or at least, one of them. Whatever Carnage had been up to, she wanted no part in it.. August rounded the corner back to where they were standing, and upon seeing him, Gwen's expression turned concerned. She approached him, a small frown resting on her lips. How old was he, anyway? She theorized he could only be a few years behind her, and that theory was only affirmed when she got closer to get a better look at him.

"I, erm.. don't know what happened, but, are you alright?" She said softly, "I tend to get a little winded in tight spaces too. I don't judge."

'Little winded' was an understatement, but regardless, she didn't want the poor guy to feel alone. Of course, assuming that was indeed the problem.

Satanic Nightjar

 

[LittleBearii]

'I'm sure you will come to be a valuable crew member over time...You are one of us now and here this is just us.'
Those simple words just took away this youthful stubborn man's heart by a small pinch, how long since someone told him that indeed Mutt does now belong? Especially looking back with how many years of sitting through the roughest weathers and picked on by the toughest crew members from the docks. His jet black dreadlocks by the salty winds blew away from his face when his linear body stood still in an almost trance. Orbs widen in complete surprise with how open the co-captain, or should say Sir Brummet let him in amoungst the Endurance. And now he was going to see more of the ship!

If you thought that this tall teen with dreadlocks and expressionless face was being shy with his pure curiosity, then I suppose you should look the other way. His steps seemed to almost bounce by the balls of his feet when the group barely passed the shaft. Seeing the deep oiled lumber of the stairs creak from under the group's feet to the decorations that plaster of the walls. What caught his eye the most was a small porcelain model of the sphere earth, but the continents were labeled in some weird language. He wanted to ask Brummet if he can mess with the object, sadly by the time Mutt can widen his lips to ask-- The others were missing somehow from the tour? God they were much worse than himself with wondering off as a kid on the beach.

And yet Brummet kept strutting forward, gesturing the rest of the beauty hull. Mutt was choosing to beautifully execute a reckless decision to perhaps he'll get yelled at for later. His fingers laced around the staff of the small globe from it's white pedestal. Holding now the small toy-like artifact along his palm happily as the tour was..done? Giving a slight frown when the co-captain noticed the rest of the 'new-crew' were gone by a records time. "Nay to be crude, sir. But I wanted to at least know more history about this beauty." He sighed, suddenly perking his head up to the direction where the shrieks and uttermost unpleasant sounds were heard above him of the upper deck, then glance back at Brumment with a sympathetic gesture. He possibly had 3 extra kids to take care of now.

"..Are you sure you can't just continue on just for a little while, if they already killed each other that is.. But! I know how to remove bloodstains from using the clam shine." Mutt heaved a chuckle softly as his tanned face brightens, revealing the small globe before the co-captain. "I wish to know more about these other lands, but it's either horrible scribe handwriting or perhaps I'm getting weakening visions to read it?"

 

[Magnar]

"You'd think we'd at least set sail before the scurvy set in"

Shaking his head in exasperation as three of their number broke rank before the tour had even finished, Brummett grumbled, "You would think so. At the very least I expect some form of discipline from the crew. We've got a lot to work on during the journey."

What happened next was hard to describe. Shouting. A loud thump. Screaming -- screaming like someone was having their very soul ripped out of them. Brummett started to move in the direction of the commotion, but suddenly stopped as he looked over to the two still remaining with him. No, it was better that he didn't know what was going on.

"Well, all I can say is that you two seem a little more......shall we say level headed than the others. Do you think you'll be able to keep them in line on the voyage?" Shaking his head again, he added. "When I say do you think, I more mean that you'd better keep them in line otherwise they'll find themselves being thrown overboard."

Chuckling at Mutt's insistence that the tour continue, and his fascination with the small globe.

"We'll have plenty of time later to talk about the history of the Endurance lad. About a week all in I guess given how long it'll be to reach our destination. Lets gather up the others and get back on deck. The Captain will be wanting to speak to you all."

***
​

Later, after the crew had gathered once more abovedecks, the sound of a door opening could be heard. A woman stepped out on deck, and olive eyes gazed impassively over the sight of the five individuals. A thin, athletic body was framed by auburn curls. Her authority was obvious. The sailors working the decks stopped at her appearance, bowing their heads deferentially at her before continuing on with their work. There was an aura surrounding the woman. One of control and of authority. Here was a woman who was not to be messed with. Walking up to Honor, she reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Navigator." Her tone was cool as her eyes moved from both Honor to August.

Her eyes swept both of them, appraising. She stepped forwards, holding out her hand to both one after the other.

"Captain Garvyn," she said coolly, shaking their hand.

She then let go, casting her gaze over the others one by one -- Mutt, Gwen and Carnage. Noting Carnage's slightly bedraggled appearance, she raised her left eyebrow slightly.

"You are here in response to the advertisement?" Captain Garvyn continued onwards without waiting for a response. "If you wish to be part of this crew, there are certain standards of.....decorum that must be met, and you shall respect your Captain and her authority at all times. If this is a problem, then this is not the ship for you, understand?"

Turning her back, Captain Garvyn began to walk back towards her cabin. Stopping after a few steps, she glanced back, her eyes now taking on a more appraising look at the motley crew. "Inexperienced, perhaps. But we can work on that. Can't we Brummett?"

The look on her face was stony and expressionless. Finally, she nodded to them.

"You're hired. But if any of you attempt to undermine my captaincy or in any way cause any harm to my ship or my crew, you will be thrown overboard. Understand?"

The tone was half-hearted. Captain Arianna Garvyn looked back to Brummett and quickly averted her eyes, remembering his simmering resentment of earlier.

She knew what was at stake, and what coming aboard would truly cost each and every one of them. She had to stay strong.....she just had to. Because what she was doing, it was the only way.......

What else could she do? What else could she possibly do? Arianna kept her eyes on the ocean, watching the small, dark shadows of fish swimming beneath the surface. The Captain was alone in the choices she had made, and the course she had taken -- and she had led them all to hell. She was truly alone. And when she died, she would die alone, and she would be condemned for what she had done.

Unknowingly, she balled her hands into fists. Feeling a sharp pain in the palm of her hands, she looked down to see that her fingernails had pierced flesh and drew blood. For what she had done, for what she continued to do, there was no recourse. Arianna quickly turned away from the newcomers and wiped her bloody hands on her breeches. She bellowed out orders to the crew.

"Double time you slackers. The ship is not coming along fast enough, we need to be ready to set sail."

Although she did not turn back to face them, her words drifted back to the newcomers.

"I'm waiting for one, maybe two more hands to come on board before we set sail. I can afford no passengers on this ship and you will all hold equal responsibility and duties. From now on, you are part of my crew and you will abide by my rules."

Her face did not mirror the hardness in her voice.

***
​

After the Captain's address, Brummett left the others to stand alone next to the prow. Leaning on the side of the ship, his eyes gazed out over the ocean. He had noted the Captain's sudden show of emotion of course and was taken aback by it. Captain Arianna Garvyn never showed emotion in anything, and it concerned him.

She's losing control.

He exhaled sharply, leaning his head in his arms. Below him, he watched the crystal clear water as it sparkled, reflecting off the rays of the sun.

We all have demons to hide. Every single one of us. The Captain. The newcomers. The crew. Me.

In his minds eye, Brummett saw the flames. He saw the dancing flickers of orange fire as it ate away at the deck of the ship in his memories. He saw hands reaching out to him.

"Brummett.......help......"

The impassioned cry of the dying. The smell of burning flesh as it assaulted his nostrils. The screaming of those who death had not already claimed. He was close enough to help...... he reached out his hand........ The flames, the heat was near assailable.

Blacking out the memory and forcing it back, Brummett closed his eyes. A shaking hand reached down to his belt. Brushing aside the edge of his tunic, trembling fingers took hold of the small flask that was attached to his hip. Bringing the flask up, he opened his eyes and noted casually the burn mark on his hand as he unscrewed the top of it. The smell of hard liquor came upwards, and he took it in. It was an unpleasant smell to those who were perhaps not suited or accustomed to the taste of the foul stuff, but to Brummett it smelt and tasted like pure heaven -- heaven distilled in liquid form.

"I'm sorry," he whispered softly to the memory as he brought the flask up slowly, touching it to his lips.

His hand tightened, and suddenly Brummett closed his eyes and shook his head. With a sudden motion, he threw the flask away. It sailed through the air, landing in the sea with a small splash.

Opening his eyes again, he continued to watch the sea. He questioned, as he had constantly questioned, the mental fortitude and ability of the newcomers to cope -- particularly given the commotion that had happened earlier.

But then, he was as scarred as they were.

As we all are.

It was going to be a long trip.

 

[LittleBearii]

'That is certainly the commanding captain' Mutt nodded to himself, still having the globe under his palm watching the stern woman stepping off with the confidence this teen can ever dream off possessing one day. Glancing back at the others with a eyebrow raise, should he really question the commotion the other three have started? But his intuition quite said the productively opposite to that notion and idea immensely. Still being a bit unclear, and also not completely unknown for the inside and out with the ship mass. It was Mutt's best bet to go to any of the experienced crew mates and ask for any chores to help. Taking the moment to place the small globe artifact that was thankfully small enough for his shirt pocket in the slip.

"Need help knotting the ropes?" His grin widen when the crew easily stepped aside to give him room, softly he took a knee against the wooden deck. Taking the large braided knot to form large 'Figure-Eight' knots between the each individual rig that lay before him. Mutt's eager bright eyes were basically shining as when his rough hands continue skillfully worked with forming an eloquent line of tough, new, pristine knots aside each unit along with the crew. It was indeed a fine start for this new sailor, and hopefully it's his new chapter for learning a lot more amazing things as an adventure!

But for some reason, he feels quite famished from not eating in a long while.

 

[dazzling]

Honor wiped her smile off her face when the Captain made her arrival. Truth be told, she was very impressed. A female captain who could hold her own against the crew? Respect. Honor was still floating with glee, though she was glad nobody had asked about the ruckus. She bounced on her heels, ready to start.

 

[mothspit]

Gwen seemed to hesitate answering Brummett's question. Keep them in line? What, like.. physically? No way am I going near those three. She threw her hands up with a mock exasperated expression, "I know I'm the pinnacle of strength, but even I don't think I could restrain them." Another joke. At least she covered her own pain well enough with humor.

When they made their way above deck once again, no sooner had the fabled Captain arrived. Gwen seemed caught off guard at first. Was it common for women to be captains? She wasn't sure. Regardless, when Captain Garvyn grasped her hand, she returned the gesture happily, maintaining a feigned, charming smile. Similar to her first mate, Gwen noticed something about the Captain.. That crack in her resolve. What were these two hiding?

"An honor, Ma'am. You'll be drooling over my cooking soon enough, I'll bet my ability to swim on it." Passing a small glance to Brummett, she winked.

And just like that, everyone was on their own. Taking note of the number of crew, including herself, Gwen opened up her bag, pulling out both an apron and a bandanna to tie back her hair. After dawning both, she looked over to Brummett, who was wistfully looking out to sea. He pulled out a flask-- Gwen inhaled sharply when he tossed it into the water. How long had it been since she had a drink? Too long, scratched the back of her mind, Just one drink. To raise the spirits. Celebrate this new life.

She turned away from him, and the rest of her crewmates, "I'll whip up something quick for everyone," She called back with a small wave, "I can imagine we're all famished."

Soon, she was belowdeck again, and made quick time advancing to the boats Galley. Rummaging around the area, she soon discovered a large pot, and various ingredients for a simple vegetable soup. Among them, she managed to discover a small brown bottle; It's insides just as dark as the out. Whether it be rum or whiskey, she didn't care. With a small glance around to make sure she was alone, she uncorked it, and took a hearty swig. Her face soured at the strong taste, exhaling with a pleasant sigh. Then, she shook her head, and set the bottle on a counter nearby.

Gwen quickly got to work. Dicing up colorful vegetables, bringing a pot of water to boil over an open flame, tossing in spices and ingredients. Occasionally sipping the bottle with a solemn sigh to herself.

 

[LittleBearii]

'I'll whip something quick, I imagine we're all faminished'
Most definitely Mutt's ears catch on that between the high winds of the deck, grinning in such pleasant demeanor when the woman walked back down the stairway unto the lower space. One of the crew members commented and laughed a bit at this sudden quicker pace the lad set soon as he heard something about food. And should you well know that this young man has this immensely wolf-like appetite, simply one bowl is never enough. And god damned to the deepest seas that mother earth can hand him, he will earn that keep even if he'll get those scraps.

His voice strained in the pace of the others, as the mellow teen lifted up the braided yet complete rope net lining in this tug of war with the basked wind. At least 4 men or more across from him were doing their absolute best to sturdy it as the net climbed more higher , proving it even more difficult to keep it in line. Mutt took another shallow breath, feeling the surrounding environment heighten around him in all but a blur matter. The creaking boots pivoting of the crew men scraping the floors in an desperate attempt to keep the unconstrained knotted ropes still, a soft splash from an exocoetidae skimming across the ocean's surface, a soft yet low moan of sweet Endurance herself that shifts on one side from the gentle sea wave.. Everything and everyone begin to move slow almost like a near death-type of adrenaline, crazily enough by his standards by the people around him all begin to blend in that faded world of Mutt.

Suddenly it was all about to happen, this weird thing that always occur whenever the world slows like that for the young man. His rough digits squeezed tightly against the large braided rope, coal sparkling eyes of the youth was slowly started to ink his iris this mixed dull stormy gray color. And like it wasn't a merely struggle at all the youthful teen easily started to tug it back it's every pulley rig. Almost how quite similar to kid on the board way would pull the string of a pull along toy, stopping once the embellish 'clink' were delayed to the far mass pole by one hand and only stood there. His world of blurs was thankfully going back to vivid coloration were slowly returning noting that it's all melting back. Once that was done with compelling surprised looks by the older sea-crew mates of the replaced rig lines, it was time for Jackel to reveal how 3 years of mopping ships can pay off! Tucking one of the wild-roaming twist behind his ear as he turned once again his boots hit on the stairway to below deck in the great search of the mop and bucket. Hoping that whatever bleakly that happened earlier would be over-looked.

 

[Satanic Nightjar]

August smiled as the captain speaks to them, eyes sparkling with both respect and appreciation. Her acceptance released huge weight from his chest, and he exhales deeply, relieved. The darkness from before still lingered--a darkness he can see in the captain, as well. Her courage was something he admired greatly; something he wished he possessed.

But some shadows, not even the brightest of lights can fully illuminate.

August found his way to the helm, ran his fingers along the polished wood of the wheel, and a faint smile came to his lips. This would be a challenge, a difficult one, but an enjoyable one nonetheless. He stared out at the ocean waves, pure and blue, eagerly awaiting their voyage. A moment later, he senses Honor approaching, hears the ever-so-quiet shuffling of her boots and creaking of the halfway-open door. "Hey," he says simply, unsure of what to say next. August turned around, leaning his back against the unoccupied chair, and met her eyes.

 

[dazzling]

Honor cast her eyes down, allowing a small smile as she leaned her arm on the ship's rail. "Hey. Aren't you excited?" She chirped, before the world seemed to fall away before her eyes and her and the dizzy feeling that overtook her earlier enclosed her in an unbearable darkness. The haunting voice in her head rose to a scream before everything went silent and the darkness gave way to a vision.
Satanic Nightjar Magnar
~insert vision here~

 

[Satanic Nightjar]

August maintained his faint smile, but cast his eyes outward in the direction of the ocean. "Yeah, it should be interesting." He noticed her discomfort, and way she seemed to not be looking at him, but elsewhere. A darker realm that both of them had visited. He knew it was probably best to to mention it, but something compelled him to do so.

August reached out and placed a concerned hand on her shoulder. "Hey . . . you okay?"

 

[LittleBearii]

After for what seemed like a long while, glancing between all the crates he finally found the broken yet usable mop. But for the metal, clean non-rusted bucket-- Did he mention clean? Indeed that was much more of a challenge compared to the sludge or..whatever kind of entity that this young man surely don't want to discover from the other bucket that crossed his path. Much like a treasure hunt, Mutt began to trudge much more into the depths of Endurance before in much to his relief obtained a sanitary clean pail between his fingers. Blinking a bit in curiosity for once again not having that completed tour, to know where the clean water was placed in storage or should he prefer use the fresh ocean water as a substitute? Scratching the back of his head in thought before shrugging off the quick answer which was to just wait until Brummet or some higher rank crew show him the storage. But, with his determination to prove his worth on the ship from his logic, the teen continued to hold the mop and bucket in his possession while walking back to the upper deck, beats placing the tools down and going back to find it.