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| Waiting for a friend; Taiaka and WillWill | |
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| Topic Started: Thu Oct 1, 2009 10:08 pm (599 Views) | |
| Taiaka | Mon Oct 26, 2009 11:14 pm Post #16 |
 
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Once Will felled the last remaining mercs, he slipped back into his usual skin and plucked his kilt from the bloodstained cobblestone with a limp. He circled back to the entrance of the alleyway and heard it too: the cadence of armor, the creaking of taut bowstrings, and also his own name. Gritting his teeth, he gave Will a firm nod and finished tightening the knots on his clothing and bindle. Before trotting over to the ladder, he asked, “You alright?” obviously noting the split in his friend’s lip. Without waiting for an answer, Taiaka pushed past Will but let his gaze linger for a moment longer, “Back up, it’s our only chance!” He climbed the wooden rungs two at a time and swung his legs over the top of the building. Perched where the ladder met the lip of sun bleached adobe, Taiaka reached down and offered his friend his hand, “Come on, hurry!” The commotion the mercenaries had made with thinning down to a dull buzz; the lucky ones ducked inside of storefronts and made their panicked ways into the pubs to steel their nerves with a little liquid comfort. But the men were on the move and were slowly cutting off the shorefront streets one by one, fencing them in. A crossbow bolt whizzed by his head followed by two more. Taiaka dropped lower into his crouch and looked out over the sandy rooftops. They could make it to the sun kissed wharfs but it would be like climbing on frozen ropes: not only were the gaps between roofs jagged and wide, but their pursuers would no doubt be fueled by the sight of their comrades’ broken bodies. They had to move quickly. Yet there, on the crystallize waters of Taras Bay, floated a glimmering bastion of hope. The ship’s crew was scurrying about like rats and though Taiaka could only make out their hurried pace, he had no doubt they were preparing to heave anchor and leave port. They raised the sails in a series of bone jarring heaves while a man in a floppy hat barked at them from the flying bridge. Taiaka realized Will hadn’t been sipping on the hair of the dog when he saw him stroll out of the tavern earlier. No, he had been wheeling and dealing: catching them a ride. The dreadlocked man made a mental promise to buy the man a bottle of the finest rum for having ever doubted him. “Just keep your head down and we can make it, yah?” Taiaka pointed to the ship in the distance. About half-dozen rooftops separated them from the sloping transition from dry land to the stretch of floating dock. Taiaka saw the man in the floppy hat order that his crew take up the gangplank, the captain’s small dark eyes scanning the horizon. |
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| Will Fisher | Mon Oct 26, 2009 11:45 pm Post #17 |
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Will nodded sharply, he would keep his head down. He knew they would have to run on the rooftops of the city, and he knew that it would be tough, but it was the only way. He tucked his spear into a small loop at the neck of his jacket, the spear was resting against his back, point far above his head. He was crouched, tense like a spring. He heard a few creaks from behind, out of the corner of his eye he saw the glint of studs on dark leather. He shouted in surprise and anger, and leaped forward over the edge of the roof, moving on all fours. He made it to the opposite roof, terracotta. His hands gripped firmly but his boots slid slightly. He heard a loud snap as a bolt embedded itself in the wood of the roof beneath. He hauled himself up, running on all fours like a dog. There was a guard ahead of him, wielding a large cudgel. Will just barreled ahead, tucking his head slightly closer to his body. As he struck, he felt his head hit flesh, stomach. The merc was flown off the roof onto the cold ground below. He coiled his body, and jumped across a wide gap. He landed heavily on corrugated tin with a loud bang. He felt several bolts fly past his head, one nick his earlobe. He kept loping along the roofs, leaping across to the wharf, which was steadily getting closer. He had a few dozen roofs left to clear, but, he could make it; and if he could make it, Tai could. He felt a pang of regret for not looking back, or waiting for his friend, but, he had no choice, one more moment and he would be a pin cushion. He jumped to clear on of the last roofs, he noted that the building were getting higher, about as high as a ships mast. He jumped and grabbed onto a metal pipe, he felt it snap away, but grabbed firmly onto the brick of the building. He felt a cold burn flow up his leg, starting at his calf. He swore loudly, and laid behind a small half wall, made of thick stone. He saw a thick bolt, made of dark wood, tipped with gleaming silver. He pulled it out, clenching his teeth. He removed it, no further damage. He pulled out a large scarf, and tied it tightly around the wound, which was now bleeding profusely. just a few more roofs. He was on the second to last roof, higher up than the ship's mast that lay below. It was a large court and trading house, which meant a long, long roof. He had stopped loping, and started walking in a very low crouch. He limped and bled and limped toward the end of the roof, so close. He could see her blue and silver flag waving, it was the Odalia. He saw several mercs rise from rooftop windows, swords drawn, wicked smiles on their faces. He swore and kept walking, his foot dragging next to him. He did not draw his spear, he did not run. He got quite close to the men with swords, he stood his ground. One raised his blade, and began to bring it down. Will slammed his fist into his gut, high and to the left. The man was stunned and lay on the ground. The other two men were quickly trying to draw weapons. In that time Will had cleared their reach. Just a few more feet, he was running now, ignoring the pain in his leg. He ripped off his hat and shoved it over his right hand. He saw the boat sitting there, he could here Allen's voice. Ten feet, he picked up speed, at three he jumped into the air. He flew through the air, landing close to the mast. He grabbed one of the many ropes tied through the winches, with his hat covered hand. He wrapped his right leg around the rope and slid down to the deck. He was about ten feet above the hard wood of the deck when, from lose of blood, he fell unconscious. He landed heavily on the deck, in a black silky stupor. |
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| Taiaka | Tue Oct 27, 2009 6:27 pm Post #18 |
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If Taiaka was a religious man (instead of a superstitious one), he would have begun praying. As he was though, the most he could do was let loose a string of vulgar curses and press his hand against the bloody wound high on his thigh. The bear had fought bravely, but the scuffle had left him with a pronounced limp; the captain had fought just as bravely. Taiaka knew he would have time to worry about his injuries once he made it onto the ship. If he made it onto the ship that was. The dark man was quick to follow Will across the first rooftop; pain and worry ushered neatly away by a rush of steely adrenaline. The mercenaries were on their heels but Taiaka picked up speed as best he could, jumping with unbridled effort onto the adjacent roof. Will was just ahead of him, scurrying on all fours, so Taiaka picked himself up and kept low. Incoming bolts plinked of the baked clay tiles, cracking the mortar and skittering harmlessly off the far end of the building. The mercs’ aim was steadily getting better. Taiaka saw Will clear another gap between rooftops, and then another. He felt the muscles in his leg tighten and burn and a warm sensation creeping down the back of his calf. He set his jaw and straightened up as he reached the edge of the roof, springing forward with all his might. Taiaka hit the tin slats with a dull thud and rolled into a squat stone chiminey. Will was no where to be seen. Without waiting to catch his breath, he bolted forward with a grimace, his eyes gauging the distance for his next jump. Taiaka cleared this gap as well but his leg buckled when he landed and he was sent sprawling into a thatched skylight. The weak crosshatching of palm fronds and bamboo reeds gave way under Taiaka’s weight and he went crashing down. He hit the ground in a flurry of embers, having landed in some poor family’s steaming hearth. Yelping from the sting of hot charcoal burning the length of his arm, Taiaka shambled to his feet and set off at a dead run. The family (who had been sitting at their table enjoying a perfectly mundane meal) were in dumb shock from the sudden visitor but had the wherewithal to shout for help. Taiaka tore through the family’s bedroom and foyer when he heard the gruff shouts of mercenaries from behind him. He tucked his chin against his chest and held his forearms in front of his face as he slammed into the foyer’s tall window pane. He tumbled down in a hail of broken glass and wooden splinters and landed in a pile of fetid refuge between houses. Taiaka lay for a moment unmoving except for the rapid rise and fall of his chest. Tiny gold motes danced across the backs of his eyes while a chilling blackness threatened the corners of his vision; he felt a sudden urge to sleep right then and there in the stinking alleyway. But Taiaka knew better and struggled to his feet. He walked a short circuit, spinning in a circle as he collected his wits; he could hear the crashing of waves and smell the heady brine of low tide. The docks were close. Over the sound of the ocean, Taiaka could still discern the jingle and clank of armor and above that, the wild shouts of men hot of the tail of their quarry. The dark man, despite himself, felt a pang of fear for Will and sincerely hoped his friend had made it to the ship unscathed. The thought set his resolve, clearing his head enough to find the right direction and giving his will control of his legs. Shambling out of the alley in a daze, he climbed over a few crates of rotting vegetables and turned the corner. The coast was clear thankfully and Taiaka, covered in glass, bruised and bloody, broke out into a run once again. He felt nothing of pain and kept his gaze on the knobby ship’s mast that reached high into the morning sky. Another corner and his speed entered the realm of breakneck; long stretch of cobblestone separated Taiaka from the first hint of dock. Just then, a two man patrol stepped into sight. The dark man flew past them before they even had a chance to draw their weapons. But they too, shouted for help. “There!” One yelled. “Over here!” The other echoed. Yet, Taiaka did not stop to check his flank, his inertia driving him forward until his heart felt like it would explode and his bones felt as if they were made of powder. He hit the dock just in time to see Will’s shadow soaring high above him. It was an awesome sight; a man in flight with his hat in his hand and a grimace on his face. Will disappeared behind the ship’s sails and Taiaka kept running. The crew had drawn up the gangplank and the vessel was already steering away from the dock as the dark man tried his best to keep pace along side. The remaining length of dock was growing short but Taiaka saw crewmen stationed at the ship’s stern either firing flinty arrows at the pursuing mercenaries or flicking their hands at Taiaka. They wanted him to jump. He didn’t have a choice; angry men were swarming behind him and the drop off the end of the dock was getting closer and closer. The ship was steadily pulling away and Taiaka just kept running. He counted the planks and jumped, arms outstretched, at the very last moment. His hands met with rough netting and he clung on for dear life, the sea swirling beneath him. Strong crewmen grabbed at his arms (one even had the audacity to snatch up a handful of dreadlocks) and hauled the dark man over the railing. Taiaka lay there on his back, panting as he heard the man in the floppy hat give a cryptic order to a nearby crewman in pastel blue robes. A sudden gale of wind filled the sails and Taiaka felt the ship rock and sway as it shot forward into the depths of Taras Bay. Helped to his feet, Taiaka caught a glance of two very angry (and familiar) faces watching from the edge of the docks. Not today, boys, Taiaka thought as he pulled a long splinter out of his forearm. Turning away from the fading sight of the seaside city, Taiaka found Will’s slumped form on the deck. He savagely pushed a few crewmen aside and barked at them to get away. It was the man in the floppy hat (who later identified himself as Allen) whose voice cut in. The captain rested a hand on Taiaka’s ribcage and said “Take them both below deck and find that blasted healer.” The dark man stubbornly shouldered most of Will’s weight despite his own wounds and felt that damn sleepiness begin to overtake him. |
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| Will Fisher | Tue Oct 27, 2009 10:42 pm Post #19 |
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Will awoke in a small room, with a tiny porthole letting in light. He was lying in a narrow bed, above him hung his lantern in a net bag next to his hammock. His spear stood upright in the corner, where his coat, shirt and pants lay. His boots were to his left, a bulkhead to his right. He looked at his chest, a crisscross of bandages, seemingly holding him together, he inhaled and felt several pangs of pain. He had broken several ribs, and his head hurt. He looked at his calf wound, healed, though not lacking in pain. He sat up painfully and removed his blankets. He walked over to the small washbasin on a table near the bed and cleaned up. He then got dressed and opened his door. He saw a long hall, many doors on either side. He made his way down, feet bare, shuffling quietly against the wood. He walked up the small stairwell, up to the top deck. The sea was calm, but there were dark clouds far to the east. The water was a cobalt blue, white caps slowly forming. He heard a few cries of delight coming from the bow of the ship. He looked over and saw a small, spindly man hold up a huge marlin. Will smiled and walked toward the chartroom. He knocked on the door, and opened it. He was greeted by the smell of apples. In front of him was a large, dark stained table, surrounded by equally dark chairs. On the wall behind the table stood a large, detailed map of the Moonsea. There was a small desk in the corner, and there sat a man, staring at a small map. He looked up and smiled at the man standing in the doorway. Will did not smile, "Where is my friend?" the man nodded and said, "Probably below deck with that blasted healer, he kind of got lost in the beginning skirmish." he leaned back in his chair and gestured for Will to take a seat. He walked forward grabbing a chair and setting it down on the floor, backwards, back facing desk. He sat in it, leaning on the back of the chair with his chest, and stared at the man with the floppy hat, "You know, it is impolite to where a hat around guests." he said with mock sternness. "Oh shut up!" Allen said laughing and smacking his friend lightly on the shoulder. Will chuckled, and gestured to the bottle of clear liquid on the table, next to a bowl of green apples, "Shall we?" Allen shook his head, "Dinner soon, Marcus caught a marlin." Will looked surprised, "How did you know? He just caught one." Allen smiled, "I know," he pointed to a window, made of clear, segments of square glass. "I can see, but you obviously cannot." he stood and walked out the door, next to Will. They walked out onto the deck, to see no one above deck. They heard clanging of pans, and the dull sound of knives on wood. He walked slowly toward the bow of the boat. He reached the figure head, a beautiful woman made of wood. She wore a long flowing dress that seemed to meld with the ship. She was not painted, but was made of the same dark wood of the ship. Will walked to the small seating area at the end of the ship, just a few cushioned benches. He sat down, "We have a little while, but if Cook is as good as he was-" Allen smiled, "He is, it will only be half an hour." he nodded and sat down. The looked back on the ship, it was a beauty, it's white and blue flag, emblazoned with a gray crow flapping wildly in the wind. |
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| Taiaka | Wed Oct 28, 2009 12:51 am Post #20 |
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“Stop squirming.” “I’m not doing it on purpose,” Taiaka said sullenly as the white haired healer finished stitching up the long gash on shoulder blade. He laid belly down, with his cheek pressed against a soft mattress, and stared out an obscenely small porthole, groaning weakly. The man, affectionately called ‘Doc’ by the crew, had spent all his soothing laments and medicinal chants for Will. This left Taiaka to suffer the cruel needle and a bottle of rum. Yet, to be fair, his injuries were mostly superficial; the gash on his forearm, the wide burn on his shoulder and Doc’s triumphant suture job on the opposite side of her back had bled the most. Taiaka’s own little litany patched the hole in his thigh and though it could not be seen anymore, the muscle remained tight and his limp was present. The bruises would fade, but Taiaka had the swollen appearance of a prize fighter by the time Doc was ready to call it a day. The dark man wished he had let the blackness overtake him and to have been dressed while out cold. Will had had the right idea. Bandaged and shaky, Doc helped Taiaka into a warm woolen poncho and gave him a small pot of camphor scented balm which he put with his belongings. The shifter said a few mumbled thank you’s as he stood; he gave a sharp inhale as his battered body protested and snatched the half bottle of rum from the squat night table. He brought it to his lips only to hear Doc croon, “Easy with that. Supper be coming and you wouldn’t want to spoil your appetite.” No certainly not, Taiaka thought before taking a long, spiteful swig of rum. “Where’s Will?” His words were slightly slurred and he swayed on his feet from the ship’s pitch and yaw. “Yer friend? I reckon he’s up top with the captain.” Answered Doc in a tired croak, “I reckon you should join ‘em. Want my help getting up the stairs?” Taiaka shook his head, “I’ll be alright.” He didn’t know if he was lying or not, but swaggered nonetheless to the small staircase, lurched his way up them, and threw open the hatch. It took him a full minute to crawl onto the deck and stand back up, but he did it without taking the hands of the kindly crewmen on duty. But he did allow them to point him in the right direction. He shuffled over the salty planks and made his way to the bow of the ship where he saw Will and Allen. He moved tentatively, but not from pain; they were surrounded by the sea with land just a fading memory somewhere in their wake and the dark man had only look beyond the sails. The sun was slowly setting as Taiaka nearly collapsed into the cushioned benches, taking a healthy pull of rum for his effort. He took a long hard look at Will and smiled, “You look like I feel.” |
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| Will Fisher | Thu Oct 29, 2009 1:05 pm Post #21 |
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Will smiled at his friend, "Are you already drunk? We just got one the boat." he smiled even larger, "So, you must feel like such a beautiful, handsome gentleman, like myself." as he said this he stroked his beard. He gestured to the man in the floppy hat, "This is Allen Maelstrom. Captain, sailor, friend. He has so graciously allowed us to steal aboard his ship, and give us passage to 3034." Allen bowed his head at Taiaka. Will shivered slightly as the wind picked up, and he saw the dark clouds grow closer. He stood, catching the scent of freshly cooken fish, and various other foods. He motioned for the others to follow and he made his way down to the galley. He walked down the dimly lit hallway, toward the open room that was the galley. He sat down at the large oak table in the corner. surrounded by chairs and a bench. He sat in the corner, using the wall behind him for support. He saw a full marlin layed out on the center of the table, surrounded by fresh biscuts, rum, cheese and oranges. Will smiled, he was so used to sailing on ships with no means of cooking or perserving food well, that he had grown accustomed to the grubby biscuts and salt pork. He saw the rest of the crew file into the room, most smiled and cheered as they saw Will. The new crew members did not cheer, but mearly waved and said their hellos. Will was given handshakes, hugs, and various other greetings from his old friends. They all sat, and once again became aquainted over good rum. |
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| Taiaka | Thu Oct 29, 2009 9:18 pm Post #22 |
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He sat on the top deck, choosing to remain behind to roll a smoke and watch the hues of sunset paint Ophelia’s sails. Muffled voices sounded from below in the galley and Taiaka heard the rowdy guffaws of sailors glad to be out at sea. He wondered if they toasted Mother Tide or the spirits of the wind, clanking their mugs together and spitting limericks about clear skies and the gals on shore upon their widow’s walks. Taiaka did not love the sea the way these men did, the way Will did, it was the bile that rose in his throat and the squint that gave him crow’s feet. Yet, when a crewman came by to give Taiaka a plate of fish and biscuits, the dark man quietly accepted it, wondering if it was Will who had sent it up. He lit his cigarette off the lantern bracketed to the bulkhead, letting the scent of his tobacco wash away the garlic and citrus of the fish, and the mercurial breath of the open ocean. The snap of cloth drew his eyes to the tall mast as he took a deep pull of smoke. A large blue flag thrashed against its’ jesses, the smoky crow emblazoned upon it angry and taut as it tried to fly away. The breeze tugged at Taiaka’s dreadlocks and they clanked against each other’s beaded tips like faraway wind chimes as the shifter leveled his eyes to the horizon. The last dying gasp of the sun spilled like champagne from the west, lighting the scabby backs of sheered storm clouds rolling in on their flanks. Taiaka thought nothing of it as he flicked his stub of burning cornhusk over the side of the boat and gave a misty exhale. The wounds beneath his bandages had already started to itch and the shifter scratched at them lazily as he stood and leaned against the ship’s hip high railing. Breaking waves raked at the side of the hull as it cut through the darkening current, sending up tiny eddies of spray. Taiaka stayed beneath the bow’s comfortable enclosure, one hand wrapped around the lacquered wood, the other prodding the dressing on his shoulder and lamenting the sloughing of his ornate branding beneath. He was silently anxious, watching gleeful forks of purple lightning dance in the impossible distance, and unbelieving that he had actually been dragged out to sea. Allen seemed like a sturdy captain, stalwart and perhaps slightly esoteric, but the latter only spoke of experience. His hands did not shake, and his eyes did not drift when he spoke. Taiaka laid hapless trust in the man’s hands, however he had more faith in Will than the limited first impressions of the captain. Sitting back down, Taiaka snaked out a hand for his bottle of rum and kissed the glass lip until most of it swam in his belly. The numbness cut through his queasiness like the Ophelia through the sudden, curling fog and he began picking at his plate of fish. |
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| Will Fisher | Thu Oct 29, 2009 10:10 pm Post #23 |
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Will walked up the stairs, stomach full of bread and fish. He had a bottle of rum in his hand, and had finally put on his boots and tied his belongings to his spear, which he was using as a crutch. He made his way to the bow of the ship, toward where Taiaka lay under the small wood enclosure. Will sat on top of this, "You not feeling to well, huh?" He stared out at the sea as he spoke, watching mist curl around the boat and over it. The lanterns shone like through frosted glass. Will lit his own lantern and let it rest on the hammock bundle tied to his spear. The crew was all below deck, drinking and playing cards, and could be heard quite easily. Will continued to gaze out across the sea, and found his mind wandering. Out over the salty depths he found himself swooping, diving, floating on Mother Tide, winds hitting his face. He swam with fish and other creatures. Flew with gulls, sailed with men. He was brought back to the deck of the Ophelia by the sharp smack of a crossbow bolt lodging itself in wood. He jumped up, grabbing his hammock and shoving it in a large pocked under his coat, holding his lantern aloft. He felt a bolt scream by his face and he set the lantern down on the bench and moved away from it. Several bolts hit the wood around the lantern. Will heard an ominous creaking. He turned his head to face the bow of the ship and saw the dark outline of a gargantuan ship. The sails were gray, the body of the ship equal in hue. Will screamed in a loud booming voice that would shake the dead in their graves and make ears ache, "All hands on deck! Get yer weapons, we have company!" as he yelled crossbow bolts flew from where the voice was, and Will hit the deck. He took the lantern with him. The crew poured out of the door, quickly and silently. They stood low, holding cutlasses and crossbows. Two climbed with amazing speed to the crows' nest. They were armed with heavy metal crossbows, heavy bags full of bolts slung over their bodies. They began to send volley after volley at their enemy. There was a cry of pain as one man fell from the nest and hit the deck with a sickening crunch. Will swore as the boat turned to face side by side of the boat. "Boarding on the port side!" he yelled to the crew. He saw captain Allen emerge from bellow deck wielding a large scimitar. There were sounds of yelling from the ship across from them, and bright red lights could be seen flying toward the ship, followed by the sound of metal hooks slamming into the wood of the ship. At that point all chaos broke loose. Mercs began to pour onto the ship as bottle hit the deck bursting into flame. Thunder tore through the sky along with lightening. Allen roared something unintelligible and his blade was engulfed in flames. The deck was engulfed with flames. Will stared for buckets, barrles, something, anything. He searched but found nothing. He looked to the sky for an answer. He felt his head spin with anger and frustration and pain. He was going to scream something to the crew, but something else tore from his throat. And ancient language that he did not understand. As soon as he spoke these words sheets of hard rain came pouring out of the sky. The flames were extinguished, and everything was soon drenched. He screamed another few words and the rain stopped. Will was extremely surprised, and extremely tired suddenly. He spun, and rolled into the enclosure under the bow of the ship, unconscious. |
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| Taiaka | Mon Nov 2, 2009 3:10 pm Post #24 |
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((sorry for the wait)) Taiaka had grown used to the sound of crossbow bolts in the last few days, yet when the first one drilled into the deck at Will’s feet, the same lurching jolt of adrenaline spilled into his thinned blood. Will bellowed like a seasoned quartermaster, Taiaka stood and backed away from the looming silhouette of an enemy galleon. It stalked them, crawling through the fingers of mist on a silent approach, bearing down like a large, prowling animal. Taiaka scurried out of his poncho in a blink; a tiny vole slipping unseen from his sodden sleeve as more bolts peppered the Ophelia. He scampered below deck, dangerously underfoot, and found his way back to his room in a panicked rush. The lemon yellow shawl was on his bed and Taiaka quickly dived inside the bundle, wriggling against the knot. Two vole heads peeked out: one had a frozen expression of pure malicious intent and the other, panting, looked scared half to death. Loud bangs, clanks and booms sounded from above and Taiaka retched, feeling helpless and confused. Certainly now would be the time to find a shape with wings and fly far, far away. They hadn’t been at sea that long; he was sure he could make it back to Taras before…Taiaka’s mouth felt like he had eaten a large handful of cotton and he turned his head to look at his stuffed compadre. The vicious beastie just stared at the cabin’s door with its beady little eyes. The vole is right, Taiaka thought bitterly, his pulse slowing to a dull roar, it is much less painful to drown when you’re already dead. He shimmied out of his shawl and dropped onto the floor, somewhat resolved to go down swinging rather than gurgling. In a moment, he was a man, and he dressed quickly enough (though careful of the weeping wound on his back as he slung his bindle across his chest). The stuffed vole glared out from the lumpy yellow shawl like the dark man’s totem. With a set jaw and a rusty dagger in his hand, Taiaka stomped over the cabin’s door and threw it open. The Ophelia’s deck was a battlefield and while he had assumptions of a skirmish at sea, his theories seemed more mundane (and less terrifying) than the real thing. He expected some archers, some swarthy sailors in spiffy blue uniforms and perhaps some swashbuckling (whatever that was). But what he saw made his blood run cold. Mages stood on custom built platforms high in the monstrous ship’s rigging, and sent up jets of ethereal light that bathed the deck in shimmering waves of magic. In the crackle of this mystical glow, the archers, from both sides, picked off their enemies with staggering accuracy. Other spellsmiths wove summons into the brine and plucked slathering creatures from its depths or flung globs of fire and ice into the ragged canvas sails. Mingling like dancers beneath the cowl of arcane destruction played the swordsmen, dappled with the sparks from their own steel. Whoever had attacked them (and Taiaka had his assumptions), had come prepared for the party. Having never moved from steps that led him from the cabin to the main deck, the dark man clutched his pitiful dagger a little tighter, and desperately willed his legs to move. But he did not go far. A man, and elf to be exact, swung around the door and crashed into Taiaka. Both men were surprised, but neither hesitated. The elf tried to bring the bow he held in his hand up and swing it at the shifter, but the narrow confines of the cabin’s gloomy interior gave Taiaka the advantage. He went with the elf’s movement and caught his bird boned wrist in his big paw until the bow was pressed up against the wooden ceiling. Switching his grip on his dagger, Taiaka reached across his own body and stabbed the blade deep into the elf’s armpit, confident that it had torn through at least a lung. Yet, the man slumped against the shifter almost immediately and Taiaka then knew he had pierced the heart. He rolled with the weight of the elf and let him collapse onto the floor, but not before catching the bow as it fell from a dead grip. He would have wiped the blood from his dagger as he was taught, but not this time. The elf that lay motionless was the first life taken by the blade: this blood was special, as he was also taught. Still, he put it into the band of his kilt, content with the bow even though it was not strung. Taiaka thought this was strange but he was determined to make use of it as a club; its serrated bends would tear nicely through the unsuspecting or unlucky. Jogging up the stairs and breeching the deck, Taiaka thrust himself into the fray. A small man with a long moustache and a stained smock lunged at him unarmed and the shifter raised the bow up and around, bringing it down on the crux of his arm. A sharp blow to the side of the head sent the man with the moustache to his knees and Taiaka simply darted away, his pale eyes locked on the icy glow emanating from his bow. The dark man instantly knew this was an omen. After dodging another volley of bolts and a close shave with a clay pot that was lobbed, flaming, onto the deck, Taiaka was pinned down behind a bench where they stored rope. The heat of the fires burning on the deck made him wince but the bow in his hand felt cool and reassuring. When Taiaka could stand the heat no more and smelled burning hair, the air seemed to still and he could have sworn he heard Will’s voice shout something into the building winds. Without warning, the sky opened and a drenching downpour slapped the Ophelia. It tamed the fires enough for Taiaka to fish an arrow from his bundle and stand. He had his eye on the mages of the ship and in the dazzling arcane light that danced over the waves, all he had to do was pull back and….The shifted looked down and cursed loudly: The bow had no string. He bristled with anger, and went to jab the useless arrow back into his bundle when he noticed the wisps of silvery filament that crawled from the ends of the bow. They swept out and brushed his hand as if waiting for him to believe in something intangible. Taiaka blamed the rum in his veins and watched with delight as a glowing arrow of pure light knocked itself on the spectral string. He aimed carefully as it formed and when the tension made his arms bulge, he let it fly. It flew through the night like a silver lark, and though it went wide of the target, Taiaka had only to reach back and pluck another shaft of starlight from the milky sky. His next shot hit true and a mage on the enemy ship found a painless death as he tumbled from his perch on the enemy ship’s rigging. The magic he was casting was dispelled and the deck of the Ophelia was plunged into darkness. It took Taiaka three more arrows to kill the summoner but once the wizard went down, all his pretty little animals collapsed into piles of dust. As accomplished as the shifter felt, the crews didn’t seem to take notice. Taiaka was undeterred until he heard Allen bellow about cutting the lines. Ophelia’s able bodied crewmen lifted their cutlasses and severed the ropes that tethered them to the other ship, garnering help in the task from the enemy. Taiaka, standing shakily by the flying bridge, couldn't understand why they were disengaging until he felt the way the Ophelia was being tossed around on the growing waves. Lightning crackled above and the shifter thought more mages were taking up the offensive, but quickly realized it was the natural whip crack of ozone and the heavy percussion of thunder. Both ships had to free themselves or be smashed into each other, and go down together in a twisted wreck. The winds began to howl and Taiaka had a hard time staying on his feet. He helped dump corpses over the railing and as he trotted his way to the bow of the ship, having to slide and crawl about a quarter of the way there. He saw Allen retreat to the navigation wheel as the great galleon on their port side slowly drifted away. The captain of the Ophelia looked at Taiaka and shouted something but the winds took his voice. Taiaka cocked his head at Allen and the captain pointed towards the bow of the ship. The shifter understood. He found Will in the same comfy alcove where he had left him, except now he was unconscious. Taiaka grabbed him by the armpits and dragged him further inside the enclosure as the Ophelia pitched and yawed on breaking whitecaps. He patted his friend down, looking for missing pieces or gushing wounds and was relieved to find none. “Will!” Taiaka’s voice was sharp and clipped, “Will, this be no time to be sleeping.” He smacked him across the side of the face. “Will!” “All hands brace for impact!” Taiaka turned his head towards the new voice, What? Impact? and saw a curve of wave taller than the mast of the ship bearing down on them. He screamed. |
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| Will Fisher | Mon Nov 2, 2009 11:01 pm Post #25 |
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Will heard his name being called. It was a voice he knew, but it sounded like it came from behind cotton. He felt a sharp pain against his face. He finally dredged up through the heavy chains of sleep into the light of consciousness. He heard screams, and saw a huge wave hurdling toward the ship. He did not scream, he took a huge gulp of air and closed his eyes. He concentrated as he felt the cold rush over him. He felt weightless, yet there was a pressure pushing from all sides. He focused on one thought for several moments and opened his eyes. He looked at his hands, and saw they were small black paws. He flitted around under the surf, lithe body slicing through it. His lungs felt three times their size. He looked and saw half of the boat, torn away and under the water. He saw dead men floating down and living floundering up. He swam up, and stayed floating on his back. He looked around for the dark man, and found no one. He swam around the sinking wreck of the rear of the boat. He saw lightening hit the flag of the dove. He dove under and looked for him, found nothing. He yelled in a surprisingly loud voice for his friend. Still, nothing. He dove as another wave hurdled toward him, causing him to tumble under the surf. He resurfaced and swum around the ruined boat. He then turned and saw a wave of immense proportion sailing toward him. He was thrown under the water, and passed into unconsciousness. He awoke on a white sand beach, still in the form of a small brown otter. He righted himself and looked around. He saw the remnants of both halves of the coat, several scattered objects, a small dense green jungle. He began to pace around, calling out of someone, anyone. He saw the figure of Allen, lying face down in the sand. He trotted over quickly and sniffed the man's head. He roused and sat up confused. He made a move to throw Will away from him, but Will yelled out before he could be tossed away. "Will...is that you?" asked the captain, who somehow still had his hat on. "Yes, are you alright." Will asked quickly, pacing around him. "Have you seen Taiaka." "No, not since the first wave hit. Then we went down...and..." he looked down at the sands. Will laid down on the beach and stared up at the sky. He rolled over, along with the captain, and got up. They walked slowly over to the broken wreakage of the aft, and curled up in a corner to sleep. |
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| Taiaka | Tue Nov 3, 2009 8:51 pm Post #26 |
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Taiaka’s limp carcass washed up on a pristine beach and while he wasn’t truly dead, he certainly wished he was. He didn’t recall too much after the rogue wave tossed the Ophelia as if it was a bath time toy, lost to the strangling suction of a sinking ship. He remembered the smothering darkness and the vice grip on his lungs, the crackle of fairy fire and the strobe of wicked lightning overhead. He swam up and up and up, never seeming to make it to the surface. Then there was dappled blackness, instinctual mewing, and eventually the sound of men screaming and crying. Hands reached for him and legs kicked at him, someone called out for their mother, and then numbing silence. Taiaka knew, with an impious sense of self-fulfilling prophecy, that he was going to drown. But he had never been a lucky man. Instead, fugally bobbing through debris littered seas, he bore witness to the stunning appearance of a green dawn. Weakly doggy paddling, Taiaka let the lazy surf push him onto shore, and there he lay, face down in the sugary sands. He felt the sun beating down on his skin, warm and heavy like a large cat sitting on his back, physically reminding him that he was not dead. Yet, the searing morning rays were not the only reminders of this; slowly, like the creep of sweet schnapps, all his other ailments stood up and screamed for attention. Every limb had its own ache and pain and so the dark man continued to lie on his cheek, smelling the salt that crystallized in his dreadlocks. He knew he would have to move before the crabs began nibbling at his toes, but every time he tried to lift his body from the sand, he failed. When the tide came in and lapped against his calves, Taiaka mustered all the strength of a new born child, and managed to roll over. He placed a gashed forearm over his pale eyes and bent his knees: it was a good start. “Over ‘ere! Reckon we got another survivor. Oh! You know, I think that’s Will’s friend.” Taiaka heard the sound of footsteps on wet sand and cracked an eye. Two men approached, one wore his right arm in a makeshift sling and the other he recognized as the old white-haired healer. It was Doc’s voice he had heard. Suddenly there were hands on him, pulling him up into a sitting position. “You alright, kid?” Said Doc. Taiaka’s mouth opened as if to say something but nothing came out. Doc jammed a tin canteen into his hands and forced him to drink from it; the infusion of fresh water cleared his mind enough to actually assess the situation. “Where are we?” Doc and the man with the sling shrugged in unison. “Doesn’t matter, I reckon yer just lucky to be alive.” Taiaka had to agree. “C’mon, up ya go.” Both men helped the shifter to his feet and they began walking. Healthy coconut palms and red mangrove trees lined the edge of the blistering sands but Taiaka only saw the bloated corpses on the beach. Some were tangled in rigging while others still clung to bits of flotsam that had promised them salvation; Ophelia’s crew and the enemy alike. Taiaka did not feel pity or remorse for the dead, but was possessed with a morbid fascination. Still, the three men kept walking when the dark man suddenly spoke up. “Where are we going?” Doc, shaking some sand out of his wispy hairs, answered quickly, “Back end of the ‘Phelia held together pretty well. It’s further up the beach, been where all the survivors have congregated. I reckon you’ll find Will there. And your things too. Matty here said he fished a yellow bundle out of a tide pool and remembered the vole inside as being yours.” Taiaka nodded and picked up his pace, limp and all. They rounded a bend, crested a slow rise and he saw the routed Ophelia’s rear end lying like a vanquished titan in the sand. “Captain!” This time the voice was Matty’s, “Captain, we found another one.” Taiaka turned to Doc as if unsure of what to do. “Go on then, find some shade.” Doc’s bedside manner seemed better on dry land and Taiaka managed to grin. But he did as the healer suggested and skulked over to the splintered ship where a scattering of crewmen mulled about with dumb looks on their faces while others picked through whatever had floated a shore. Taiaka sat down heavily under a broken piece of slanted bulkhead and stared blankly out at the ocean. |
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| Will Fisher | Wed Nov 4, 2009 12:26 am Post #27 |
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Will had been patrolling the beach for sometime now. It was sundown, and there had been a smal campfire lit by the aft hull of the Ophelia. He was clad in his pants, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows. He had found his clothes and his effects washed up on the beach some time ago and left them in the camp. He had around his waist a long curved blade, a scimitar. It shone silver in the moonlight, but that shine was hidden in the hard leather scabbard at his waist. He was bootless, for he liked the feel of sand betwixt his toes, and when he had found them, they had a small army of hermit crabs crawling through them; he would wait until they were dry and they were free of animal. He was looking for survivors, food, other people; basically anything that the crew needed. Matty needed herbs for a poultice, Jacob needed pants, Rat needed stitches and Allen needed rum. In time will found all but the rum and returned to camp. Doc promptly applied the stiches and concocted the poltice, which he then spread across the crews broken and aching limbs. He sat down next to the fire for a few moments in silence, then stood again. He needed to walk, he needed to preocupy himself. He would comb the beach looking for his friend. He had not spoken to the crew all day, and Doc was too busy to speak at the moment, so he had no idea if Tai was alive or had realized his fear. |
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| Taiaka | Wed Nov 4, 2009 8:48 pm Post #28 |
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Taiaka had fallen into a fitful sleep after Doc and Matty had left to attend to their other duties. He dreamed of beautiful women with the eyes of the Dark Ones and the bodies of serpents. When he woke, night had already fallen and his only company was the steady roil of waves. Yawning and stretching, the shifter stood and stepped from his bulkhead shelter. A fire burned further down the beach and he could make out silhouettes mulling around the benign coppery light. He did not know if the sight was welcoming or not; Taiaka had felt like a stranger in the company of sailors, probably because of his own insecure misgivings, but he remained with the feeling of an estranged guest. Still, he knew he would eventually have to head down to the aft section of the Ophelia as Doc had suggested, if only to recover his possessions and to find Will. If the man was still alive that was. His guts tightened at the thought of finding his friend’s body rotting on the beach, distended and gray or being pecked at by shore birds. In the dim starlight, Taiaka was sure every corpse would look the same anyway. Perhaps the fire in the distance was a funeral pyre of sorts. Perhaps the charts to 3034 were crackling beneath Will’s duster as his fat sizzled and his dead eyes stared lifelessly at his gods. Spurred on by his soulless cynicism, Taiaka began down the beach, stopping once at spur of flowing rainwater to wash his face, arms and chest. As he did, he heard an annoyed sputtering from inside his mop of filthy dreadlocks. “Yaxia.” The word sounded like a purr and Taiaka’s fingers quickly plucked a rather large bead of soapstone from his hair. He uncapped the bead and squinted as the little wisp flew out, pulsing with angry light. The dark man smiled, glad for the company, “No, Yaxia I dun forget about you.” The creature flared with an ethereal blue glow and whizzed overhead, playing out over the ocean before settling behind Taiaka like a dancing lantern. “No tricks.” He warned his pet, thinking about Jacob the furfur and how Yaxia would enjoy bothering it with horrible illusions of mounds of candy. The wisp buzzed crossly and pouted (as much as a wisp can pout). Continuing to walk, Taiaka saw a silhouette beginning up the beach towards him and for some reason recalled the gait. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but the dark man was convinced it was Will. He slowed his pace and held his breath, waiting for the silhouette to leave the halo of firelight and approach. Taiaka could not make out his features but the beard was unmistakable. “Will! You bloody sea dog, I knew you wasn’t dead!” Taiaka chirped. Yet he hesitated and squared his shoulders, just in case it was Yaxia casting a trifling illusion to perturb her master. |
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| Will Fisher | Thu Nov 5, 2009 1:42 am Post #29 |
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Will quickly jumped up as soon as he heard his friend's voice. He saw Taiaka standing with a wisp of blue light next to him, casting eerie shadows on the now black sands. He saw a second shadown, pointing toward the light of the wisp. It was similar in shape and size to Taika, but held something in it's hands. He looked past Taika from his hidden inlet of leaves to see a mirror image of Tai, holding a gleaming dagger. Will then noticed another shadow stretching toward the light of the wisp coming from a few feet away. He turned to see a figure, much like will, but from this close looked to be a mere silhouette, a shadowy form. This form slowly turned, spear in hand, facing Taiaka. It moved with a sharp jerking motion, like it was merely an image plastered on the air, that needed to be shifted by an invisible hand each time it moved. Will yelled arcane words and his lantern burst into life. The shadow thing's shadow screched and flickered for a few moments, then fled into the darkness in a blink of an eye. The Tai shadow had drawn closer to the real Tai, and made a move to strike him. Will was already on the shadow thing, weilding his lantern and scimitar like a pious holy man, banishing demons with the name of gods and iron and light. The creature uttered a sound like metal scrapinc ceramic and fled, in the direction of the shadow Will. Will turned to Taiaka, grabbing his arm saying in urgent tones, his accent mixing with fear and worry, making him almost uninteligable, "We need to get to camp immediatly!" |
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| Taiaka | Sun Nov 8, 2009 6:09 pm Post #30 |
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“Are you mad?!” Taiaka shouted as his friend leapt at the darkness, sword and lantern in hand, like a man possessed. He flinched, the sound of sharpened nails on pretty dishes echoing in the night, and stared at Will with wide eyes. There was a moment when he thought he saw something dance in his peripherals, a hiccup of shadow with substance, but he was unconvinced. As Will grabbed his arm and shouted a garbled plea to leave Taiaka simply nodded and took up a hurried clip. Down the beach burned the camp’s heart fire like a sacred remnant of lost civilization; scared sailors toddled around it and ducked into shanty huts built from sail cloth and netting. Taiaka kept up with Will, refusing to look over his shoulder, and stayed in the kindly glow of his friend’s lantern. Yaxia, his wisp, careened high overhead and swooped out over the sea. Yet Taiaka kept his gaze on the camp’s welcoming halo of firelight and stuck to Will’s side. “What was that noise? What did you see?” The dark man’s voice was loud and steady despite his jerky gait and he turned to look at his friend. He was on the edge of being spooked, unsure and a little confused. When he returned his eyes to the wreckage of the Ophelia, the fire seemed dimmer than before; its comforting glow evaporating at its limits like morning fog. Taiaka heard garbled yells washing up the beach on vagrant, balmy breezes and ran a little faster. Just before he reached the piecemeal camp, as he crested the last sandy rise and glared down, Taiaka saw more of these paper shadows in the glossy tree line. Again, he was unconvinced, but he held out an arm to try and stop Will. “Look!” He chirped, seeking affirmation, and pointed towards the edge of the camp. There were figures, silhouettes not bound by the usual rules of shadow and light, and they were pouring like ink from the surrounding jungle. The fire flared to life like a rearing horse, but it just made the encroaching shades thicker and more virile. Taiaka clicked his tongue against the roof, “I’m unarmed.” He said this more to himself than to Will, but his features set stonily upon his dark face. Doc had mentioned that someone had found his things (whatever remained intact that was) but Taiaka knew a new waltz was beginning to play. By now though, the sleepy, wounded crewmen had also noticed the odd shadows moving within their camp. Some called out; some seemed as unconvinced as Taiaka had been, while the more able of men placed shaky hands upon their cutlasses. |
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