Post by Deilakrion on May 28, 2008 0:58:51 GMT -5
"(Fuck!)
Back off I’ll take you on
Headstrong to take on anyone
I know that you are wrong
Headstrong we’re headstrong
Back off I’ll take you on
Headstrong to take on anyone
I know that you are wrong and this is not where you belong
I can’t give everything away
I won’t give everything away"
-- "Headstrong" Trapt
The sky overhead was dismal, but the promise of blue showed through the stormy grays. Below, the water churned about, burbling happy though its color near reflected the sullen tones of the atmosphere. It splashed upon the Cenril shore, seeping up through the rocks to leave deposits within the rock pools that had formed upon the exit of the last tide. Upon one of these rocks the elf crouched, scrawny hide prickled in the chill wind that picked up every now and again from the direction of the sea. She was staring out seaward at a large ship which had crashed and sunk partway, propped up by the very coral that had killed it. The decks were apparently empty from what one could tell at that distance, but further details could not be ascertained. A few birds floated around the ship, but the water was littered with hundreds of them, and many feathers had washed ashore to be collected at the water break. Her hair was wet.
Saiyah would have groaned, if at all a sound as simple as that could have been uttered deep in her throat. Blackened, coal-stained strands of hair cascaded wildly down the front of her face, and down her chest, giving to it that rather ragged looking appearance. Though that wasn't the only thing giving the naga such a pessimistic 'look' to her. With red eyes, paler-then-usual skin and a haunch in her posture, it was evident Saiyah was still very much hungover from the night before. And as if to add more to her torment, the sharp rocks of the shore were doing a number on her tail; she asked herself yet again, what was she doing out here? Perhaps it was the calm of the sea that lured her out, or the soft warm sands in which she could have basked in- whatever it was, it sure was forgotten now. It was only when she chanced a weary glance up that she came to a gradual halt; jade-green serpent eyes shifting between both the ship in the distance, and the elf in the pools. Unsure of what to do really, Saiyah would remain quietly resting in her stop atop the rocky shore, silently peering out to Deilakrion with much curiosity in her eyes.
The ship in the distance listed to the accompaniment of a falling bird. The ship eventually righted itself as the natural flow of the water rocked it. The bird did not. It had joined the feathery carpet that spanned the water between the shore and the boat, causing feathers to wash ashore in an ugly mess. Deilakrion was not so much interested in the feathers as the seaweed around her waist, upon which she tugged with busy fingers. Her eyes were centered upon the ship, and her mouth moved silently as she squinted at ship, birds, and sky. Thunder was rolling somewhere in the distance, prefacing her concern, and the air promised rain with salty-sweet fingers. The ship had plagued her, haunted her ever since she had seen it with the mute tiefling--had she seen it? She had woken up wet on the shore, unsure of what had happened since that last encounter. She huddled closer to herself, and broke off a piece of seaweed in her hands. In a fashion true with her insatiable appetite, she stuck the piece in her mouth and began to chew.
Keir's eyes had been set out to see for what would seem a long while now, the wave that had been distanced from him now kissed at the bottoms of his feet. The sight of all the dead birds around seemed to feel the man with a bit of peace, it was a wonderful sight. Yet, he could not help but feel uneasy. What could have brought about all this death to the many winged ones? His eyes now set to the ship, it brought about a slight haunting feeling. The clouds in the distance did nothing to better the feeling, the sounds of the rolling thunder brought about both fear, and much more wonderment. His mind would now be set on making his way to the ship. The only thing stopping him now was the massive ocean before him, and his lack of the knowledge to swim.
As time would pass on, so would the naga's eyes about the beach, eventually happening upon the other just looming just off in the distance. So, with a few given moments, she thought to herself; should she just leave, or make herself known to the strangers? Well, the first option would have been made without haste- if it weren't for all the dead birds spread out about the waters surface. So, make herself known it was; she did this in a gentle, gradual sense though. With her lengthy tail wiggling back and forth, Saiyah slithered her way down to the waters edge, several yards off in the peripherals of Deilakrion. Here she would pause and stare out to the dismissal form of the ship that was pulling away at the reins to her curiosity; what happened?
The ship was an alluring prospect indeed, to have pulled the eyes of all who perused its form. Deilakrion was becoming agitated by the forces combining to form this odd venture, and tore her eyes away--perhaps by instinct--and was startled to find she was not alone after all. Had the ship become so all-consuming to have made her so unaware of her surroundings? The she-elf berated herself in her mind, standing up from her crouched position upon the rock. She stared down at Saiyah, closer than the unknown undead, and paused. Friend or foe? She had seen one other naga, she thought. She closed her eyes and shook her head, hoping to rattle free the memories from a few nights previous, when she had first seen this mad ship. She needed a good drink and perhaps a fish to eat, but what fish? She would not touch any flesh that came out of that water, sullied by the grotesquely dead birds. Hunger she might, but she was not so stupid as to risk herself: self-preservation was strong with the feral woman. So she stared down upon Saiyah: stalemate. In her current mind frame, it did not last long. "Flesh." The word drifted as might a wary greeting, and she hopped down from her rock, unwincing as she landed upon other rocks with bare feet. She had gone naked a long, long time.
Keir turns his head to meet that of the female voices, he had not bothered to convey his surroundings. His own words come quick "A grand death." As the words are spoken, he stands to his full height. His hues now set to that of the ocean once more. His voice ringing out once more, as he slowly begins to step into the shallowed waves. "Examine your curiosity." His words had a sense of mystery hidden within. Now waist deep, the Undead continues his path. Sinking below the waves of the ocean. He would now begin his path towards the ship out to sea. No breath need be drawn, he would simply walk along the bed of the ocean.
Saiyah had lofted a brow, but of course; with such strange phrases and words being chanted, who wouldn't? To the undead, Saiyah simply gave a once-over glance before dropping her eyes back down to the elf hopping her way down the rocks. It was the word 'flesh' that had the naga slowly resting a hand on the long-handled trident tied loosely to her back; if this woman was looking for 'flesh' then it sure wasn't going to be Saiyah's. She began to think to herself as she stood rooted upon the gloomy, rocky shore, why was she out here again? With undead men walking about, hundreds of dead birds, and now a flesh seeking elf- suffering from a hangover in the Hanging Corpse tavern didn't seem all to bad right now. But fact of the matter was, she wasn't there, and so for now, she'd have to make due with. Still clutching the shaft of the trident in one hand behind her, the other slowly lifted and wiggled her fingers in a sheepish wave; one last chance to decipher Deilakrion from friend or foe.
Jaidin smelled the air; the sea was strong in the scent as it sat heavily in the air, and the salt taste strong in his mouth and thick on his skin as he scoured the lands-- the scent more heavy with the thick, dark clouds rolling in from the distance. The air held an ominous feeling, almost as if something bad was about to happen-- and wherever such was true, one could bet that this assassin would be in the fray of it all (he had a knack for such things; it was a talent, really). Dressed lightly and feeling odd, an inner monologue sounded in his mind as he focused on the multitude of events in his life, while boots slipped on jagged rocks and gloved hands grasped feebly at the surrounding crags to keep his balance. In this state of solitude he hadn't noticed any voices; nor, for that matter, the change in the scent of the air from sea to ... death. If he had been paying any less attention, surely Traye would have stepped on the ugly, decaying bird strewn about in his chosen pathway. His first response was a leap upward-- fear, rarely seen by others. With his heart yammering hard in his chest cavity, it took several moments to realize it was dead. Some more, to look about the area and notice the impossible numbers of other avians just like it. "The Hell...?" Astonished, that one-eyed gaze rose to take in the rest of the seaweed-tossed beach, and the three folk gathered. One a new packmate, the other a total stranger, and the other... A naked elf that with the surprise of seeing her, was able to put a small smile on the rugged visage of the male, even in this scenery.
Jaidin's sudden reappearance might have, at another time, had Deil scrambling towards him with unabounding mirth. Now, however, with two odd ones to consider and that. . .thing off in the distance she was a little preoccupied. Saiyah's wave was ignored with sudden surprise as the undead fellow disappeared under the waves. Clutching at belt, and in turn dirk, the elf moved not further up the shore, but -down- it. To the edge she wavered, staring after that morose form. "Predator!" She called, brief: alarm. A fleeting glance was sent to Jaidin, and then she too was mincing into the cold spray after the undead. Was that man a part of this mess? One way to find out, and Deilakrion was tugged by morbid curiosity and more--a nagging assertion that this place hid more than revealed, and had something to say. . .something important. She cut the water with strong strokes, unable to see the undead man and uncaring as coral and rocky reefs passed beneath her. She paused halfway out to look behind her, caught between two tugs at her frazzled mind. Above, the sky continued to darken as the foreboding set of clouds set to the south and the horizon gravitated towards the scene. The winds were growing stronger, and with them they carried a certain chill. The elf found her skin prickling with it, as she parted a path through a seemingly endless collection of dead birds. Unbidden, her thoughts skittered about her mind in rising panic, and she pushed away at the carcasses that merely continued to crowd her. She paddled, gasping air as a thin keening rose in her throat.
Keir continues his path towards the boat, his movements slow as the pressure of the ocean presses against him. His eyes move about scanning for any signs of life. None was to be found, his eyes could not even detect that of a fish swimming below the moving current. A little over half way to the ship now, he would look back to a muffled voice the powerful ocean jumbled it's clarity, it remained unknown what the words were. Still, it mattered little to him, he must reach the ship. He must find why the winged creatures have fallen, and no fish snack upon their corpses.
Saiyah stood there, even more perturbed as the elf decided it best to take to the seas with the undead, leaving her glancing about in both curiosity, and nervousness. Who exactly was it that Deilakrion had a predator, and even more, was she to be the prey? If that was the case, then that would explain why everyone seemed to take to the safety of the sea rather then linger about the broken, desolate shore. So, a side long glance was shot about, both in curiosity, and nervousness; it was only when Saiyah's jade-green eyes fell upon that of the assassin that a gentle sigh of relief grazed past her lips. Well, at least she knew that someone familiar was about-though... after her little 'accident' at the corpse, and how it left Jaidin without his whiskey and bloody black, she didn't really know how much he'd be glad to see her. So for now, the naga would slightly wince as she slithered over towards the rocky outcrop that the elf had been at moments ago and take a coiled perch about the top, looking down to the one swimming, while offering a hearty wave to the man- the only thing she could really do to get his attention, with being a mute and all.
Jaidin further took in the surrounding area, and the mass of birds that littered the sea; nay, 'twas not a sea anymore, but now a mass of feathers and bones, the devil's sick, twisted joke of what heaven might look like. This was no pillow-like cloud upon which to walk, and he knew better than to fall to that tempation. The ship was studied diligently, and after noting with a sigh of relief it was not the Eternity, he relaxed somewhat. But still, shoulders kept their tensed position, on edge with Creature's nervousness-- if something had her worried, then it was big enough for him to be wary of, he figured. Saiyah was offered a one-eyed glare; he was still fairly badly bruised and battered, bloody and broken, from her impromptu entrance via the roof. Nevertheless, he wasn't here on the job; her life was spared. The assassin frowned, warning evident in the elf's voice. Carefully he made his way to the shore, looking out at the expanse of death; and now it stung his nostrils, barely enough for his honed sense to handle. And the sky-- it was the perfect companion to this devastating (no matter how much he hated all avians) scene. It was enough to give even this hardened murderer the willy-nillies. He stared after the undead, who had an interesting enough way of gaining access to that ship; and Creature, was brilliant in her own way... but this human wouldn't enter that water unless he was absolutely sure that his own death wouldn't be the result. So instead he came semi-near the nagini, arms crossed over his chest as he waited. He watched more birds fall out of the sky to plummet into the water that was already over-full with birds; and the swaying ship that appeared to be the result of all this decay. Traye would wait; if Deilakrion survived the water, he would wade in after her. "Careful!" the man called out, voice gruff without drink, and a tinge of worriment surfaced within it.
Neither naga nor human followed her out, and a brief call from the man let Deilakrion know that she was alone with the undead for this venture. An unknown flesh, that one; whether or not he would prove dangerous remained to be seen. So, she gritted her teeth and continued through the mess, feathers sticking to neck, shoulders and hair in a most unseemly fashion. Somehow, the desert seemed less hostile than this sorry scenario, and it was with much thankfulness that the elf reached the side of the boat. She wanted out of the water, and she wanted out -now-. She floated around the side, pushing birds out of her way when they were packed too closely to float. There was a sharp smell of death that rose above the mess. It clogged her nose and heightened her senses, until she was ready to climb the side of the boat like an overwrought cat caught in the water. Around the boat, until she was facing the side that was listing on its side. A coil of rope had fallen over and into the water, hanging at a crazy angle from the slanting deck. In an instant, the elf was up it with quick precision, shimmying her way to the top. Once up she flipped over the rail and landed on her back and stayed there, gasping. The feel of those birds against her skin . . .she shuddered, and curled up in a ball as her agitation gradually diminished. The air about her seemed to crackle with an intensity that had nothing to do with the approaching storm. The sails snapped above her as wind streamed into them, and the ship groaned as it further impaled itself upon the coral. It seemed to sink another inch, and the elf scrambled to a guarded crouch. Whatever the feeling was, it was plucking at her skin and prickling behind her eyes, the odd sensation of almost-magic dragging at her until she felt compelled to scuttle across the deck. Luckily, the slant was not too noticeable, and she made her way to the main mast, clutching at it with the tenacity of a drowning man.
Keir sighs with a bit of relief as he reaches his destination, yet no voice is echoed out. No bubbles float to the surface, for his body had now been filled with the liquid death known as the Ocean. He looks to his surroundings, there must be an anchor dangling deep below. The ship would surely have been brought further out to sea had there been none. A long chain now found, the undead grips his hands tightly around. He begins to slowly pull himself up, and up he went. The newly added wait burdened him some, for if not he would surely have climbed quicker. As he near the top, he would have to push aside the dead corpses. A smile brought to his face as he does. Death was beautiful, and he enjoyed it so. Never the less, he could not remain with his companions for long. He must see the cause. As his head emerges from the depths, a heavy wave smacks across him. His grip almost lost, he manage to keep hold. Climbing higher, his body now is seen, and as it pokes out the water begins to fall from his rotten corps, returning to it's rightful place. The chain now successfully climbed, he would place a firm footing on the deck. His eyes left to roam about for any signs of the living.
There had only been one thing really that was keeping the naga from entering that water...and that was the thousands of dead feathered creaturs littering the sea. So the naga would only offer an appologetic smile to Jaidin before slipping the small leather strap around the trident off her shoulders so that the weapon could be held in her hands. She didn't know why it was she felt the need to grasp it, but she did; perhaps it was the decrepit ship looming just out in the distance, perhaps it was the mysterious death that had befallen the birds..or maybe just the evil glare that Jaidin gave her that made her feel a bit uneasy. Whatever the matter was, Saiyah felt the need to take up some protection in her hands. But as much as the trident would have offered as much, it for one thing didn't stop waves...and especially ones that came about from the harsh winds of the storm. She had her eyes squinting out in the distance as she eyed both the undead climbing the chain, and the elf flopping overboard- not the massive wave that smacked the rock she was perched atop. Instantly loosened from her coiling grasp around the rock, Saiyah was sucked into the water with the retreating wave where she would flail her arms about and make quick on resurfacing. She coughed and sputterd, wiping a hand away at the several feathers that stuck to her face, as well as the rest of the dead birds loosened parts. The smell wasn't bad- for being a hunter and all, she'd came upon much worse, but it was the feeling. One that sent a shudder down her spine and out the tip of her tail that would eventually begin to kick back and forth behind her. She figured that since she was in the mess now, why not follow after the two...because that ship was tempting her so badly now; so without a second glance back nor a thought about the situation, Saiyah quickly propelled herself through the death-filled waters and made for the ship.
Sidonia is a ghost, a spirit bound to the land by a skeletal frame that peers upon the gruesome scene with glassy eyes and gasps at the sight from between parched, colorless lips. Her hair a wild, windblown tangle, she stands far back on the beach, her thin arms tucked around her waist. Judging the scene with an expression not easily read, she recognizes the human and decides-- for perhaps the first time in months-- to venture into the open, carefully making her way over the rocks to Jaidin. Upon approaching him in the threadbare velvet, she suddenly becomes aware of her appearance-- not to mention the unmentionable rasp that will sound once words are spoken-- and hangs back, shying away from the familiar face. Formerly slender, formerly musical hands brush at raven-dark hairs that, like the birds that lie broken, have long been relieved of their glossy vibrance; cheeks are pinched faintly, bony fingers seeking to summon the remnants of the blood left in thirsty veins to tinge the alabaster paleness with the slightest color. But all efforts are in vain, and as the girl eventually realizes this, she merely straightens and continues to walk (or, more accurately, stumble) toward the man who was once her dance partner. If he does not recognize her, she won't blame him; she's a far cry from the radiant, twirling creature that had so cheerfully taken his arm at the Yule Ball. "Hello," she says at last, her voice creaking from lack of use. "What... what has happened here?" comes next, without further introduction, as Sidonia seeks to avoid any questions about her appearance or whereabouts for these past few moons.
Jaidin first watched Creature climb the rope and flop onto the deck; and her frenzied actions followed by that. But there was no imminent fear for her life, beyond the ideal of drowning-- that meant, no skeletons came out with swords from within the keep, yet. It was a good thing, generally. And then the undead man, name not known; again, they seemed all right. Most importantly, they were not yet dead from the water. Either whatever was killing the birds did so as quickly due to their size-- or he'd be just fine, after all. And now, Saiyah braved the gathering waves produced by the growing storm. Looked like he would have to jump into that rotting mess of soaked birds, after all... Damn. With a resigned sigh, he prepared by removing his boots, undoing the laces. About to jump into the water himself, this action was halted by the sudden, haunting appearance of a lady; and though all life was gone from those cheeks and she was disheveled nearly beyond recognition, there was something that allowed a man to always know a woman he's touched in something so intimate as a dance. Composing himself after the momentary startle of her appearance, Traye cleared his throat and answered her with a helpless shrug. "Ship crashed, and for some reason birds are dead." Inward he shuddered; oh, how he hated birds! And now, he would be swimming amongst them, their talons scraping his body, their beaks so close to his face... This was not just a regular brave act, for the assassin: this was facing his fear, head on. Tactfully knowing not to ask questions (yet) regarding her sickly form, the human motioned toward the water; a silent statement that he would swim it to the ship that Saiyah had likely reached by now... Unable to speak from the lump stuck in his throat. And then he was off. As quick as he dared and hoping that the cold winds crackling with electricity and death would be mistaken as the reason for his shaking knees, the human reached the water's edge, and proceeded to wade into the feathers. Were it possible the stench were any worse here, he was not able to tell; his nose hairs burned from the ferocity of the death-smell, and his skin prickled with goosebumps at each soggy feather that slid along the epidermis like a taunting graze. Shuddering in horror and fighting the urge to spill his guts or to turn the other way and run, the human grit his teeth and fought the waves, too. The ship loomed larger with each quick stroke that pushed away clumps of dead avians, and he couldn't wait until he was able to reach that sinking mass of planks.
Deilakrion :: Thunder boomed somewhere, faster now. Deilakrion shook off her own paralysis and pushed away from the mast. Something on the ship wanted to play, as pricks of light were caught in her periphery. A turn, and a stare: nothing. There was, perhaps, nothing to net on this forsaken boat. Except the birds. Staring towards the horizon, the feathery masses were appalling in their totality. More than that though. . .she gaped upward at the maelstrom of black that had descended upon them while she had been preoccupied with her distaste. That would explain the wind, yes, yes it would. When the storm arrived, it hit with the force of legends. Wind cut into her back with the precision of a surgeons knife, and she cried out in surprise, knees buckling. She hit the deck, this time literally, and rolled upon her back to have the skies open up on her like a wrung-out towel. A cough, a grimace, and her gaze was cast backwards towards the shore. Devil's luck! Her mind was squalling at her in an unorchestrated clamor to do something, the likes of which she felt too sick to do. Beneath the birds were bobbing in a manner most disgusting, and the elf turned back around to face the oncoming blackness. Was this what the ship had been running from? Empty, emptied, abandoned? A lone paragon riding the waves with mustered dignity, seeking death amidst the shallows? Thoughts whirled and crashed, and she was driven to the edge of the deck: lone lighthouse amid the storm, skin glowing a sickly white amidst all the dark. "Predator!" She howled, lungs stretching as furious panic set in. "Pack! Here!" The wind shrieked past her in laughter.
Saiyah , for once, found herself struggling in the harsh waves of the storm ridden sea. As each wave neared, the naga would hold her breath as she semi-rose with it, only to be pummled downwards back into the depth of the corpse-filled waters. She held her trident tightly and kicked her tail- looking much like a mer-person from a distance- as she propelled through the water with a decent set speed. And just when it seemed she could take no more of a beating from the waters, the naga hit the wall of the ships side with a thunk...to her head. She'd been blindly swimming forward so as not to take in any of the unwanted feathers or gore that littered the waters surface while she chanced her deadly swim out. She only rubbed her skull for a few seconds before shooting a quick glance to the left- then the right. Ok- she was here, but now what did she do? This ship wasn't like the Eternity that had a special pully rigged for her volumptuous 600+ pound tail to be hauled over with ease; so she woundered, how was she to get aboard? Well, for now she'd just 'slither' through the water around to the other side and look for the same rope that Deilakroin used; maybe..just maybe that could work. Though this proved rather tough, seeing as how there was massive waves smacking her down like a game of 'whack-a-mole'..and then there was the bone chilling water. Yes, it was water like she adored- but it was cold water, and her semi-cold blood that ran through her veins didn't take well to it. In fact, it rather slowed her movements down a bit; something that wasn't quite necissarily usefull when being in the middle of an ocean. But she struggled and with valor- made it to the other side where she'd take the still dangling rope in her hands and hold on for life while she bobbed about like bait on a hook.
Jaidin coughed and sputtered in the sea of dead birds as he swam toward the ship. Waves rose to the sky it seemed, and then crashed down with a vengeance upon the already-battered assassin. It seemed to be too much. The waves fought against him, the birds nearly refused to part, and his arms struggled to plunge in and out of the water pushing it to the side, with ribs already bruised and likely cracked from the other night's fiasco. Why was he doing this?! he screamed on the inside, thoroughly frustrated with his own damn curiosity and insatiable need to ever be the hero, a brave man, someone that always jumped into the fray. "I'm coming!" he tried to scream out over the howling wind that berated his ears and form; he knew not if Creature had gotten his words. But he pushed through. Between gasps of breath taken before waves, pushed downward under the water and then able to rise up with what strength he had left in his legs to kick, he would always manage to rise once more, head poking up through the sea of feathers. Lungs pulled in air as best they could, but it seemed that with the exertion against not only horrid weather (wind pressing against him, waves plunging him under, cold biting at his bones), but a never-ending supply of dead birds. Finally, he made it. He swam around to the side of the boat that he'd seen Deilakrion enter onto the ship; lo and behold, there hung Saiyah. "Get up!" he screamed up at the nagini. Traye swam and grasped at the rope dangling below her, and with his other hand, tried in vain to push the six-hundred-pound-plus woman up the ladder onto the ship; already it was teetering toward him, threat of a capsized ship falling -onto- them making the human all the more desperate to get her on board.
The wind proclaimed its fury in gusts and icy coldness, whipping the ocean around into a frenzy and sending waves crashing upon the shore. The sky above opened up into what seemed to be a black hole, sending Deil flat against the ship's deck in horrified awe. Not a good sign. Never a good sign, and with no trees to hide under - -- -"Get up!" it was weak, but the voice was there, and filled with an anxiety that could not be denied. Deilakrion moved to peer over the edge, eyes near shut to slits as she observed the naga and human battered against the hull. Another not good sign. Thunder boomed again, making the elf jump--never had liked the stuff--and with shaking hands she grabbed onto the rope with her hands, and the railing with her legs. She'd look ridiculous were the ocean and sky not conspiring to drown her in wet and feathers. What was going on? No storm moved so fast or so furiously to center above the shoreline. Well, not in Deilakrion's experience, and that what counted. Still, the storm shook the shore and likely the city nearby, but its fury seemed almost. . .focused. The tingling feeling was getting worse, climbing up her fingers and mincing its way deep into her bones. It was if the elements themselves were raining down upon the ship, and the three were merely caught in the throes of its delusional passion. "Pack!" She growled the word into a snarl, and heaved on the rope, finding her legs scraped up against the railing in a most unpleasant fashion. She screamed. Birds plummeted. The sky had become occupied with a new presence, a malevolence that conspired only in death. Their death. The ship's death. What was inside? A tiny portion of Deilakrion's mind gnawed at that thought, that single crystalline thought, and she continued to heave on the rope. She would see them up. She would have to. The ship, meanwhile, was tipping and creaking and then she couldn't hear anymore----------"PREDATOR!"
Tenebrae had intended on wandering to the beach, as so often she had of late, to find quiet moments in which to sit and watch the horizon. But as she travelled, the wind rose to buffet her simple cloak and dress, and rain sluiced down in sheets to flatten fabric to her shape and drizzle off her nose-tip. Squinting at the sky, lashes failing to prevent her eyes being blurred with the deluge, she frowned and hurried on. A little rain wasn't going to stop her evening vigil, almost a ritual now, even if it -was- cats and dogs, and the clouds gravid as black sows showing no sign of letting up. Over flooded cobbles that more resembled pebbly streams, she sloshed onward to sandy ground, finally gaining the beachfront. Through the blinding squall, she winced again... marring her clear view seemed a hulk, teetering, rocking-- a wreck? Ever the opportunist, she stepped forward, as far toward the lashing brine she dared. And the water-- she thought at first it was merely whitecapped waves, whipped to froth by the storm, but at her feet lay, like strange drifts of seaweed, an abundance of feathers, and soon she discerned that these, too, discoloured the ocean. Curiouser.... and were there small figures, moving...? She hadn't a moment to think about it before sharp hearing picked from among the bluster and moan of the wind, and the relentless shush-shush of rain, a faint voice calling a word she knew. A voice she knew... Dear gods-- Creature was on the wreck? In a moment, she was stripping what little armour she had from her body, dumping it to the sand, wondering how in hells she'd manage to swim the unhappy sea-- or at the least keep herself from seizing up in terror of the treacherous deep.
Serai rode quietly through the storm. Homefinder, -his stoic black stallion- strode through the rain questionlessly beside the elf. The elf's heavy, scale-armored cloak felt twice it's weight in rain. His broad-brimmed leather hat was pouring water before his face likea veil. His shirt was soaked through, as were his trousers, and his boots squished with every step. Serai loved weather such as this. Xecta had chosen to stay in the hollow of the tree in the Secluded villiage, in favor of drier climates. The heavily armed half-elf paused on the beach, where he saw a pile of armor lying in the sand. Leafy green gaze flickered out to the storm, and lo and behold, there was a ship out there. Silently, the madman watched as the ship pitched, and rolled with the waves. He loosed his stallion, and took a few steps seaward, stopping when the water reached his calves. This may well prove yet to be an interesting endeavor.
Dergious watches the parade of people trying to get to the boat, and seeing as swimming is not a dwarf's strong suit, turns to his massive companion. "You! Ye needs te be gettin me over te dat boat, and be quick about it." The ogre moves with as much speed as he can muster with a look of fear in his dull eyes. He grabs his master (who was expecting the ogre to lift him and walk over to the boat) and puts all of the weight of his twenty foot bulk into a tremendous overhand throw that send the screaming dwarf knifing through the air. The storm's currents of wind batter at the dwarf's body as he sails feet first at the boat, his beard completely covering his face but not at all muffling the tremendous string of curses and foul language coming out of his mouth. The dwarf, unable to see at all, can only hope his idiot slave's aim is true and calls forth his most precious defence. He marshals his inner mental energies and expels them in the form of an inertial barrier. The cacoon of mental energies surround him as he approaches the ironwood wall of the ship's cabin. His barrier strikes the wood, and the dwarf's momentum is slowed vastly, saving him more than a few broken bones. It is not enough, however, as the tremendous force overwhelms the unprepared mind of the dwarf and he still hits the wall with a good amount of force. He expells more air than he thought himself capable of having inside him in a great, breathless "Ooof!" and he falls face first into the deck and lays still.
Saiyah would have instantly given up- her past with ladders wasn't the most..pleasent of experiences by far. But with the angry assassin behind her shoving rather harshly at her tail, the naga would give this one a chance; So with the leather strap of the trident looped back around her shoulders, Saiyah's knuckles would go white as she gripped tightly and began to haul her heavy arse up the rope. It was times like these she was thankfull she had such a powerfull tail, for if she'd been using her arms what so ever, the woman would have been left with dead muscles usless to aiding her in climbing up. Her body violently whipped back and forth, and even smacked up against the wall of the ship; but she held on tight and after it seemed she could not go anymore, flopped over the railing and onto the deck like a fishermans freshly caught prize.
Jaidin saw Creature grab the rope and brace herself on the railing of the ship, and begin to pull with a might and ferocity that could only belong to such a being. He was about to climb up the nagini and help the elf pull, when that great big ol' snake lady started using her tail for good! He stayed a considerable distance below on the rope and waiting; if she fell, he most certainly wasn't going to have a naga bring him down, at that distance, with her. Knuckles white with his grip on the rope, and palms starting to bleed with the grip he had on the sea-soaked wood, the man placed his boots to the hull of the ship and grit his teeth as the wind played games with his body, tossing it to and fro as if he were a rag doll. The rain beat down upon his form, and a few times, he slid down somewhat on the rope with how wet it/he was. The assassin plugged on, though. Once the woman flopped onto the deck, he began to climb, himself. Deilakrion's cry had been almost too much to bear; something was seriously wrong, and it was all that he could do to climb as quickly as he could, his toes trying to find leverage on the wall as his tired arms strained to pull even his considerably light weight to the top of that rope. Traye finally made it, even with the ship teetering this way and that (Dwarf crashing into the mass not helping), dropping over the edge and onto the slippery planks with less grace than a man of his work should have, during a great 'crack' of thunder that sounded after a great rumble in the skies. If he believed in deities, surely they were angry at this ragtag group of curious beings. Panting and trying to catch his breath in wind that merely whipped it past his mouth, he looked at Creature with a struggle to comprehend this entire situation; a frustration and helplessness that clearly screamed that they would have been better off staying on the damn shore! With both hands on the rail of the ship (never quite accustomed to being on this blasted things, let alone during horrid weather and in an area that stank with dead avians), he one-hand-over-the-other'd toward the elf, and screamed: "What is it?" He was soggy to the bone, every muscle ached ten-fold with previous injuries before that impromptu swim in a sea of feathers that belonged to that which he feared most, and now, his skin prickled worse than ever with an ominous feeling that loomed over them...
Deilakrion had scrambled successfully out of Saiyah's way, and could only stare wide-eyed at Jaidin as he finished climbing over the railing. The dwarf, well, what boom that man had made had been lost to the clamor that demanded ultimate attention from above and below, and as the wind cut through the rain and drove the slight elf down to the deck, she could only stare, wind sluicing down her body and the seaweed that tangled about her waist. Her dirk was out now, and some strange fury rode the depths of stone-grey eyes that could not fathom the situation. Unknowing of her beloved leader, and concerned mostly for the stray pack-mate whom now stood before her, the woman gestured to mid-deck where a hole leading down could be seen. In a crawling move offset by the creaking, swaying ship the woman managed her way over and under. The rain continued to pour down -- or was it going sideways now? -- but at least she had released herself from the wind's wrath. Not waiting to see if any of them would follow (what madman wouldn't?) she disappeared belowdecks, where darkness, dankness and unhealthy shadows waited with gaping mouths to swallow them all whole. But there, ridiculously wet and cast off from the storm above ,the creature stood firm. "No game." She told the ship in a low snarl. "No tricks. This creature Hunt." She was spitting mad, that odd elf, but she was serious. So, apparently was the ship, as it violently tossed the other way, sending the woman sprawling into the darkness.
Tenebrae , whether Serai followed her in or not, shuddered through the shallows, feet firmly planted to sand below until the water slopped from shoulder-depth to waved that broke above her head. The vampiress loved swimming, that was a fact -- but the sea had ever been her greatest fear, one she was forced to at least partially conquer via her association with Leo and interests with the Eternity. Still, as she let her body lift atop the rollicking waves, holding her breath as long as she could to prevent saline flooding her airways -- which was some considerable time, even with her peculiar and living heart -- Tene was cold as a lump of glacial ice inside, and the foreboding gloom that seemed to center around the ship's unsteady carcass. Slicing through the waves as best she could, hampered by the slick of feathers that clung to her skin and disoriented by the storm, she noted the passing of the dwarf and his odd mount with wonder and chose to follow in thier wake. With this peculiar duo as her beacon, she did not take long to reach the rope, ears still ringing with the aftershock of Dergious' blow to the hull that'd echoed loudly-- she'd been submerged briefly at the backwash of his arrival at the ship. Why he'd be rushing out there, she had no clue-- was he, too, close to Creature? The clan? Irrelevancies all, but it helped prevent the panic that shook her as she shimmied the rope. Strong, light- rope-climbing was second nature, without her heels that lay in a pile of sodden leather back at the beach. Once she gained the deck, a swathe of bedraggled black mane was slung from her face, affording her a better view. "Creature!" No matter who was or wasn't still standing on that deck, Deilakrion was as good as bloodkin to Tenebrae, oddly bonded through some strange and unspoken understanding, and it was the elf who's wellbeing was her first priority. The elf she could not see... anywhere... "CREATURE!" Huffing for breath, drenched as a cat flung to a well, Tene slipped and stepped across the deck toward any sound that might originate with Deilakrion... And a wave chose her, of course, as its unwitting playing, knocking her back hard against the rail. Though white fingers clung hard, she was looking rather like she'd teeter back into the ocean, just then.
Dergious awakes to wind and rain and struggles to his feet while making a mental note to hurt the damned ogre. His unease on the planks beneath him is apparant as he takes one stumbling step at a time and catching his balance after each one. He stumbles towards the portal through which Deilakrion has disappears, seeking shelter himself. He pushes through the cobwebs and again drinks deep of his inner reserves of power, sharpening his reflexes and senses. He can taste the air, and feel the winds caress upon him. His balance improves and he steadies himself, alert for danger as he could not have been before. The sky rages above, and lightning is reflected in his silvered arm. Worried he might attract the deadly strikes himself, he pushes through the portal and disappears below only to find that his infravision cannot register some of the walls, meaning the area must be enormous indeed. Puzzled, he searches the darkness for the others.
Darrien was dead as night. Of course, that personification is as loaded as they come, for if the restless ocean had arms, it would be scratching feverishly in every lively region of its body. Within a small circular patch of space, the waves changed their consistency, stagnating such that it frothed there like a freshly poured glass of Guinness from the tab. The angry earth underneath the domineering waters quaked a protest that caused a desperate catharsis in the form of a powerful fountain. A body bounced limply upon that sturdy column of water, donning a plain, but smart attire. A chill wind brought another spectacle: a second, translucent Darrien, looking very much like a pointillist painting. It walked in loops and spirals - effortlessly rebelling against many laws of physics - but gravitated toward the obvious center of his corporeal body. They merged flawlessly and slowly, Darrien acquired a sense of self. "I am risen," he remarked with an atrophied voice. A few swallows later, a monstrous roar ten lions loud filled the heavy air. ~~~~~~~ He was not angry: he was inexplicably free. After only half of he power was expended, the beam of ocean began to slowly shuttle Darrien over toward the ship; it would suffice to say this was not exactly what he had in mind. He was already shaking his head. "I have just escaped the darkness and now I'm rushing toward it. I cheat death, so You cheat me back. Forcing a deal onto me was not in the script. I do not have to stay to this finale." But before Darrien could even touch his hands together to dive off, his watery vehicle sped up and all Darrien instinctively could do was try and maintain balance. It stopped abruptly at the edge of the ship and sent him stumbling onto the deck, his still-awkward legs struggling to keep him on his feet. He shot a finger and a dangerous glare at the wave which brought him in, and before he could speak, it spat a few hundred gallons of brine at him. At last, Darrien was prostrated and greeted his perspective with bloodshot eyes. He rushed for the nearest figure, which so happened to be Jaidin, maintaining balance within a certain radius by a very silly-looking dance. "What am I doing here? What are you doing here? What...should I be doing here?" The last question was most definitive and clearly the one he wanted answered. His identity would not just yet be discerned.
Saiyah was, for the most part, lost. With hammering winds and what felt like razor sharp wind, the naga had one arm to her face in a pitiful attempt to shield her face from the rain- the other holding her trident in hand. With the three-pronged weapon dug deeply into the surface of the deck, Saiyah tried to use the weapon to somewhat stablize herself while she kept from being whisked over the railing and back into the cold, harsh sea. Jaidin would go unoticed for now, and Darrien ignored, for the naga had only one thing on her mind right now; staying alive. With weak, and slow kicks of her tail, the naga made a feeble attmept at trying to get to this door that both the dwarf and Deilakrion had dissapeared into. Though her efforts were not that far off from a complete failure; with the new rain-slick surface of the deck, Saiyah slid about helplessly like a hockey puck- the stick being the strong winds of the storm. Eventually, she clawed her way with both hand and trident towards the cabin and flung herself down the stairs, not caring for who or what was down there.
Jaidin listened intently to the elf's words; no prey... He considered that a good thing, in these conditions. The idea of getting into the hull of the ship was not an appetizing thought, but if it meant protection from the elements, then he would go down into the keep... of the crashed ship... that's sinking slowly. Great. Creature got in safely for all he knew, and so he began to follow (he wasn't insane enough to stay aboard). Continuing with the hand-over-hand motions on the rail of the ship, the man made slow movements on the deck toward the keep, boots sliding about with water that not only poured from the heavens, but sloshed over the side of the boat as tidal waves berated the hulking ship and the people on it. At one point he saw Tenebrae-- her desperate screams he hoped would be appeased by his message that with all the air his lungs could intake and expel, was relayed: "In the hole!" The assassin did manage to brave removing one hand off the rail of the ship to point unerringly toward the hole in the planks of the deck that the elf had gone into. He focused then once more on slowly making his way toward it, himself. And a Dwarf entered the keep. And Saiyah used her trident to steer herself. It was getting close to being just him when a spectacle never before seen by the human, he witnessed: Darrien rise upon the sea itself to be deposited like a scolded child into a seat, upon the ship. Jaidin was then man-handled. Barely able to keep his own balance, he now had to try to do so with the newly-alive man clinging onto him and shouting questions-- when there was already enough noise wracking his ear drums. "Bard?!" he screamed back, at first baffled; he was supposed to be dead! But there was no time for that. Without the ability to withstand the stench of death or the thrashing waves any longer, he again pointed to the hole and yelled: "Get in!" There, all would be explained (as much as was able). Whether or not Darrien went along or not, Traye moved with a renewed vigor toward the hole. Another few feet and he would be in it!
Silence was loudest. It was an odd thought for the elf, who had rather clumsily gathered herself up from the --what was it, floor?-- surface under her and had stood. Darkness faced her in each direction, and warm air was cascading across her skin in timed puffs of air. Warm and moist, like the breath from another. The woman stilled, feeling the air she breathed gathering in a lump in her throat. The storm had dulled to nothing in her fall. Had she gone unconscious? She put a hand slowly to her head, but found no liquid thicker than that of the seawater. The air continued. The dark was opressive, and clung to her with all the fervor of one of the drow's shadow-globes, feeling for an opening, holding her in place as the consciousness of the dark gathered behind her, growing into a clawed monstrosity that poised ready to -- "Augghrrr!" The elf whirled in place, slashing out with her dagger. Her heart pounded erratically against her chest in a stacatto beat she had not felt in some time. Ragged. Her breath blew ragged against her own hands as she buried her head in familiarity. The pommel of the dirk was solid against her cheekbone, and she removed it. The warm air was gone, replaced with a damp coolness that bespoke of a living tomb. Deilakrion was its occupant. She had not been in many ships, a few bouts with one or two. Was this normal for a ship? She couldn't tell, but the prickling sensation from earlier had gone. She moved forward. She was in the heart of the beast now, and it rumbled at her from a distance. She would find it. When she did, she would kill it. Then, then she would find her packmates and get off of this damned hellhole.
Vael had been drawn to the coastal city by something. He didn't know what, but -something- pulled at him, bringing him nearer and nearer the raging storm. The beach was deserted by the time he arrived, though the armor cast aside by the others certainly brought pause to his steps, crouching by either set to inspect them. Tenebrae's set was all too familiar to him, and up his head snaps, seeking out her form. No where. He was truly alone on this beach. But...the ship, off in the distance? Perhaps, just perhaps...He thought to swim there, at first, and began to disarmor himself. He had his armored robes and face plate off before he finally noticed the dead birds. With a chuckle, an alternative came to mind. Forward he strode, coming to the edge of the water, prodding one of the dead avians. "Rise," he commands it, and rise it does. "You shall be the start of my bridge." Again his gaze lifted towards the ship, but soon it fell to the mass of dead birds, and his voice rises, carrying across the water, through the howling wind. "Rise! Rise and obey; shape my bridge and allow me travel!" It used to be a strange sight for the drow, to see the dead rise. But, he is nearly eight centuries old, after all, and things become accustomed to in time. Needless to say, the necromancer did not hesitate to step upon his unliving bridge, making his way to that accursed boat, to the ever-raging storm. His armored feet, even with the added weight, offered little grip once he was upon the planks, and he falls to his hands and knees. Drawing his shattered sword, he uses it to hold himself in place, his gaze turned back to the unliving avians. Something about them, something about how they suddenly flopped back into lifelessness unnerved the drow, and perhaps more than that unsettling sight. Even as they fell, he could feel a piece of him shatter. "You will not command my power," he growls, snapping his gaze back to the deck. He didn't need to look about to see where he needed to go. Still the call tugged at his mind, still it drove him to push to the abyss provided by the ship...and, with his broken sword providing his handholds, down into the darkness he goes.
Tenebrae :: It wasn't surprising so many of the others didn't notice Tene's precarious near-topple at boat's edge. Really, only a moment passed and she'd been blown over, so that her hands clung white-knuckled to rails and feet scrambled for purchase to climb back up. Hauling herself over the edge in time to stare oddly at Darrien's form, and hear Jaidin's call, follow his gesture to the stairwell that gaped not unlike a hungry, toothless mouth, she'd step around bird-bodies, not always able to miss stepping on one... "Ugh... oh.. ew..." Bare feet picked up quickly, she skittered across the deck only seconds before Vael's arrival, to follow the others down into what she presumed the hold. But as she entered the maw of the ship's belly, the uneasy, all-too-familiar prickle travelled up and down her spine, shivering her so badly she'd slip and take one of her almost inevitable tumbles.... but no hard timber met her cringing flesh, no bruises met arms flung up to protect delicate organs and features from injury. Tene fell down... as through air made of invisible, breathable oil. Indeed, the feeling was almost sensual, possibly could have been enjoyable had she not been terrified out of her wits and screaming. "What in the name of Sven's frackin' eyebags is going oooooonnnnnnn...."
Back off I’ll take you on
Headstrong to take on anyone
I know that you are wrong
Headstrong we’re headstrong
Back off I’ll take you on
Headstrong to take on anyone
I know that you are wrong and this is not where you belong
I can’t give everything away
I won’t give everything away"
-- "Headstrong" Trapt
The sky overhead was dismal, but the promise of blue showed through the stormy grays. Below, the water churned about, burbling happy though its color near reflected the sullen tones of the atmosphere. It splashed upon the Cenril shore, seeping up through the rocks to leave deposits within the rock pools that had formed upon the exit of the last tide. Upon one of these rocks the elf crouched, scrawny hide prickled in the chill wind that picked up every now and again from the direction of the sea. She was staring out seaward at a large ship which had crashed and sunk partway, propped up by the very coral that had killed it. The decks were apparently empty from what one could tell at that distance, but further details could not be ascertained. A few birds floated around the ship, but the water was littered with hundreds of them, and many feathers had washed ashore to be collected at the water break. Her hair was wet.
Saiyah would have groaned, if at all a sound as simple as that could have been uttered deep in her throat. Blackened, coal-stained strands of hair cascaded wildly down the front of her face, and down her chest, giving to it that rather ragged looking appearance. Though that wasn't the only thing giving the naga such a pessimistic 'look' to her. With red eyes, paler-then-usual skin and a haunch in her posture, it was evident Saiyah was still very much hungover from the night before. And as if to add more to her torment, the sharp rocks of the shore were doing a number on her tail; she asked herself yet again, what was she doing out here? Perhaps it was the calm of the sea that lured her out, or the soft warm sands in which she could have basked in- whatever it was, it sure was forgotten now. It was only when she chanced a weary glance up that she came to a gradual halt; jade-green serpent eyes shifting between both the ship in the distance, and the elf in the pools. Unsure of what to do really, Saiyah would remain quietly resting in her stop atop the rocky shore, silently peering out to Deilakrion with much curiosity in her eyes.
The ship in the distance listed to the accompaniment of a falling bird. The ship eventually righted itself as the natural flow of the water rocked it. The bird did not. It had joined the feathery carpet that spanned the water between the shore and the boat, causing feathers to wash ashore in an ugly mess. Deilakrion was not so much interested in the feathers as the seaweed around her waist, upon which she tugged with busy fingers. Her eyes were centered upon the ship, and her mouth moved silently as she squinted at ship, birds, and sky. Thunder was rolling somewhere in the distance, prefacing her concern, and the air promised rain with salty-sweet fingers. The ship had plagued her, haunted her ever since she had seen it with the mute tiefling--had she seen it? She had woken up wet on the shore, unsure of what had happened since that last encounter. She huddled closer to herself, and broke off a piece of seaweed in her hands. In a fashion true with her insatiable appetite, she stuck the piece in her mouth and began to chew.
Keir's eyes had been set out to see for what would seem a long while now, the wave that had been distanced from him now kissed at the bottoms of his feet. The sight of all the dead birds around seemed to feel the man with a bit of peace, it was a wonderful sight. Yet, he could not help but feel uneasy. What could have brought about all this death to the many winged ones? His eyes now set to the ship, it brought about a slight haunting feeling. The clouds in the distance did nothing to better the feeling, the sounds of the rolling thunder brought about both fear, and much more wonderment. His mind would now be set on making his way to the ship. The only thing stopping him now was the massive ocean before him, and his lack of the knowledge to swim.
As time would pass on, so would the naga's eyes about the beach, eventually happening upon the other just looming just off in the distance. So, with a few given moments, she thought to herself; should she just leave, or make herself known to the strangers? Well, the first option would have been made without haste- if it weren't for all the dead birds spread out about the waters surface. So, make herself known it was; she did this in a gentle, gradual sense though. With her lengthy tail wiggling back and forth, Saiyah slithered her way down to the waters edge, several yards off in the peripherals of Deilakrion. Here she would pause and stare out to the dismissal form of the ship that was pulling away at the reins to her curiosity; what happened?
The ship was an alluring prospect indeed, to have pulled the eyes of all who perused its form. Deilakrion was becoming agitated by the forces combining to form this odd venture, and tore her eyes away--perhaps by instinct--and was startled to find she was not alone after all. Had the ship become so all-consuming to have made her so unaware of her surroundings? The she-elf berated herself in her mind, standing up from her crouched position upon the rock. She stared down at Saiyah, closer than the unknown undead, and paused. Friend or foe? She had seen one other naga, she thought. She closed her eyes and shook her head, hoping to rattle free the memories from a few nights previous, when she had first seen this mad ship. She needed a good drink and perhaps a fish to eat, but what fish? She would not touch any flesh that came out of that water, sullied by the grotesquely dead birds. Hunger she might, but she was not so stupid as to risk herself: self-preservation was strong with the feral woman. So she stared down upon Saiyah: stalemate. In her current mind frame, it did not last long. "Flesh." The word drifted as might a wary greeting, and she hopped down from her rock, unwincing as she landed upon other rocks with bare feet. She had gone naked a long, long time.
Keir turns his head to meet that of the female voices, he had not bothered to convey his surroundings. His own words come quick "A grand death." As the words are spoken, he stands to his full height. His hues now set to that of the ocean once more. His voice ringing out once more, as he slowly begins to step into the shallowed waves. "Examine your curiosity." His words had a sense of mystery hidden within. Now waist deep, the Undead continues his path. Sinking below the waves of the ocean. He would now begin his path towards the ship out to sea. No breath need be drawn, he would simply walk along the bed of the ocean.
Saiyah had lofted a brow, but of course; with such strange phrases and words being chanted, who wouldn't? To the undead, Saiyah simply gave a once-over glance before dropping her eyes back down to the elf hopping her way down the rocks. It was the word 'flesh' that had the naga slowly resting a hand on the long-handled trident tied loosely to her back; if this woman was looking for 'flesh' then it sure wasn't going to be Saiyah's. She began to think to herself as she stood rooted upon the gloomy, rocky shore, why was she out here again? With undead men walking about, hundreds of dead birds, and now a flesh seeking elf- suffering from a hangover in the Hanging Corpse tavern didn't seem all to bad right now. But fact of the matter was, she wasn't there, and so for now, she'd have to make due with. Still clutching the shaft of the trident in one hand behind her, the other slowly lifted and wiggled her fingers in a sheepish wave; one last chance to decipher Deilakrion from friend or foe.
Jaidin smelled the air; the sea was strong in the scent as it sat heavily in the air, and the salt taste strong in his mouth and thick on his skin as he scoured the lands-- the scent more heavy with the thick, dark clouds rolling in from the distance. The air held an ominous feeling, almost as if something bad was about to happen-- and wherever such was true, one could bet that this assassin would be in the fray of it all (he had a knack for such things; it was a talent, really). Dressed lightly and feeling odd, an inner monologue sounded in his mind as he focused on the multitude of events in his life, while boots slipped on jagged rocks and gloved hands grasped feebly at the surrounding crags to keep his balance. In this state of solitude he hadn't noticed any voices; nor, for that matter, the change in the scent of the air from sea to ... death. If he had been paying any less attention, surely Traye would have stepped on the ugly, decaying bird strewn about in his chosen pathway. His first response was a leap upward-- fear, rarely seen by others. With his heart yammering hard in his chest cavity, it took several moments to realize it was dead. Some more, to look about the area and notice the impossible numbers of other avians just like it. "The Hell...?" Astonished, that one-eyed gaze rose to take in the rest of the seaweed-tossed beach, and the three folk gathered. One a new packmate, the other a total stranger, and the other... A naked elf that with the surprise of seeing her, was able to put a small smile on the rugged visage of the male, even in this scenery.
Jaidin's sudden reappearance might have, at another time, had Deil scrambling towards him with unabounding mirth. Now, however, with two odd ones to consider and that. . .thing off in the distance she was a little preoccupied. Saiyah's wave was ignored with sudden surprise as the undead fellow disappeared under the waves. Clutching at belt, and in turn dirk, the elf moved not further up the shore, but -down- it. To the edge she wavered, staring after that morose form. "Predator!" She called, brief: alarm. A fleeting glance was sent to Jaidin, and then she too was mincing into the cold spray after the undead. Was that man a part of this mess? One way to find out, and Deilakrion was tugged by morbid curiosity and more--a nagging assertion that this place hid more than revealed, and had something to say. . .something important. She cut the water with strong strokes, unable to see the undead man and uncaring as coral and rocky reefs passed beneath her. She paused halfway out to look behind her, caught between two tugs at her frazzled mind. Above, the sky continued to darken as the foreboding set of clouds set to the south and the horizon gravitated towards the scene. The winds were growing stronger, and with them they carried a certain chill. The elf found her skin prickling with it, as she parted a path through a seemingly endless collection of dead birds. Unbidden, her thoughts skittered about her mind in rising panic, and she pushed away at the carcasses that merely continued to crowd her. She paddled, gasping air as a thin keening rose in her throat.
Keir continues his path towards the boat, his movements slow as the pressure of the ocean presses against him. His eyes move about scanning for any signs of life. None was to be found, his eyes could not even detect that of a fish swimming below the moving current. A little over half way to the ship now, he would look back to a muffled voice the powerful ocean jumbled it's clarity, it remained unknown what the words were. Still, it mattered little to him, he must reach the ship. He must find why the winged creatures have fallen, and no fish snack upon their corpses.
Saiyah stood there, even more perturbed as the elf decided it best to take to the seas with the undead, leaving her glancing about in both curiosity, and nervousness. Who exactly was it that Deilakrion had a predator, and even more, was she to be the prey? If that was the case, then that would explain why everyone seemed to take to the safety of the sea rather then linger about the broken, desolate shore. So, a side long glance was shot about, both in curiosity, and nervousness; it was only when Saiyah's jade-green eyes fell upon that of the assassin that a gentle sigh of relief grazed past her lips. Well, at least she knew that someone familiar was about-though... after her little 'accident' at the corpse, and how it left Jaidin without his whiskey and bloody black, she didn't really know how much he'd be glad to see her. So for now, the naga would slightly wince as she slithered over towards the rocky outcrop that the elf had been at moments ago and take a coiled perch about the top, looking down to the one swimming, while offering a hearty wave to the man- the only thing she could really do to get his attention, with being a mute and all.
Jaidin further took in the surrounding area, and the mass of birds that littered the sea; nay, 'twas not a sea anymore, but now a mass of feathers and bones, the devil's sick, twisted joke of what heaven might look like. This was no pillow-like cloud upon which to walk, and he knew better than to fall to that tempation. The ship was studied diligently, and after noting with a sigh of relief it was not the Eternity, he relaxed somewhat. But still, shoulders kept their tensed position, on edge with Creature's nervousness-- if something had her worried, then it was big enough for him to be wary of, he figured. Saiyah was offered a one-eyed glare; he was still fairly badly bruised and battered, bloody and broken, from her impromptu entrance via the roof. Nevertheless, he wasn't here on the job; her life was spared. The assassin frowned, warning evident in the elf's voice. Carefully he made his way to the shore, looking out at the expanse of death; and now it stung his nostrils, barely enough for his honed sense to handle. And the sky-- it was the perfect companion to this devastating (no matter how much he hated all avians) scene. It was enough to give even this hardened murderer the willy-nillies. He stared after the undead, who had an interesting enough way of gaining access to that ship; and Creature, was brilliant in her own way... but this human wouldn't enter that water unless he was absolutely sure that his own death wouldn't be the result. So instead he came semi-near the nagini, arms crossed over his chest as he waited. He watched more birds fall out of the sky to plummet into the water that was already over-full with birds; and the swaying ship that appeared to be the result of all this decay. Traye would wait; if Deilakrion survived the water, he would wade in after her. "Careful!" the man called out, voice gruff without drink, and a tinge of worriment surfaced within it.
Neither naga nor human followed her out, and a brief call from the man let Deilakrion know that she was alone with the undead for this venture. An unknown flesh, that one; whether or not he would prove dangerous remained to be seen. So, she gritted her teeth and continued through the mess, feathers sticking to neck, shoulders and hair in a most unseemly fashion. Somehow, the desert seemed less hostile than this sorry scenario, and it was with much thankfulness that the elf reached the side of the boat. She wanted out of the water, and she wanted out -now-. She floated around the side, pushing birds out of her way when they were packed too closely to float. There was a sharp smell of death that rose above the mess. It clogged her nose and heightened her senses, until she was ready to climb the side of the boat like an overwrought cat caught in the water. Around the boat, until she was facing the side that was listing on its side. A coil of rope had fallen over and into the water, hanging at a crazy angle from the slanting deck. In an instant, the elf was up it with quick precision, shimmying her way to the top. Once up she flipped over the rail and landed on her back and stayed there, gasping. The feel of those birds against her skin . . .she shuddered, and curled up in a ball as her agitation gradually diminished. The air about her seemed to crackle with an intensity that had nothing to do with the approaching storm. The sails snapped above her as wind streamed into them, and the ship groaned as it further impaled itself upon the coral. It seemed to sink another inch, and the elf scrambled to a guarded crouch. Whatever the feeling was, it was plucking at her skin and prickling behind her eyes, the odd sensation of almost-magic dragging at her until she felt compelled to scuttle across the deck. Luckily, the slant was not too noticeable, and she made her way to the main mast, clutching at it with the tenacity of a drowning man.
Keir sighs with a bit of relief as he reaches his destination, yet no voice is echoed out. No bubbles float to the surface, for his body had now been filled with the liquid death known as the Ocean. He looks to his surroundings, there must be an anchor dangling deep below. The ship would surely have been brought further out to sea had there been none. A long chain now found, the undead grips his hands tightly around. He begins to slowly pull himself up, and up he went. The newly added wait burdened him some, for if not he would surely have climbed quicker. As he near the top, he would have to push aside the dead corpses. A smile brought to his face as he does. Death was beautiful, and he enjoyed it so. Never the less, he could not remain with his companions for long. He must see the cause. As his head emerges from the depths, a heavy wave smacks across him. His grip almost lost, he manage to keep hold. Climbing higher, his body now is seen, and as it pokes out the water begins to fall from his rotten corps, returning to it's rightful place. The chain now successfully climbed, he would place a firm footing on the deck. His eyes left to roam about for any signs of the living.
There had only been one thing really that was keeping the naga from entering that water...and that was the thousands of dead feathered creaturs littering the sea. So the naga would only offer an appologetic smile to Jaidin before slipping the small leather strap around the trident off her shoulders so that the weapon could be held in her hands. She didn't know why it was she felt the need to grasp it, but she did; perhaps it was the decrepit ship looming just out in the distance, perhaps it was the mysterious death that had befallen the birds..or maybe just the evil glare that Jaidin gave her that made her feel a bit uneasy. Whatever the matter was, Saiyah felt the need to take up some protection in her hands. But as much as the trident would have offered as much, it for one thing didn't stop waves...and especially ones that came about from the harsh winds of the storm. She had her eyes squinting out in the distance as she eyed both the undead climbing the chain, and the elf flopping overboard- not the massive wave that smacked the rock she was perched atop. Instantly loosened from her coiling grasp around the rock, Saiyah was sucked into the water with the retreating wave where she would flail her arms about and make quick on resurfacing. She coughed and sputterd, wiping a hand away at the several feathers that stuck to her face, as well as the rest of the dead birds loosened parts. The smell wasn't bad- for being a hunter and all, she'd came upon much worse, but it was the feeling. One that sent a shudder down her spine and out the tip of her tail that would eventually begin to kick back and forth behind her. She figured that since she was in the mess now, why not follow after the two...because that ship was tempting her so badly now; so without a second glance back nor a thought about the situation, Saiyah quickly propelled herself through the death-filled waters and made for the ship.
Sidonia is a ghost, a spirit bound to the land by a skeletal frame that peers upon the gruesome scene with glassy eyes and gasps at the sight from between parched, colorless lips. Her hair a wild, windblown tangle, she stands far back on the beach, her thin arms tucked around her waist. Judging the scene with an expression not easily read, she recognizes the human and decides-- for perhaps the first time in months-- to venture into the open, carefully making her way over the rocks to Jaidin. Upon approaching him in the threadbare velvet, she suddenly becomes aware of her appearance-- not to mention the unmentionable rasp that will sound once words are spoken-- and hangs back, shying away from the familiar face. Formerly slender, formerly musical hands brush at raven-dark hairs that, like the birds that lie broken, have long been relieved of their glossy vibrance; cheeks are pinched faintly, bony fingers seeking to summon the remnants of the blood left in thirsty veins to tinge the alabaster paleness with the slightest color. But all efforts are in vain, and as the girl eventually realizes this, she merely straightens and continues to walk (or, more accurately, stumble) toward the man who was once her dance partner. If he does not recognize her, she won't blame him; she's a far cry from the radiant, twirling creature that had so cheerfully taken his arm at the Yule Ball. "Hello," she says at last, her voice creaking from lack of use. "What... what has happened here?" comes next, without further introduction, as Sidonia seeks to avoid any questions about her appearance or whereabouts for these past few moons.
Jaidin first watched Creature climb the rope and flop onto the deck; and her frenzied actions followed by that. But there was no imminent fear for her life, beyond the ideal of drowning-- that meant, no skeletons came out with swords from within the keep, yet. It was a good thing, generally. And then the undead man, name not known; again, they seemed all right. Most importantly, they were not yet dead from the water. Either whatever was killing the birds did so as quickly due to their size-- or he'd be just fine, after all. And now, Saiyah braved the gathering waves produced by the growing storm. Looked like he would have to jump into that rotting mess of soaked birds, after all... Damn. With a resigned sigh, he prepared by removing his boots, undoing the laces. About to jump into the water himself, this action was halted by the sudden, haunting appearance of a lady; and though all life was gone from those cheeks and she was disheveled nearly beyond recognition, there was something that allowed a man to always know a woman he's touched in something so intimate as a dance. Composing himself after the momentary startle of her appearance, Traye cleared his throat and answered her with a helpless shrug. "Ship crashed, and for some reason birds are dead." Inward he shuddered; oh, how he hated birds! And now, he would be swimming amongst them, their talons scraping his body, their beaks so close to his face... This was not just a regular brave act, for the assassin: this was facing his fear, head on. Tactfully knowing not to ask questions (yet) regarding her sickly form, the human motioned toward the water; a silent statement that he would swim it to the ship that Saiyah had likely reached by now... Unable to speak from the lump stuck in his throat. And then he was off. As quick as he dared and hoping that the cold winds crackling with electricity and death would be mistaken as the reason for his shaking knees, the human reached the water's edge, and proceeded to wade into the feathers. Were it possible the stench were any worse here, he was not able to tell; his nose hairs burned from the ferocity of the death-smell, and his skin prickled with goosebumps at each soggy feather that slid along the epidermis like a taunting graze. Shuddering in horror and fighting the urge to spill his guts or to turn the other way and run, the human grit his teeth and fought the waves, too. The ship loomed larger with each quick stroke that pushed away clumps of dead avians, and he couldn't wait until he was able to reach that sinking mass of planks.
Deilakrion :: Thunder boomed somewhere, faster now. Deilakrion shook off her own paralysis and pushed away from the mast. Something on the ship wanted to play, as pricks of light were caught in her periphery. A turn, and a stare: nothing. There was, perhaps, nothing to net on this forsaken boat. Except the birds. Staring towards the horizon, the feathery masses were appalling in their totality. More than that though. . .she gaped upward at the maelstrom of black that had descended upon them while she had been preoccupied with her distaste. That would explain the wind, yes, yes it would. When the storm arrived, it hit with the force of legends. Wind cut into her back with the precision of a surgeons knife, and she cried out in surprise, knees buckling. She hit the deck, this time literally, and rolled upon her back to have the skies open up on her like a wrung-out towel. A cough, a grimace, and her gaze was cast backwards towards the shore. Devil's luck! Her mind was squalling at her in an unorchestrated clamor to do something, the likes of which she felt too sick to do. Beneath the birds were bobbing in a manner most disgusting, and the elf turned back around to face the oncoming blackness. Was this what the ship had been running from? Empty, emptied, abandoned? A lone paragon riding the waves with mustered dignity, seeking death amidst the shallows? Thoughts whirled and crashed, and she was driven to the edge of the deck: lone lighthouse amid the storm, skin glowing a sickly white amidst all the dark. "Predator!" She howled, lungs stretching as furious panic set in. "Pack! Here!" The wind shrieked past her in laughter.
Saiyah , for once, found herself struggling in the harsh waves of the storm ridden sea. As each wave neared, the naga would hold her breath as she semi-rose with it, only to be pummled downwards back into the depth of the corpse-filled waters. She held her trident tightly and kicked her tail- looking much like a mer-person from a distance- as she propelled through the water with a decent set speed. And just when it seemed she could take no more of a beating from the waters, the naga hit the wall of the ships side with a thunk...to her head. She'd been blindly swimming forward so as not to take in any of the unwanted feathers or gore that littered the waters surface while she chanced her deadly swim out. She only rubbed her skull for a few seconds before shooting a quick glance to the left- then the right. Ok- she was here, but now what did she do? This ship wasn't like the Eternity that had a special pully rigged for her volumptuous 600+ pound tail to be hauled over with ease; so she woundered, how was she to get aboard? Well, for now she'd just 'slither' through the water around to the other side and look for the same rope that Deilakroin used; maybe..just maybe that could work. Though this proved rather tough, seeing as how there was massive waves smacking her down like a game of 'whack-a-mole'..and then there was the bone chilling water. Yes, it was water like she adored- but it was cold water, and her semi-cold blood that ran through her veins didn't take well to it. In fact, it rather slowed her movements down a bit; something that wasn't quite necissarily usefull when being in the middle of an ocean. But she struggled and with valor- made it to the other side where she'd take the still dangling rope in her hands and hold on for life while she bobbed about like bait on a hook.
Jaidin coughed and sputtered in the sea of dead birds as he swam toward the ship. Waves rose to the sky it seemed, and then crashed down with a vengeance upon the already-battered assassin. It seemed to be too much. The waves fought against him, the birds nearly refused to part, and his arms struggled to plunge in and out of the water pushing it to the side, with ribs already bruised and likely cracked from the other night's fiasco. Why was he doing this?! he screamed on the inside, thoroughly frustrated with his own damn curiosity and insatiable need to ever be the hero, a brave man, someone that always jumped into the fray. "I'm coming!" he tried to scream out over the howling wind that berated his ears and form; he knew not if Creature had gotten his words. But he pushed through. Between gasps of breath taken before waves, pushed downward under the water and then able to rise up with what strength he had left in his legs to kick, he would always manage to rise once more, head poking up through the sea of feathers. Lungs pulled in air as best they could, but it seemed that with the exertion against not only horrid weather (wind pressing against him, waves plunging him under, cold biting at his bones), but a never-ending supply of dead birds. Finally, he made it. He swam around to the side of the boat that he'd seen Deilakrion enter onto the ship; lo and behold, there hung Saiyah. "Get up!" he screamed up at the nagini. Traye swam and grasped at the rope dangling below her, and with his other hand, tried in vain to push the six-hundred-pound-plus woman up the ladder onto the ship; already it was teetering toward him, threat of a capsized ship falling -onto- them making the human all the more desperate to get her on board.
The wind proclaimed its fury in gusts and icy coldness, whipping the ocean around into a frenzy and sending waves crashing upon the shore. The sky above opened up into what seemed to be a black hole, sending Deil flat against the ship's deck in horrified awe. Not a good sign. Never a good sign, and with no trees to hide under - -- -"Get up!" it was weak, but the voice was there, and filled with an anxiety that could not be denied. Deilakrion moved to peer over the edge, eyes near shut to slits as she observed the naga and human battered against the hull. Another not good sign. Thunder boomed again, making the elf jump--never had liked the stuff--and with shaking hands she grabbed onto the rope with her hands, and the railing with her legs. She'd look ridiculous were the ocean and sky not conspiring to drown her in wet and feathers. What was going on? No storm moved so fast or so furiously to center above the shoreline. Well, not in Deilakrion's experience, and that what counted. Still, the storm shook the shore and likely the city nearby, but its fury seemed almost. . .focused. The tingling feeling was getting worse, climbing up her fingers and mincing its way deep into her bones. It was if the elements themselves were raining down upon the ship, and the three were merely caught in the throes of its delusional passion. "Pack!" She growled the word into a snarl, and heaved on the rope, finding her legs scraped up against the railing in a most unpleasant fashion. She screamed. Birds plummeted. The sky had become occupied with a new presence, a malevolence that conspired only in death. Their death. The ship's death. What was inside? A tiny portion of Deilakrion's mind gnawed at that thought, that single crystalline thought, and she continued to heave on the rope. She would see them up. She would have to. The ship, meanwhile, was tipping and creaking and then she couldn't hear anymore----------"PREDATOR!"
Tenebrae had intended on wandering to the beach, as so often she had of late, to find quiet moments in which to sit and watch the horizon. But as she travelled, the wind rose to buffet her simple cloak and dress, and rain sluiced down in sheets to flatten fabric to her shape and drizzle off her nose-tip. Squinting at the sky, lashes failing to prevent her eyes being blurred with the deluge, she frowned and hurried on. A little rain wasn't going to stop her evening vigil, almost a ritual now, even if it -was- cats and dogs, and the clouds gravid as black sows showing no sign of letting up. Over flooded cobbles that more resembled pebbly streams, she sloshed onward to sandy ground, finally gaining the beachfront. Through the blinding squall, she winced again... marring her clear view seemed a hulk, teetering, rocking-- a wreck? Ever the opportunist, she stepped forward, as far toward the lashing brine she dared. And the water-- she thought at first it was merely whitecapped waves, whipped to froth by the storm, but at her feet lay, like strange drifts of seaweed, an abundance of feathers, and soon she discerned that these, too, discoloured the ocean. Curiouser.... and were there small figures, moving...? She hadn't a moment to think about it before sharp hearing picked from among the bluster and moan of the wind, and the relentless shush-shush of rain, a faint voice calling a word she knew. A voice she knew... Dear gods-- Creature was on the wreck? In a moment, she was stripping what little armour she had from her body, dumping it to the sand, wondering how in hells she'd manage to swim the unhappy sea-- or at the least keep herself from seizing up in terror of the treacherous deep.
Serai rode quietly through the storm. Homefinder, -his stoic black stallion- strode through the rain questionlessly beside the elf. The elf's heavy, scale-armored cloak felt twice it's weight in rain. His broad-brimmed leather hat was pouring water before his face likea veil. His shirt was soaked through, as were his trousers, and his boots squished with every step. Serai loved weather such as this. Xecta had chosen to stay in the hollow of the tree in the Secluded villiage, in favor of drier climates. The heavily armed half-elf paused on the beach, where he saw a pile of armor lying in the sand. Leafy green gaze flickered out to the storm, and lo and behold, there was a ship out there. Silently, the madman watched as the ship pitched, and rolled with the waves. He loosed his stallion, and took a few steps seaward, stopping when the water reached his calves. This may well prove yet to be an interesting endeavor.
Dergious watches the parade of people trying to get to the boat, and seeing as swimming is not a dwarf's strong suit, turns to his massive companion. "You! Ye needs te be gettin me over te dat boat, and be quick about it." The ogre moves with as much speed as he can muster with a look of fear in his dull eyes. He grabs his master (who was expecting the ogre to lift him and walk over to the boat) and puts all of the weight of his twenty foot bulk into a tremendous overhand throw that send the screaming dwarf knifing through the air. The storm's currents of wind batter at the dwarf's body as he sails feet first at the boat, his beard completely covering his face but not at all muffling the tremendous string of curses and foul language coming out of his mouth. The dwarf, unable to see at all, can only hope his idiot slave's aim is true and calls forth his most precious defence. He marshals his inner mental energies and expels them in the form of an inertial barrier. The cacoon of mental energies surround him as he approaches the ironwood wall of the ship's cabin. His barrier strikes the wood, and the dwarf's momentum is slowed vastly, saving him more than a few broken bones. It is not enough, however, as the tremendous force overwhelms the unprepared mind of the dwarf and he still hits the wall with a good amount of force. He expells more air than he thought himself capable of having inside him in a great, breathless "Ooof!" and he falls face first into the deck and lays still.
Saiyah would have instantly given up- her past with ladders wasn't the most..pleasent of experiences by far. But with the angry assassin behind her shoving rather harshly at her tail, the naga would give this one a chance; So with the leather strap of the trident looped back around her shoulders, Saiyah's knuckles would go white as she gripped tightly and began to haul her heavy arse up the rope. It was times like these she was thankfull she had such a powerfull tail, for if she'd been using her arms what so ever, the woman would have been left with dead muscles usless to aiding her in climbing up. Her body violently whipped back and forth, and even smacked up against the wall of the ship; but she held on tight and after it seemed she could not go anymore, flopped over the railing and onto the deck like a fishermans freshly caught prize.
Jaidin saw Creature grab the rope and brace herself on the railing of the ship, and begin to pull with a might and ferocity that could only belong to such a being. He was about to climb up the nagini and help the elf pull, when that great big ol' snake lady started using her tail for good! He stayed a considerable distance below on the rope and waiting; if she fell, he most certainly wasn't going to have a naga bring him down, at that distance, with her. Knuckles white with his grip on the rope, and palms starting to bleed with the grip he had on the sea-soaked wood, the man placed his boots to the hull of the ship and grit his teeth as the wind played games with his body, tossing it to and fro as if he were a rag doll. The rain beat down upon his form, and a few times, he slid down somewhat on the rope with how wet it/he was. The assassin plugged on, though. Once the woman flopped onto the deck, he began to climb, himself. Deilakrion's cry had been almost too much to bear; something was seriously wrong, and it was all that he could do to climb as quickly as he could, his toes trying to find leverage on the wall as his tired arms strained to pull even his considerably light weight to the top of that rope. Traye finally made it, even with the ship teetering this way and that (Dwarf crashing into the mass not helping), dropping over the edge and onto the slippery planks with less grace than a man of his work should have, during a great 'crack' of thunder that sounded after a great rumble in the skies. If he believed in deities, surely they were angry at this ragtag group of curious beings. Panting and trying to catch his breath in wind that merely whipped it past his mouth, he looked at Creature with a struggle to comprehend this entire situation; a frustration and helplessness that clearly screamed that they would have been better off staying on the damn shore! With both hands on the rail of the ship (never quite accustomed to being on this blasted things, let alone during horrid weather and in an area that stank with dead avians), he one-hand-over-the-other'd toward the elf, and screamed: "What is it?" He was soggy to the bone, every muscle ached ten-fold with previous injuries before that impromptu swim in a sea of feathers that belonged to that which he feared most, and now, his skin prickled worse than ever with an ominous feeling that loomed over them...
Deilakrion had scrambled successfully out of Saiyah's way, and could only stare wide-eyed at Jaidin as he finished climbing over the railing. The dwarf, well, what boom that man had made had been lost to the clamor that demanded ultimate attention from above and below, and as the wind cut through the rain and drove the slight elf down to the deck, she could only stare, wind sluicing down her body and the seaweed that tangled about her waist. Her dirk was out now, and some strange fury rode the depths of stone-grey eyes that could not fathom the situation. Unknowing of her beloved leader, and concerned mostly for the stray pack-mate whom now stood before her, the woman gestured to mid-deck where a hole leading down could be seen. In a crawling move offset by the creaking, swaying ship the woman managed her way over and under. The rain continued to pour down -- or was it going sideways now? -- but at least she had released herself from the wind's wrath. Not waiting to see if any of them would follow (what madman wouldn't?) she disappeared belowdecks, where darkness, dankness and unhealthy shadows waited with gaping mouths to swallow them all whole. But there, ridiculously wet and cast off from the storm above ,the creature stood firm. "No game." She told the ship in a low snarl. "No tricks. This creature Hunt." She was spitting mad, that odd elf, but she was serious. So, apparently was the ship, as it violently tossed the other way, sending the woman sprawling into the darkness.
Tenebrae , whether Serai followed her in or not, shuddered through the shallows, feet firmly planted to sand below until the water slopped from shoulder-depth to waved that broke above her head. The vampiress loved swimming, that was a fact -- but the sea had ever been her greatest fear, one she was forced to at least partially conquer via her association with Leo and interests with the Eternity. Still, as she let her body lift atop the rollicking waves, holding her breath as long as she could to prevent saline flooding her airways -- which was some considerable time, even with her peculiar and living heart -- Tene was cold as a lump of glacial ice inside, and the foreboding gloom that seemed to center around the ship's unsteady carcass. Slicing through the waves as best she could, hampered by the slick of feathers that clung to her skin and disoriented by the storm, she noted the passing of the dwarf and his odd mount with wonder and chose to follow in thier wake. With this peculiar duo as her beacon, she did not take long to reach the rope, ears still ringing with the aftershock of Dergious' blow to the hull that'd echoed loudly-- she'd been submerged briefly at the backwash of his arrival at the ship. Why he'd be rushing out there, she had no clue-- was he, too, close to Creature? The clan? Irrelevancies all, but it helped prevent the panic that shook her as she shimmied the rope. Strong, light- rope-climbing was second nature, without her heels that lay in a pile of sodden leather back at the beach. Once she gained the deck, a swathe of bedraggled black mane was slung from her face, affording her a better view. "Creature!" No matter who was or wasn't still standing on that deck, Deilakrion was as good as bloodkin to Tenebrae, oddly bonded through some strange and unspoken understanding, and it was the elf who's wellbeing was her first priority. The elf she could not see... anywhere... "CREATURE!" Huffing for breath, drenched as a cat flung to a well, Tene slipped and stepped across the deck toward any sound that might originate with Deilakrion... And a wave chose her, of course, as its unwitting playing, knocking her back hard against the rail. Though white fingers clung hard, she was looking rather like she'd teeter back into the ocean, just then.
Dergious awakes to wind and rain and struggles to his feet while making a mental note to hurt the damned ogre. His unease on the planks beneath him is apparant as he takes one stumbling step at a time and catching his balance after each one. He stumbles towards the portal through which Deilakrion has disappears, seeking shelter himself. He pushes through the cobwebs and again drinks deep of his inner reserves of power, sharpening his reflexes and senses. He can taste the air, and feel the winds caress upon him. His balance improves and he steadies himself, alert for danger as he could not have been before. The sky rages above, and lightning is reflected in his silvered arm. Worried he might attract the deadly strikes himself, he pushes through the portal and disappears below only to find that his infravision cannot register some of the walls, meaning the area must be enormous indeed. Puzzled, he searches the darkness for the others.
Darrien was dead as night. Of course, that personification is as loaded as they come, for if the restless ocean had arms, it would be scratching feverishly in every lively region of its body. Within a small circular patch of space, the waves changed their consistency, stagnating such that it frothed there like a freshly poured glass of Guinness from the tab. The angry earth underneath the domineering waters quaked a protest that caused a desperate catharsis in the form of a powerful fountain. A body bounced limply upon that sturdy column of water, donning a plain, but smart attire. A chill wind brought another spectacle: a second, translucent Darrien, looking very much like a pointillist painting. It walked in loops and spirals - effortlessly rebelling against many laws of physics - but gravitated toward the obvious center of his corporeal body. They merged flawlessly and slowly, Darrien acquired a sense of self. "I am risen," he remarked with an atrophied voice. A few swallows later, a monstrous roar ten lions loud filled the heavy air. ~~~~~~~ He was not angry: he was inexplicably free. After only half of he power was expended, the beam of ocean began to slowly shuttle Darrien over toward the ship; it would suffice to say this was not exactly what he had in mind. He was already shaking his head. "I have just escaped the darkness and now I'm rushing toward it. I cheat death, so You cheat me back. Forcing a deal onto me was not in the script. I do not have to stay to this finale." But before Darrien could even touch his hands together to dive off, his watery vehicle sped up and all Darrien instinctively could do was try and maintain balance. It stopped abruptly at the edge of the ship and sent him stumbling onto the deck, his still-awkward legs struggling to keep him on his feet. He shot a finger and a dangerous glare at the wave which brought him in, and before he could speak, it spat a few hundred gallons of brine at him. At last, Darrien was prostrated and greeted his perspective with bloodshot eyes. He rushed for the nearest figure, which so happened to be Jaidin, maintaining balance within a certain radius by a very silly-looking dance. "What am I doing here? What are you doing here? What...should I be doing here?" The last question was most definitive and clearly the one he wanted answered. His identity would not just yet be discerned.
Saiyah was, for the most part, lost. With hammering winds and what felt like razor sharp wind, the naga had one arm to her face in a pitiful attempt to shield her face from the rain- the other holding her trident in hand. With the three-pronged weapon dug deeply into the surface of the deck, Saiyah tried to use the weapon to somewhat stablize herself while she kept from being whisked over the railing and back into the cold, harsh sea. Jaidin would go unoticed for now, and Darrien ignored, for the naga had only one thing on her mind right now; staying alive. With weak, and slow kicks of her tail, the naga made a feeble attmept at trying to get to this door that both the dwarf and Deilakrion had dissapeared into. Though her efforts were not that far off from a complete failure; with the new rain-slick surface of the deck, Saiyah slid about helplessly like a hockey puck- the stick being the strong winds of the storm. Eventually, she clawed her way with both hand and trident towards the cabin and flung herself down the stairs, not caring for who or what was down there.
Jaidin listened intently to the elf's words; no prey... He considered that a good thing, in these conditions. The idea of getting into the hull of the ship was not an appetizing thought, but if it meant protection from the elements, then he would go down into the keep... of the crashed ship... that's sinking slowly. Great. Creature got in safely for all he knew, and so he began to follow (he wasn't insane enough to stay aboard). Continuing with the hand-over-hand motions on the rail of the ship, the man made slow movements on the deck toward the keep, boots sliding about with water that not only poured from the heavens, but sloshed over the side of the boat as tidal waves berated the hulking ship and the people on it. At one point he saw Tenebrae-- her desperate screams he hoped would be appeased by his message that with all the air his lungs could intake and expel, was relayed: "In the hole!" The assassin did manage to brave removing one hand off the rail of the ship to point unerringly toward the hole in the planks of the deck that the elf had gone into. He focused then once more on slowly making his way toward it, himself. And a Dwarf entered the keep. And Saiyah used her trident to steer herself. It was getting close to being just him when a spectacle never before seen by the human, he witnessed: Darrien rise upon the sea itself to be deposited like a scolded child into a seat, upon the ship. Jaidin was then man-handled. Barely able to keep his own balance, he now had to try to do so with the newly-alive man clinging onto him and shouting questions-- when there was already enough noise wracking his ear drums. "Bard?!" he screamed back, at first baffled; he was supposed to be dead! But there was no time for that. Without the ability to withstand the stench of death or the thrashing waves any longer, he again pointed to the hole and yelled: "Get in!" There, all would be explained (as much as was able). Whether or not Darrien went along or not, Traye moved with a renewed vigor toward the hole. Another few feet and he would be in it!
Silence was loudest. It was an odd thought for the elf, who had rather clumsily gathered herself up from the --what was it, floor?-- surface under her and had stood. Darkness faced her in each direction, and warm air was cascading across her skin in timed puffs of air. Warm and moist, like the breath from another. The woman stilled, feeling the air she breathed gathering in a lump in her throat. The storm had dulled to nothing in her fall. Had she gone unconscious? She put a hand slowly to her head, but found no liquid thicker than that of the seawater. The air continued. The dark was opressive, and clung to her with all the fervor of one of the drow's shadow-globes, feeling for an opening, holding her in place as the consciousness of the dark gathered behind her, growing into a clawed monstrosity that poised ready to -- "Augghrrr!" The elf whirled in place, slashing out with her dagger. Her heart pounded erratically against her chest in a stacatto beat she had not felt in some time. Ragged. Her breath blew ragged against her own hands as she buried her head in familiarity. The pommel of the dirk was solid against her cheekbone, and she removed it. The warm air was gone, replaced with a damp coolness that bespoke of a living tomb. Deilakrion was its occupant. She had not been in many ships, a few bouts with one or two. Was this normal for a ship? She couldn't tell, but the prickling sensation from earlier had gone. She moved forward. She was in the heart of the beast now, and it rumbled at her from a distance. She would find it. When she did, she would kill it. Then, then she would find her packmates and get off of this damned hellhole.
Vael had been drawn to the coastal city by something. He didn't know what, but -something- pulled at him, bringing him nearer and nearer the raging storm. The beach was deserted by the time he arrived, though the armor cast aside by the others certainly brought pause to his steps, crouching by either set to inspect them. Tenebrae's set was all too familiar to him, and up his head snaps, seeking out her form. No where. He was truly alone on this beach. But...the ship, off in the distance? Perhaps, just perhaps...He thought to swim there, at first, and began to disarmor himself. He had his armored robes and face plate off before he finally noticed the dead birds. With a chuckle, an alternative came to mind. Forward he strode, coming to the edge of the water, prodding one of the dead avians. "Rise," he commands it, and rise it does. "You shall be the start of my bridge." Again his gaze lifted towards the ship, but soon it fell to the mass of dead birds, and his voice rises, carrying across the water, through the howling wind. "Rise! Rise and obey; shape my bridge and allow me travel!" It used to be a strange sight for the drow, to see the dead rise. But, he is nearly eight centuries old, after all, and things become accustomed to in time. Needless to say, the necromancer did not hesitate to step upon his unliving bridge, making his way to that accursed boat, to the ever-raging storm. His armored feet, even with the added weight, offered little grip once he was upon the planks, and he falls to his hands and knees. Drawing his shattered sword, he uses it to hold himself in place, his gaze turned back to the unliving avians. Something about them, something about how they suddenly flopped back into lifelessness unnerved the drow, and perhaps more than that unsettling sight. Even as they fell, he could feel a piece of him shatter. "You will not command my power," he growls, snapping his gaze back to the deck. He didn't need to look about to see where he needed to go. Still the call tugged at his mind, still it drove him to push to the abyss provided by the ship...and, with his broken sword providing his handholds, down into the darkness he goes.
Tenebrae :: It wasn't surprising so many of the others didn't notice Tene's precarious near-topple at boat's edge. Really, only a moment passed and she'd been blown over, so that her hands clung white-knuckled to rails and feet scrambled for purchase to climb back up. Hauling herself over the edge in time to stare oddly at Darrien's form, and hear Jaidin's call, follow his gesture to the stairwell that gaped not unlike a hungry, toothless mouth, she'd step around bird-bodies, not always able to miss stepping on one... "Ugh... oh.. ew..." Bare feet picked up quickly, she skittered across the deck only seconds before Vael's arrival, to follow the others down into what she presumed the hold. But as she entered the maw of the ship's belly, the uneasy, all-too-familiar prickle travelled up and down her spine, shivering her so badly she'd slip and take one of her almost inevitable tumbles.... but no hard timber met her cringing flesh, no bruises met arms flung up to protect delicate organs and features from injury. Tene fell down... as through air made of invisible, breathable oil. Indeed, the feeling was almost sensual, possibly could have been enjoyable had she not been terrified out of her wits and screaming. "What in the name of Sven's frackin' eyebags is going oooooonnnnnnn...."