I Thought You Said 'Weast'

[Şêphàrv'aïm]

The sun beat hot down on the Broken King's deck. She presumably floated lazily in the doldrums of the Sea of Diana with no significant enough breeze either way to get out of the listless waters. If it didn't pick up soon, they might have to startSeph nonchalantly scanned the deck for anyone paying attention to him. Once he was sure that no one was paying attention to him, he took a covert and heavy swig of the unwatered down rum hidden inside a thick coil of rope.

Throat burning, the bosun of the Broken King leaned against the railing of the ship and stared off across the shimmering waters. Life on the sea seemed to have lost its luster in the last few months. He blinked and saw Brach’s face as he was incinerated from the inside out. He returned his gaze back to the water and sighed. Losing people wasn’t a rarity in this profession, and it was always a difficult thing to go through, but there was something about these last couple of losses that was tearing him up inside.

The guilt and fear was welling up inside of him from the memories. He almost reached for the hidden bottle of rum again but his fist clenched and he slammed it into the wood of the railing. It wasn’t going to help him. Rum wasn’t what he needed right now. With this guilt had come a deep, aching thirst but it was not for rum or wine. When he closed his eyes and it was not Brach’s burned out eyes or Sweary Guy’s lifeless body, he had the inexplicable urge to drink blood again. The untethered, hazy memory of his last indulgence was impossible to escape. His dreams were bombarded with thoughts of drinking blood and the dead bodies of his friends. In the real horrible ones he dreamt of both.

“What is that?” The voice brought him out of his thoughts. A friend was calling, one that was still living. The quel’anthasan turned to look at his crewmate and saw the halfling Krinn standing on his toes to point over the railing at something on the horizon. Seph squinted across the water but his elf eyes did little to alleviate any confusion. He pulled out the spyglass on his belt and aimed it towards the mass.

Again, only more confusion followed. It looked like an island out there. He put down the spyglass and exchanged a look with Krinn. They had traveled this route many times and if there was to be any land within sight it would have to be coming from the exact opposite direction of this anomaly on the horizon.

 

[Malvoitre]

Malvoitre woke up in an unfamiliar place, feeling like his brain was trying to escape his skull.

"Wassat?" he said with all the intelligence he could muster as a large hand invaded his cozy rope pile and stole the bottle of rum he'd discovered the night before. He sat up, blinked, and wiped the residual drool from his face. He stared longingly at the empty space recently vacated by the bottle of liquid gold.

"Come back," the fae whimpered. Gods, how much had he had to drink last darkening? Apparently it was enough to make the ground seem like it was moving.

Malvoitre sat quietly for a moment until he was able to cast a spell that cured his headache and hangover. He breathed a sigh a of relief and took in his surroundings. Rope coil. Wood railings. Ground still moving. He'd gotten drunk and ended up a stowaway on a ship.

"Oh no, not again," he said.

Just then, the big hand returned, replacing his lifetime supply of booze to its rightful place. Malvoitre smiled. Perhaps it was going to be a good brightening after all. With that in mind, he got up and stretched, then spread his wings for flight.

Outside the rope coil he discovered an elf with a spyglass, seemingly confused by the presence of a land mass in the ocean. "What is that?" the elf had asked.

Well, if I'm a stowaway, I may as well be a helpful one, thought the fae. So, he flit his wings and flew over to the quel'anthasan, landing gingerly on the sailor's shoulder.

"I'm no expert," he said near the elf's ear, "but I think it's an island."

 

[Şêphàrv'aïm]

Were they horribly lost? Wracking his brain, the quelanthasan couldn’t think of any land mass like the one he was seeing that would be where the ship and her crew were supposed to be.



Seph flinched at the unexpected presence near his ear and swatted his hand instinctively at the source, thinking the stench of living on the sea had attracted flies. It took him a moment to process that it had spoken and he jumped back in alarm.



In the middle of the sea where one could see the placid blue water from horizon to horizon, being combat ready at a moments notice was not necessary. So the only thing Seph had to defend himself was the spyglass. He held it like a sword in between himself and what seemed to be a large talking butterfly. “The feth are you?”



Getting a better look at the thing Seph saw that it wasn’t actually a large insect. This was a fairy or pixie or whatever, he never bothered to learn the distinction of the tiny winged pests.

 

[Malvoitre]

Malvoitre felt the elf's muscles tense under his feet, so he took flight and kept his distance. The larger races typically acted surprised when encountering him for the first time. It was the same way they reacted when seeing a spider, which the fae could never understand, because spiders were a lot more frightening when you were four inches tall and looked like a bug.

The elf kept swinging his spyglass about, which made Malvoitre smile and chuckle ... until he notice the hand holding the improvised weapon. Malvoitre squinted and frowned. Yes ... it was the same hand that had stolen his rum just a few short moments ago. What kind of person stole from you and then tried to flatten you with a spyglass? But then again, he was technically a stowaway, although it wasn't his fault his bed for the night happened to be on the deck of a ship that set sail before he could wake.

"The feth am I?" Malvoitre said, addressing the elf. "I'm an accidental stowaway, but then you're a rum thief, so I guess we're even." He shrugged, then bowed politely in mid-air. "Serale, I'm Malvoitre. I fell asleep is some ropes over there and woke up on a ship at sea."

 

[charybdis]

Meanwhile the island in the distance grew more distinct against the pastels of the horizon. It was a lush thing, or so it appeared, with thick greenery nestled in its crevices and gaps. There was a jagged peak offset to the side that had the look of something formerly volcanic but now long dormant, left only as splotches of red and black rock making a patchwork down to kiss the sapphire blue sea below.

For now, the Broken King was still too far away to make out any of the particular details of this sighting of land--other than it was there, and apparently pristine in its tropical perfection, and, of course, land.

 

[Şêphàrv'aïm]

The unthreatening manner of the stowaway eased Seph’s defensive stance and the spyglass lowered between them.

He studied the creature. The night before was a drunken haze like most of his stays on land, especially lately. It wouldn’t be the first time he had accidentally brought an unintended passenger after a night like that. Although, Malvoitre wasn’t typically the type he’d invite back to the Broken King.

The quel scratched his temple with the edge of the spyglass. “Not allowed rum when we’re on duty so I’ve no idea what you’re on about.”

He let out a breath. “Well Mal, good to meet you. I’m Seph. Hope you had no pressing matters back in—“ He couldn’t remember where they had been docked last. “Er, back on shore. I’ve no fething idea where we are at the moment.”

Seph looked around for Captain Rorn, hoping he would know what to do about this island that wasn’t supposed to be there.

 

[Rhyton]

OOC: Thank you for letting me join, Sepharvaim ^^

Unlike everyone who seemed to be confused as to their current predicament, Rhyton was fully aware of his place aboard the Broken King.

After falling victim to something of a scam and a game of chance, the bull had no choice but to honor his debt to the captain of the ship. So he packed his meager possessions, his precious grimoire, and labored aboard. Not that his chores were particularly difficult. Aside from occasionally slipping or tripping on the top deck, Rhyton quite enjoyed the sensation of being at sea. There was a peacefulness to it.

Though the peace and quiet was largely due to the fact that everyone else gave him a large berth. Rhyton wasn't even sure if the humans and elves onboard knew that he could speak Common. As far as the island was concerned, the minotaur hadn't noticed since he was below deck when the chatter and commotion took place, asleep among the cargo.

 

[Malvoitre]

Malvoitre smirked at the elf and decided he liked him. He swore like a human and drank like a soldier - two behaviours Mal was familiar with in the larger races. He also seemed to have issues with memory, with the little fae could appreciate.

"Nice to meet you, Seph. I'm gonna go take a closer look at the island."

Introductions having been accomplished, the fae drifted off, flying higher and a little closer to the island itself to see if he could get a better view. He observed the rocks, vegitation, and the funny little peak off to one side. He cocked his head and frowned. "Looks like a turtle," he said to the breeze. But then again, most islands floating around in the middle of the ocean looked like some sort of sea creature.

 

[charybdis]

On first inspection, the island was exactly that: nothing more than a volcanic peak in the middle of the Sea of Diana that just barely broke above the line of blue. It was large enough to have grown its own forest and, presumably, maybe even housed a few types of nomadic life, but couldn't have taken the average man more than a few hours to walk around the circumference. There was nothing particularly out of the ordinary on the island either, nor was there anything of actual note. It was, for all intents and purposes, a very common speck of land that most would only so generously call an island out of the sheer fact that they could see it, if they drew as close as the Broken King was now.

And then, like that, it was gone, as if it had never even existed.

None of the other sailors on the Broken King seemed to care or even notice. The sails were being manned and the decks were being swabbed and, from all appearances, it was just another day. "Seph!" bellowed a crewmate, a dark-skinned nairu that they had picked up in the dregs of Port Alyxandrya and had insisted the name his mother had given him was Baby. He was most of the deck's distance away from the Trelorean but had paused his current task, bucked filled with refuse and all, to spare the other a quizzical, confused look. "Whatcha on about?"

 

[Şêphàrv'aïm]

Seph followed Mal with his eyes, wondering if he should stop him. Mysterious islands that came out of no where were not necessarily safe to go exploring on a whim. Just as he might have called out to his new crew mate the entire thing just vanished. There was no physical effect, no displacement of water, not even a sound. The abruptness shocked the quel'anthasan enough for him to step back from the rail of the ship and drop the spyglass to the deck. "What the feth?"

Seph turned away from the open sea towards his crew to find them going about their duties. No one was reacting to the appearance and subsequent disappearance of the land mass. "Ai Lýgions! Wake up!" He shouted, accidentally speaking Elvish as he often did when he was upset. "Something's fethy going on here."

When Baby spoke to him he stared at the nairu for a good couple seconds before speaking. "Baby, I'm gonna be honest with you." He put a purple hand on the man's dark shoulder. "I've been drinking, but I swear there was a fething island right there." He gestured wildly at the place where the island was and caught the flutter of wings. Malvoitre had at least seen it, it had to have been something. A shared hallucination? Wait. Was Malvoitre even actually there?

"Baby, please tell me you can see a small man with butterfly wings over there." He pointed at Malvoitre.

 

[Malvoitre]

Malvoitre blinked, and the island disappeared. A lopsided grin took over his face.

"Neat trick," he said to no one in particular. The disappearance seemed to be causing a stir on the ships deck, however, so he turned around to see Seph looking concerned.

"He must be new here," the fae thought to himself. "Whole cities disappear at least once an era, so a tiny island is small potatoes."

He thought about telling Seph as much, but since the sailor was currently in the process of calling a grown man Baby, he decided to give the two some privacy. Instead, he zipped up the main sail and perched atop it, hoping for a better view of what might have cause the island to disappear. He also inhaled deeply, wondering if he could catch the scent of any arcana being used.

 

[Rhyton]

Rhyton awoke with a deep growl.

Those puny softskins were being loud again. The minotaur flicked his horned head with displeasure as he stretched his enormous arms, feeling the soreness from yesterday's hard labor aboard the King. When his pale gold red eyes adjusted to the dark, he sighed deeply knowing that it was too late to chase his sleep. With some effort, he rose into a seated position and took stock of his surroundings.

If not for the captain's 'generosity', Rhyton knew that there were far less comfortable places for his cot on the ship. So he was grateful for at least that much. Though the wooden bellow of the Empire's least threatening pirate vessel was hardly luxury, Rhyton quite enjoyed the quiet. At least, he was enjoying some peace and quiet. But sea rats were not exactly known for their vows of silence. The commotion seemed to involve some kind of sighting.

Reluctantly and a little begrudgingly, Rhyton finally rose and gave up on the prospect of sleep once and for all. He had to be careful not to clip the ceiling of the King's belly. Umblat knew that the ship's carpenters were growing tired of seeing horn marks wherever he went. Towering over eight feet tall and garbed with nothing but trousers and a long, shaggy coat of black-grey fur, his presence was normally intrusive as it was intimidating. But having been scammed to do scutwork for an entire journey definitely dampened his first impression with the privateers.

When he reached topside, Rhyton had to squint and raised his palm to momentarily block out the blazing suns overhead. The minotaur looked around for the Captain to see what the noise was all about.

 

[charybdis]

"What?" Still being relatively new to the crew also meant that the nairu was less than accustomed to the other members' habits, particularly those that surfaced in moments of distress. He dropped his gaze and shook his head, muttering something in his own native tongue and yet slipping in a particularly choice phrase of "dumb elves" clearly in Common before glancing back up at Seph. "What?!" he shouted again, this time louder. "You lost it or sommat?"

Baby frowned, something dark and powerful, and then tightened his grip on the handle of his bucket before making a few looping steps in the Trelorean's direction. There was still enough distance between them that the bellowing sounds of the rest of the Broken King's crew and the ocean surrounding them was enough to still muddle most of what they attempted to yell back and forth as if it sufficed for conversation. "What? Drinking? Where?" the bronzed man shouted out at the top of his voice, drawing the attention of another small gaggle of crewmates at the particular mention of beverage.

"An island? Where?" Baby kept repeating, and not with much in the way of increasing sense being made. At the mention of a little winged man, however, he spun around in the vague direction that Seph had pointed and in the process hit his bucket against the rather large and solid form of the minotaur, Rhyton--who also didn't move. As a result, the refuse in the bucket splashed out the top end and all over Rhyton's leg, leaving a stain and a most horrid smell in the process.

"Ah, elot," the nairu swore, again in his native tongue, as he realized the consequences of his mistake. He bent down and was about to start wiping it off with his own hands before he realized that that, too, would be an even greater mistake. "It's all that drunk's fault!" Baby shouted, motioning with his free hand over toward Seph.

Above them, Malvoitre saw the horizon blink and wiggle and then as if retrieved from an invisible pocket, the same volcanic island formed into shape once again. The scent of magic was absolutely overwhelming, tinged as it was with salt and the wafts of rotten waste now spilled and spread out below.

 

[Rhyton]

Rhyton growled and he was about to fault the sailor when the once-empty blues of the distance horizon quivered. And suddenly before them was no longer the expanse of ocean running from east to west.

"LAND!", barked the minotaur as he tried to kick the refuse and waste away from his pant leg. After realizing that the stain, along with the foul smell was unlikely to get washed until they reached land, Rhyton hurled his trousers overboard so that he wore only braies. If that didn't get the attention of the men aboard the King, then the damned fools deserved to be lost at sea.

 

[Malvoitre]

Malvoitre watched the island reform and inhaled the sweet, heady scent of magic being done at a large scale. He grinned and laughed, doing a quick mid-air back flip to celebrate.

"Oooooh yeah, that's the good stuff," he said excitedly. He zipped back down to report his findings to Seph, but instead he found a mostly naked man with the head of a bull. He blinked a few times to make sure the bull man wouldn't disappear like the island had.

"This is a very strange ship," he said to the minotaur. "Reappearing rum. Disappearing islands. Purple elves. Babies the size of grown men. And now you. Are ... are you magic?"

Mal inhaled deeply, hoping to get another hit of magic from the strange beast, but he instantly regretted it. Rather than the sweet smell of magic, his nostrils were filled with the disgusting scent of rotting waste. His eyes watered as he coughed close to retching, flying farther back from the minotaur.

"Gods no," he said, blanching. "Opposite. Opposite of magic. So opposite, bathing is highly recommended."

He waved his hand in front of his face, trying to clear up the stench. "Anyway, the island. Someone over there is using a whole lot of magicks. Best be careful. Or not. Couldn't be any stranger than what's going on around here."

 

[Şêphàrv'aïm]

The chaos that ensued was not unexpected. The crew was usually quite rowdy, the tranquility moments before all of this was certainly not the norm. He gave Baby a disparaging look. He should have appealed to a more senior member of the crew who knew Seph from an amateur drunkard.

"Oh fething..." The man with the ridiculous name had spilled the shitbucket all over a...large bull-man. No, the stripping minotaur was the least of his problems. First he would address the disappearing island, then the presence of all the different sized strangers on the ship. He took several steps away from the nairu man and covered his nose. The stench was foul. Seph glared at Baby. "Are you blind, mate? Can't see giant disappearing islands or a fething minotaur under your nose?"

The minotaur's exclamation of land brought his attention back to the sea and sure enough that island had reappeared. There was small relief as Seph now had at least one more set of eyes acknowledge the island's existence. He put the silver bosun's whistle between his lips and blew hard, demanding the attention of the clamoring crew. "Ai! Someone get our useless captain!"

 

[charybdis]

"And you think that's my fault, 'ey?" the nairu shot back, glaring heatedly at Seph before his attention swept inevitably back the minotaur. "What are you doing on the ship, anyway? Who are you?" Baby tossed in Rhyton's direction. "Better yet, what are you?" By now the bucket was completely forgotten, though its contents and the smell they carried were anything but. The sailor growled another curse in his native tongue before swinging his hands wildly at the entire collection of pestering oddities. "To Aeternia with all of you." The angered venom was clear enough in his voice as he tossed another wave of his hands in their direction before turning away and disappearing--or at least as well as he could when confined to the borders of the Broken King.

From the decks and up the ladders came another bellow, this one far more familiar to the likes of Seph. "What's all this?" Captain Rorn shouted himself, loud enough to be heard over the din of the sailors and the roll of the sea. The hatch was thrown open and Rorn stepped out, glancing from one face to another in an attempt to answer his own question.

And in the distance, that same arcanically-infused island blinked out of existence, again, leaving only blank horizon and water in its place. This time, though, Malvoitre could make out that the tendrils of scent remained despite its lack--and perhaps even grew stronger in its absence, all pointing to where they had seen the dot of land just a few moments before.

 

[Rhyton]

Rhyton grumbled when the softskin who called himself 'Baby' acted like his namesake.

The minotaur felt the familiar anxiety boiling in the pit of his stomach. His past life as a slave conditioned him to be a meek and capable servant. While he was now freed from shackles and irons, Rhyton still felt unease whenever there was a confrontation. Instinctively, he bowed his horned head and swore inwardly.

Fortunately, Captain Rorn emerged from his cabin. Rhyton straightened up again to his full height.

"Land, captain," said the minotaur in his gravely voice. "The men and I saw it." He pointed toward the hollow space where the dot of greenery and sand once sat. As someone who was unaccustomed to magic and witchcraft, Rhyton did not even attempt to explain how the tropical island kept blinking in and out of existence.

Hopefully someone else on the crew can make heads or tails of their situation.

 

[Malvoitre]

Malvoitre inhaled the sweet, sweet smell of magic again. He grinned and wondered who could be making such wonderful smells.

The fae looked around at his companions and sighed. He was being ignored again.

The big folks didn't seem interested in his input and would rather talk among themselves about what to do next. He shrugged and decided to make his own experiment.

He flew over the water toward the disappearing island, targeted the smell, and worked up a spell. It was a simple one, just a small orb of light about the size of his head. After it formed, he pushed it toward the smell of magic. He wanted to see what would happen once his spell hit the area where the island was supposed to be.

 

[Şêphàrv'aïm]

Seph glared at the space where the island had been. Someone or something was playing games with them. He let the minotaur explain the situation to Rorn and looked up to the Crow's nest. Maybe he would be able to get a better read of the situation from there. If anyone was in there they would have to make room.

Seph picked his spyglass off of the deck and began climbing the mast up toward the Crow's Nest. At the very least it would smell better up there.

Once in the basket Seph would scan the area where the island kept appearing and disappearing with his spyglass for any clue of what was going on.