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The deck of his ship groaned beneath Captain Gareth Southwind's feet as rain lashed against the timbers. It was a full-fledged gale, and the Captain wasn't happy about being caught in the middle of it. The ship nosed upward as it crashed into another wave, sending salt water rushing over the deck. A flash of lightning illuminated the ship for a brief moment, giving the captain a quick view of the steersman next to him. The captain patted the man on the shoulder, and yelled over the wind, “I'll send Gripper up to relieve you soon! Steady as she goes, I want to see that damned island when this clears!”
With that, he turned and hurried into his cabin and out of the blinding rain. He peeled off his soaked coat and, with a groan of relief, sank into an overstuffed chair. “I'm getting too old for this...” he muttered. In truth, Captain Southwind wasn't terribly old. He was nearing 40, but many would consider him to be a handsome man. His brown hair wasn't yet touched by gray, though there were several lines and wrinkles in his face that he wished would disappear. His clothing was fading finery: a silk shirt long stained a dull yellowish-brown, much worn leather pants, and calf-length black boots. At his waist he wore a pistol that was mostly for show, as his near-sightedness made him a poor shot. He was, however, skilled in the use of the rapier that he wore on his other hip.
“You? Never!” replied a playful female voice. It belonged to his first mate, one Setra Sweet. Her red hair flickered attractively in the lamplight as she studied a map tacked onto the wall. “Unless you mean getting too old for slaving? Because I think we've all had enough of that,” she continued, shifting her weight to accommodate the roll of the ship.
In his chair, the captain frowned. “It's not slaving, and I don't like it any more than you. It's more of a... transport contract. It's none of my concern what we are transporting...” he finished lamely.
Setra sighed and gave the captain an unconvinced glare. “At best it's kidnapping! It's one thing to sink an enemy ship, because they'd do the same to us if they could. It's one thing to steal cargo, we gotta make a living. They don't call us pirates for nothing. But this.... this is gonna catch up to us. And when it does-”
“Okay okay! I get it!” shouted the captain. “Fact is both Alliance and Horde ships are patrolling the seas more than ever now that that weird Pandaria continent was discovered! It's hard for a pirate to make an honest living... Er... you know what I mean. I had to do something to keep me, you, and the rest of the crew fed and paid! This guy offered me a sweet deal and I took it. Sure, I didn't know ALL the details at the time, but it's paid well so far. But I agree, I don't like it... I'll tell the contact we're out after this shipment.”
Setra relaxed visibly and smiled, tossing a long lock of hair over her shoulder. “You made the right decision, Captain. I'll be going now and make sure things are running smoothly below decks.”
Gareth smiled and made a beckoning gesture with one hand. “Why not stay and keep me company instead?”
Setra's own smile widened as she walked across the room and placed a hand on the door leading to the deck. “That didn't work the first time, what makes you think it'll work a hundred times later?” With that, she confidently stepped out into the night.
Gareth sighed as he watched her go. He didn't think his corny line would work, but he really needed something to distract himself from the fact that the holds below were crammed with chained captives - captives that he was transporting to what was most likely an untimely end on an uncharted island.
In his cabin, Gareth frowned slightly at the lookout's announcement. The storm had finally died out several hours ago, leaving in its wake a sheeting drizzle and thick fog. Gareth drained the last of his drink and crossed his cabin to the door, grabbing his now-dry blue riding coat from near the door. He swung it over his shoulders and exited onto the deck, moving swiftly to stand next to the helmsman.
“Dammit, Gripper, you've nearly got us on the rocks! Bring her around you idiot, before we're swimming to shore.”
“I am, I am, it's the damned fog. By the time we sighted the island we were nearly on top of it! But I've got her under control, we'll be putting into the bay soon enough,” replied the tired steersman. Satisfied his ship was not about to smash into the side of the island, Gareth patted Gripper on the back and stepped away. He gave the island an appraising glance as it loomed out of the fog.
Most of what could be seen were rocky cliffs. They weren't too high, but they were jagged and treacherous. As far as Gareth had seen, the bay they were making for was the only safe area to moor a ship. There was a small beach to one side of the bay, though there were no signs of habitation anywhere. Along the tops of the cliffs short, windblown trees could be seen, mostly of the evergreen variety.
Gareth surveyed it all quickly, and nothing seemed amiss. He turned and walked toward the entrance of the interior of his ship. As he did, Setra fell into step behind him, roused from her own cabin by the lookout's cry of land. She wanted to give the captain as much back-up as possible, for it was time to rouse the slaves and transport them onto the island.
For his part, Gareth hated transporting living being to be used as... well, honestly he wasn't sure what the inhabitants of the island did with his cargo. But it was a choice between selling off his beloved ship and sending his crew to where ever they may go, or turning to this unsavory work when it was offered to him. He wasn't proud of this decision, but his actions couldn't be undone, either.
Gareth steeled himself, then walked into the cargo hold, where row upon row of captives sat, chained to the floor or wall by metal collars around their necks. Armed guards sat on boxes, keeping a close eye on them. The hold was damp and stifling, and many of the captives seemed listless after their long journey, though in some of the eyes a bright spark of defiance still shone clearly. Gareth picked up a nearby spittoon and rapped it several times with his rapier, catching the attention of the captives.
Gareth did not allow a hint of compassion to break through his cold mask as he said in a businesslike voice, “Alright, we've reached our destination. Soon, you are all going to be transported from my ship and onto solid ground. From there, you're not my problem any more. So good luck to you.”
As he spoke, the guards pulled long chains from the boxes they has been sitting on. They swiftly attached the chains to each captive's collar while simultaneously detaching them from the ship. Now they were no longer anchored to anything but each other. Gareth nodded in approval and gave the signal to move up top.
The guards began prodding and pushing the captives roughly, herding them to the deck of the ship.
Naerdiel stare straight ahead, looking around she saw all manners of race's within the cargo hold of this ship. Straining her neck against the chain she growls lightly.
Staring down at her chest she close's her eye's" Damn you and your kind soul! it will get you killed or worse!" her mother would say. The image of a her squealing and running from her friends flashed into her head for a moment.
Before being brutally reawakened by a man stood holding a spittoon and rapier, listening she feels the hair on the back of her neck rise. Standing slightly she bare's her teeth and hiss's as her face take's a slightly feline appearance. A guard points his weapon at her as she calms herself.
Staring at the weapon she sits down. When she was suddenly yanked to her feet by the same guard. Staring at him she growls at the man and attempts to scratch him using her long nails. He pulls his hand back and hits her in the back of the head, hard enough she was seeing stars. Allowing herself to attach the chain after that episode. Being brought up to the deck she take's a deep breath, breathing in fresh air, she smiled slight" If only i was not chained, I would and could be gone..." Staring straight ahead now, she actually attempts to stare at the other people on board the ship especially the other captive's on the ship. Building up the courage she once again calls out " I am a member of the Cenarion Circle! I am not part of the war, I seek only to protect nature, I demand you release me!" Planting her feet she holds her ground awaiting any response from ether other captive's or the captain of the ship.
((So how was that? I think i still might have grammar issues but ya....tried my best :P ))
Edited by Rakmisuul on 12/2/2012 10:03 PM PST
She had been waiting for her sister's arrival from Rut'theran Village when she had stumbled into the mess that had landed her in chains. Literally stumbled - the young Novice was known for being a klutz, a trait made worse when she was startled or frightened. If she hadn't tripped over the hem of her rough-spun linen Novice's robes, Maj was certain she would have made it to the Harbor Guards...
...Zpan was going to murder the Guards when she realized what had happened; her sister would be expecting her to be there and when she found out that she was missing. The Novice prayed fervently to the Light that her sister would keep her temper...or if that failed, the Guards would have enough sense to run... To be on the safe side, she included her Worgen-cursed friend Marguax in her prayers to keep a calm head.
Marguax would know something was wrong when Maj didn't return for her evening prayers, didn't show up for morning chores and prayers.
She didn't think they'd know where to look at first though - given the number of captives in the small hold. The air damp and stifling, making the atmosphere oppressive. The small teen had been chained to the floor and had curled herself up in the corner as much as the chain attached to the collar around her neck would let her.
The girl didn't remember much of the time before the orphanage, but ingrained instinct made her try to draw as little attention to herself as possible now that she was chained to the floor. Curling up into a smaller, harder to hit target, she peered out warily into the hold when after what seemed like what should have been a year's worth of travel, thy were told they had reached their destination.
Her eyes scrunched closed as the guard approached, yanking on the chain on her collar, swapping it out with another that connected her to two other captives. The knowledge that there were undead in the hold with her, along with who knew what else kept her eyes closed and her shoulders hunched up in fear. She didn't want to see what she was chained too. What if it was one of those Forsaken? Or---or what if it was an Orc!
She stumbled a bit as she was prodded forward, out of the hold, up the stairs....and into fresh air. The damp breeze was cool, soothing and heavy with salt.
And then a woman's voice rang out, demanding to be released. The Cenarion Circle? Were these pirates really crazy enough to not just kidnap Alliance and Horde citizens but also that of those well-known and respected neutral Druids?
Edited by Majustu on 12/3/2012 11:12 AM PST
As soon as the collar came off Arelius, he lept toward the nearest guard. For a brief moment the guard was surprised, but he regained himself and dealt Arelius a blow to his stomach with the blunt end of his sword. Arelius could only groan in agony, though fire still burned through his eyes.
" Try that again and it be the sharp side of my sword going through your stomach!" yelled the guard.
Still on the floor, Arelius spat at the man's feet, for it was all he could do. He knew he could burn the man to a pile of smoldering ash but there was something that was holding his magic away from him.
His father's words flashed through his mind. "PATIENCE, my son. Anger and quick action will get yourself killed if not controlled!"
"And wasn't that the truth" thought Arelius. His temper had gotten him in this mess. Only days ago, he was happily waiting for his Airship to take him to the island in the mist. Had he just walked away, he wouldn't be in this position.
He felt at his chains and pulled himself to his feet. He was at the back of the line of prisoners, he could see that much. Calming himself, he tried to reach out to the person in front of him.
"You, in front of me," he whispered, "What is your name?"
(tryin to get some interaction with the other characters)
Edited by Delonn on 12/2/2012 10:24 PM PST
Dristis sat quietly on the ship he was captive on. He was ashamed in himself. He had been over run by enemy combatants on a false mission that the Ebon Blade mistakenly gave him. He was easily outnumbered twenty to one, but he was still upset with himself. Others were talking, murmuring. The guards were armed and watching them. He couldn't cast any frost spells without getting himself or others killed, so that was out of the option. He didn't know anyone else on the ship, not caring enough to make the effort.
The cry for land was given, he cracked his eyes. The door opened and the ship's captain stepped in, banging metal to get their attention. He listened intently for anything noticeable about their landing. Maybe he'd be able to tell where they were...
They were ordered to rise, and began shuffling off the ship. He remained silent.
Adrian Octavian sat on the ship, mostly silent. Plotting, thinking. He wasn't quite ashamed. It was mostly his fault. He was in a drunken stupor and was attacked, quickly clobbered over the head and waking up chained to a number of others. He was asleep most of the trip, but he didn't know whether it was from the alcohol or the slightly bloody head wound he sustained.
"It smells in here." he said aloud. He didn't expect any responses. People were always so gloomy. He began drumming his hands, and the order for land was heard. After a rousing speech by the captain, they were standing and shuffling out to land.
A guard struck the Marksman on the back of the neck. Out of combat instinct, Adrian turned swiftly and drove the top of his forehead into the guard's nose, causing it to explode in a brilliant red. He brought his foot down on the guard's chest before getting apprehended and beaten thoroughly. Kicked, punched, clubbed. You name it. He was eventually let out, and stood up, spitting blood next to the guard he assaulted.
"I didn't know my GRANDMOTHER was in this ship." he was swiftly struck across the face, he pouted sarcastically and continued out.
Dristis was walking calmly. A commotion ahead with a guard and fellow prisoner. The guard was headbutted and thoroughly beaten before the assailant was apprehended. Something about this guy struck a chord with Dristis...
"I didn't know my GRANDMOTHER was in this ship."
He'd recognize that drunken slur anywhere.
"Adrian! What are you doing here?"
Adrian turned, perplexed at someone calling his name, only to discover it was his brother. "Oh hey, dead brother. What brings you 'round these parts?"
Dristis shrugged, and Adrian grinned. They'd properly reunite when they were released. Until then, it was just a matter of getting there.
Lia and Teron.
Location: Stranglethorn Vale
A gun shot fired, a troll falling back into the sand with a nice sized hole in his head, his face a mask of shock as blood slowly ran down his scalp and into his hair before going into the sand. The one who shot him stood there, rifle still raised, a Hunter clanned in black, wicked armor with four red slits for eyes as they stared at the body with disgust. It was a female, the armor made to fit her athletic form, her stance strong. "Are you done back there?" The woman would ask, mostly directed at a rogue that crouched down over a dead Troll Leader's body, searching it.
"Yea yea....give me a moment...has to be here...somewwhhhheeer--Ah! Got it!" The man would be wearing brown leather armor, fitted to suit the profession that he had taken up years ago. Beside him, a long katana like blade would lay in the sand, covered in blood and bits of gore hanging on the serrated edge of the blade. He'd pull out a strange looking artifact with a clawed gauntlet and raising it to show the Huntress behind him "There, now we can go BACK to Booty Bay, and get paid...does that make you happy?" He'd be smirking, but said smirk would be hiding under a metal mask that went over his mouth and nose.
The Huntress scoffed, the Rogue sighing at the response "C'mon Lia....could you for once stop being so serious?". The woman, other wise known as Lia, turned on her Rogue friend, a scowl hidden under her helm "Serious, Teron? I'm being serious because we are VERY closed to troll ruins AANNNDD killed one of their leaders. Any moment now they are going to come out of there and seek--" she was cut off as a charging troll approached them, a wicked dagger in her hand. Lia quickly pulled a small leaver which pulled a small panel on the side of her rifle back to discharge an empty bullet shell and replace it with another shot before raising it with one hand, aiming, and as soon as he got close enough.....she shot him in the face.
Turning back to Teron as if nothing really happened, she'd continue speaking "--Revenge for their lost leader....like that poor fool there" she'd gesture with her rifle at the now very dead troll in the sand. Teron sighed, sliding the item into a waist bag, raising his hands to rest them upon her shoulders "Alright, fine, fair enough. Now lets go before that actually happens...Yeeeessshh?". Once again, the Huntress scoffed "Dork..." the rogue smiled at her response "You know I'm a lovable and huggable dork...admit it". Lia simply turned around "Nope....just a dork..."
Teron watched her go, throwing his hands in the air and letting out a mock sigh in frustration "I just can't seem to win with you, woman!". The woman couldn't help but smile at his actions and words, always being the jester of the two...they made a good combo, she needed a fun person like him around to keep her in check every once and a while, to balance off her some what cold attitude. As she walked (Teron running to catch up with her) the bushes near by rustled as one of Lia's Spirit Beasts, Starstrike, appeared. The fur around his mouth would be red with blood, obvious signs that he had been causing havoc to trolls that had been trying to sneak up on the pair.
"Had a good hunt, Star?" she'd ask the leopard. Star's answer was a simple belch.
Edited by Liå on 12/3/2012 1:36 PM PST
An hour late at the Tavern of Booty Bay
The sun would have most certainly be setting in the skies, slowly starting to dip into the ocean and away from sight. Teron and Lia would have been making their way towards the Tavern, talking and discussion today's 'job' that they were doing for a Goblin which said for them to meet the two when they had the artifact. As they entered, their eyes quickly fell upon the goblin who hired them. It was male, dressed up in what seemed to be a leather jacket and a wide brimmed hat, finished off with some leather shorts and a rather shinny pair of leather boots...
Teron was the one to speak first, walking over and placing the relic infront of the goblin, who would have been looking at some parchment in his hand while a drink would be in his left "There, one Toll artifact...the one you requested I believe". The Goblin looked at the two elves, looking them over quickly before looking at the relic and taking it, inspecting it closely. He would do this for a while, taking a small bite of it, murmuring words under his breath, jotting down notes on the same parchment he had been reading (which the two now know was proof reading). Suddenly, he would slam down the relic and grin "Fantastic!"
The two would have to admit, they did jump a little, but other than that just remained quiet as the goblin turned to look at them "Good job, I do believe payment is in order..." he would reach behind him, pulling off what seemed to be a decent size bag of gold and chuck it on the bar "Five thousand gold pieces...as promised. May that be your payment...now excuse me...time to look at this relic a bit more..." with that, the goblin would hop off the chair, take the relic, and retreat to the corner of the room, where he would continue to inspect the relic.
Teron pulled down his mask and turned to smile at Lia, whom of which was removing her helm and returned his smile. The two sat down and began to split up their share of the reward, carefully, making sure they both got a fair share of what they earned. They may have decided to live the life of mercenaries when they left the Farstriders, and the Horde, but that didn't mean that they weren't fair to each other, they were more sensible than that. "There" Teron started, scooping his split of the payment into his coin bag "Two thousand and five hundred gold each."
Lia would have been scooping her own money into her purse, but before she scooped all of it in, she stopped herself, four gold coins remaining on the counter as she seemed to have thought of an idea. The rogue beside her would raise a brow, obviously curious as what she might be thinking "Lia?". The Huntress looked up at the man, grinning slyly as she left the four coins on the counter and placed her purse back in it's rightful place once more; in her bag "How about we have ourselfs a bit of a reward for our efforts...four rounds of drinks, my shout, how about it?"
Teron gave her a somewhat surprised look "Isn't it the man suppose to ask the lady if she wanted a drink, and pay for it never the less?". Lia chuckled "C'mon, Shifter...might be the only chance it ever happens to you in your life" she'd give him a teasing grin, using the nickname she and her friends liked to call him. He earned it for in combat, he'd be in one place at one moment, and then another in the next, some what like her Spirit Beasts. The name would never grow old for her, and Teron never really minded anyway.
"Fine" Teron raised his hands "You win. Four rounds, go for it" Lia chuckled, waving her hand to catch the bar keepers attention. It would be a goblin, as per usual, who approached, cleaning a mug as he looked at the two "What can I get ya?". Lia would slide the four coins over "Four rounds of your strongest beer, rum, ale, or brew, heck, even all four in a different mug. Think that would be fine for me and my friend here?" The goblin stared at the woman, having to go over the order she gave him a few times before sweeping the coins away "Comin' right up".
While the Goblin left to fill in his request, another goblin, more shady that most that were in the Tavern already, would have approached him "Psst, a buddy..." The Bar Keeper looked away from what he was doing to answer the whisper. By the look he gave, it was obvious that he knew the shady fellow that called him "Wut you want now, Griz?"
Edited by Liå on 12/3/2012 1:36 PM PST
"It's about those elves over there...I happen to have a fella that is look for some strong heros to sell as slaves, paying good too...well...not sure if it's actually for slavery, but still...". The Bar Keeper side, turning to face the man again "Griz, when are you gonna stop with these? I got a bar to run, and it will look bad if my customers started to vanish because I listened to another one of your foolish offers again...".
Griz's grin only grew wider "Think about the money! All the cash we can rack in from handing over those two? Bucket loads!" he sunk his hand into his robes to pull out a vial of bleach white powder "All you need to do...is put this in their drink, I can handle the rest". The Bar Keeper turned, eyeing the vial with the look of disapproval in his eyes. Sighing in defeat, he swiped the vial from the fellow "Fine, Griz, I'll do it...but only because I need the cash.." Griz chuckled "I knew you would see it my way!"
A few drinks later....
Lia giggled as she downed her third drink. She wasn't drunk, but she was pretty tipsy, along with Teron, who's face would be pressed fully against the bar "Yep...there's the buzz alright...ooooh the joys of alcohol..." he'd say, sitting up and sniffing before finishing his own drink. Lia would have set her's aside and take the last drink that she had ordered "Alright...fourth round, c'mon...let's do it.."
With a sigh escaping his lips, Teron picked up the last mug, raising it to his nose and giving it a sniff "Rum alright...when you're ready..." The Huntress nodded, raising her mug to her friend "Cheers...to a good future, and good earned coin." The Assassin raised his own mug, nodding "I can drink to that...cheers!" It was then the two began to down the mug fast, drinking the beverage in one go before they both slammed their mugs down at the same time.
Lia raised her hand to her head, giggling gleefully "Well...I think that's enough...let's get some sleep.." she begins to rise, using the bar to support herself as she did so. Teron, on the other hand, was having a bit more trouble. As soon as he stood, he took two steps forward before he staggered...then stumbled...and then fell flat on his face. This caught Lia's attention quickly, her attention snapping towards the now unconscious man on the floor, worry suddenly filling her heart.
"Sh...Shifter?.." she'd say, her vision becoming blurred, fuzzy, she found it hard to focus, hard to walk, she felt....dizzy...
One moment, she was walking towards her friend, the next, she was on the floor, staring up at the roof, confused, disorientated, wondering what was happening to her and her partner. The last thing she remembered was a man walking to stand over her, any words said would have been taken as muffled noise in her ears. And then....everything turned to darkness as she fell deep into unconsciousness.
A flutter of light caught the woman's eye....at first hazy...but slowly fading back into darkness.
There was a voice...it was Teron's voice....he sounded close....but where was he?
Lia's eyes shot open. She sat up, way to quick that she could have. Teron sat beside her, his face full of worry "Are you okay?" Lia looked around the ship, confused, almost frightened "Where...what...I feel.." She didn't have time to complete the sentence, for there was a gut wrenching feeling her stomach that caused her a lot of pain, slowly making it's way upwards to her throat. "Teron...I think I'm going...to be sick.." she'd say, suddenly doubling over in pain.
Teron could do nothing but watch his friend, unable to do anything to ease her pain. "Lia...calm down..you're going to be oka--" he was cut off, Lia suddenly turning, leaning over, and emptying everything she had eaten and drank from the time in the bar to now all onto the floor.
Edited by Liå on 12/3/2012 1:36 PM PST
Given that Freda Earlyfrost was not among the strongest of swimmers, not that dwarves are particularly buoyant to begin with, she had a fierce dislike for boats. Even ones where she wasn’t chained to the floor. She had spent the majority of the miserable voyage fighting off both intense seasickness and the remnants of whatever the hell it was they slipped into her ale.
That was the only conclusion that the marksman could come up with as to how she had landed in this mess- one moment she had been killing time between jobs in Menethil with a quiet pint at the inn, when she noticed her stout tasted off. Thinking that the cheap humans who were running the place were watering down the drinks, she got up to “have a word” with the bartender and nearly toppled over as soon as her feet hit the floor. Her head was spinning more than any self-respecting dwarf’s should have been after a single pint and as she slumped to the ground she saw a few “good Samaritans” from the next table over get up to “help” her. That was the last thing she remembered before waking up in this leaky death trap.
Freda had no idea what the pirates had nabbed such an exotic collection (she thought she spotted an elf and maybe a draenei across the gloomy hull) of races for, but she doubted it was to take them on a luxurious tropical vacation. The guards had been pretty tight lipped about it too; they wouldn’t even tell her what they had done with her damn dog. Of course they had stripped everything useful from her, her pack, her ammo, her rifles, her shotgun, even her simple jewelers’ kit! What in the name of the Titans was she supposed to do with a jewelers’ kit? Pick the locks?
Pick the locks! As soon as she hit upon the idea a plan began to take root in her head. Freda fumbled with her pockets for a few seconds, trying to look nonchalant about it, before she realized what she was doing. If her hands weren’t attached to the floor with chains so short they made scratching her nose a chore, she could have smacked herself upside the head for being so dim. They took the whole damn kit, you idiot, she chastised herself mentally, Stop being such a trogg and think of something actually useful!
It was no use though, this was as tight a spot as Freda had ever found herself in and she was still wracking her brain for a solution when what she could only assume was the captain of the tub came down and gave his inspiring little speech. The dwarf didn't like it none that he was as vague as ever about what they had been taken for, but before she could protest the guard nearest her unhooked her shackles from the floor and hauled her bodily to her feet; not an easy task as the stout woman was as heavy as the stone that had birthed her race. He clamped her in irons between two other hostages.
Of course they were both freakishly tall and of course the slavers didn’t have chains to properly fit someone of Freda’s… particular stature. With almost no slack in front of or behind her, it was all the marksman could do to keep from being strangled. She growled irritably at the guard, “Ain’t any a’ye inconsiderate, unwashed ruffians got chains that fit? I’m choking here! Light knows we be half dead after sitting in this wet, smelly hole for so long. Ye want these,” she rattled the chains for effect, “Ta finish the job?”
The guard ignored her constructive criticisms of their operation and shoved her forward, forcing her to shuffle along with the rest of the captives. Freda wasn’t about to go quietly to who-the-hell-knows-what fate though, and as she was herded past the captain she dug the heavy heels of her boots into the floor boards, her substantial weight making her an effective anchor. Twisting around to look toward the captain she shouted, “Oi! Mister fancy-pants! What the hell have ye done to me dog?” the beast was nearly useless but she shuttered to think of what a bunch of smelly, half-starved, probably cannibalistic heathens would do to him, “If ye or any of your sleazy crew hurt one hair on his head, I’ll blow a hole clean through your midsection big enough for me ta crawl inta!”
One of the cowardly crew members, she couldn’t see which, cuffed her on the back of her head and shoved her forward again, this time so hard that she stumbled and only the chains kept her upright. Freda kept moving this time, but nothing could stop her from shouting back to the guard she couldn’t see, “Get yer grubby hands off me!” followed by a long string of dwarvish curses that continued as she made her way up the stairs and out the hold, finally fading from sound as she was driven across the deck.
A dark cloaked figure sat in the corner of the cargo hold, chained to the wall, every few moments he would look up at the other occupants, his blue glowing eyes giving him away as a Death Knight. Dalfein Scourgebane for what felt like the thousandth time cursed his kind attitude, for it was that attitude that had landed him here.
A few Days ago Stormwind
Dalfein was sitting at the bar in Stormwind, his reputation allowed him to walk about the city without people sneering at him, but being a Death Knight they still gave him a wide berth. This didn't bother the former paladin, trials were to be expected so said the tenets of the Light, and he welcomed all such trials with a smile. Unlike the majority of his fellows he had not returned to serving the Alliance, to him this war was foolish, when there were so many other evils in the world, and he along with his friend Sammuroth fought against said evils. His friend was off on the new mysterious continent of Pandaria, helping the locals with whatever problems they faced, the Death Knight wished he could join his friend, but he had other duties to attend to here for the Ebon Blade.
He sighed for the thousandth time that day, he had been waiting for a response from Ebon Hold about his request to travel to Pandaria, now that his work here was finished, but still no word. He sipped at his drink, and though he did not technically need to eat or drink doing so made him feel human again, "Damnit, Sam why do you always get to have fun adventuring while I am stuck here, bored out of my undead mind." His boredom was intterupted, by a commotion outside, thinking he was finally going to get some excitement the man payed for his drink, and quickly went outside. The hustle, and bustle of the city of Stormwind would drown out the commotion to normal passerby, but not to the experienced Death Knight, following the sounds of the scuffle he found it's source in an alleyway. There two burly men were attempting to subdue a young woman, and it was not something Dalfein could let stand. "Strange that it takes two big men to subdue a single young lady, man pirates must be taking anyone these days," he pegged them as pirates based on the multiple tattoos on their arms.
The two men glared at the Death Knight, "This doesn't concern ye stranger, now off with ye 'afore I gut ya," Dalfein laughed, "doesn't concern me you say, the plight of the helpless does concern me, since I spend my days defending the weak, and helpless. So gentlemen why don't you let the girl go, and walk away before I have to hurt you, and trust me you don't want to fight a Death Knight by yourselves." Apparently they did however as they tossed the girl to the ground, and advanced on the grinning Death Knight, "I tried to warn you." One of the pirates charged at the Death Knight, simply sidestepping the uncoordinated attack, Dalfein stuck out his foot tripping the man sending him facefirst into the stone road, the second man thinking him distracted tried to hit him in the back of the head. Still smiling Dalfein calmly stopped the blow with his hand, and flipped the man over his shoulder placing him right next to his companion. "That was too easy, surely you can do better," the Death Knight said laughing, when they didn't get up he shrugged, and walked over to the still kneeling woman.
"Are you alright miss," he asked, as he offered his hand, the woman nodded, "yes I am alright especially since you are a kind hearted fool." The Death Knight did not have time to react as the woman swept his feet out from under him, and the two burly men from earlier quickly got to their feet, and pounced on him. They subdued him quickly, binding him in magical chains that weakened him, they took his weapons, and pulled the hood of his cloak over his head. He could hear the woman laughing, as she ordered the men to take Dalfein to their ship.
Edited by Sammuroth on 12/3/2012 6:15 PM PST
All Dalfein could do was sigh as he whispered, "Guess I shouldn't let my boredom get to me, should have examined the situation a bit better, oh well what's done is done. At least I get a free trip to somewhere, should alleviate my boredom a bit." He listened half heartedly to his fellow captives, but he really didn't care what they had to say, all he could think of was how much Sam would laugh at him if he saw him in this situation, the though brought a smile to his lips. When he heard the call for land, and the approaching footsteps, he looked up to the woman who had tricked him next to who he assumed was the captain of the ship. A guard approached him catiously, the Death Knight chuckled, "Don't worry I won't do anything, in fact I want to thank you I was beginning to go crazy with boredom in that city. You guys are giving me a little adventure for free, so I appreciate it, but don't think I won't come hunt you down once I get off whatever land you are dropping us on."
True to his word Dalfein allowed himself to be chained to the other captives, chuckling a bit at some of their antics. Dalfein noted what appeared to be a young priestess in training, who looked very worried, more than likely scared at whatever was gong to be done with them. As they arrived on the deck of the ship he muttered to her, "Don't worry everything will be alright, you should look at this as an adventure, and a trial of your faith, both thoughts will give you strength." The Death Knight had a hard time keeping the excitement out of his voice, because he could not wait to see what was in store for him.
Hailla O’Keere groaned as she gradually stirred into wakefulness. Some inconsiderate dolt was banging away on a set of drums in the back of her head, and she slowly pried an eye open to see the idiot with the percussion instruments. She shut her eye almost immediately as a dagger of light stabbed at her retina. When was the last time she had felt like this? Probably that night a couple of days after getting out of basic. Her squad had gone out to celebrate their graduation, and the results, while quite amusing to their drill sergeants, had gotten most of them on report. What was the name of that kid who had tied their platoon leader’s underwear to the fort flagpole that evening… Daivyn? No, he was the one that died on that mission a couple months later from a mortar round. Nahrman, that was the name of the guy.
“Well, it looks like the good lieutenant has finally awakened.” She heard a familiar voice and slowly opened her eye to a narrow crack in the lids, letting her eye adjust to the light. Gradually, she realized that it was actually quite dim in the room. Sitting across from her was a man in a black robe with the cowl drawn over his face, concealing it in shadow. Hailla looked closer and realized that he was chained by the neck to the wall. She tried to stand up, and realized that her neck was likewise chained. A guard perched on a stack of crates a few feet away glanced over to reassure himself that the captive wasn’t getting anywhere before turning back to whatever diversion he was amusing himself with.
“What happened?” she groaned under her breath. “How long was I out?” Chan Sorsim chuckled softly.
“As to the first, I don’t really recall. Last I remember, we were in a tavern asking for the whereabouts of a certain weapons smuggler, and then I woke up here. As to the second, you’ve been out for a few days. Probably longer, actually: I’m not sure how long I was out for. And before you ask,” he said with a slightly concerned note in his voice, “your armor and weapons are in a crate at the other end of this hold. I know how much you dote on 46502: actually, I’m rather envious.” Hailla looked down and realized that she was wearing her casuals: someone must have taken her armor off while she was unconscious.
“So how do we get out of here?” Something like her usual cheerfulness was starting to creep back into her whispered voice. Sorsim simply shook his head.
“We don’t. Our captors were quite thorough in their search, I’m afraid. What’s more, these shackles have some kind of magical feedback built into them. Any spell I tried to cast with these on would just end up rebounding at me.” The Servant shrugged as much as his bonds allowed him to. “I overheard a couple of guards mention something about an island: I figure that we might as well go along with this for as long as possible: let’s not rush into things.” Hailla nodded jerkily and started to say something when the cry of LAND HO! echoed through the hold. The Blood Crow looked up reflexively as a grim-looking man walked down the stairs and briefly told them… absolutely nothing, actually. No hints as to their destination, nothing on what they could expect, not even why her fellow captives had been kidnapped.
Edited by Einherrjar on 12/3/2012 10:33 AM PST
Guards started pulling chains out of the crates and attaching them to the collars of the prisoners. Ahead of them, the duo could hear a night elf druid arrogantly demanding release, and behind them they could distinctly hear someone retching. The two Cabal members went along peaceably enough when it was their turn to be shackled, neither helping nor hindering their captors as they were chained up in a line with other captives. One of the other humans near them, however, was… slightly less obliging. The man looked like former military: it would explain how he managed to get as far as he did before being mobbed and savagely beaten.
"I didn't know my GRANDMOTHER was in this ship." they heard the soldier say, followed by a Death Knight’s quite distinctive voice.
"Adrian! What are you doing here?"
Hailla reached ahead and tapped Sorsim on the shoulder as the pair behind them swapped greetings. She silently mouthed a question as his hooded head turned around to look at her. The Servant simply shrugged in bemusement and turned back around: they had only met one Death Knight in particular, and he was notorious for beating up on Shadow Corps soldiers for kicks. All things considered, someone like that would probably be very useful if they ever decided to make an escape attempt. That assumed, of course, that all Death Knights were like that fellow.
The young lieutenant twisted her torso around while still moving forwards and looked at the pair of considerably older-looking men behind her, making sure that her left arm –and the stylized blood-red crow on its grey sleeve— was clearly displayed.
“Lieutenant Hailla O’Keere.” She said perkily by way of greeting. “So what would an old soldier like you,” she nodded her head at Adrian, her ponytail swinging, “and a Death Knight like yourself,” she nodded at Dristis, “be doing in a rotten cesspit like this?” Hailla raised her voice on the last four words and got a smack in the back of her head from a guard for it. Ahead of her, Sorsim shook his head slightly and chuckled softly at the folly of the young. The Servant piously ignored the part of him that pointed out that he was a mere four years older than his youthful partner.
Edited by Einherrjar on 12/3/2012 10:25 AM PST
The feel of the person behind her brushing a finger over the blonde hair matted the back of her head, along with the whispered question - she thought it was a question anyway - caused the petite teen to give off a high-pitched squeak of fear. Shaking, she kept her eyes scrunched closed. Oh Light what if it was a Forsaken?! Was it? Or maybe an Orc? Terrified, she covered her already tightly closed eyelids with her grimy hands. Oh Light, Oh Light, Oh Light...
What would Zpan do?
...not have been caught in the first place, but point notwithstanding.....
....her sister would have tried to fight, like the others she could hear. They sounded like they spoke Common...
Was the question...was it a question...?...in Common? She was too scared to remember. A whimper strangled in her throat as she fought that fear clawing inside her gut even as she tried to make herself breath properly - what if the guards hit them for talking?!
"Don't worry everything will be alright, you should look at this as an adventure, and a trial of your faith, both thoughts will give you strength."
....that was definitely Common, coming from somewhere ahead of her, though the voice sounded....off. She shuddered at the memory of her failed attempt at her Trial to pass from student to Priest and how miserably that had ended.
(( @Delonn: What language is your Blood Elf speaking? Common or Orcish? ))
((@ Majustu, He can speak both, but I should've clarified. Since Arelius lives in Dalaran he mostly speaks in common tong)
There was no answer. Thinking upon it, he was speaking the Sin'dorei's language, when it very well could be a person who could not understand it. Again, this time in common tongue, He whispered, "Hello? Who am I chained behind?"
There it was again, that whisper behind her. This time, however, she could understand it. ...why would the person want to know her name?
"...M-my name is M-Maj. W-who...?"
She was tense in case the guards came by to strike them for talking. Would they? So far she had heard others calling out to each other and not being struck...yet.
Adrian turned around, someone else had addressed him and his brother. The Marksman turned, a female was talking to him. He turned as best he could and sized her up. She looked like a she could be a soldier. Possibly a marksman as well as he. He began to speak, but it came out a garbled and struggled mess.
Puzzled, he stretched his jaw out several times, an audible crack emanating from it. He winced slightly. "Bluhbluhbluh," he started out, his test proving his mouth was working properly. "Anyway, I was just minding my business, maybe a bit under the influence, and I was assaulted! For no reason. Whatsoever. Not a single reason that I would just be attacked." he shifted his eyes slightly. He spit a gob of blood down onto the deck again.
"Anyway, I was Sergeant Adrian Octavian, but since retiring, that title seems meaningless to me now. Dead guy back there is my brother, Dristis." he nodded his head in his brother's direction.
"What he said," Dristis began. "I'm Dristis Octavian, Captain in the Ebon Blade. We got false intelligence of a point of interest for the plans the Ebon Blade has, and when we arrived it was a trap. I was the only one to survive out of my team of four, and I was over-run and taken here." he said. Not much else to it. He seemed wary. He didn't know what was going on, and the only one he could trust would be Adrian, and another Death Knight he had seen around the Ebon Blade, but hadn't quite properly met yet. He made a note to do that later.
"What brings you around these parts?" They both asked in unison. It was a problem that thet often had. The Brothers made eye contact, giving each other a strange look. Dristis grimaced and Adrian grinned madly.
Xoolloon just stared straight as they were on the ship. Not caring that he had been captured, not caring that he could die any minute. All he wanted was to have one goal to set his mind to. One thing to focus on and for this trip it would seem it is survival. Just the survival of him self. He did not care about anyone else before he was captured at Stormwind. Except one of the few people he actually trusted. Me'sa, he remembered how he was walking and listening to her talk when she went into the city and he just stood there when he had gotten jumped. He had been incapacitated and put aboard. Taken as cargo and all his items removed.
Then one of the guards looked around at all the "Cargo" murmuring and saw that Xoolloon wasn't and asked a, "Oi, Death Knight, do you even talk?" After no response he walked up to Xoolloon and asked again, "I asked a question, do you even talk?" Still with no reply and not wanting to be made a fool of the guard struck Xoolloon across the face. "I will ask you one more time, do you even talk?" Still Xolloon did not reply, so the guard drew back his fist and went in for the punch, but Xoolloon simply tilted back his head, dodged the punch, and with one swift motion took a chunk of the guard's hand out with a single bite.
"Ahhhhhh! You son of a B*!&%. I'm going to kill you for that." He drew back his sword ready for the killing blow when the guard's mind got the better of him. "I'll let you live, after all it just means more money in my pocket. Then the guard went up top to see a healer. Xoolloon then just returned to staring and not caring that all the people around him were staring at him like he was a monster.
Edited by Xoolloon on 12/3/2012 7:56 PM PST
Teron sighed as Lia hurled up her gut. In a way, he expected it to happen, being on a ship and all it was quite hard to avoid. Either way, he would simply wait for Lia to stop spewing so that he could talk to her about the current situation the two where in. Soon enough, Lia did stop, sitting up and leaning against the wall, groaning. She looked down at herself, realizing she didn't have her equipment, and noticed how she wore a metal collar around her neck "Where...what...Teron...what is this?" she was starting to panic, Teron know this was a bad sign.
"Alright, Lia...listen to me..one of those drinks we had? One of them was drugged, we've obviously been tricked, scammed, or something on those lines...either way, we are on a boa--" "I know pretty damn well that we are on a boat, Shifter!" Lia's scowl would cut him, the Huntress's gaze searching the ship "Where are my pets? My gear? my weapons? Where are there?!". Teron would nudge her with her foot, her attention quickly drawn to him as he gestures to a create near by "All of your equipment, and the scroll where your beasts are, are in that box...getting to it, however, is the hard part"
Lia would have eyed the create, growling and cursing at the collar around her neck "So...where are they taking us?" Teron shrugged "I'm not exactly sure where we are going, but something tells me we are about to find out at some point.." As if on que, the rocking of the ship began to noticeably lessen, making it not as hard to sit there and have waves of sickness wash over you. The captain came down at that stage, guards standing to shackle the rest of the prisoners.
Lia snarled at the guard as he approached to shackle her, but he seemed rather unphased by it as he shackled her up and forced her to stand. Teron would have been more willing, making no sound as he was forced to stand up with Lia and began to be lead towards the deck of the ship. "I swear, as soon as I'm released...." Lia scowled. Teron would have reached a hand to place it on he shoulder "Lia...relax...we'll get out of this soon...have patience" A scoff was the Huntress' reply "You out of all people should know I don't have a lot of that in these kinds of situations."
Teron only smirked as the two were continued to be lead out.
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