Charlotte nods. "I'll join in, if you Besmarans don't mind. No one deserves to go like that."
"I don't mind one bit. There's very few who deserve a keel-hauling. He gave up the location when I was in the bilge, cleaning out rats, but I knew they wouldn't maroon him or put him in the sweatbox for it. No point in giving up the information early. Not with this group. One day, though, the winds will change. The Banshee Queen only trusts her own code, and this definitely ain't a situation I want us to be in, if we can help it."
He looks up to the sky. "Strange winds..." he muses quietly.
Variziel busies himself with listening to Charlotte's music and thinking of what he can put in his letters to Alysia--it seems most of it will have to be glossed over. However, when the body is pulled back up, he steels himself. This is part of piracy, Variziel. Adrian Bloodsword would look upon it easily.
He opens his eyes and bites hard, clenching his jaw and fighting back an urge to vomit. ...It's not that bad... He doesn't believe it, but he still tries to convince himself. Others notice his hands twitching and clenching and unclenching, as though reaching for weapons that aren't there.
"Mhm," Charlotte nods, fixated on some point on the horizon.
"The waves aren't happy either."
"I think it's about to get chunky," he motions at Variziel while talking to Charlotte and then motions the budding swordsman over.
"Best not to look too close at it. It's like staring at the sun. If you don't look right at it, then there shouldn't be too much. He's gone, though, and I intend to make sure he stays that way. Just use this as a learning experience. And no worries, friend. Not many can hold their own around this, and it doesn't say much good if they can."
Temerith snorted as the man screamed about the Ocean's Lost...such ignorance. To actully believe that the ocean would want such a useless example of humanity...the ocean washed up only refuse and flotsam. It never gave say jewels or coins to the land, those items remained in the deeps just as the Ocean's Lost did.
Temerith wlked over to the newly minted officer and spoke May I examine that coin which seems to be confounding you?
As the rope began its hard pull bringing the captive Magpie to his final end the crew grew quiet. The fiddle music giving counterpoint to the cold harsh squeak of the pulley as the bloody deed played out before each mans eyes. At first it is not noticeable over the sound of open sea and solemn fiddle and long low creak and scrape of rope and wood; then a pricking on the ears, a sound barely audible. A virulent, unnatural whisper on the wind; darkened words that belong to a life so inimical to the natural order that it can only exist in the void between the cracks in reality. Sibilant tongue rising in piercing range, scratching at the cold recesses of every mans mind, never raising in volume but working their way out as a cold miasma to tear their way to every ear. Slow words, purposeful words, words that carry an unguessable but all to sinister meaning out to find the dark corners and feed on the shadows there found.
"phhhereh sah hereh ni sala hhhhereni shaaassanis verishal kkuthhhhonnnn ssshhhelllllissss shas feran mehhrrrrrr fradsssss looooo tah shi.........."
Dark prayers to the father of pain and the bringer of horrors more terrible than any human nightmare. Blood flows freely now bright crimson from the man as he pulls slow blade along the backs of his arms. Dark crimson the stains on the deck, splatters and rivulets forming symbols and letters as they wend and meet and wend again. His feet find purchase, now slick with blood as the scrape and shuffle of a slow dance begins. Raw foot breaks open as well adding whirls of black blood and crimson to mix and swirl as the chaotic shifts begin to show patterns that no sane mind should be able to comprehend. Naked hate pours forth from this man, but to what end and at what target none can tell.
Jesal shakes his head in disbelief, muttering in his native tongue to himself, "What kind of strange men derive joy or rather such intense pleasure out of another's suffering? No wonder they have to press gang. This place is ripe for a mutiny. My guess is the only reason it hasn't happened yet is that the Captain instills so much fear in everyone. Perhaps a serendipitous fall during battle."
Variziel looks to Iggy and tries to smile--it's more of a grimace, but it's something, at least. "Thanks. Hopefully these won't happen often in the future."
Iggy nods slowly to Tem and allows him to take the coin to study it. "Just make sure to give it back." He obviously doesn't want this piece passed around too much.
It is definitely a few moments later that his eyes briefly go to the "surgeon." The Markborn's breathing slows, as he obviously focuses on that in place of anything else.
He then looks to see what the other Besmaran on the boat thinks of such things.
Temerith focused his connection to the Lost and invoked the memories of the ancients allowing himself to become a vessel of one such member of the Lost, an ancient cyclops that had drowned at sea.
Temerith spoke in the voice of that ancient cyclops(), his eyes shut and a ghostly third eye appeared upon his forehead.You bear one of many coins that the first Cyclopi emperor fashioned to spread the glory of his reign across the Shackles. Only one was found by your kind and that man become the one you call the "Storm King". You possess an item of power, be warned however that it was fashioned by and for my people, those that you call the Cyclopi. Your kind were simply not meant to use our power, more then a few of your kind in the Ocean's Lost made this mistake.
knowledge arcana check
The Markborn just smiles, when the information is revealed. Opening his palm, he doesn't speak until the coin is returned to him. "The strongest power in the Shackles can only be held by the right individual. I have a feeling that the Markborn don't fit the usual grouping of the Ocean's Lost. We're the boogie men (and women) of the open seas for a reason, good sir. But I will definitely keep caution with this piece."
Once he has hold of it again, he pockets the piece. "As my mother would have said, prepare for the coming storm.
Charlotte, oblivious to the coin talk, leans against the ship's railing and gazes out at the sea for a long time, losing herself in the movements of the waves to find some peace after a long and rather shocking day.
You speak not to the one known as Temerith Rhuun, his body is merely a vessel of the Lost and I am it's current possessor. Before I depart know this the Ocean gets what it wants, even those blessed by the gods are not above it's grasping reach, even I a Cyclopi sorcerer could not escape it as I drowned in the Ocean. WIth that Temerith comes back and the third eye winks out.
Variziel finds himself torn between two odd spectacles: Janus' display of blood, and Temerith's of sorcery. In the end, he glances between the two, his ears picking up more of Temerith's words, but his skin crawling from the strange chanting of Janus in the background. Gods, there are some strange happenings aboard pirate ships.
Unnerved by Janus' chanting, Charlotte decides to fight fire with fire, so to speak, and closes her eyes to meditate.
Joining in harmony with the sea's own, a second whisper flows into the night, meeting the blasphemous words like a forceful wave crashes upon the coast. It is a call to impossible distances and immeasurable volumes.
Much like the ocean, it seeks to be grand and booming in its own quietness. That which is beyond measuring cannot be corrupted, for that which would seek to pollute it will merely find itself dissolved into nothingness.
All of soft consonants and rolled sounds, it is a whisper of peace and energy to oppose the guttural sounds of suffering and wash away fear from what could be a peaceful night.
A smile comes over Janus's face as he hears the rushing wave chant of the female oracle. His words move and shape, rising to scream forth the silent whisper of the dark between the stars. For what is the ocean's distance when measured against the darkness. What volume need the shadows when they can inclose all of this world and beyond.
Janus swings his steps quicker now, bloody footprints play behind him as if two people walk where there should only be one. Janus's voice gives counter point to the rushing wave of Charlotte's chant, speaking to the darkest trenches and the things found there that escape reality's rules let alone description. His movements become disjointed, shuttering and halting at odd angles as if bending the rules of reason. Hard step, soft hop, hard step, soft hop, tilting this way and that in quick jerks always leaving behind the distinct prints. All the while blood falls to the deck, slowly. Drip..... Drip..... Drip..... The rictus grin of the mad pierced through by a look too clear and too lucid to belong to the lost.
"Watch child, watch. You take comfort in your sea, but it has its dark reaches as all things do. Know you not what strays beyond all things? Dark things that pierce the void. Shapes in that which is not darkness, for no darkness can exist without the idea of light. No light without the idea of dark. Lose yourself girl. Reach out and grasp truth."
Iggy just shakes his head, watching the two battle it out for supremacy over the event. His chuckle is very quiet, as though the event were just another of the strange experiences in his life.
He leans over to Temerith & Variziel, speaking quietly. "Is it just me, or do you see this as one of those fights you just sit there and not interrupt?"
Charlotte, now at peace with the ocean, the song of the waves masking the horrid dripping from her ears, offers only a defiant smile in response, her eyes closed.
Light and darkness both are irrelevant in the face of enormity. They make ripples as they first impact, but they soon dissipate, an irrelevant splash in the eternities of the great oceans. The blood of all men is merely a drop in a barrel; an inconsequential footnote.
I could really go for a swim right about now. Too bad this is no place for it.
"It's something akin to seeing two Swordlords dueling," Variziel whispers back. "A mystic battle, beyond the scope of normal life. Half the time you barely understand what you're even watching... And the other other half, you stand amazed."
"Dey both be drawin attention to demselves. Dis one be thinking issa bein a bad idea."
"I'll just downplay it as them placating the spirits, so that the water doesn't get disturbed by the body. Better safe than sorry. And it means that the crew is more likely to stay in line with things like this happening."
The Markborn seems to have thought a fair bit about this as his thumb rubs the coin.
The foolishness of their "duel" is great. No rites can protect one from reaching the boneyard where Pharasma sits in judgement, I doubt the Ocean will accept him either. For the Ocean in both matters of treasure and men desires jewels not flotsam.
"Duel is such a harsh term," Charlotte says, proving that she's lost in thought and can hear the party fine. "It's more of an intense yet mostly respectful debate. As far as attracting attention, I doubt our whispers can be heard over their rowdy celebration."
"Ahh but now you have spoiled the conversation." Janus twirls on his heel, the last coagulated drops splatter outward. "Ahh well. All things in time." Janus bows deeply before Charlotte before turning to go find Grok.
I believe that it is time to speak with our fellows...hopefully we will find a proper punch bowl. If you would find a safe or at least less crowded area and I will gather some of our "fellows".
with that Temerith set off to find his two comrades and the punch bowl...
Iggy chooses himself a less crowded area of the deck, leaning against the rails, knowing that should give them a bit of momentary reprieve.
Charlotte opts to join Iggy, who made good impressions on her up to now. She leans with her back to the rail and tucks her fiddle back within its case.
"So... Ignatius, was it? If it's not too personal to ask, what is it you're looking for in the life of a pirate?"
"Honestly? It's been a wild life for me, but I'm bound to the sea and her Pirate Queen. I want to be something in the Shackles. My mum was famous in this area, as a pirate, a priestess, and a real talent all around. She commanded respect and was just someone everyone knew."
There is a long, extremely slow pause as he looks to the sky, taking in a deep breath of salt air to steel his voice. "Esmeralda Hank was an amazing woman, but for some reason, the Black Lady has decided I should have no memory of the night she went missing. I just remember waking up at Port Peril. They said I was scurvy-ridden and clinging to a rum barrel in the harbor when I was found. I've been on and off ships ever since."
The Markborn chuckles. "Bit long-winded there. Sorry. But what about you?"
"Me? I guess the simplest way to say it is I owe someone a really big debt. I mean, a really really big debt. Without meaning to, I took something irreplaceable from someone, and it's not something I can give back. I've got all the time in the world to pay it back, but it's something I've gotta do.
"Thing is, I'm going to need a lot of help with it. I know this is going to sound crazy but..."
Charlotte hesitates for a moment, wondering if she can trust Iggy with what she's about to explain, and finally deciding that she can.
"I don't think anyone short of the Pirate Queen herself can help me with my debt, so I'm going out there to claw my way up to the top until the day I make it big enough to ask her in person. It's a long shot, but I've got nothing else, and I figure she'll appreciate the attention and maybe give a hand to someone who clawed all the way up the ranks."
Hopefully, this one'll understand and I won't wind up marooned again... or worse.
"... also, glory and gold." Charlotte adds with a genuine chuckle. "Can't forget the glory and the gold."
Variziel shakes his head at the end of the display and also sets out to find some of the other recruits--namely Sandara and Conchobar.
Iggy lets go a long, slow, quiet whistle. "That's quite a rough one. I guess that explains the laughter then. But then the Black Lady does provide for those of us who fight hard enough. If I can, I'll do my best to help you with all of this. You have my word. And, at the very least, we'll end up rich in this process. Because I'm not accepting the alternative."
He looks quite determined now to see them free from this ship.
"You're a good one, Iggy. The ocean needs more people like you sailing about. Good to know I can count on you." Charlotte nods.
Charlotte pauses for a moment, as though a third person was calling out to her.
"The little one says thanks, too."
He just smiles. "There's a good deal of good folks out there. Typically the good folks aren't as vocal."
Iggy lowers his voice more. "Why do you think that people like Plugg and Harrigan fear Markborn?"
"And tell her that she's welcome. Makes me wish we could sic that hag on the higher ups though."
"Do me a favor," Charlotte replies rather curtly. "Never mention the hag around me."
"They'll get their just deserts," she adds, more calmly, "I'd just rather she not be involved."
Charlotte's temperament makes it clear that she has nothing but disdain for her hag mother.
"I have only one mother worth speaking of, and she's a sailor's wife and a merchant, not an abomination of nature."
He nods. "Absolutely. Sounds like a wonderful family. We'll make them proud."
"Let's not go that far. I don't know 'bout your folks, but mine didn't take too well to hearing their daughter had a thing for crime and piracy."
Charlotte shrugs, demonstrating clearly that this is one part of her history she's made peace with.
"Ah well, that's how the dice fall."
Iggy grows strangely silent at the mention of his own family. "My mother is Esmeralda Hank, one of the few Besmaran priests and captain of her own ship. Not sure where she is, though...She's been missing for a long time."
The grizzled sailor touches the mark on his cheek as he sighs quietly, obviously not having talked about it much.
"I'm sure the Queen's got an eye out for her," Charlotte says, placing her hand on Iggy's shoulder.
As your whispering song reaches it's peak, a single pirate turns away from the side of the ship As he views the blood dripping down your arms, he seems puzzled. As his eyes follow the trails of blood to the unholy shapes they form on the deck though, his eyes widen. He stares, fixated at the symbols, his single ice blue eye reflecting the crimson patterns.
Charlotte stumbles over, leaning over the railing of the ship, wincing at the vision she has just had inflicted on herself.
Such lies. All lies. I have no doubt, I have no fear. The ocean has long washed those away. That which is beyond measuring. I won't allow that freak doctor to have that satisfaction, and whoever that was, I will not give in to fear. Even a god's power cannot oppose all of the sea. Besmara and Gozreh both keep an eye on their faithful. I will not let myself be intimidated...
"It's okay, Little Sister, don't worry. There's nothing to fear. The sea will guard us."
As you head below deck, you see Grok standing with her back against a support beam. She smiles toothily at you, Glad to see ya could make it, Janus! With all the ruckus aboard the ship today, I figured ya had forgot about poor ol' Grok here. So, handsome, now that we're here, what do ya have in mind? I've got some extra rum and bed that's not too creaky, if ya get my meaning! As Grok gets that last sentence out of her mouth, Ogruk's lumbering form walks by, Nevuh figgered yoo'd be inteerested in a tuskless monkee, sistuh, especially this wun! Oi've got me eyes on that weerd-ied sea-weetch with tha fiddle, so I 'spose I can't bee two jujemental of ya! So, ya gots dat extra rum fer yer brothah? I swiped a few from da othas, but I'm not p!ss drunk yet! Grok shakes her head, Ya already look p!ss drunk to me, brother, but sure, I can get ya a rum ration or two from Kroop. Just don't f&ck up another of the crew in knivesies, ya lumbering oaf, because the last thing ya want is to end up like that fool Magpie! Ogruk waves off Grok's words with a meaty hand, Oh, p!ss off sis, 'dem f&cksacks deesurved eet! If dey're dum enuff to play with me, dey get cut!
Still stinging emotionally from the lashing, Jesal walks head hung low over to Iggy and Charlotte, flopping down to sit on the deck near them but not interrupting lost as he is in his own thoughts.
[I]I swore never to end up a slave again, and although they don't have me in shackles, they use fear, malice, and intimidation just as easily to lock us up. We must do something about this. Irefuse to be caged again.[/iI]
While Iggy waits on those to assemble, he puts a hand on Jesal's shoulder, leaning low to whisper in his ear. "Don't worry. The sea will get its revenge soon."
Still haunted by the nightmarish vision, Charlotte forces herself to take deep breath of the sea's salty air, begging for its purity to dissolve horror away.
"It's... that doctor's weird voodoo, I think he cast some sort of spell on me. We'll get him back later. He'll see who he messed with."