Phaedra hesitantly asks: Which direction should we head though? Down the coast and hope for a ship to rescue us, but also risk the pirates returning and recapturing us? Inland to get away from the pirates and risk wild animals or who knows what? And where is Sin off to? Just scouting hopefully, hate to think he'd just run off on his own. I wonder if anyone else has ever been in the woods before? I guess I could just ask... Pausing to gather both thoughts and courage to keep talking: Uhm, does anyone else have much in the way of outdoor experience?
"I've been on more than my share of fox hunts. We even went out after an owlbear for sport once, set loose in a preserve. The thing was massive. Talons like daggers, ten inches long at least. Hunting with long-spears and bows, though... well it's not like being lost in the woods. We could have gone home any time. I'd guess we should cut catty-corner inland, try to find game-trails, anything else we can stick to, until we can find a culvert or stream of some sort. Unless we can figure out where we are by the position of the stars, we'll have to navigate eventually, and my first fear is that this is and *island*." Eaton finds his attention drifting again and again to the barm... to Phaedra, his violet eyes catching the moonlight in the most striking way, almost gleaming in their intense focus on her. She seems bright enough, and he'd love to know more about her, but this is hardly the time and place for smalltalk.
He glances over to Edgar fawning over Miss Emelia and can't help but smirk. That boy is clearly smitten. Clearly, he's agile, but he just doesn't have the wits to get that girl. "And come morning we're all going to be intensely worried about provisions. The Priest may be able to get us fresh water, easily enough, but food will be a trick. Given time to martial our forces and recoup and recover, we may be ready for a full assault on their position... but waiting for the morning may waste the moments surprise. They'd -never- expect us to rush them unarmed and wounded." He flicks that teasing grin at the mouse-haired girl again, teeth clenched through the niggling pain.
Phaedra shrugs, I'm not a hunter, but I can most likely find some kind of edible plants. Looking a bit shy she looks up at Eaton, I bet Tellar could handle this, but his spells may be needed more later. Hold out your hand please.
Assuming he complies with her request, Phaedra will faintly brush her fingertips against his. Though the touch is brief, it is enough to give him a bit of a shock as he feels healing energy flowing into him.
"I doubt we could make our own ship, unless one of you are a shipwright. Even then, it takes a crew much larger then us with tools to build one that is sea worthy. Our best bet is to take the pirates ship. Besides..." Edgar looks to Emelia. "...I think a little pay back is in order.
"If I can, I will try to figure out our location, but it might take time, if I even can without instruments to aid me. Once we are out of the hole, I think we should take the pirates gear and either silence him or question him. We might be able to get some valuable information. I think we should strike while we have surprise, and grab as many weapon and supplies as we can and then we can escape further into the island."
Knowledge (geography)
Survival
When Phaedra asks, he never hesitates one second, the trusting fool. Lord Starse gasps in shock and surprise when her magic sparks against his, rushing through him like the very breath of life itself. Her magic has a flavor, like cinnamon bread and sweet kisses, an instant warm blanket and a bowl of chicken soup for the soul. Pure healing with no tint or taint beyond the desire to undo harm. It's a summer breeze and a sliver of decadent chocolate at the bottom of a nasty wet dirty hole in the ground. It's positive energy, certainly, and it mends him as surely as any priest magic, but... "THAT'S no cleric spell..." he practically purrs, shivering and broadening into a conspiratorial grin, one eyebrow raising as he regards the barmaid with more respect.
"Just what was that, Miss Phaedra? And what are *you*? Other than beautiful and mysterious, of course? And may I return the favor?" Those violet eyes glitter and he stops clutching at his bloody side, and in fact stands rather more upright, no longer burdened by a dozen aches and injuries at her single, simple touch. His hand curls into one of the eleven basic principle arcane hand-signs, and sort of hovers there, waiting for her permission to show her a bit of his magic in return. She may notice, that though the water comes down around them, -he's- not wet! Not except for the newest tear in his shirt and his boots below the knee.
Taking a step back as he questions her, Phaedra replies with sarcasm evident in her voice: "I thought you had already decided what I was." No idea why he thinks I'll just answer anything he may ask. I don't even know who he is or where he's from and I wasn't beautiful until I did something he found interesting. Emerald eyes focused on his casting hand, I may as well see what he's offering in return, after all it's not like I want him beholden to me. Not stepping any closer, Phaedra gives a little nod. Alright, you may return the favor.
Eaton draws his hand back a bit as she recoils, but relaxes as she does, taking his cues from her. "This is just a trick, you understand..." he waves off dismissively, then passes his hand over her from forehead to shin with a quick little stoop, like one might whack a cloth up and down a chair to dust it off, his fingers once again held in that arcane position. "Du-kagn armot! ... There we are. Any apprentice could do the same. I'm afraid such parlor tricks are all I'm down to after the fight amidships."
At first, nothing appears to happen, but her skin warms, then in a flash and a puff of hot air, she's dry, steam rising from her clothes without the heat of fire. The heat lasts only a few seconds, but then the rain seems to bounce away, her rain-lashed hair flickering as the rain stops just a few inches shy of her skin, deflecting away harmlessly. Still cold, but not wet.
Emerald eyes widen in surprise at suddenly being dry. Glancing down at her clothing and then back up to Eaton she says, Thank you. That is a rather useful trick. Maybe he's not too bad for being a nobleman, just to full of his own importance and too well aware of how good looking he is. He could learn how to just say thank you though instead of questioning me or rambling on.
Apparently lost in thought for a moment, Phaedra collects herself and looks around. I would still like to find a warm, dry place to finish out this night though. Looking over to Edgar, You suggested questioning the pirate. That last word said with an obvious look of disgust on her face. Do you think he may be able to tell us where we are?
With Phaedra's momentary amazement, Eaton looks quite pleased with himself. "Certainly. My pleasure. And that's only the start of it. That little sliver of arcane power can be recycled a hundred times, and for a thousand different uses. It flavors food, cleans, colors, washes -and- dries, relieves congestion, and clears up acne. I can't tell you how many maddeningly spicy Chelaxian dinners I've survived solely because of that ability..." he flashes her a little wink and nods when she suggests finding a more comfortable place to bed down, and turns to look to Edgar when she does.
"That's not a bad idea... but I won't truck with mistreatment of prisoners. I would imagine he'd know our general location, though. As long as we abide by rules of conduct, let's see what he'll give us, eh?"
Giving a little frown at Eaton, Phaedra opinions, "I wouldn't mind a little mistreatment in this case as I haven't forgotten his offer." Of course it wasn't him that the pirate wanted to spend time with.
"If your insinuating torture, then I agree. They did however kill everyone on the ship, save us, and as Phaedra said, they were about to take her and Emelia to a worse fate... Like bandits, pirates are often people who believe that they have no other choice but to pillage and rape to get by, so he might be willing to talk to save his life. On the other hand, sometimes pirates acquire a close bond like a family, so he may not talk it we don't persuade him. As much as I don't like the idea, our lives at at stake, we may have to do some things we don't agree with in order to survive..." Edgar says, trailing off into his own thoughts.
Firing a sad smile at Phaedra, he nods when she agrees to 'a little mistreatment'. "My father thinks the same way. Over time, bit by bit, he developed a few methods of compelling outsiders through those same means. Have you ever heard an angel scream, Miss Phaedra? ... I have."
Pursing his lips unhappily at Edgar he clucks his tongue "Evil is not subjective, Mister Arrowni. A man's liberty is not a commodity to be traded, nor is it a privilege to be taken like some scolding of a misbehaved child. You swore oaths when you put on that very fine hat, that you would uphold the articles of the sea. A sailor does not mistreat his prisoners, Mister Arrowni. Even if you must chain a dangerous man below decks, you do not strip him nude and leave him to wallow in his own muck. He receives the same water ration as a crewman, and the same lotment of food. I don't know where you've come from, or who you intend to be, but an officer and a gentleman does not cease to be so merely because his ship has been plundered. For one, -I- am not my father, and when I stand before Aroden I will be clear of conscience and clean of spirit."
Tellar listens to the others talking amongst themselves, trying to figure out what to do next, what should be done with the prisoner. He quietly walks down to the edge of the surf, the waves crashing against the coast.
He lowers himself to the sand and leans back on his hands, letting the water lap over his feet and ankles. The skies remained gray and low, a steady fall of rain soaking everything. Craning his head back to watch his new companions he gives a little sigh. Turning back to watch the ocean, he lets his mind wander. Soon the shock of being marooned will wear off and then they'll understand that it is enough, for now, to be alive. Everything after that is a gift.
Phaedra sighs, Can the philosophical discussion please wait until morning? Tie the pirate up and lets find a place to get out of the rain and get warm. Dare we check out the cave for tonight or shall we look elsewhere? Aside from tonight he's probably never been mistreated a day in his life. Though dry now, Phaedra is still shivering slightly from the chill breeze coming in off the ocean. Glancing over at Emelia, Her dress is even less suited for the night out here than mine. Poor thing is probably still in shock from everything too.
"Thank you Edgar," Emilia takes the young navigator's offered hand and climbs from the pit,
The six would-be prisoners find themselves on a beach, close to the waterline and each of them feels their heart sink. The beach they stand on is surrounded on three sides by jagged rockfaces that rises on a steep climb in some places, and stands as a sheer as a wall in others.
To their backs, the sea crashes in waves into the sand, then slowly drains back out. No rowboats sit on the beach, and no ships are moored in the bay. Whatever happened to the North Star or the pirates vessel, they aren't here.
And ahead, the single light of a fire silhouette's the lone cave entrance in the rockface...
A quick appraisal brings everyone to the same conclusions.
As Sinder seemingly fades into the darkness, the would be pirate is bound with the discarded lashings of the pit's cover, And for a long moment she simply listens to the group's discussions. The look in the young woman's eyes isn't fear like one would expect. Her jaw is set, her lips pressed thin, and a cold anger burns in her eyes.
"Our voyage wasn't meant to reach another port for at least a week, the crew was been killed to a man, save for those on this beach and my brother. Who could give any story he wishes... I'm sorry but no, there is no rescue coming. Our survival depends on us alone..."
The beach is a western one, a good sign actually, as it was probably the steaming Sea. Given the mountainous terrain around them, it was possible that they were somewhere on the coastline of the Fogscar mountains... but where?
He casts his eyes heavenward, hoping for some sign! some hint of where they are. Lo and behold, the fates deliver!
Edgar spots it, a faint shimmer of crimson twinkling in the night sky! the seemingly rose colored star is in fact Akiton, a planet close to Golarion, and one that can be used to judge geography - if one knows how to.
Given the placement of the moon, and Akiton's own path. Edgar thinks with growing certainty that they're on a cove along the northern edge of the Fogscars. Maybe two days south of Riddleport.
Phaedra can feel her heart sink when Emilia say's that there will be no rescue coming for them. Well, I guess it could be worse. I could be stuck in a cell somewhere. I feel sorry for poor Emilia, betrayed by her own brother like that. How could he do such a thing to his own flesh and blood?
Trying to keep herself from becoming too depressed over her current situation, Phaedra responds: Well, I wanted to start out fresh somewhere new. Looks like I got my wish, just not in any way that I expected.
"My father is the Iron Count. Once called Iocab the Elegant. He's a famous adventurer... or he was before he retired to the mercantile pursuits of the noblility of Taldor. You think he'll let his only son rot in a watery grave? He'll be scrying for me just as soon as he has word of the ship going down. Don't fear." There's no such thing as false hope... Just keep them believing.
The grim truth of the situation is that Eaton's father hasn't got it anymore. He's going blind, and his health hasn't been great for quite some time now. There's only so far extended bear's endurance spells will take you. And there's only so far the brittle expression of encouragement he plasters over his grim doubts will fool anyone. Hopefully they'll want to believe him.
Having dusted off after climbing out of the pit, he's busying himself cleaning off his face and hair and clothes with another fantastic casting of prestidigitation, using that low humming fingertip to scrub away any stain or scuff he can reach. He could even use it to shave if he could see his own face. He drops his gaze back to his battered boots, cleaning mud and grit from the surfaces as an excuse for not looking anyone in the eye. "With Master Bronsev's light spell, we should be safe enough to check out the cave when our missing comrade returns. Sinder? Sin, yes." he nods confirmation of his memory.
"You've been making us fresh water for the journey, Master Bronsev. You can continue to do so come morning? If there's no way off this culvert through that cavern, then by the time we've made our way around to dawn we'll have need of it before trying the swim around the rocks. I don't think I could make that climb. And I can't fly... just yet. Not without my components. And my blasted -book-."
"Evil is not subjective, Mister Arrowni... I will be clear of conscience and clean of spirit."
Edgar is surprised as his face turns scarlet. "E-evil? Well I, I didn't... I mean I just...Is it wrong to do what you need to do to survive?" Edgar trails off, turning away from Eaton. He tries not to meet anyone's gaze. "I-I'm going to see to our location!" Edgar announces, as he escapes from the group.
After getting a distance away, Edgar looks through his pockets, and failing to retrieve anything, he places a hand above his eyes, clearly squinting out at the horizon. After moving and doing this in a couple of other locations, he looks skyward for a while. Finally he returns to the group much more composed than when he left.
"I think I have figured out our location. I'm not one hundred percent sure, but I'd bet that we are on a cove along the northern edge of the Fogscar Mountains. Quite possibly a couple of days south of Riddleport." Edgar says, a smile on his face.
His smile doesn't last long, replaced with a serious look. "We need to decide what to do now. Do we try to brave the mountains and make it to Riddleport? I don't know the first thing about mountain travel. Should we try to take the pirates by surprise first? They must have some much needed supplies. With there ship gone, it is a good possibility there is only a small crew left to guard their hideout while the main force is away. If we can get some info from this bloke, we might be able to take the place by surprise. I've been thinking and a few things struck me as odd. Why were we left alive? If Emelia's brother wanted her out the the picture, wouldn't it have been easier for him to kill her? He didn't hesitate to kill Fredrick, his uncle. I think there is more going on here then we think."
Edgar turns to Emelia. "What do you want to do Emelia? If he finds out you escaped he will want to silence you for sure. If he feels threatened, he probably won't be merciful this time around. Do we seek him out? Or disappear to the world? Whatever you decide to do, I'm with you."
Is it wrong to do what you need to do to survive?
"When what you take is freedom, life, sanity, or choice, then yes. That's wrong. Stealing to survive is one thing, but stealing another man's last crust of bread? Killing in defense of yourself or others is just, but to kill a helpless man you have accepted responsibility for? That's murder. Ambush... surprise... deception... those are just tools to keep your skin on, but you form a contract when you take a man your prisoner. There are rules of conduct a gentleman must follow, if he wishes to remain a gentleman. Many adventurers become hardened killers in their months and years, falling away from the idealism that makes them heroes. These men captured us, abused us, and threatened worse crimes. Would you, too, behave like a pirate merely because these animals did it to you first? We must be better men, honest and honorable men. You may not be obligated, Mister Arrowni, but I am. That's what being a nobleman means. A noble man." He sighs and rubs the ridge of his brow with the edge of his thumb, grumbling...
"Waxing philisophical... I need a gods-forsaken *drink*."
Listening intently as Edgar describes their location and their options, he chimes in just a bit "We'll likely want to avoid Riddleport like Lycanthropy, Miss Emilia. The place is swarming with thieves and cut-throats, and there's nothing we want from there we can't get from any outlying township or village. Kaer Maga is safer, and that's saying something."
I've been thinking and a few things struck me as odd. Why were we left alive? If Emelia's brother wanted her out the the picture, wouldn't it have been easier for him to kill her? He didn't hesitate to kill Fredrick, his uncle. I think there is more going on here then we think."
Eaton nods along with Edgar's supposition as well, flattening his mouth into a tight-lipped line. "Indeed. Well spotted, Mister Arrowni. I can't spot what it is from here, but there's certainly something fishy going on, more than betrayal and murder. We'll keep our eyes open, and our minds sharp, and watch for anything that might give us a clue." Finishing the shine-job on his boots and pant-legs, he twists his fingers again into that arcane sign and looks around the little party expectantly. That no one else has asked him for a shield from the rain is a bit surprising, and he makes a little suggestive gesture that Emelia or Edgar or even Tellar would be welcome to one as well...
...Would you, too, behave like a pirate merely because these animals did it to you first? We must be better men, honest and honorable men. You may not be obligated, Mister Arrowni, but I am. That's what being a nobleman means. A noble man."
Edgar stops before fully escaping the conversation earlier. Without turning around, Edgar slowly answers, "I think you have the wrong impression of me, Eaton Starse. I am not a nobleman, I am not like you. I have struggled to survive, I have done questionable things. But I am here, and as much as I regret the things I did, I am glad to be alive. I owe Emelia my life. These men have chosen to do this to us and to kill all of our comrades and in doing so, they have given up their rite to life as far as I am concerned. I don't want to take anyone's freedom, life, sanity, or choice as much as you do, but if doing so keeps Emelia alive, then so be it." With that, Edgar stalks away, to determine the groups location.
...
When offered to be dried off, Edgar obliges after Emelia and the others have been dried off.
Pursing his lips tersely, Eaton listens as Edgar speaks... Only after the navigator turns and stalks off does he say softly "Thank you, Mister Arrowni." The tense, sad expression remaining tight on his aquiline features.
Phaedra is unable to keep a look of surprise off her face during Eaton's speech. He's nothing like the little noble brats I'm used to seeing around the city.
After Eaton finishes his offer of drying people off, Phaedra offers to cast mending upon everyone's clothing and boots if they so wish.
After Eaton finishes his offer of drying people off, Phaedra offers to cast mending upon everyone's clothing and boots if they so wish.
Lord Starse happily accepts an offer to repair his shirt and breeches! "Please! Thank you, Miss Phaedra. And if I may suggest? The rope on that sea-snake, and the weapons we found as well? That particular incantation will restore rusted weapons to their former shine, and bolster a cracked spear-handle. Most kind of you. That one's not in my repertoire, but I'm quite sad it was never made part of my curriculum. So useful!" He flashes her that faintly-cheesy grin and ruins all progress he's made so far with a murmered "Shame it's not a touch spell, eh...?"
Giving a sigh as she goes about mending the various items mentioned, Why not, might as well do something useful, even if it is just mending rope, a rusty knife and the brat's boots. Phaedra barely catches the comment made regarding touch spells and favors him with a glare, her emerald eyes flashing in the moonlight. She appears to swallow her immediate retort and settles for replying with a milder one. M'lord does like to go on at great lengths about proper conduct, perhaps he should give more thought to extending that proper conduct to women and mind his tongue? Unless of course you don't see commoners as being worthy of such basic respect. Just when I think he's not so bad he goes and says something stupid. It's always the good looking ones who are so insufferable, this must be why mother never married. After a pause she decides to add, And I am not a barmaid.
Can't... stop... smirking! His lips quiver as he fights to master his expression, until he gives in and snickers roughly "Most women don't [i]mind[/] my tongue at all..." before coughing and hiding his grin behind his hand, squinting his eyes and shaking his shoulders in silent laughter. It takes him a few moments to regain control without laughing outright, before thrusting his hands out in placation "Please! Please no, I surrender! You're very easy to bait... and your -quite- beautiful when you're angry..." Still smirking! The cad.
He coughs and mmms, sucking his lips for a long second before nodding, sobering to agree [b]"Indeed. Not a barmaid. A sorceress? A wild-talent of some blooded line? I did ask. Had you not dropped that pirate with a silent gesture I would have thought you were perhaps a priestess of Shelyn. Or Cali... Shelyn." he ahems and tugs the collar of his stiff-necked shirt a bit to the side.
Looking around for something heavy to throw at Eaton and then giving up on that idea since nothing suitable is to be found on this beach, Phaedra instead decides to just give an honest answer in the hopes that maybe he will stop making fun of her before she attempts to just put him to sleep. Not a sorceress either, a witch. Not a barmaid, an apprentice to an herbalist and midwife. Beautiful?
|
Staring up at one of the cliff walls, Sin takes a moment, to check for handholds, before trying to climb a few feet. 'Gotta check everything right...?'
Shaking his head softly, he frowns. 'Too damn tired for that... Guess it has to be the cave!' Refusing to admit he had not the skill, even to himself, Sin shakes his head, before movking off, toward the Cave he had spotted earlier.
Keeping low and to the shadows, Sin moves as silently as he can, towards the sleeping sentry, twirling the spear in his hand. 'Nighty night runt!'
Watching Eaton and Phaedra go at it again, Edgar thinks to himself;
I'm letting Eaton get to me too. I shouldn't let him get under my skin. Although a bit naive, he is right, in away. I doubt we can get ourselves safely out of this mess in a picture perfect way as he claims, but we cannot let any unsavory things we have to do consume us. ...
Oblivious to Edgar's introspective internal monologue, Eaton's eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the revelation that the pretty young Phaedra is a witch?! "An arcane intermediary? Really...? That's... very interesting. I didn't think to meet another one, ever, much less be stranded with one on some deserted beach because of an ill-fated pirate raid." He shakes his head in disbelief and raises his fingers to rub the middle of his forehead, his eyes focused for a moment on the sand between them.
"That's... just odd. And more than mildly disconcerting. And not just because intermediaries are known to sling curses and make poppets that can enslave the living and the dead, or commune with maligned and misunderstood forces that do, on occasion, actually encourage the consumption of human flesh, or go wildly mad with cackling laughter... That touch earlier, that healing. That's from your ally? Your patron?" He squats down abruptly, still not looking actually at her, and begins to trace something into the sand, stopping to smooth the surface out a few times and correct his mistakes... It's words, a language, but perhaps not one anyone here but he is familiar with.
Shadow - Darkness, Cold, Loss (Negative energy? Zon kuthon?)
Winter - Ice, Cold, Suffering (Shared origin with darkness? Divine origin? How is it arcane?)
Water - Part of Elements? Fire and Earth missing? Flooding in Absalom?
Elements - Evidence of pure pre-azlanti comunion, raw evocation?
Transformation - Dragons, Animals, Plants? No diety. Infernal?
Animals - (Nature?), control, creation, shapeshifting, lycanthropy?
...
....
.....
Phaedra looks highly offended when he talks of enslaving things and consumption of flesh. My patron is one of healing, the same one that my mother has always followed in her role of midwife and healer. I suppose now you want nothing to do with me? Gives out a loud sigh, Mother had a similar problem.
Ignoring his writing in the sand, Phaedra wanders down the beach a little bit and sits down to stare out over the ocean as her eyes begin to tear up again. Yep, I should have just stayed where I was, it couldn't have ended any worse than this.
Edgar continues to watch as Phaedra stalks off much as he did not long ago. Witch, huh? I've never heard of anything good related to them either. Poor girl has probably been demonized her whole life. We may have a few more things in common than I thought, besides Eaton causing us to storm off...
Edgar steals a quick glance over at Emelia and then looks down towards the mud near wear he is sitting. Poor Emelia, her whole life had been ruined in an instant. I don't know if I have the ability to take back what she lost... Edgar picks up one of the small spears and repeatedly stabs it in the mud, deep in thought. What can I do to get everyone out of here safely..? As soon as this pirate wakes up we should question him, see what we can find out. If we can take the pirates stronghold we can get some much needed supply. If were lucky they might still have some loot we can use to possibly finance our journey. If fate is on our side, maybe we can get enough to pay for ship fare back home. It may be a good idea to lay low for a while though too. Hopefully we can do this without upsetting Eaton's code of chivalry. We are going to have to work together. As soon as Sinder returns, I think we should come up with a plan and storm the pirate's cave...
Tellar glances to the side as the young woman sits a little off to the side, watching the water. He hadn't heard the conversation she'd had with the noble to cause her to storm off but he could sense her displeasure in the way she held herself.
He stood up and moved over, sitting himself down near her but not so close as to create discomfort. He looked back out at the sea, the rain having soaked him long before, not saying anything for a little while. Finally he spoke, not moving his head as his eyes tracked the endless waves.
I find the waters calming. Watch them long enough and you realize that the beliefs and concerns of men are but nothing compared to the relentless movement of the oceans. Tellar looks over at her and gives her a quiet nod. We're going to face a number of hardships before this is through. Just know that it is who you are as a person that will get you through this, not what others think of you.
Having said his peace, he turns back to gaze at the waters and listens to their sound.
Staring out at the waves, letting the sound of the endlessly crashing waves lull her into a more calmed state, Phaedra responds with a glance at Tellar, Thank you. I try to remind myself not to care what others think, but it's so hard sometimes. Especially when you want them to like you.
"That's... no that's... not..." he sighs and hangs his head for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Lord Starse looks up at the sky for a moment as she storms away, splaying his hands and clearly silently asking Why me? Then he turns back to watch that shapely backside as she stomps away over the sand to go sit apart. The young lord rubs his hands together briskly, shedding the cold from his fingertips with warm friction, and turns away from her as Tellar goes to speak with her, their conversation consumed by the roar of the surf. His attention turns now to the cave mouth where... OH! In the firelight! Did their Sin just de-throat that fellow in the dark over there? He crosses his arms over his chest and leans to peer, his fists clenched to his sides against the windy chill.
The young man's blade slips through the soft skin of the sleeping pirate's neck, dragging across with hardly any friction. The poor sod has little time to do more than open his eyes in surprise as his lifeblood pours from his throat, turning the sand a sticky dark brown.
With the deed done, Sin creeps towards the mouth of the cave, his eyes roaming over sand and stone, watching the play of light on the walls and shadows, his ears keen for any sound, all his senses weary for the unknown.
The tunnel in front curves sharply to the left, the flicker of light that doesn't match with the flames behind him suggests and torch or fire deeper in, and the incline of the shadows tells him that the path slopes downward.
Those same shadows twist and shake, one in anger and one in mirth, the movements echoed by a boisterous laugh and an order to "Pay up lad, before I take it from yer gut!"
But possibly the most interesting fact isn't a sight or sound, but a feeling and a smell. Sinders feels a cool breeze play across his face... the front of his face. Wafting from the mouth of the cave the air definitely moves, and has the taste of salt and sea upon it... Whatever lies in this cave... at the end is another way out.
Listening to Edgar and Eaton, Emilia stays silent as she ponders the navigators words, before turning a dark look to Eaton when he advises against Riddleport,
"And just what is your suggestion then, My lord. Hmm? Trundle through the mountains until we're killed by the wilds or starve to death? Sit on a beach until my brother's pirate friends show up to torment, torture or kill us? I'm not sure if you're placations are for our benefit or your own, but allow me to clear the picture for you. My brother is apparently many things but stupid is not one of them. He will have a plan. And as mentioned before, our ship wasn't meant to reach another port for a week's time, so unless your daddy keeps the leash rather short on you, no one is coming to rescue us. If we are to survive this, it will be by our own hands and no one else's. Lying to ourselves will only bring death."
Her eyes still burning with anger, the young heiress reaches down and rips the hem of her skirts, tearing at the dress until it only hands to her knees. Ripping a strip from the discarded remains, she ties her blonde hair back behind her ears in a loose ponytail. Looking pointedly at Edgar she answers, "If we survive, I will not let Eredin get away with these crimes, but for now we simply need to focus on getting out of this alive."
She waves a hand for Tellar and Phaedra to join back up with the group, "Sitting on the shore won't accomplish this. We need to meet with Sin and make a decision, now."
At Emilia's wave, Phaedra will take a deep breath and try to finish calming herself as she walks back over. She glares at Eaton before turning to Emilia and asking, "Which way did Sin head?"
Tellar levers himself up and heads slowly back to the rest of the group. He gives a nod at the young woman's word. Indeed it will not, mi'lady.
At Phaedra's words he looks around. The last I saw, I believe he was attempting to scale the cliffs of all things.
Looking pointedly at Edgar she answers, "If we survive, I will not let Eredin get away with these crimes, but for now we simply need to focus on getting out of this alive."
Edgar smiles for the first time since awakening. "Then we will survive!" He says in response. As the other's gather around, Edgar picks up the dagger. "Although it has been a long time, I am not too bad with a knife. I will do whatever I can to protect you all. Lets question this pirate and find Sin. The faster we get off this rock, the better!"
Eaton suppresses a smile when Emelia snaps out of things and makes her decision to toughen up. As a consequence his eyes sparkle a bit and he nods to her "As you say... by our own hands. That's my suggestion as well. We martial our wits and head south, heading just slightly inland, and living off the land and whatever gracious folk we might find, and make the three hundred some mile trek to Magnimar. On foot we make that in... ten days? Twelve? We take back from these pirates what they've taken from others, and we use what supplies they have on hand to hold us until we make it to proper civilization. We have no fear of lack of water with the priest accompanying us..." he nods to Tellar respectfully "And at least one of us likely knows the difference between mandragora and field potatoes?"
The Iron Lord tilts his head at Phaedra in a suggestive manner "Some of us are just -full- of interesting surprises."
His throat is starting to feel really parched. Need some social lubricant. All this nattering with obstinant commoners can get really -trying- when you're sober. Eaton runs his tongue along his teeth inside his lips, wincing faintly at the bruises on his gums, looking off expectantly at the cliffs. As if Sin will magically appear as requested without them having to climb that rise. Climbing is such a pain.
Glancing over at Eaton, Phaedra comments, "And just what are you full of?
"Who wants to wake the pirate and ask the questions?"
Glancing over at Eaton, Phaedra comments, "And just what are you full of?
"Who wants to wake the pirate and ask the questions?"
Edgar looks at Eaton for a moment. "I will wake him up, that is if Mr. Starse doesn't object..."
If he or anyone else objects, he differs to them.
"Alright then. I don't think it matters who of us asks the questions, as long as someone gives him reason to answer. If anyone thinks of anything while we are questioning him, feel free to speak up."
Edgar looks down at the pirate, not sure how far out he is. hopefully he wakes. He bends down to the pirate and brandishes the knife in his view, and starts to slightly tap his face awake. "Hey, wake up!" If that doesn't wake him he starts to increase the roughness and volume of the waking. (not doing harm, just trying to get him awake.)
Glancing over at Eaton, Phaedra comments, "And just what are you full of?
"Good ideas, Miss Phaedra. And interesting emotional scars. And the ability to build tools, weapons, armor, and enchantments, given time and conditions in which to work. And a burning desire to see if coconuts can be fermented into something mightily alchoholic..." Eaton shrugs.
Edgar looks at Eaton for a moment. "I will wake him up, that is if Mr. Starse doesn't object..."
Lord Starse nods quickly to the navigator "Please, Mister Arrowni. I'll back you up."
Eaton stretches for a moment while Edgar sees to waking the fellow up, standing just off to the side and observing for a moment. He twists his torso left and right, and rolls his shoulders until his joints and sternum make a rather disturbing clicking sound, tilting his head back and forth to limber his neck. This promises to be an emotionally taxing next ten minutes. How far will a good man go to extract information from his unlawful jailer only minutes after having been left to the mercy of abusive hands himself?
The lanky pirate awakes with a start, struggling for a moment against his bonds before stopping still, his eyes fixed on Edgar's dagger. "That's the way of it then eh? Wanted me awake when ye gutted me?" he glances up with beady eyes full of defiance.
"No, no, no. You got it all wrong friend. This is the key to your salvation. You are going to answer our questions, truthfully. Resist or lie, and you will be wishing gutting was the only thing I was doing. Cooperate and maybe me and my friends here will be willing to forgive your part in what you and your group has done to us." Edgar looks down at the knife, drawing attention to it once again. ""I know you don't want to die, you have a lot to live for. So I recommend answering the questions..."
"What is your name?"
"how did you become a pirate?"
"Why did you keep us alive?"
"How do we get off of the Island?"
"How many pirates are here at this moment?"
"How are you pirates connected to Eredin?"
If he become uncooperative, Edgar reminds him about the knife, putting it up to his neck, and if that doesn't help, having it draw a little blood. If he starts to cooperate after, Edgar withdraws the blade from his throat.
Phaedra stands off to the side a bit and lets the men lead off with the questions as she knows that she does not look intimidating at all. I wonder if the pirate is coward enough to offer up answers without us having to actually hurt him?
Tellar begins ripping pieces of the cage top apart, saving some of the sturdier ones along with some of the rope that was used to secure it. At points in the interrogation, he will glance at the prisoner as he snaps a wooden piece loudly in counterpoint to Edgar's threats.
After he's managed to pull enough of the top apart, Tellar will lash some of the heavier pieces together and try to fashion a makeshift club out of the materials.
Eaton hangs back and watches quietly. Roughing the fellow up or coercing him is all well and good. There's a line, but it's not getting to the point where that line is really even in sight yet. Lord Starse is by far the most imposing fellow here, but his father has always been the one to strong-arm, leaving him to quietly stand aside and wring his hands. He doesn't feel he yet has the magical might to be truly frightening, and so he's not. Instead he watches, his violet eyes bright and narrowed to sharp slits, arms crossed over his chest.