Once an Elf, Clipped from Memory.

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ZENAKU
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Once an Elf, Clipped from Memory.

Post by ZENAKU » Wed Sep 12, 2018 3:38 pm

Clipped. They have clipped me.

Shamed, maimed, exiled, and forgotten with two simple strokes of a blade. Wiped from the history books of my kin, awaiting further judgement for the punishment of my studies. .

Studies which I have taken upon myself as a means of balancing the cosmic order, which in itself is an act of not just neutrality but one many might consider a greater good. None of that matters now. They have confiscated and likely destroyed all of my findings. Leaving me only with this small, blank journal which I had kept within my plain robes. Stained now from the red marks of shame and lost opportunity.

I am not the first to be exiled, but the first in maybe a thousand years to bear the mark that will separate me from my people until the end of my days. No longer an Elf born under the same silver moon, no longer a Tue-tel-quessir, not even a smudge upon the proud lines carved into ancient stone which represent the long-armed trees of our ancestry.

I was unable to save it. Ripped from my grasp was the very token which has opened my eyes to the imbalance in need of being corrected. A tilting scale of power not just within one or even many kingdoms. Beyond distant land masses and the problems of just the world we foolishly consider to be the center of everything. A scale with constant need of righting across the planes, and beyond the capability of any single people, let alone a single creature of flesh and blood such as myself.

Yet, we are blind to it. I am blind to it.

Despite all of my efforts, I was unable to catch even a glimpse of the distant light which would have Illuminated the errors in need of correction, the paths to instilling balance so that our constantly filling glass were not to topple and shatter.

I reached too far. Asked questions where the answers were not to be sought. Perhaps too loudly, as I failed to receive a response but was somehow heard by those who are too deaf to recognize the calls of the tearing painting which depicts our crumbling mortal illusions.

Too stuck within one frame to realize that the very wall from which we hang upon is made of spider webs. Constantly changing and always at risk of being blown away by an unseen wind.

Now I wait. The hands of those who I sought to save shall be the blind executioner.

Day 11, Month 9. 140AR
Zenaku
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ZENAKU
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Exile.

Post by ZENAKU » Wed Sep 12, 2018 4:29 pm

Awake.

I have awoken. Lifting my face from the wood of the flooring that has left an impression which I can feel upon my cheek. Wearing the same plain robes, shoulders stained from my own blood.

Rocking. The ground beneath me is rocking. The sudden, but not violent, jolt of everything followed by the sound of water striking the hull flood me with realization.

An empty coin pouch lays within arms reach. Coins that must have been intended to sustain me. That is, before someone realized I would not be aware of them missing until I rose from my unnatural slumber. I have nothing else but this journal. Apparently it too was not worth taking, as it too was discarded beside me. I thank my luck at having purchased one that had been spelled against water damage, as it now sits in a salty bootprint.

I have no idea where I am, nor how I came to be here. The only assumption that makes sense is that this water vessel within which I am reborn is to carry me to wherever it is that I have become exiled.

I have never ventured by watercraft. Our homeland was many days travel from any body of water. The lack of symmetry and care for detail is a giveaway that vessel is not of elven make. Which leaves me to believe my sleep was not only unnaturally induced, but perhaps the working of some magic. If it were not I would have likely awoken having soiled myself.

The markings of my shame still bear the tender caps indicating a recent wound. I dare not touch them in fear of prematurely revealing the fresh flesh beneath and risking infection. The last thing I need is to lose an ear before my feet once again touch land.

All around me I see clues indicating the ship not being anything close to a passenger vessel. Well, not anymore at least. Old iron rings, pitted and rusted from age, line the interior. The floors, the walls, all with chains which I suspect once ended in shackles now secure cargo. Crates, barrels, and bundles of all sizes. Covered mostly in large waxed canvas.

As I write the only other living creature that appears to share this deck with me is peering back curiously from atop a nearby barrel. An orange tabby cat with a kinked tail, no doubt here to handle the rats.

I hear feet above, and shouting in some common dialect which escapes me in my current state. The light from which I am using to write is a thin, dusty sheen escaping in lines from beneath a three step doorway leading upward; as well as the outline of some large square cargo hatch immediately above me.

I would investigate but I feel too weak. Perhaps someone will wake me to sup when night falls. I do not hold that possibility in high hopes, but understand that I am already at their mercy.

I am going to sleep a bit longer.

Day xx, Month 9. 140 AR.

Zenaku
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ZENAKU
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Time Passed on the Water.

Post by ZENAKU » Wed Sep 12, 2018 5:19 pm

Months.

We have been on the water for months now. I have learned that I am aboard a repurposed merchant vessel named the Green Lady after her old miscolored hull; stained due to being landed and neglected for so long before going to auction.

The crew looks upon me with mostly distant amusement. Jesting from out of earshot in my direction. Captain Eyla, a fearsome flamehaired human woman who carries a notched axe, seems to carry an aura of fear and respect of her experienced sailors. I suspect there is more to her than simple merchantry. I seem beneath her concerns, rarely catching a mere glance when I ride above deck.

The only crew member who seems to have taken interest in me, aside from Kink the feline, is the cabin boy Zeke. He spends more time working each deck than anyone else, and seems to be bright despite his human heritage. With keen ears for news and access to things not every crew member has. His youth comes with a curiosity that makes speaking with the disgraced Elven passenger irresistible.

Apparently the common we learn from old texts, far from human civilizations, has caused me to speak like an “Old, uptight rich lady from upper-crust Waterdeep”. I am told that it would be best to rectify this, yet I do not feel particularly inspired to take on his dialect.

I fill most of my time in silent contemplation. Riding at the prow when allowed, but usually below deck. The Green Lady made a couple of stops at small ports for provisions, as well as small trade. Restocked on water and salted this or that. Everything is salted. Eaten as is or thrown into a stew with potatoes, onions, or carrots. It is safe to say I have become accustomed to a diet consisting of mostly the latter two.

I am told we are bound for a chain of islands, rich with the bounty of the wild. Despite the location there appear to be a variety of inhabitants. Many are said to be outcasts. Making a living either through trade or by pillaging the various monstrous creatures and ruins which seem to plague the lands. Others belong to the cities and townsteads, taking up a more permanent life in this archipelago, a distance from the main land.

Our first destination is to be some tundra with ready access to all manner of hide and fur, some rare foliage, and a strange abundance of mundane jewelry that is said to come from crypt robbers. It is here that I have been sentenced to. Captain Eyla would have let me off at any of the seedy port towns, Happy to be rid of the extra mouth, but I decided it fitting to at least begin my new life where I was intended.

We should reach land shortly after the spring thaw.

Surely if anywhere needs a realignment to restore balance, it is a place such as this.

Day 07, Month 03. 141 AR.

Zenaku
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ZENAKU
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A Storm.

Post by ZENAKU » Thu Sep 13, 2018 4:58 pm

Wind.

Screaming wind.

It is all I could hear for more hours than could have possibly passed in one day. That and the slamming of the ship as its prow lifts and descends against the never ending wall that is the ocean below and above.

The muffled sounds of the of the crew members attempting to communicate over the wailing of the wind are unimpressive compared to Captain Eyla's sharp orders. Even below, belayed to a stout timber frame lest I be smashed against the crates amidst the pitching and rising of the ship against the sharply cresting waves, her command of the ship is clear.

I understand as well as any sailor that she is the only thing keeping the twin masted ship afloat this night. Without Captain Eyla the Green Lady would be like a leaf, tossed mercilessly from wave to wave until it was torn from stem to tip.

Kink the cat is huddled tightly in a limp hammock filled with empty hemp bags and old rags. Wide, watching eyes as the water from above finds its way through the cracks in the cargo hatch and door to the deck.

Water that rushes past as the floor rises and falls, timbers groaning in protest to the amount of abuse they withstand; as if it is all they can do to not give in and let the ship slip away into a thousand pieces.

There will be no rest for anyone this night.

Day 26, Month 3. 141 AR.

Zenaku.
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ZENAKU
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Gray.

Post by ZENAKU » Fri Sep 14, 2018 6:10 am

Gray.

Everything as far as the eye can see is as dull gray as an ocean of slate.

The Green Lady had been counterflooded to reduce the trim caused by water on one side of the ship's bilge deck. I had spent the first couple of hours of daylight helping run rancid buckets to drain out of the scuppers, openings meant to keep water from reaching the bilge to begin with. The hand was appreciated, but eventually replaced by someone with steadier sea legs than mine.

Captain Eyla finally retired back to her cabin after assessing the damage done to the Green Lady. Delegating tasks to the right hands for the job, and favoring a leg due to having been struck by a stray line while manning the helm. She informed us all that it was all she could do to save the ship,and we had blown South and too far West of our destination. We would have to turn back and hope that we could handle repairs before another storm caught us.

A dwarf with shells woven into his braided hair stroked a little metal anchor tied into his beard as he took inventory. I had seen him before, tallying and arithmeticing, and figured him to be the quartermaster. An important job on the ocean, as it would not bode well to plan too little or too much when you were days away from drinkable water. He was also the cook, for which I would never forgive him.

The sounds of swaying wood and loose rope fill the air alongside the sounds of men and women handling the many repairs, water slapping the sides of the crawling ship, and the pained groaning of a poor sailor whose leg was crushed by a railing that had torn loose during the storm. His crewmates keep him properly out of his senses with drink until the ship's surgeon can finish sewing up Zeke's torn arm.

I should be overcome with joy and gratitude for having survived such an ordeal. I probably am. Yet still I can not help but think back now on my decision to see out the trip to my exile instead of hopping ship somewhere of my choosing.

Of course, it is much too late now for regret.

Day 27, Month 03. 141 AR.

Zenaku.
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ZENAKU
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Pirates.

Post by ZENAKU » Sat Sep 15, 2018 2:30 pm

Relief.

Relief is a much more accurate word to describe the general feeling than simple joy, as everyone is too exhausted to feel true exultation.

Dog eye, nicknamed for his single droopy eyelid I wager, has just called down from the Crow's nest the age old expression “land ahoy” and everyone shared a tangled moment of confusion and disbelief before it truly registered.

Most seem to have taken his word for it, as they were all hands on deck without even taking the time to look themselves. Within minutes I heard “Boom About!” and had to duck as a swinging wood beam nearly took my head off. Zeke just smiled at me in good humor, but did not say anything as he ran about checking lines.

The crew worked hard and were rewarded with sea spittle as the water would occasionally reach above deck once the Green Lady had reached the peak of her pace. Now the mood was beginning to lift and true excitement could be felt in the air.

I realized that this is what these sailors lived for. As much as any profit to be made, as much as any promises the shores may offer, it was the feeling of accomplishing another journey despite all of the odds. It was the power in defying nature itself while tempting fate.

In my case, it seemed more like I was soaring towards my own fate instead of crossing my fingers for it to turn a blind eye.

Gradually the land which Dog Eye had seen became a speck, then a dot, then a line on the horizon, and a couple of hours passed to reveal distant cliff faces on the Western side of the islands.

As we near, the cliffs appeared as if they were shorn off of the land mass with the sculpting blade of some angered god, having grown tired and given up on his project. Before the cliffs, jutting out of the waters, are spire like rock formations that must be natural but could just as easily have been raised from the ocean floor like stoney teeth to serve as foreboding mage towers.

Captain Eyla directs the Green Lady far from the things, careful of reefs with her deep draft too dangerous to attempt any shallows or unseen obstructions that may lurk beneath the surface.

“Ship ahead!” Calls out Dog Eye from the Crow's nest, and it's a wonder he can see so far. Distantly the bow of a smaller single master vessel appears from around the northward bend to the west. Even Captain Eyla did not notice it so quickly, with her expensive looking spyglass. I mutter a simple incantation to enhance my eyesight, one of few that I remember from my days at academy before deciding to deal with records.

The ship has a warm colored wood, much better in repair than the old Green Lady, and sports gold and white flags atop it's mast. Billowing dashingly behind it as it slowly follows the coast, turning toward us. Atop The forecastle stands a figure, at this distance difficult to make much of, in a crisp white dress. She is waving heartily at us with one arm, the other on the railing, as if beckoning a hello.

The crew did not seem so ready to share greetings. Captain Eyla spoke with her first mate, an amusing salt and pepper man with a kind face that looked he would be more appropriate tending a shoestand than with a well worn blade at his hip, and the mathematics savvy quartermaster.

“What do you see, Mr. Zenaku?” Asks Zeke from my side, his stitched arm bound tightly outside of the sling it should be resting inside of.

“A fair vessel, with a lady upon the prow. Smaller than ours by a good amount.” I replied to the best my abilities, feeling the lack of seaman's knowledge immediately.

“A sloop, she is much smaller Mr. Zenaku. And ya can bet she's a lot quicker.” He points as he speaks, finger dipping below, to the water before the ship.”Even more so, seeing as she sits higher on the water than most. I bet ya a dragon egg thay've gutted 'er for speed and easy escape over shallows, no doubt.”

I turn back to see Captain Eyla and the other two look forward in unison, having come to a conclusion.

“Cheat's furl!” Her voice rings across the deck. The crew look among themselves as they hurriedly begin loosening lines and giving more slack to the sails.

“Cheat's…” I began asking Zeke, but he just smiled at me as if he knew something I did not. He too was quick to the lines. I noticed that none of them were actually untied, but instead loose around their catches. The crew who would normally be fastening rigging to different posts and unfurling the sails further had stopped midway through, and now are fussing with rope and sail as if they are still busy.

We grew close enough to the ship and with my enhanced vision I could see something was wrong. The woman in the white dress wore it too high, as if it were catching on something at the beltline. Also, her boots were not nearly as well managed as the dress. In fact, they appeared as if they had seen a few rough seasons and not all of the lacing was the same.

We were almost within bow range now and the intensity of the anticipation among the waiting crew could be heard in their observant silence. The other ship begins coasting at a similarly casual pace.

“Head down Mr. Zenaku” Zeke says to me from behind, holding the end of a rope alongside a half-elven woman with a silver snake piercing curling down hear ear.

“Now, get us some wind!” Orders the captain, and the ship lurches as the sails are gripped, pulled, and tied back into position by practiced hands. “Full speed to port!” And the boom swings overhead as I duck behind a buttoned down crate, holding on tightly as the ship leans to the left suddenly. The Green Lady is now aimed westward, following the coast from afar as she makes for where the island's cliff edge takes a sharp turn North.

“PLUNK. THUD. THUNK!”. Zeke was right. The sounds of, what I assume are, crossbow bolts striking the side of the Green Lady as the deck is now uneven footing from turning hard and fast away from the smaller ship to our right.

A cheer goes up, and the air is once again one of excitement. Even more so than when we first spotted land, the crew is living in this moment as they work together to move this great green sea beast away from the threat. The other ship's crew can be seen struggling to get it turned, as more of them lay down their crossbows to assist in the pursuit.

“Ship Ahead!” Calls out Dog Eye once more. And indeed, a longer prow emerges from behind the bend we were now aiming at. I look up as I hear an increasingly loud whistle.

“Splash! Crunch” a gigantic missile strikes the Green Lady just below the waterline

“Ballista!” Calls out Dog Eye.

Atop of the larger ship’s forecastle an ox sized crossbow-like contraption, with wings twice as wide, could be seen with three men reloading another whale harpoon sized bolt into it.

A gray day indeed.

Day 28, Month 03. 141 AR.

Zenaku.

ZENAKU
Posts: 13
Joined: Wed Sep 12, 2018 5:41 am

Battle Above, Something Below.

Post by ZENAKU » Sun Sep 16, 2018 2:28 pm

Fire.

The foresail is on fire.

Apparently the ship, which we had begun unwittingly fleeing toward while it laid in wait, had not only a ballista, but also a mage. Even now the arcane pirate uses their abilities to fill the sails of our ambushers.

When the first fireball struck the water before the Green Lady some of the crew even looked at me, as if for some reason the elven exile had some sort of trick up his sleeve. The disappointment and even irritation was apparent when they looked back to see me equally terrified with quill in hand, as I did my best to become small behind the secured barrel I not only use as a writing desk but as potential cover.

The ship was upon us quicker than we could have anticipated. From afar it must have looked like a wolf latching on to a lumbering and helpless beast. The sounds of metal hooks digging into the Green Lady, as well as the wrenching stop as the momentum of the two ship's forced them together with more than a few sounds of wood splitting.

“Boarders!” Shouted dog eye, and Captain Eyla too was rushing to the starboard side to prepare as the boarding ramps from the other vessel were set across the two ships. Screams could be heard as the Green Lady and pirate crew already began after each other with crossbows.

Something warm and wet hit my arm, and I looked up just in time to avoid being crushed by a body as it fell from above. It was Dog Eye, with a short spear jutting out of his chest.

I looked up again to see a pirate swing by on the end of a rope from their rigging, letting go just in time to latch on to the corner of the boom at the bottom of the main sail. There was another atop the bowsprit at the front of the Green Lady, and another had climbed into the Crow's nest to fire a small crossbow into the melee below.

The Green Lady was clearly overrun, but her crew deserved credit as they were fighting together handsomely. As if they had been fighting alongside each other for years, and indeed they likely have. It is unfortunate that I had to come along during the one journey where they had met their match.

The First Mate caught a crossbow bolt in the neck, and the quartermaster stands over him now with a huge curved blade in two hands. Captain Eyla holds a gangplank alone, and is holding the body of one of our attackers by the belt with one arm as a shield while she her axe is slick with blood in her other. A terrifying woman.

Zeke is not far from my hiding place, firing a crossbow with Deadshot accuracy. The man who killed Dog Eye is slumped over the Crow's nest with one of Zeke's bolts in his eye. The Green Lady is making an impressive stand against these experienced cutthroats, but the odds are against them.

The pirate mage has erected some sort of windy barrier which prevents our bolts from reaching past the hull of their ship. To make matters worse, the sloop from before is nearly upon us as well. I braved a look back to see figures on the smaller ship with ropes affixed to hooks in hand, and a ladder with hooks at the end of it as well. Suddenly, some of them are thrown into the ocean screaming.

The other ship has stopped abruptly, too abruptly, but a bolt slams into my barrel and I have to take cover once again. Both of the intertwined ship's rock violently, many of the combatants lose their footing or are even tossed into the air as the wood beneath them violently leaps upward.

The sounds of more than one falling into the waters below are louder than expected, as the once raging battle is put on hold while men and women pick themselves up from the decks of the two ships.

Captain Eyla, somehow still standing at the edge of where a gangplank once was, looks across to the helm of the pirate ship. Standing there is a story-esque man befitting every pirate cliche, tricorn hat atop his bearded head even, and they share a look of concern and understanding.

There is something below.

Day 28, Month 3. 141 AR.

Zenaku

ZENAKU
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Joined: Wed Sep 12, 2018 5:41 am

An Ageless Nightmare .

Post by ZENAKU » Sun Sep 16, 2018 4:34 pm

Terror.

The look upon every sailor's face is one of absolute terror.

Everyone is silent, as if the object of their horror will go away if they make as little sound as possible. The battle, any interest in the potential plunder inside of the Green Lady's hold, it has all become insignificant in the minds of everyone aboard the vessels.

Even I know the stories of sea monsters, titanous octopi or squid, and the nightmare known as the kraken. Sailors in these seas do not only pray for Fair winds and safe travels from the elements, but also for the mercy of the denizens of the oceans depths.

The sounds of screaming split the silence like a sledgehammer. We all could see the cause for the sloops abrupt stop earlier, and it was truly horrific.

The ship itself was being pulled onto its side, destined to be scuttled by the massive tentacles gripping at it's edges. Too afraid to combat the great things, the sailors were all pointlessly clamoring away to the ships port side to attempt to stay out of the water as it devoured the wooden vessel like a bob on a fishing line.

I heard water falling back down to splash upon the deck of the ship and snap to see the cause just as a tentacle, not nearly as enormous as that around the smaller sloop but still fearfully monstrously sized, wrapped the quartermaster around the midsection; binding his arms to his sides as his curved mansized blade clatters below him.

I watch in horror, my hand moving the quill about paper while the rest of my body remains paralyzed. Too stunned to force myself to do anything else but stare, and write this as if compelled to by some obscene force.

Silence is forgotten, and now the crew of the pirate ship is escaping back to their own twin masted vessel, only to find the remaining gangplanks falling to the water below as their captain orders the mage to pull away. This too stops abruptly, as the mage is violently plucked from the helm and crushed against the railing, folding as the massive beasts tentacles retract and force the slender Man back through the small hole.

The quartermaster is now gripping at his throat despite the tentacles never having reached as far up from his midsection. Clawing at his windpipe and turning blue as if he can not breath. Zeke, multi talented cabin boy Zeke, fires his crossbow into the thing wrapping around the dwarf. He must have struck true. As it dropped it's pretty, and the quartermaster hit the deck hard with a wet “Thud”. Only to continue thrashing and tearing as his neck.

I watch in despair now as this only serves to change the target of the gripping thing to Zeke, and he is violently ripped from the deck, suckers gripping him as the unimaginably strong tentacle arm spins him into the air. It is when he too begins to struggle for breath, gasping and wheezing that I realize the truth of this horror.

We are not assailed by a Kraken, the terror of the depths… it is something much more ancient and terrible. A nightmare from the place such things were grown before the first nightmares were conceived by mortal minds.

An Aboleth.

No, two Aboleths. If the other creature was so much bigger than the one now stripping the cabin boy of his ability to breath above water then it must be truly ancient. So ancient that it had seen more pass than any other living thing in this sea, knowledge which was passed through some incomprehensible way to the offspring that is now to be the death of every soul upon this craft.

And yet, like a mad man I can not cease my writing. It is all I can do in fear of shutting out all thought in the face of this inevitable doom before me. Truly, this is a cause of imbalance. A true brick upon a scale which holds a feather on the opposite tray. There is not order present here, only a distinct flavor of chaos which rips all palate of hope from all who cannot help but savor it's taste.

Why then, if such impossibly destructive beings exist among things so helpless against them, were not my calls for balance heard? Why then was I so denied the understanding I sought to prevent such horrific things from happening to disrupt the lines upon which the natural flow of time had been intended to exist?

I look upward to the skies in my distraught pondering and catch a glimpse of something which did not belong. Something that was not there before...and my horror continues.

At first it looks as if some astral body formed amidst the clouds, answering the despairing calls of the dying mortals below. My still magically enhanced visions showed me something else.

The celestial air about it that had flowed as if from a chimney on a windy day, was now turning black about it like actual smoke. It's wings indeed ended in beautiful feathers, but began as scaled membranes with dark spiky protrusions. It's defined muscular was only enhanced by black and red skin. And while one eye glowed with a heavenly glow, the other seeped reddish light sickeningly.

Whatever had just stepped into our world was not something of the heavens. It looked to be a horrible experiment by a bored God with a sick sense of irony, as it bore characteristics of not only a deeper dwelling demonic entity, but of the opposite.

A dark blade with a yellow Stone, like a cats eye, in it's pummel appears in it's hand and it descends upon the ship's with billowing hellsmoke trailing behind it and stops short of the tentacles with it's magnificent wings glowing and ringing with power.

With little concern for the life of those onboard the vessel, and few still survive, the blade of this malformed creature strikes the entire ship down the center. Splitting men and tendrils alike as I feel the floor once again pitching and the halves of the Green Lady begin to sink deeper into the water.

I see Zeke falling with a severed tentacle still wrapped around him as the floor beneath me begins to upright. I sit on the side of the somehow still-secured barrel, and I fear these are the last words I may write. A pity, write is all I could manage in the few days since I was thrown into this world. Removed from my people and my records I have been otherwise helpless.

Before these beings so beyond the lives of us few ants, completely helpless.

Hello my cold, watery grave.

Day 28, Month 03. 141 AR.

Ze…..

ZENAKU
Posts: 13
Joined: Wed Sep 12, 2018 5:41 am

Breath, once again.

Post by ZENAKU » Mon Sep 17, 2018 8:06 pm

Breath.

Breath comes to me in a series of throat clutching, chest tearing gasps. As I expel the rest of the water from my lungs and turn downward, pointing fist against stone.

I have somehow survived the destruction of the Green Lady and her assailants at the hands of the Aboleths.

It seems silly that I should have so many journal entries on the same day, but anyone who would bother to read this account would agree that I have had a rather unorthodox day. I again praise my decision to spend the extra coin on a journal spell protected against dampness.

Again I have awoken on hard ground with the sounds of the ocean all around me. It is fortunate that the water has pushed me through some passage to rest in shallow water, and not merely deposited me at the bottom of the ocean near the cliff sides.

All I remember is the cold water enveloping me, and then being ripped away by some force below the surface. Unable to control my movements as the debris battered me in the purple and red water, flowing freely with bodies of the lost and blood of the sundered Aboleth.

Eventually I was smashed against a wall of rockface, then pitched into darkness as the current sucked me further into lightless depths. It was here I was no longer able to hold onto consciousness.

Currently I am in some sort of stone chamber with slick, dark walls. It does not go much deeper, and further in is a collection of debris and driftwood that must have accumulated over the span of many years.

From a small hole in the ceiling a dim stream of moonlight weakly reaches into the chamber, the only light source. I thank my elven heritage that it is enough to at least see inside of my coffin. Distantly the sounds of wind and waves crashing against shore can be heard.

As I drag myself further upon the drier stone floor, unworked and uneven, I see now that the shallows in which I awoke dip into a small pool. Currently a body floats face down in it, a familiar sun bleached brown head of hair. It is Zeke. Or it was Zeke. I cannot bring myself to pull him out of the deeper water.

Even if I had the strength and resolve to do so, I would not dare. For a gray, tentacled body blocks the passage into this chamber. Part of the bisected Aboleth must have been forced through the passages behind us, removing any possibility of escape.

I remember how painfully the ancient things mere touch had robbed Zeke, the Quartermaster, and many other sailors of their ability to breath. Perhaps some sort of poison, perhaps something magical, maybe even something much more sinister. I do not know.

None of the texts I read in my homeland's libraries spoke of what Aboleths ate, nor how they were able to live without seeming to ever age. They simply were, and had existed for longer than any living creature could comprehend.

Looking deeper into the cave, if that is what you might call it, I see that there is a mixture of sea refuge. Parts of ships, driftwood, a bucket, seaweed, an old boot, small rocks, and various other useless things. I cannot stop a chuckle that burns my ravaged throat, two planks still bound together read “Green Lady”. Really, this is like a poorly written story.

Movement. I hear something back near the pool.

Zeke is moving.

Day 28, Month 03. 141 AR.

Zenaku.
Last edited by ZENAKU on Fri Sep 28, 2018 4:32 pm, edited 1 time in total.

ZENAKU
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Joined: Wed Sep 12, 2018 5:41 am

Zeke is moving

Post by ZENAKU » Fri Sep 28, 2018 4:26 pm

Alive.

‘Is’ Zeke alive?

At first it began as small movements. The facedown form's arm twitched. Then it was still again. His fingers stretched and then clenched tight. His leg reached out and touched the wall of the cave, then went lifeless again.

Suddenly he began thrashing about. Water droplets reached me across the cave as his arms and legs fought to find perch. At one point his head breached the surface, eyes blood strained and face pale, as he managed to kick the bottom of the shallows. Then he went still again, floating again face down but now closer to the edge of the pool.

“What does this mean?” I ask myself in terror and frustration. I have never studied the art of undeath. It felt unclean and in direct opposition to balance and natural order. As a result I am unable to identify characteristics of unlife as opposed to some other magical phenomenon.

I slide further toward the back of the cave. To the rubbish pile behind me. Unable to feel for anything while looking away I risk turning my back to search for something to defend myself.

My fingers wrap around a flat length of wood, perhaps part of a handrail belonging to a small set of stairs. It is awkward and the weight is uneven. This is made worse by the fact that a broken piece hangs at the far end of my makeshift club, seaweed affixed to it somehow as muck dribbles to the ground.

The sound of water and the wet dragging of a body, the impact of hands meeting stone. I turn quickly, fearfully, to see the form attempt to rise from the shallows as it pulls free of the pool. Zeke's light brown hair is covering the tanned face so that I cannot see his expression, but the pained gasp echoes alongside the weight of his body striking the floor.

A previously injured left leg has failed him. Twisted and broken, with a swollen bulge at the outside of his ankle. Hands clutch at it in pain as Zeke's wheezing and groans of agony escape like chains drug across gravel. The leg is forgotten and he seems to weaken in his fight against the agony, lying on his side and opening his mouth faintly as if wording something. Like a fish on the ship's deck drowning outside of water.

His eyes meet mine. Not very much so, but alive eyes. Slowly glazing over, and I realize his mouth is moving with purpose. Not just for lack of air.

Zeke is pleading. The life is leaving his eyes and he is silently begging that I save him.

I cannot move.

I am weak.

I must look insane with my quill in hand. Eyes locked with his in confusion, apologetic, with a body paralysed in fear but for my writing hand.

Zeke's eyes have just closed and he has sunken further back into the pool. Settling with only an arm and his head out of it and the rest of his battered body submerged.

The sound of the tip of my makeshift club striking the ground. Wet, soaked through, but still stout. Heavy. It jars me back to a state closer to full consciousness and I look at the other end, still in my hand, and remember that I am not so helpless as to do nothing.

While still writing I place the broken end onto the boys forehead and slowly lean forward, using my weight as much as any physical strength, to push Zeke's unmoving body back into the water.

He is floating face down once more.

Forgive me Zeke. It is all the strength I have. I swear.

Day 29, Month 03. 141 AR.

Zenaku.

ZENAKU
Posts: 13
Joined: Wed Sep 12, 2018 5:41 am

Eyes.

Post by ZENAKU » Sun Sep 30, 2018 5:04 pm

Eyes.

The wisp of light from above is illuminating the small cavern just so much that all I can see of Zeke is the slight reflection off of his dark eyes.

For the longest time he lay unmoving. Floating face down in the pool once again. Surely his was dead once again. Until his chest began to so subtly rise and fall, his throat contracting like someone breathing in air; despite being buried in salty and murky water with a decomposing ancient creature within it.

After hours of watching in fear of him rising as some sort of unrelenting revenant he sunk completely into the pool of water. Disappearing into the deeper waters far from where my eyes could penetrate. My concern intensified. My spine became made of stone Everytime I could not resist blinking my aching eyes.

Many hours passed and the light went away, pitching me into darkness which I wished with every ounce of flesh on my body that I could hide from. Sleep threatened to take me, instilling even more terror every time I reawoke with a heart pounding jolt of adrenaline. Gradually the light was returning to the cave.

Slowly the top of a blonde-brown head reemerged from the water, in the deeper water somewhere between the cave floor and greyish body of the bisected Aboleth. Until now. Now the thin bridge of Zeke's nose and his two dark, marble like eyes shine the dim light back at me as if waiting for me to answer some unasked question.

I feel my mouth move a few times. As if it were detached from my own consciousness somehow, while I attempt to construct some string of words appropriate for this situation. As if there were anything we could have been instructed to say in preparation for a situation like this. The helplessness weighed down upon me.

My throat, despite being surrounded by water, and nearly drown by the stuff, felt as if it were paved in glass. I could feel the dry shards of my airway grinding together as I tried to force sensible words out of my mouth.

Still, I could not tell if this was a physical sensation or some manifestation of my own fears. Of course I knew my throat could not be so impossibly barren of moisture, suddenly robbing my ability to speak when I may need it most. Yes, I know I cannot drink salt water...however that may be related.

“Zeke?”

I hear my own voice. Quiet, and unsure. Yet the way in which it shattered the silence, I may as well have been yelling across the small confined area.

My eyes have not left the distant shimmer of light bouncing off of his. Can not.

Then I see it. The dark orbs looking back at me widen, also full of fear. Fear which seems to be lifted away for just a moment. Giving way to recognition, and a flood of relief. Zeke's head tilts forward into the water slowly and back again, a nod in response.

I feel the weight leave my own body, my face untightened from the anxiety that had been slowly knitting with steel across my body ever since he sank back into the pool to float.

I hear, not feel, as the cold floor embraces my cheek. Exhaustion is taking me and I can no longer fight to keep my eyes open.

I'll not die in my sleep.

Day 30, Month 03. 141AR.

Zenaku

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