The rope was slick with rain-water and sea-water alike and it was a several wretched moments before a firm grip was established. Pounded by spray that those of whose cold those on the ship had grown numb to and unconscious of already and pummelled by a harsh prevailing wind that seemed to just come from all directions, the heaving started, and slowly the trio began to re-hoist the mass. For the weaker members - that was: Sinyail and Sees-In-Shade - a pain shot up through their arms from the get-go but even Mauzol felt as if his arms were to explode soon enough.
With near-hysterical, profanity-punctuated screams of encouragement mostly loud enough to be heard over the wind from Raylis it was erected in the matter of thirty seconds - a long, long thirty seconds it might have been -, those finding strength where each might have thought strength hadn't existed before. The ship lurched forward at that - Elated, Raylis shouted something incomprehensible but presumably congratulatory. But it was not time for celebration yet: the sudden realisation hitting that whilst the mast was up there was still the part of keeping it up: it would need to be held in place - never easy said, but even harder done with how the winds were
Sees-In-Shade in particular felt as if his arms were about to fall off under the pressure.
Hidden:
I'm still confused why a feather or area-effect fortify strength spell wasn't used but whatever.
I'd also like to congratulate myself for not including some immature erection joke somewhere. It was so hard.
Lifeboat
Niralie's spell worked. However as far as she was aware it might not have been cast at all. The crew were numb all over. Whilst in theory their bodies might have formed a greater immunity to the cold - It was something that offered many practical benefits at that moment in time: shatteringly cold people remained shatteringly cold.
The lifeboat itself continued in-land with increased ease as they cleared the mass of the ship and the larger waves crashing about it. It still bobbed dangerously with each impact but the worst seemed to be over. It was as a sense of confidence in their position threatened to descend over the group that Valentia suddenly spotted the flailing body, desperately fighting to hold itself above the tumbling waves, some metres back from where they'd sailed from. It was only for the briefest instant - a flash that could easily have been a disturbed trick of light - but she knew within her it was real - and if they just turned back it was possible it could be helped.
But that would entail heading back into the worst of the swell - a wholly unpromising proposition.
As the mast creeped back into position, Sees-In-Shade struggled to keep it stable. He was even using his tail to help brace himself against the lurches of the ship. In his increasing fatigue, he found himself also struggling to remember the common tongue. "Can you ... mixx?" he huffed to Sinyail as his arms trembled. "M-meld? Fixx!"
Br3admax wrote:This post is bad and it should feel bad.
Valentia bit her lip when she saw the body flailing in the waves. Why did she have to be the one to see it? If one of the others would have spotted it, she could have simply stepped in to argue her point and not have to worry about being accused of faking not seeing him.
Could she pull off the lie? It hardly seemed worth their lives when they had already abandoned ship and those upon it.
It was worth a shot, in any case. Valentia, with a sigh, turned and held onto a different part of the boat as if adjusting herself for comfort now that they were more in the clear than before. She made no mention of what she had saw.
Facing forward, and intent on rowing, Niralie did not notice the overboard individual, nor did she pay any heed to Valentia's fidgeting. She cast a stamina-restoring spell on herself and continued to row, squinting through the weather and the spray as she searched for the shore. We must be getting close, she thought, shivering. Despite her spell and the extra layers she was wearing, the biting cold felt as if it seeped in all the way to her bones.
Timeskips galore! and the introduction of two new PCs. Welcome, OmniChrom and TSO (again).
Spoiler:
Hidden:
Name: Kelessa Munrios Race: Breton Sex: Female Age: 27 Appearance: Kelessa is a breton, that much is obvious. Her height rounds her to the higher spectrum of height, only a centimeter from breaching into 6 feet in height. Her build is solid, but seeming only to bring attention to her hips and her shoulders with the rest being an overall boyish figure. Her only pride and the only part of her body that she puts care into is her hair, mostly done up tightly in a bun so it can fit into helmets when she lets it down it come down to quite a length on her (almost halfway down her legs). Her hair is a honey brown, almost close to blonde but not quite there. Her eyes are a dull blue colour, like dead water. Personality: If someone sewn her mouth shut her personality could almost pass for that of a nobleborn breton with the way she carries herself and her weapons in a almost graceful aspect, sadly someone didn't make her mute and as shut her rather foul (and quick to temper) mouth often gets her scratched, harmed and brutalised in equal fashion. A short bio: As said before Kelessa is a Breton, born of Highrock, and moved around with her merchant parents since she was six. She got into her first scrap when she was seven, since then she's taken to being one of the stronger in any battle no matter what she's given, at the age of twenty she left her parent's caravan and started to travel around by herself, taking up odd jobs and mild acts of banditry. Skills: The prime skills that Kelessa hones are Blades, Unarmed and Archery. She uses the minor act of conjuration to circumnavigate around the idea that she may be undermanned or caught without armour upon her body.
Spoiler:
Name: Finian Race: Bosmer Age: 18 Sex: Male
Appearance: Fairer-skinned than most Bosmer, though of their more diminutive stature and build. Curly brown hair tops a soft face – his most notable definitions are large hazel eyes and a sharp nose.
Personality: Finian tends to over-think things, and much prefers a rational and gentle response to situations rather than a combative one. Being of Bosmer heritage, he prefers to live in the moment than the past, but has an appreciation for history and the knowledge that can be gained from it. Finian is generally pacifistic. His carefree Bosmeri attitude is a little stymied due to recent events in his life, though he is attempting to find comfort in the worship of Dibella. Finian is not a follower of the Green Pact, but he holds a great respect for nature.
A short bio: Born into a family in Valenwood, Finian was raised learning the tenets of archery and with a great respect and appreciation for nature. At 17, however, he was captured by a band of Khajiiti mercenaries and treated none too well as they journeyed across Tamriel. Eventually, the cat-people made their way north, to Skyrim. After a quarrel between the Winterhold College's gatemaster and the mercenaries, Finian was sold to the mage and manumitted. Out of gratitude, Finian has worked for the city and College for several months. The wood elf has developed a rooted fear of Khajiit that transcends the general distrust between the southern neighbours.
Skills: As a Bosmer, Finian has an aptitude for archery, though prefers to talk matters to a resolution before relying on an arrow. He opts for remaining in the shadows during combat, though is nowhere near as stealthy as many of his brethren; his clumsiness has left him in a number of scrapes before, though his basic grasp of restoration magic has pulled him through. Finian has a talent with speech and a nimbleness of both form and fingers that allows him to slip into many places unquestioned.
Shore - Somewhere in Skyrim, Presumably
Not another soul was seen as the small craft completed its hazard-wrought journey in-land: wind-blasted, soaked to the bone; their clothing, tight sopping messes, clung tightly to bare skin: violent shivering was a reality of their condition as the adrenaline began to leave them. But each was alive: against all odds, the three had made it to shore.
Of course, that was arguably the easy bit. Gods knew their exact position, and with temperatures well below freezing, hypothermia and a swift death lay well inside the realm of all possibilities.
Glancing around, nothing was immediately discernible. Surrounding them, shadows clinging to their threatening masses, were presumably a large number of ice-boulders. It would seem that they dotted the beach. The beach was bare otherwise - or bare as far as could be made out in the light, or lack thereof. It was as a glance up and off it was attempted that the first glimmer of real hope was identified: just off the beach flickered a small fire:
It remaining alight indicated that it was shielded from the rain by some yet to be seen structure: perhaps it lay inside a cliff face? or a cave? It didn't matter at that moment for Arellius, the first to spot the light source.
"Please tell'uhs I'm nah'maginin' tha'?" His voice came groan-like, the trip had been hard on his already battered state.
Shore
Three figures - a Breton, a Bosmer, and a Redguard - looked out on the Sea of Ghosts just two beaches north, a kilometre or so away from the lightboat crew. Lavishing in a cruelly warm fire, bellies full from the meal and mead they'd just consumed, the Redguard - a slight though profoundly imposing young-ish woman, her aspect stoic and tone strong and measured - had motioned that she might head to sleep when the distressed ship was spotted off their make-shift camp.
Watch was all they could do as it made its way in towards them...
Above Deck
It was a valiant effort.
However it was one that had always been doomed from the beginning to failure, the shore figured itself too distant from the onset, and numerous delays didn't help their chances.
Luck saved them in the end:
There came a sudden swallowing out of water: an unusually placed ice/sand/rockbar of unidentified size but definite existence, submerged beneath harsh waves some one hundred odd metres out from shore, impacting with the wrecked ship. It ground to a loud, forceful halt, throwing all those on the ship to the deck. The rope which maintained the mast in its upright position was dropped, the mast itself swung back across the ship, ploughing through the second mast - which itself cracked under the pressure and careered back, and with a scream lost over the wind, collapsed finally on Raylis' figure.
It couldn't be determined what harm had occurred to their impromptu captain, not without approaching his fallen figure.
Hidden:
I should point out that I'm probably making up geographical features here. I'm happy to kill-off complainers on the ship though c:
My D2 in higher level leaving cert physics also tells me that the mast falling back across the ship from an impact to the front and front-underside of the ship is correct. If it isn't obvious I'll be so glad to get out of this whole 'having to think about the consequences of moving objects with attention paid to the laws of motion' parts of the RP as soon as possible.
Last edited by Velvet LeChance on Wed Dec 17, 2014 1:04 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Valentia wasn't much of the praying sort; not in the traditional sense anyway; but she gave many a silent bargain and plea to whatever higher power was watching during their harsh ordeal. They had survived, and she hoped that her decision to leave the others was a right one.
In any case, they needed to find warmth, and magical fire would only do them so much before she and Niralie ran out of magicka. The fire, whether it was a hallucination or not, was their only option at the present.
With her teeth chattering, Valentia nodded, staying close to Arellius to stave off some of the bitter winds. "Let's... Let's hurry. Please." she mumbled. It just wasn't her day.
Sinyail ran across to the stricken dunmer, preparing a feather spell strong enough that he and the various assemblage of tired and soaked people could hope to free him. The entire reason he hadn't cast it earlier was to keep some magicka in reserve just in case, and this was more than important enough to be worth using that magicka.
It wasn't that he liked the man; the only person he truly liked, as opposed to mere maintenance of a cordial position, had escaped as best she could to fate as yet unknown - Auriel protect her whatever it was - but that Raylis being alive was somewhat essential, and the mast falling on him, presumably, put that essentiality into a place of dubious future.
"Of all the places either of the masts could have hit, one of them lands on the one person we really needed. That's just grand."
The sarcasm in his voice was obvious; the annoyance even more so.
The Shore - also hi.
Dead water eyes spotted the ship and a hand curled tighter around the mead it once held. "Ah! Arkay's unwashed beard!" The Breton shouted loudly, laughing off the obviously upsetting shipwreck. "Poor little nuggets gotta be all bruised after that." Then her gaze refocused, the slight stagger of drunkenness in her step. "Zenithar's bed covers.. Should we help 'em.." She asked, her gaze turned to both the Redguard and the Bosmer.
Not that she cared, just wanted deniability and more mead. "They outta just be bruised.. a little right?"
Call me RainbowFoxif you want
In Command of RainbowFoxDungeon "They call him the Joker. But my puddin' is no joke." -Harley Quinn Hey, are you into roleplay?! Click here to join our awesome subforum!
The young Bosmer started from his stew and peered at the commotion on the dark water as a battered ship crunched loudly to a halt out past the shore. Protected as he was by the small rock ledge he shared with his Breton and Redguard companions, Finian was hesitant to leave. Scanning the cliffs near the shore, though, he determined there would be few natural hazards to contend with. He turned to Kelessa at her almost uncaring response to the shipwrecking.
"We should go and help them," Finian suggested. "There's nary much we could do from here." He looked back at the three drenched figures clambering from their all-but-wrecked dingy. "They look cold," he muttered.
Last edited by OmiChron on Mon Dec 22, 2014 4:39 am, edited 1 time in total.
Niralie climbed from the boat stiffly, exhausted after rowing through the storm, her freezing limbs protesting every movement. But at least the boat had reached the shore with all of its occupants alive. Thank the gods, we've made it. She cast another stamina-restoring spell on herself to keep herself moving: they needed to find shelter, and it was unlikely to be next to the boat.
She looked up as she heard Arellius' observation. "I s-see it too..." she replied, shivering. She knew just as well as the others that it was their best chance for survival. But her experiences over the last few days had also taught her to be wary of strangers. For all they knew, the owners of the fire could be a group of hostile bandits, and none of the three were in any condition to fight. "L-Let's hope they're friendly..."
She trudged alongside the others, keeping close as well. She'd passed the point of the freezing air and wetness on her skin being painfully cold; it was now numb. That was frightening, and she knew her companions were in the same shape she was in. They would need to find warmth quickly.
To avoid confusion, from here forth, the shore that Arellius and co. are on will be called "Shore One" and the Shore that yet-to-be-named Redguard and co. are on is called "Shore Two".
Shore One - Arellius Afer III
It was a trudge. That was how Arellius was later to describe it. "I trudg'd up t' th'fire.." He did it as miserable as he was silent - and the Imperial didn't speak a word the entire time. The bitter winds that swirled about them cut through both leather and skin: a numbness had now replaced the sharp prickling that had invaded his hands and feet. Which would have been fantastic had he not known it was a dead-on indicator of the onset of frostbite. He picked up his pace.
The camp itself was disorganised: held inside the mouth of the cave, shielded from the harshest of conditions, a small bedroll was rolled out next to a fire. It crackled softly, its radiant glow dancing across the walls about them as small flickerings of flame rose up for the briefest instant before being suddenly extinguished in some process that the Imperial neither knew nor cared to identify.
He was almost on top of it the instant he'd arrived, the warmth hitting his skin with a pleasant pain.
I'm confused. If they're two seperate shores, and you've marked shore 1 on that post, does that mean they've found a different camp rather than Finian/Kelessa/Redguard's camp?
Alarra wrote:I'm confused. If they're two seperate shores, and you've marked shore 1 on that post, does that mean they've found a different camp rather than Finian/Kelessa/Redguard's camp?
Niralie followed as Arellius sped up toward the camp. She scanned it quickly as they approached, and, not seeing anyone, she entered the cave right behind him. Giving a small, almost inaudible, sigh of resignation as he claimed the most comfortable spot, she chose a place on the ground near the fire. She considered removing her extra layer of robe to sit on - even damp as it was, it would be warmer to sit on than cold stone - but the campfire's warmth had heated the stone surrounding it to a neutral temperature. It wasn't particularly warm, but in her freezing state it was comfortable enough. She sat down, huddling close to the fire, still shivering miserably.
Psyfalia and the voyage of the not so damned but still in trouble
"Should....have....stayed in Cyrodill." The Altmer muttered after being thrown to the floor by the impact of the ship hitting the shore. She looked at the fallen mast and knew who had been crushed by it after Sinyail's outburst. "If he wasn't killed instantly." She slowly got up and could tell that she had recieved some new bruises. "Arkay will claim him." She knew that the dunmer's chances of survival were non existance due to the injuries she believed he would have recieved. Even if she was in her best condition, her powers of healing would not be able to save him.
RANDOM SILLY STATEMENT AS SIGNATURE! Praise Sheogorath!
The incessant rain ruthlessly and slowly dragged Sees-In-Shade back to consciousness. The pain in his head from hitting it against the chest, as well as Sinyail's prattling, was compounded by his most recent rendezvous with the ship's deck.
The deck... the ship! The Argonian's eyes snapped open as he jolted upright. It was unfortunate that he had not opened his eyes beforehand. If he had, he would have realized he was laying directly underneath a propped up, broken mast. He was quickly sprawled on the deck again, everything quite much like it had been before, except with two additional blows to the head.
As he mused on his two most recent head injuries, Sees-In-Shade resolved to lay there indefinitely.
Br3admax wrote:This post is bad and it should feel bad.
Sinyail was forced beneath the musty, ragged sail to catch a glimpse of Raylis. The captain was collapsed and unmoving. It wasn't quite clear whether he was dead or just unconscious - his breathing was lost over the storm. The only evident thing about his condition was that the mast had offered a serious blow. It seemed that he'd tried and failed to stop it with at least one of his hands - bloodied and bent to an awkward angle it was quite clearly broken - and his shoulder wasn't looking too healthy either.
However most worrying was the way the mast lay across his chest - it seemed to press inwards, as if the structure intended to hold it back had collapsed.
Hidden:
Being the only competent individual around is a [&@%!].
Shore 2
"We should.." Of course the Redguard still had no clue how.
As far as she was aware not a single one of them knew magic. She'd also no way to sail out.
Seconds past - seconds that might have been vital she reminded herself - when with a sudden, eye-catching ferocity a large wave crashed on the beach. It would have been ignored thereafter but for the cargo it carried - left behind on the ice-infused sands was a body, sex and race unidentifiable from their distance, but a body all the same.
Without warning to her companions, she started making her way towards it.
Hidden:
I'm just waiting on Omni to change that bit about seeing the lifeboat crew. Please don't respond to it TSO.
Cave's Mouth
Those around the campfire were warm within in minutes. However it was all to noticeable how dead the flame had become. It would probably require a top-up by magic soon enough.
But with (albeit diminishing warmth) Arellius' mind had moved from on from considering their immediate survival to that of their long-term survival. He could be seen glancing further into the cave mouth every few minutes as the three huddled close to the fire. Eventually he spoke his mind.
The ship just past shore is the ship on the water. Not the boat. I can see the shipwrecking, can't I? Tagging off the Redguard noting its motion. Edited out the lifeboat visual a few days ago.
Huddled close to the dying fire, Valentia could care less about anything but getting warmer. In response to it dying out, she raised a hand and let out a gentle puff of flame to jump-start the fire a bit. "You want to go in there?" she asked Arellius with a groan.
OmiChron wrote:The ship just past shore is the ship on the water. Not the boat. I can see the shipwrecking, can't I? Tagging off the Redguard noting its motion. Edited out the lifeboat visual a few days ago.
You've still got a bit about the lifeboat there (I'm assuming, anyway: there's more than 3 on the ship, and that's bigger than a dinghy):
He looked back at the three drenched figures clambering from their all-but-wrecked dingy. "They look cold," he muttered.
Niralie - Cave Mouth
Niralie shifted slightly, glancing further into the cave as well before turning back to the fire. "It would make more sense for them to be there than out in the storm," she remarked. She stared into the newly-replenished flames for a few moments, considering their options: they could wait or go looking for the fire's owner, or else leave before they returned. "What do you think we should do?"
