human
The salty air of the Sea of Swords was refreshing, the tangy crisp smell seemed invigorating. Calloused hands tightened on the rigging as Rome hauled himself up the central mast of the ship, pausing for a moment to stare ahead of the ship as it cut it's way through the sea, that was for once placid. It had been a rough journey so far, but they were nearing their destination, one of the long abandoned islands of the Moonshae Isles.
The name of the island had long been forgotten, since it was rare that the living set foot upon it. Reports were that the island was haunted by some form of spirit or demon, much like the ruins of once great Myth Drannor, but it could not be confirmed, since it seemed that all who sailed to the dreaded island never made it out alive.
Rome smirked at the thought, for surely most of the tales were little more than rumor and foolish superstition. Yes there were haunted places in Faerun, but he doubted that the place was as dreadful as all the horror stories that he'd heard. What he did know is that the captain of this vessel believed there to be treasure there and Rose wasn't one for flights of fancy. Rome smiled ever so slightly, his mind flashing back to the previous night when he'd slunk out of Rose's cabin and back to the crew deck before.
His triflings with the ship's captain were kept secret from the rest of the crew, but that was indeed for the best. It would cause problems if the others believed that Rome recieved any favoritism from Rose because of any intimacy the two might share. His reflection was brief however, for he had work to do, and he climbed higher up the rigging and then made his way out on one of the rigs holding the great sails that brought the ship ever closer to the Moonshae Isles.
Skilled fingers worked knots loose and then retied them, to ensure that should another storm arise the sails would not whip free or find themselves further damaged than was expected. With little care to the rest of the world Rome worked, focused on the task at hand and silently awaiting their arrival at their destination.
gpt
The Bloody Thorn was in a bad way, structurally speaking. Even sailing under the hands of her competent crew, and under the eye of her competent captain, she would need repairs as soon as she could get them. Recent skirmishes and a bad storm had taken their toll, and although the ship has weathered them as she was built to do, it was for the better that new timber would soon be in plentiful supply. If the ship had been aware of this fact, even if there was life in the wooden beams and salt-crusted ropes that held her together as her Captain sometimes fancied that there was, she would not have worried over her own welfare. For at her helm was a woman who would do all in her power to prevent the ship beneath her feet coming to unnecessary harm.
To Rose, the Captain on which The Thorn relied so trustingly, the ship was more than simply a boat, a means of transportation and home to those who crewed her. The Thorn was the only sense of freedom she had ever known, the vessel by which she had escaped the grip of oppression and forged her own way in the world. Granted, that world was oftener her enemy than her friend because of the choices she had made and the chances she had taken, but Rose was her own mistress, and despite the drawbacks that came along with it, she could honestly say that she was neither indebted to, nor commanded by any person other than herself. Still, she was painfully aware of the weak spots in the hull, the damage to the masts and rigging, and the agitated hunger of a crew that had been on tight rations for almost a week, and she was more relieved than she let on when the cry of land on the horizon finally went up.
They had, she hoped, approached the Moonshae Isles from precisely the right angle so as to render their particular destination the first island they would reach in the archipelago. And as her lean, athletic form slipped through the hive of activity that was a ship preparing to dock toward the bow, she could make out the treeline and the curious shape of the island itself that indicated to her that they had been fortunate. A reliable map and a good approach, the tide and wind in their favour. For once, the gods seemed to be smiling upon them, and she smiled back; a broad, wolfish grin that was the surest sign to the crew close enough to their leader to see her expression that she was in high spirits. Already her mind was on a hunting expedition, the harvesting of wood for repairs, and the real reason why this particular island was so important. It bode well that so far her map had been reliable, since it led to something she was determined to discover, though what that was she as yet had no idea.
The crew had no idea either; of what it was that she was searching for, or even that she was searching for anything at all. It was a wise policy, Rose had discovered, that if you lacked the answers you should avoid giving rise to questions. And so the only ones with any knowledge of the map, or the mysterious thing to which it led, were herself and Rome, who at this very moment laboured above her making ready for port, and at whom she allowed herself only the briefest glance, her wide and astute lilac eyes appraising his body for the briefest moment, her tongue flickering over her dusky lips as she remembered their hurried but not unsatisfying parting directly before dawn. It had been his own choice, to keep their...whatever it was between them away from the crew's knowledge, but she saw the sense in it. If they felt he was treated any differently to any one of them, he would be singled out for specific cruelty at their hands, and she would struggle to put down a mutiny. Still, it worked rather well for the time being, and though she would be loathe to admit such sentimental thoughts, she was slightly touched by the way he worked to ingratiate himself with her crew. He had proved himself a competent sailor and fighter, and this she believed without bias.
But her thoughts had wandered, and the island drew closer. Since their was no dock to speak of, they would run aground at as low a speed they could manage, and haul the ship up onto the beach. It was a pre-agreed plan, and she trusted it in the hands of her First Mate enough to retire to her cabin and prepare herself for her own tasks while they were ashore.
human
The cry that land had been spotted drew Rome's gaze ahead and his teeth parted in a wolfish smile.Finally.A single thought as he stared ahead at the shore for but a moment, for it was all he'd dare spare. There was a great deal of work to be done for the ship to make birth and he had little time to waste.
He leapt, fearlessly, from the rigging upon which he'd found himself as soon as the cry to lower the sails filled the air. As if hovering in open space he seemed suspended in the air for the briefest moment before he seemed to hurtle out of control. The leap had been planned and he was well practiced and skilled in moving from rigging to rigging. A split second later fingers closed about one of the rigging lines that would act to draw up one of the higher sails. He felt the rope burn slightly against his calloused palms as he slid down a few meters. But his grip held firm and he was lowered towards the deck, the pulleys and weight of the fabric the sail was comprised of slowing his decent until his bare feet touched down on the deck.
He'd felt Rose's eyes upon him and glanced in her direction, flashing the briefest of smiles, white teeth flashing briefly before he leapt to aid in hauling in the other sails. He felt the ship slowing as they drew closer to land, his voice joining in time with the rest of the crews as they worked to slow the ship so that it would not be further damaged as it was brought to ground upon the sandy beach.
As he worked he kept his eyes towards the ever encroaching island, gaze sweeping over the heavily vegitated terrain, as if searching out some form of life or sign of what they were searching for. Seeing nothing did not sit well with him, it was as if the dense jungles were devoid of life, for not even birds were visible rising from the dense canopy. There was something wrong with the place, but Rome pushed that worry aside, for there were more important tasks that must be dealt with first.
gpt
In her own private room aboard ship, part bedroom, part study, Rose was quickly but carefully gathering what items she might need during her search on the island. Swiftly, she rolled her map and slipped it through a loop in the wide leather belt that hung low on her slender hips. That belt was also home to a scabbard in which was kept a rapier, its hilt a spiral of silver and black, the handguard also as silver as the razor sharp blade. This hung against her right hip, and against her left was holstered a wheel-lock pistol, also inlaid with panels of heavily engraved silver. It was somewhat of a curious item, originally found in the Lizard Marsh through which she had once passed, when an equally curious adventure had led her through Daggerford. Hooked onto the front of her belt was a small canteen containing her own daily ration of fresh drinking water, a rarity aboard a ship that now saw most of its crew restricted now to ale and a little rum to pass the evenings.
Below that wide, brown leather belt, she wore a pair of tight leather trousers, permitting her all the movement she needed while the thick material also protected her skin to a certain degree. Her bustier was also black leather, laced tightly but cut of halfway down her midriff to reveal a wide sliver of pale grey skin that bore an equal measure of swirling black ink running down her sides, and deep grey scars that criss-crossed her back. Her midsection was not the only part of her body that was not unblemished; her arms bore old tattoos faded by the sun and salty air, and her face was marred by a single yet vicious looking scar that ran the length of her left cheek from immediately below her eye to just shy of the outer corner of her lips. It certainly could not be said that Rose was a classically beautiful sort, even less so for the shade of her skin which betrayed her bloodline as half-drow. But her wide, appraising eyes and the challenging jut of her jaw, as well as the lean curves of her body had their appeal, secondary though they were to her dauntless spirit and saucy, scathing wit.
With everything she could conceive of needing with her fastened safely about her person, Rose made her way back onto deck just in time for the ship to shudder beneath her feet as she skidded up onto the sand. The crunching of wood was surprisingly loud, and she winced as she thought of the already strained Hull being forced against the sand. Nothing seemed to give way outright, though, and Rose walked briskly to the tip of the bow, unfased by the shuddering of the ship as she ground slowly to a halt. As soon as the ship had stopped moving, ropes were thrown over the sides, and members of the crew were climbing swiftly down onto the beach, Rose among them in her hurry to survey the state her beloved ship had been left in by the risky but necessary manouevre.
human
As the ship began to slide up onto the sand of the beach Rome made his way below decks, to where his own trunk was kept. He fished the key from his belt and drove it home into the lock. With a twist he heard the catch release and pulled open the trunk to reach down inside. His fingers curled around the two weapons he kept in the trunk and he drew them free.
The twin scimitars were slung across his back, and secured in place by the buckles. He reached up after they were secure, fingers curling around the hilts and he drew them free. As they were freed from their scabbards he felt the familiar tingle in the mythril blades, eyes following their lines as they called to his mind, begging to be drenched in blood. He shuddered slightly and then placed the weapons back in their sheaths before turning closing the trunk. He grasped a canteen hanging from his cot and hung it from his belt. Next he drew on his boots, drawing the rawhide ties at the top tight before securing them and standing.
Returning to the deck he walked to the railing and then slithered down one of the ropes, dropping into the sand and crouching down slightly, letting his fingers run over the moist earth. His eyes moved from the beach towards the dense jungle beyond and he straightened, reaching his hands up to brush the hilts of his blades, as if seeking comfort. He felt their power stir, briefly and nodded to himself before making his way to stand next to Rose and the rest of the crew that were moving towards shore..
"Well, we made it Cap'n.." He said, voice deep and soft as he stared into the jungle, eyes narrowing to suspicious slits.. "Can't say as this place feels right though.. There's somethin amiss 'ere.." He glanced at her for a brief moment before turning his gaze back to the jungle, as if half expecting it to lurch forward and engulf them all.
gpt
Rose, thus far, had been far too pre-occupied with her vessel to really notice the atmosphere on the island. It was when Rome's voice, surprisingly close beside her, called her attention to matters that weren't constructed of wood or rope, that she turned toward the forest to follow his gaze, and finally tuned in to her surroundings. He was right, of course. There was something about the stillness of the island that, as soon as she noticed it, sent a shiver down her spine. She set her jaw, though, and tipped her head on one side, listening for a full moment to the sounds of the forest at the top of the beach. It was too silent. Not a bird in the sky. Not a hint of a breeze rustled the leaves, despite the air she could feel rushing against her back from the open sea. She glanced up at Rome, her eyes betraying a troubled, yet defiant espression. "You're right. 's somethin' wrong about it. We'll not linger longer'n we have to."
She gazed pensively inland for another moment, before she turned and walked the few paces to her First Mate, a buxom, yet fiersome dwarf by the name of Greta. A few words were exchanged, and a friendly palm clapped to Rose's shoulder before the half-drow walked away from her crew and toward the treeline, knowing that Rome would easily catch her before she reached the outer limits of the forest. She slipped the map from her belt and studied it for a long moment, confirming what she had already commited to memory. Whatever this map led it, it was dead in the centre of the island. They would have to cut their way through this dense mess of greenery before they even got close. For a moment she wondered whether the three days the intended to stay ashore would be enough, but when she glanced into the darkness between the trees, she knew that she would do all in her power to leave this place as soon as she possibly could.
When she could once again sense Rome beside her, she sighed and handed him the map as if for verification. "We're not stayin' long. The sooner we're back aboard that ship and at sea the happier I'll be. This place is...wrong." It was the best word she could find to sum up her feelings, but somehow it fit. The place was fundamentally not right, at least not as far as she was concerned.
human
"Aye.. this place is wrong indeed, it's too quiet, and too still." Rome said as he stood beside Rose at the edge of the forest. "Reminds me of a crypt." He commented quietly, disliking this intensely. His right hand grasped one of the scimitars that he carried and he pulled it from it's sheath, fingers tightening reflexively as he felt the thrum of power through the hilt. The more he used them the more he felt their need for blood. He prayed, silently to what ever gods would listen, that he'd not have need of them here.
His green eyes shifted to Rose, not the usual look of secret desire that he cast her, but one passing from a warrior to the next, from a subordinate to his commander. "Aye, sooner afloat the better, what e'er we're lookin' for we'd best get to it quick and get out. Don't much care to know what's made this place so void of... everything." His fist tightened about the blade and he stepped forward, the blade hissing as he slashed downward, cutting aside a thick knot of vines that barred his path.
He hissed between his teeth and stared into the gloom. "Be a long way hacking through this mess, best hope is that we find a path o' some sort, or we'll be a month trying to chop our way through this mess." He spoke in barely more than a whisper, as if speaking too loud would be a mistake. Drawing his second blade he swung it, cutting more of the dense foliage aside before stepping into the shadowed darkness of the jungle, alert and prepared for anything that may come errupting out against the intruders..
gpt
He was right. This place was like a crypt. Or like the cusp of dawn on the outskirts of Skullport ?? the feeling that dark and terrible things had recently happened, and that they would soon happen again, but for now a silence had settled over things that was best not disturbed. The comparison in Rose??s mind was grounded in first hand experience. She had grown up in Skullport, moulded by the underground city??s hardness, schooled in steeling herself against the things that lurked in the darkness. It wasn??t a memory that she cherished, and the reminder she got from this place put her doubly on her guard.
She caught and returned the glance he cast her, thoughts of their tumbles about her cabin far from her mind. This was no time or place for such thoughts, and there was more than that manner of physicality to their involvement. There was a certain trust between them ?? they had both seen the other in the height of a pitched fight, they knew the way the other moved, knew each other??s strengths and weaknesses and knew how their skills with a blade could be moulded to complement each other, just as any collective of individuals whose lives depend on fighting a common enemy ought to be able to do. They trusted each other to make the right sword-strokes, at the perfect moments. They were warriors of a sort, and all that was reflected in the looks that passed between them as they entered this place.
She felt no need to grace him with a verbal reply. Surplus words would only create an unnecessary sound. Instead she quietly slipped her rapier from its scabbard, flexing her fingers around the hilt a couple of times as she stepped behind Rome, moving in the space he created as he chopped aside the foliage. She held her body turned at ninety-degrees to his, sidestepping in his wake, the better to keep an eye on the area behind them. She did not trust this place. Her gaze flickered about the foliage behind them, looking for any sign of movement. Leaves moving in a breeze, a bird flying from a tree, a small animal scurrying through the undergrowth. Any of these would have been a welcome sight, but she saw none. No movement, no sound. It was unnerving, this quiet.
human
Berfore long sweat was coating his sun bronzed flesh. His sleeveless jerkin was quickly soaked with sweat as he swung his blades smoothly before him, their razor sharp edges cutting through the vines and brambles easily, but the repetative motion was enough to make his breath come faster as his muscles strained.
His auburn hair fell before his eyes and he crossed his eyes slightly to look at the obnoxious strange of hair before pursing his lips and blowing fiercely. His hair bounced out from infront of his eyes and he nodded a bit to himself, as if satisfied with the result. Other than he remained silent save for the sound of his blades passing through the dense foliage.
As they moved through the foliage Rome would stop from moment to moment and glanced about the forest around them. He held up one of his hands, the blade glistening in the sparse sunlight that filtered through canopy above. It was a silent signal for Rose to stop. He glanced back at her for a moment before signaling for her to wait a moment. No longer swinging the blades he slipped down under some of the folliage and moved into the dense under brush, dissapearing from view for a moment or two.
After his brief dissapearance he came back out from under the foliage to glance at her. He shook his head slightly and gestured for her to continue following him, but to remain silent. He no longer cut his way through the foliage, but instead began to weave his way through the dense under brush. It was slow going, but it allowed them to remain even more quiet as they headed deeper into the hauntingly silent island.