Welcome Guest [Log In] [Register]
Welcome to Legends Of Arcadia!

We are a site for Roleplay set in the world of Arcadia, as found in the Sega game 'Skies of Arcadia'. We welcome you visitors as you take your first step toward this world, away from the solid land beneath your feet and into a world of floating islands and soaring ships.

If you're looking for adventure, then hop on board our board and explore the endless skies!

Join our community!

And if you're already a member of our crew, please log in!

Username:   Password:
Add Reply
Abductions and Lies; 1st RRDC, 3rd RRD
Topic Started: Oct 3 2008, 03:56 PM (3,427 Views)
PG 17
Member Avatar
Uber Monk
Mikeil was not sure how much time had passed since he had arrived. He had no points of reference, and he was not good at keeping the time in his head. Thusly, he did not know how long he had been sitting there when he felt the floor creak underneath him. He focused his senses on his legs, and the floor. They came closer, as far as he could tell, and stopped at some point to his right. He felt more scrapings; it seemed the room was filling up.

Suddenly, he was grabbed roughly by the arm. He could not feel his mechanic arm, but he assumed someone had grabbed it as well. He was lifted roughly from his sitting position, as someone fiddled with the coverings over his eyes, mouth and ears. They came off quickly, forcing Mikeil to squint and re-adjust. He was in a smallish, dank room, which looked like the interior of a rotting ship. Before he could think of anything else, the men threw him down, and moved away from him quickly.

So. They were afraid of him, eh? Perhaps something to consider for an escape. He took a longer look around him, looking from side to side and over his body. He was covered and held with chains, has he had expected. There were five other captives with him, two on his right and three on his left. The furthest on his left looked beat up, apparently it taken some force to capture her. The next one seemed the scholarly type, and Mikeil wondered why they had bothered with him. The first person on his right was strapped to a chair, and appeared to be the only one to be so held. He has a strange look to him, and Mikeil could not place his origin nation. The next smelled like tobacco, and Mikeil felt instant dislike. He felt there was something in his past that stirred this dislike, but Mikeil could not remember. Lastly was a smaller dark haired girl. Most of her was obscured by the chair, so Mikeil saved his impression until he could see her properly.

Mikeil turned his attention back to the men who had captured them. There was seven of them, eight if you included the captain, or what appeared to be the captain. He was older than the rest, and had a gnarled grizzled appearance. The rest were a younger lot, all looking over them with pride and menace.

Suddenly, the captain burst out laughing, and his crew followed suit.
He spoke roughly, taunting them, even winking at the women on his far right. Mikeil felt his blood start to boil. Scum like this deserved to see some justice. If only he could find his sword…

One of the younger soldiers spoke out, and the captain turned on him, his hand going to his belt. As soon as he did so, he relaxed, and answered the soldier in the positive. The men laughed again, and then the captain turned again, pointing at one of them. He gave a quick barking order, and the man scurried off. He returned a second later, holding a large pot and six tin bowls. He approached the women on his right, and made his way down the line, ladling something greyish and repulsive into the bowl. The bowl had landed in Mikeil’s lap, and he tried to figure out a way to get at…whatever it was. He pushed and tried bending himself, but nothing seemed to work. The movement had forced him somewhat behind the strange man’s chair, and somewhat out of the view of some of the guards.

Twisting his right hand, he managed to get hold of the bowl. Jerking his arm, he managed to around the chains a bit, and he grasped the bowl with his lips. He leaned back, and swallowed the stuff down quickly, as his arm could not stay at it’s current position. The stuff, thankfully, was bland, and the consistency of what he thought was mucus. No matter. As long as it gave him some energy, that was what counted.

He settled his arm back, and let the bowl fall beside him. Now, to find some way of getting this damn chains off. He grasped at a one of the chain loops around his legs, and shifted it slightly. There was a bit of looseness there, perhaps something he could work with…
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Colaya
Member Avatar
<__<
Colaya began drifting back off to sleep by now. He felt like he was sitting in that chair for ages, and he had just started to get relaxed. Unfortunately, that feeling didn’t last long for him. A man began grab about Colaya’s face until he finally got a hold of the bag that was draped over his head. The crewmate took the bad off of Colaya’s head, and he started to squint, which was his natural reaction. However, he quickly realized that his eyes wouldn’t have to readjust much, since the room that was rather gloomy, other than the few rays of light shining through the floorboards of the ceiling, of course.

Colaya began to take in his surroundings, and the first thing he detected was the smell. The room smelled strongly of mildew and there was a cool draft flowing throughout it, which only helped to carry the smell.

As he continued to look around the room, he noticed that he had been completely oblivious to all the other people in the room up until that point. There were many men hovering around him, and there were even a few others that were bound next to him. Colaya looked to his left and right to the others that seemed to be in the same situation as him, and the group could only be described as “a mixed bunch”.

A man, who was almost undoubtedly the captain, stepped forward and spoke. “Oh, yes, the lot of you are going to make fine ransoms and slaves! Ooh, all of our catches combined won't amount to this lot!”

So that’s what they want with me… And from the appearance from the others in the group, it seems as if we were chosen at random… Colaya continued to think to himself and started to become disgruntled. I guess I was just at the wrong place, at the wrong time... Colaya sighed at this though and once had again become oblivious to the others present in the room.

It wasn’t until a certain subject was touched upon by the crew that Colaya redirected his attention. The group implied rape right in front of them all. Colaya became infuriated because of this, but he remained to keep himself seem calm. He viewed it as one of the most despicable acts of the world and could not even begin to imagine what he would do if he ever found someone committing it.

The captain then gave some orders to a crewmate, who left only for only a moment, then returned with a large cauldron filled with some sort of soup (if it could even be called that). He handed out a bowl to each of the captives and proceeded to fill them with the liquid.

Colaya looked at the bowl that sat in his lap, and just staring at it made his stomach begin to churn. I’m supposed to eat this? Colaya never had been particularly picky when it came to food, but even this was a bit too much for him. He continued to look at the slop and even swore to himself that he saw something move in it until he continued to think to himself. I better not eat this… It may be drugged or something… At this point, even Colaya himself couldn’t tell if he was just being paranoid, careful, or was simply looking for some excuse to NOT consume the dark slime. Regardless, it’s not like he had some way to of eating it anyway, and he didn’t intend on staying on that ship for much longer.

However, Colaya went along with it. He tried to reach down to his bowl that still was laying in his lap, but he couldn’t reach. He knew he wouldn’t be able to, and only tried to appear foolish to the guards that were watching him. He began rocking back and forth in his chair until it fell backwards onto the floor. Luckily, the grime spilled onto the floor, and not all over Colaya’s shirt, but that didn’t stop him from letting out a small groan.

Colaya continued to lay on the floor and waited to see if someone would help him up.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
SummerRayn
A.k.a. "Sol"
If Geraldine had been just a little more awake, the hands that grabbed her head so roughly would have lost a finger or two, restraints or no restraints. She snarled from her throat in an animal-with-sharp-teeth-and-probably-rabies fashion as the blindfold was removed, but the snarl caught in her throat. Gerrie horked mightily, spat an enormous mouthful of blue mucus on the ship's floor, and then with hazy violence turned her attention to the matter at hand.

Narrowing her eyes against the sudden light, peered threateningly around the room as though looking for the nearest human being upon which she could visit injury or death. A fellow not too far away, all wrapped up in chains and with a mechanical arm seemed a likely candidate, but her leap toward him was impeded by the fact that, being trussed up herself and in a sitting position on the floor, she was rather unable to leap.

Her still slightly foggy brain was attempting to resolve this problem when she heard the laughter of the captain and crew. Her head snapped up to regard the laughers. Realizing that these unsavory individuals were her captors and the irritating-looking guy in the chains was a fellow prisoner, she decided that her hostility might be better directed toward them.

When that looper's patoot made that comment about her personal aroma, she had a more specific target for her rage. She briefly attempted to kill him with her eyes. A bit of her black hair had come loose from its military-grade ponytail and promptly clumped into tiny, angry stormclouds along her hairline. One wiry black lock, damp with the clammy sweat that had gathered on her face in her unconsciousness, squiggled down from her widow's peak and in front of her hazel-eyed murderous stare.

When he left to get food and it was clear that the death eyes weren't working, she moved her thoughts on to more practical methods. If she could only reach her gun..

Her gun? Her gun! It was gone? Well, she thought, that was understandable. If they were going to go to all those other lengths of course they would take her weapon. But the lightness at her right him alerted her to the lightness on other parts of her person.

She looked down at herself. "My binoculars! My compass! My chronometer! That thing cost a cussed lot of money!!" She furrowed her eyebrows, concentrating on what else was missing. Her expression quickly grew dangerous, her kohl-rimmed eyes wild.

"My CIGARS!" As it had the previous night--or however long ago it had been--the sudden unavailability of tobacco brought her painfully long interlude without it into sharp contrast. The man returned with bowls and his steaming iron pot. "By the red moon, you had better get me my cigars right cussed now or so help me, heads will roll." She saw the other prisoners being served their "food," and snarled as she had before, though with no accompanying mucus.

"Did you hear me, man?!" Geraldine roared. "I don't need food, I need a smoke! NOW!" As he approached and tossed down her bowl, she pulled smeary scarlet lips away from large white teeth, lunched at him, and took a vicious snap at the first part of his anatomy she could reach.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Gordreg
Member Avatar
Administrator
Stay calm. She had to stay calm. Breathing only through her nose, the time between her breaths started to slow back toward normal as Eleanor forced her unwilling body to respond. She had to stay calm. She couldn't let this situation scare her more then it had to; she needed to hold onto her wits to try and understand what was going on here. Her eyes were still unable to make out anything, and her mouth had been filled with foul-tasting wood. And there was nothing to hear; it felt as though there was something inside of her ears, muffling all sounds - if there were actually any sounds to hear of course. And her limbs were bound so that she could hardly move anything; leaving nothing that could be felt against her skin but the clothes she wore and the restraints that kept her here. Which left only one sense left to her; probably the one that would be least useful in this situation, but...

Eleanor took a deep breath, her nostrils widening a moment to allow the intake of more air then usual. The smell - wherever she was - was quite sour, an unpleasant mouldy aroma tinged with the stench of tobacco. But before any further consideration could take place Eleanor felt the touch of rough hands pawing at her head, an unsettling sensation as their owners could not be seen or heard. She gurgled in panic and felt her heart start to race, her body wriggling and struggling to try and escape from the grasp of these unseen fingers entangling with her hair. And then, sudden light as the blindfold was torn away from her eyes - revealing the sight of a youngish man holding a wickedly sharp knife right at the level of her head, which wasn't really that much of an improvement over the darkness.

She tried to draw back, but apparently another man was still holding her by the skull as her head didn't move, and the knife-holding man reached out for her again. She cringed - all the protest she could muster - and felt for one horrible moment fingers, dirty foul-tasting fingers, slip into her mouth around the bulk of the wooden gag. Forcing her mouth even wider and causing her jaw to ache more then it already did, it fumbled about for a moment before withdrawing with the gag in his grasp, wrenching the foul wooden object from out of her mouth and bringing with it a trailing strand of Saliva. Eleanor retched, and coughed and spat to try and clear her mouth of the foul flavour. And then with a sudden rustle she felt something move in her ears, their contents pulled from without to suddenly return the world of sound to her even as those same hands yanked at her hair.

And with both sight and sound returned to her, Eleanor’s eyes darted quickly around, dreading what they find. She was inside a ship, it seemed – though it hardly seemed skyworthy. Mould grew between the wooden planks, and many of the timbers looked as if they were half-rotted if not the whole way gone. Many were broken, and small motes of light were streaming in through cracks and breaks in the timbers. Scattered all around the room she could see the knifemen who’d just given them back their sight – as well as others, men standing ready with guns of some sort clutched in their hands. And another man, his beard unkempt and his nose twisted. It was this man who seemed to be commanding, as leading a peal of laughter he taunted them for their captivity. Eleanor pressed her lips tight together, her face paling as the mocking tirade continued, then whitening further as the men talked of ‘having their fun’ with them. Moons; was that really what these pirates were planning? She grimaced, and then stiffened again, trying her best to not let her emotions show to those men.

The smell of the rot had been the smell of the ship; but hadn’t the pirates mentioned ‘her’ smelling worse then a tavern? And though Eleanor knew that sometimes her own aroma could become a little unsavoury – perhaps after a few weeks out in the field, for example, or after tending to a week of built up Pinalisk guano – she knew that she had washed before partaking of breakfast, and rarely indulged in anything that would have suited the pirate’s comment.

She strained at her bindings to try and look further, and found that the smell of stale cigars came not from a captor but from a woman sat almost beside her. Like her own, the woman’s limbs were bound and restrained. Her hair was a dark widow’s peak speckled with escaping frizzes, and her eyes were burning with ferocity as they glared toward one of the standing men. Her skin was darkly tanned, and from what little she could see of her clothing Eleanor guessed that the woman was most likely Nasrean. Further on past her there seemed to be other struggling, seated figures as well… just how many captives were there here, Eleanor wondered? She could hear raised voices from the line’s far end; and a haughty voice in an accent not that dissimilar from her own demanding the freedom of her hands. A moment later, one of the men passing by stopped right before her – as she supposed he’d already stopped at everyone else - and thrust a crude tin bowl onto her lap.

Eleanor glanced downward; looking toward the bowl that she couldn’t bend forward to reach. The meal looked quite unappetising in any case, a sickly-looking stew that might have contained absolutely everything apart from anything actually edible. She moved her knees very slightly to raise one side of the bowl, and watched as the thin gloop inside flowed from one end to the other. She frowned taking in a deep breath as she tried to calm her nerves as best she could, then looked up toward the nearest of their captors. He looked to be the same knifeman who had freed her earlier, and had a face that if not actually Valuan at least suggested Valuan blood somewhere in his immediate ancestry. She swallowed again, forcing her desire to panic and run deep down within her, and tried to think. They’d obviously gone to some trouble to get her; she hadn’t recognised any of the other captives as guests of her hotel, or any of the hotel guests or staff amongst their captors.

So, where else had everyone else been taken from, then, she wondered? And why take them, anyway? It hardly seemed random, not if these captors had taken one single guest from the guesthouse and left all of the others she'd breakfasted with, some reasonably wealthy people amongst them. So… why had they been selected, then?

“Excuse me” she spoke up, her voice faltering a little as she fought against the terror “But after you’re done toying with us and watching us h-humiliate ourselves trying to eat this g-garbage, would it be possible to explain why under the s-six moons we’re actually here?”
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Ranger
Member Avatar
Previously Nex Terren
I've received permission from the Crawlers to slightly reorder events.




“Excuse me” The woman said, a fearful hesitance in her voice.

The armor-bound crew hand serving the woman breathed through his nose sharply, a sound of irritation.

“But after you’re done toying with us,” she continued, “and watching us h-humiliate ourselves trying to eat this g-garbage, would it be possible to explain why under the s-six moons we’re actually here?”

“Oh, just shut up and--”

The soldier began, but was quieted by a quiet, cool, and controlled voice; the captain gave no visual indication that he had 'awoken' from his 'slumber' save that his lips were now shaping words.

“You're here because I want you here.” The mouth smiled. If the eyes cared over that mirth it was impossible to tell; the wide-brimmed hat covered that well enough up. “You're here because I look out for my purse. You're here--”

Loud shouting and thundering of feet began to sound overhead, although any words were lost to the wooden planks and other noises of excitement. The captain lazily lifted his head to look upwards, towards the sounds, but then only shrugged, and settled himself back down in his leaning rest.

“You're here,” he began again, “because it's the only choice you ha—”

"Did you hear me, man?!" The woman beside Eleanor shouted, "I don't need food, I need a smoke! NOW!"

“You shut up-” Were the last words the man would say for some time.

As Geraldine attempted to bite the man's armored thigh—an ineffective task at best—she managed something that she entirely had not intended to do; thrown back by the unexpected assault the man jerked the pot of steaming stew to balance himself. The substance sloshed out—serving enough for a dozen people people—all over the man's face. Screeching, he staggered backwards, hands pressed against his water-burning flesh.

The room exploded in action and emotion. Men rushed to the burnt man's side, helping him up, helping him up the stairs, forcing back his hands to scrape away the substance. Another looked ready to fire shot into the face of Geraldine, it took two others to hold him back. The final man, with none restraining him, charged upon the crazed attacker, and with the butt of his rifle, slammed her against the back of the head.

The Captain had lurched awake when the screaming had begun, but quickly had fallen back into the shadows, as if to get out of the way of those under him. He offered no instructions, no commands, instead only shook his head, and muttered something under his breath. Only a partial phrase could be heard by the six prisoners over the excitement in the room.

“...Can't be worth...”

The crew member that was being hold back shot daggers with his gaze at the prisoners.

“If anyone of you try that again I'll kill you! I swear I'll kill you bloody...!

The captain spun on his heels, mustering all the authority he had.

“You will not!” He roared.

“Shut up!” The crew hand screamed, caught up in the peak of emotions, “You're not my C--”

“Shut up you fool!”

And with those words, a certain order was restored to everything. The four crew hands still down there began to slowly, and awkwardly return to busying themselves with useless work, refusing to look at each other, the Captain, or the prisoners.

The shouts and cries above deck had gotten even louder, but nobody bellow seemed to take notice.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Necromancer Sargoth
Member Avatar
Affably Evil
The ensuing chaos following the soup fiasco dashed Melissa’s hopes upon the ground. She had hoped to play on her captor’s sympathies, but know that seemed like a pretty long shot. Considering they were the ones to kidnap her, and beat the ever-loving hell out of her, it seemed like a stupid idea anyway.

Melissa felt like she should be taking advantage of the chaos; make some heroic bid for freedom. The thought vaguely swam through her head, but it dissipated harmlessly. She did not have it in her. Her body hurt too much; she was tired. Besides, she knew this would not be her end. She just knew.

She almost felt bad for the scolded man, but remembered he had only minutes before suggested raping her. He had left her hands bound. What did he care for her? Why should she care for him? She did though. Huh. What was that all about?

While all seemed to go to hell around her, Melissa tried to make herself more comfortable. She shifted and wiggled, but no matter what position she deigned to take, she could still feel the sting of her wounds. She began to feel quite angry again, but the captain soon distracted her. Rather, the reaction of his crew distracted her.

Something began to feel odd about this entire situation. Well, beyond being kidnapped, beaten, and humiliated. Everything seemed like a charade all of a sudden. This ridiculous ship, the crew, the captain, it all seemed fake. If he wasn’t that crewman’s captain, who the hell was he? Why were they there?

Melissa looked around at her fellow prisoners: two Valuan noblewomen, a strange madman, a foreigner, a Nasrean, and some freak with a giant metal arm. What did they all have in common? Why were they here? Why? The question screamed inside Melissa’s head. Wait, what was that noise?

From up above, something did not seem right.
Moons, she had been kidnapped by crazy people. That was it. The only thing any of this made any sense! Crazy! They were all crazy! They would kill her because they were crazy! Maybe she should be crazy too. Maybe. Maybe. No, that was crazy. No time to think. Just be crazy!

“CAPTAIN!” Melissa shouted, panic overwhelming her features. “Captain, do you hear?! Do you hear, captain?!”

She frantically gestured towards the stairs with bound and bloody hands. “Something is wrong captain! Something is wrong! You stole me away from my home and now something is wrong captain! CAPTAIN!”

A wild, frantic look had overtaken Melissa. Whether or not she had honestly worked herself into a crazed frenzy was anyone’s guess. If she were not bound, there was no doubt she would be clutching the captain’s arm and shaking him.

“What if we are under attack?! Captain, you cannot let me die in this rotting hellhole! I am too pretty, captain! Too pretty, I say! CAPTAIN, WHY DO YOU NOT HEAR IT! BLESSED MOONS! WE ARE DONE FOR! I DO NOT WANT TO DIIIIIE!”

With that, Melissa fainted.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
PG 17
Member Avatar
Uber Monk
Mikeil continued his fiddling with the chains around his legs. There was definably looseness there, perhaps if he tugged…ah ha! The chains moved up slightly, chafing his legs. He pulled on it, slowly yarding the chains over his knees. It hurt considerably, but nothing that would not go away in a few minutes. As he did this, however, all hell seemed to break loose. The woman he disliked had gone after the server, attempting to bite his thigh.
Idiot, Mikeil thought to himself. However, it gave him a window to pull the chains the rest of the way. It was tight around his waist, but no matter. Just control his breathing.

The server had been splashed with the food, if it could be called food, and was dragged out by two of his companions. The rest ran about, restraining another, or hitting the women with a rifle. Mikeil knew this was now or never. He grabbed the chair beside him, and hitched himself up, propping himself against the wall. He geared himself to launch his body at one of the guards, but before he could, the women on his right started to rant and shout. It seemed as though the pressure had finally gotten to her, and she fell over. Mikeil guessed she had fainted. No matter, it would not hinder Mikeil.

Luckily, a guard had moved towards the girl during her rant, placing him between Mikeil and the wall. He placed his feet against the wall, gearing himself. With a shout, he half jumped, half ran, charging into the guard. He hit him with his mechanical arm, throwing him into the rotting hull of the ship. It broke several of the wooden boards creating a hole. Mikeil still had momentum, so he ran into the hole with the guard. Bringing himself around quickly, he forced one of the chains loops around the man’s neck.

“All right! Now, here’s what’s going to happen! First, untie my companions there!” Mikeil said, jerking his head in the direction of the others. “Next, get us our weapons back! Lastly, have one my friends get these damned chains off me. Get him a cutting tool or something. If I don’t get what I want, your friend here is going to have a REALLY bad time. You got me?!” He pulled the chains back for emphasis, causing the man to reach up with hands and grope uselessly at the chains.
“Not going to happen, buddy.” Mikeil whispered into the man’s ear.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Ranger
Member Avatar
Previously Nex Terren
Strike for Sargoth for posting a day late.
Strike for Nex Terren for not posting.


Quote:
 
Your hands, wrists, and ankles are securely bound with strong cloth and what seems to be fishing line (and for some of the stronger of you, chains); too secure for you to hope to overcome...


PG17 gave no indication how "too secure for you to hope to overcome" became "not too secure for you to overcome," and thus voiding the intent and purpose of this challenge.

Quote:
 
Be forewarned, however! If the DM (myself) feels your method either unrealistic or simply impossible, you will receive +1 strike.


As PG17's post blatantly went against the established setting, his post will be penalized by a +1 strike. However, the post will remain in the RP.

This should act as a gentle reminder to everyone to please treat what the DM says as canon!

I will be posting as the DM shortly.

A reminder of the current schedule:

Necromancer Sargoth 1/3 Friday, 10-17-08
Nex Terren 1/3 Saturday, 10-18-08
PG 17 1/3 Sunday, 10-19-08
Colaya 0/3 Monday, 10-20-08
Solstice 0/3 Tuesday, 10-21-08
Gordreg 0/3 Wednesday, 10-22-08

On a less official note, I'd like to comment that Sargoth's post kicked major butt.
Edited by Ranger, Oct 20 2008, 03:21 PM.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Ranger
Member Avatar
Previously Nex Terren
The Captain snarled at the mechanical armed menace, then, followed this expression with the wetting of his lips.

“We don’t bargain with your like. Kill him, and you’re dead; now that we have you in our sights shootin’ ya will be easy.” He shoved his finger towards the man, white tan-lines wrapping around his fingers. “You let him go and we’ll see what we do with you—“

The sounds overhead had become louder, and the Captain jerked his gaze up, as if suspicious of their nature. Snorting, he jerked his gaze back down.

“Do you, or don’t you wanna be a dead man?”
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Colaya
Member Avatar
<__<
Colaya expected someone to come put him back upright by now, but before that could happen, all hell began to break lose.

The man who was serving Colaya and fellow prisoners their stew knocked the pot over and the contents were flung all over his face. Colaya winced, as the substance scalded the man’s face and made him cry out in pain.

”Ouch….” was the only word that could go through Colaya’s mind. He felt compassion for the man, and knew that he would be scarred for the rest of his life. When Colaya first encountered the crewmate, he considered him just another one of his captors and wanted to damn them all. However, now he felt sorry for wishing any harm upon them in the first place, as they were only human and no one is perfect. Of course Colaya realized that someone would have to suffer if he expected to escape, but he wouldn’t wish such a tragedy on any man.

Colaya’s attention was now directed toward the ceiling of the room. “Hmm, sounds like something is going on above deck…” When Colaya looked over to the captain, however, he didn’t seem to notice the noises. ”Maybe I just thought I heard something….” Colaya sighed as he lost a little hope, but then quickly perked back up once he heard the noises again. “Doesn’t he hear that…?”

Just then a woman, who was almost undoubtedly another one of the captives, began wailing furiously.

CAPTAIN! Captain, do you hear?! Do you hear, captain?! Something is wrong captain! Something is wrong! You stole me away from my home and now something is wrong captain! CAPTAIN!

At first Colaya was relieved that he wasn’t the only one who heard the noises, but now started to feel uneasy. He didn’t like the sound of a crying woman; not one bit.

Again, the woman screamed.

What if we are under attack?! Captain, you cannot let me die in this rotting hellhole! I am too pretty, captain! Too pretty, I say! CAPTAIN, WHY DO YOU NOT HEAR IT! BLESSED MOONS! WE ARE DONE FOR! I DO NOT WANT TO DIIIIIE!

Slowly, Colaya’s calmness began to dissipate. However, suddenly, the woman’s lamentation stopped. Colaya couldn’t hear her anymore, and hoped that the guards hadn’t done any more harm to her than they already had. “They better not h-. . .”

Colaya’s contemplating was once again cut short, this time by a man with a large mechanical arm. He noticed that the man was once chained up, but was now free. “… he escaped!” Colaya would have been jumping up and down at this though if he wasn’t still tied to the chair. He watched as the man quickly dispatched a nearby guard and proceeded to hold him as a hostage.

The captain threatened the man, and Colaya wished that he could help the fugitive. He struggled to get out of his bonds, but to no avail. “Damn these ropes…”

Colaya continued to lay on his back, and started to wonder how this incident would play out. He understood that the odds were that it would end badly, but he still hoped that somehow everything would turn out alright. He hoped that they would all escape, and no one else would be severely harmed.

…Unfortunately, he knew that was only a foolish dream, and had a bad feeling that something very horrible was about to happen….
Edited by Colaya, Oct 21 2008, 04:54 AM.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous)
DealsFor.me - The best sales, coupons, and discounts for you
Go to Next Page
« Previous Topic · Non-Canon RPs · Next Topic »
Add Reply

Autumnea Theme created by Zeus00 and converted by Wolt of the ZetaBoards Theme Zone