Pahn

monstrous
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FOLKLORE MEMBER
Posting Speed
  1. 1-3 posts per week
  2. One post per week
  3. Slow As Molasses
Online Availability
Anytime, I have no life.
Writing Levels
  1. Adept
  2. Advanced
  3. Douche
  4. Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Male
  2. Nonbinary
  3. Transgender
  4. Primarily Prefer Male
Genres
Fantasy, romance, slice of life, anti-hero stories, "you're our only hope", fandom non-canons, soft scifi, transhumanism, magical girls, horror, suspense / mystery, detective noir, fractured fairytales
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Nothing You Could Do;East Sea Dokdo;Actor;

In Character Thread​
When the Waves Come Crashing

 
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Mea listened to the two speak, slowly nodding at some things they said. When Rán asked about if they had been on ships before, she was quiet as Faust spoke of his time long ago, and that praying to Zainth didn't work. Well, she had already known about that last bit. People think she never prayed in the past? She did, and it never worked.

"I was on a ship not long ago, not my choice, not as a sailor." She said, leaving it at that. "However, I am no stranger the layouts. Before I wound up here, I was on many ships docked in port." She told them, stretching her legs out in front of her, giving a short yawn.

"I should get some sleep." She said, cracking her neck and shoulders. "I need to be up to make breakfast. Captain will probably want to do something with the new recruits tonight, so if I were you, I'd prepare for that."
@Applo @Jays
 
Figsi "Fig" Skelder
@Holmishire.

With just the old guard and Rude left above-deck, Figsi finally made her way down below. It seemed the chatter of new encounters was dying down, with the other crewmates heading to their bunks—she passed by the elf from before, Aya, and nodded amicably at her. It seemed the cabin she was heading to was receiving most of the action, so Figsi figured she'd have better luck finding a bunk elsewhere.

A man she'd not yet met awaited her at her chosen cabin. While certainly not in the same ballpark as her, the ash-skinned tiefling's indeterminate was certainly much less imposing than some of her other crewmates.

"Fig's here, don't mind me up there?" she asked even as she hoisted both herself and her luggage up onto one of the upper bunks. Despite being nearly the same size as her, she had no trouble holding her bag up over one end, securing it with some of her own rope. Best to have her things at hand in such tight quarters, and the roll-resistance was nice to boot.

"Neat sketching," she added, noting for the first time his blueprints. A few less-than-intentional splotches of ink seemed to have been freshly added. "Like the flair."[/hr]

 
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"Sleep Well." As she settled back down into her own bunk, Rán thought on what Mea’s words. What had she meant when she said she hadn’t been on her last ship by choice? Why was she part of this crew now? Rán was generally pretty careful to find out as much as she good about any new crew she might join and steer clear of those with reputations that could mean trouble for her. From what she had found out the Burning Hands had seemed like a good bet but now Mea’s words had sowed a couple of seeds of doubt.​
To try and distract herself from the thoughts that were beginning to bounce around the inside of her head Rán tried to focus on something else Mea had said. What exactly would the captain want to do with her and the other new recruits? As Rán drifted to sleep a plethora of images began to creep into her mind; some amusing, others less so.
 
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Faust excused himself politely from the conversation and retreated to the tiny bunk he had chosen before. They all needed sleep, and there would be plenty of time to converse later. Too much, he feared.

Faust's feet hung well over the end of the bunk, but it was either that or his head, and he didn't think anyone could sleep with their head hanging off the bed. The sharp edge of focus brought about by the day's significant circumstances started to dim, gradually eroded away by exhaustion. Dimly, as the dark depth of consciousness pulled him under, a hundred and one abstractly irrelevant ideas floated through his mind.

He was surrounded by those with secrets, stories, hidden past. He was travelling on a craft of dubious reputation, led by people with agendas he had no inkling or most likely even wish to be a part of. He had no home, no friend, no purpose. Just another mindless bag of flesh floating at sea. Faintly he tasted the smell of disinfectant alcohol and fruit wine.

Faust slept fitfully, snoring like seventeen hoards of rampaging bulls.
 
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"Beautiful." The word was murmured to himself, catching into the ocean breeze that lifted the sails of the Wretched Siren. No flags had been raised yet, even as the sun was beginning to rise along the horizon. Captain Drayon ran a hand through his white hair, enjoying the silkiness between his fingers for the short moment during which the act lasted. He couldn't remember the last time he'd left port with such hope and with so little hesitation. Everything was planned down to the last detail, but he couldn't tell the crewmates just yet - there were other things to do first, like share their first drink together.

Turning around and placing his hand once again on the Tiefling's shoulder, he gave him a sympathetic smile and didn't squeeze as hard as earlier. "You deserve a drink. Go pour yourself something, the first night on deck is important. I'll trust you won't be yelling like a little bitch to my darling Elanso again, hmm?" Despite the pleasantness of his words and the warmth in his face, the tone was serious and almost threatening. Draynor hadn't had to get Belanor to whip one of his crewmates into obedience in quite some time, and as much as he enjoyed the violent spectacles like any other pirate, he would prefer it not happen with this particular crew.

Without waiting for Rude's acknowledgement, the captain headed down to the lower deck for his office and immediately fished into his cupboard full of his favourite drinks. The creaking of the wooden floor behind his back betrayed the newcomer's presence, and he didn't even have to turn to check who it was.

"My beautiful Elanso." A second glass appeared next to the first one and an audible pop echoed in Draynor's office. Sweetness filled the air as he poured the amber liquid into the glasses and handed one to his First Mate. "Are you pleased?"

The dark-skinned elf woman accepted the glass and walked toward the small window that gave onto the deck. She took a few quiet sips of her drink and crossed an arm across her chest. "They'll do. The others did a good job of keeping quiet at least, and Fooky's gonna be busy enough with repairs and training his new mates to have time to stress about it. We shouldn't keep it a secret for too long, Draynor. They'll start asking questions." Elanso finally looked back at the Captain and raised an eyebrow, emptying her glass without a blink.

Draynor, on the other hand, scoffed and waved a hand dismissively. "It'll be fine, I'm sure. Mea's a good girl, and I've got my eyes on Fooky. If they start asking questions before we get there, I'll deal with them privately." Elanso shook her head at his decision and extended her arm holding the glass, which he refilled without taking his eyes off her face. The crooked grin on his lips only grew wider as the warmth of the alcohol settled in. "You worry too much."

This time Elanso rolled her eyes and laughed before taking a healthy gulp of the amber liquid. "Dray, if I don't worry, this whole ship will fall into chaos. We don't want that. Now we should get going, the sun's coming up and they've all been told to join you on deck. I'm sure they're all expecting some kind of grandiose speech, I hope you have something ready."

"Ehh, I'll wing it." He winked and took long steps to exit the room, the bottle of alcohol in hand. As a matter of fact, nearly everyone was present on the upper deck, looking around and not talking very much. It was normal, he remembered his days of piracy when he'd be thrown into brand new crews with every mission. He made sure to nod and smile at every single one of them, making eye contact and letting them see the unyielding confidence in his own eyes as he headed towards the edge of the upper deck.

"Thank you all for coming up here, I know you all probably wanted to be sleeping right now but - this is a special moment. To us -" he raised his glass, taking the time once again to look at every single member of his crew, "The Burnt Hands, the best crew hailing from Oshanlenor. May Zainth guide this beautiful Wretched Siren to glory and to its destination safely. Cheers!" And he downed his glass with an audible gulp and smack of his lips, the crooked grin never leaving his face.
 
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Stones tore at Rán’s feet as she sprinted through the streets of Oshelenor. The forest of sails and masts of the city docks was visible through the early morning murk. It felt like they weren’t getting any closer, but they had to be. The docks were the way to escape, to find safety, to find freedom. She had to make it. She would make it. All she had to do was ignore the burning in her legs and lungs and keep running. But then unseen hands made their move, wrenching her over backwards into the mud. Hulking bodies, silhouetted against the sun, closed in on all sides.

“Where do you think you’re going, girl?”

“Nowhere sir, I...I...I...I’m not going anywhere.” It was impossible to tell which of the towering figures had spoken.

“Seems to me like you were trying to escape girl. You know what we do with escapees.”

“I wasn’t sir, I wasn’t!” Raging adrenaline turned to bubbling panic. Everyone on the island knew what happened to slaves who tried to escape. The very thought of it made Ráns heart somehow conspire to beat even faster.

“Seems to me like you know.” The silhouette standing over her head crouched down, it’s voice dropping to a near whisper. “That’s good. I think it would be even worse if it was a surprise.” The figure stood up again and addressed the others. Take this bitch to the pillory. I want everyone to see what happens to whores who try to escape.”

Rough hands grabbed at Rán’s wrists and hair, dragging her upwards. She tried fighting them off, kicking out and shaking like a deranged beast but there were just too many of them and the next thing she knew her throat slammed against the stocks.

“People of Oshlenor, what do with slaves who try to cheat their rightful owners and run away?” Rán couldn’t see the crowd, it having formed behind her, but it from all the excited noise it sounded big. Even so the volume of it response was shocking

“BRAND HER! BRAND HER! BRAND HER! BRAND HER!”

“Brand her?” A monstrous red hand appeared from the side of Rán’s vision, grasped her face and twisted it round until a brazier that glowed cherry red from the heat came into view. Torrents of flame belched from between the coals and protruding from the very heart of the fire was a long metal rod.

"ARE YOU SURE THAT’S WHAT WE SHOULD DO?” The unseen speakers voice took on a gleeful edge as he raised his voice to shout over all the noise.

“BRAND HER! BRAND HER! BRAND HER! BRAND HER!BRAND HER! BRAND HER! BRAND HER! BRAND HER!” The chanting came faster and faster as the crowd became a frenzied mob and Rán found her breathing speeding up with it. She had to get out of her. Desperately, she tried shaking loose the heavy wooden blocks that bound her.

LOOKS LIKE THIS LITTLE SLUT IS EXCITED TO GET ON WITH IT. There was a roar of laughter from the crowd. “WE WON’T MAKE HER WAIT ANY LONGER THEN!” This got another raucous laugh.

From the side of her vision Rán could only watch as a metal disk, white with heat, was pulled from the fire by the same red hand as before. This time however, the owner crouched down, revealing his devilish form as he held the nearly molten disk of metal next to Rán’s face.

“Anything to say bitch? I do love it when you slave scum beg. If you do I might even let this cool down a little, you want that right?

“Please don’t, please...please don’t, I’ll do anything.” Whatever little pride Rán had had left had evaporated in the presence of the brand and there was no effort spent on concealing her terror now. The Tiefling, however, just looked bored. “Is that the best you can do? I have to say I’m disappointed. Hopefully, the smell of your burning flesh will make up for it at least.” With that the tiefling stood up and walked out of sight.

“STRIP HER!” The command made Rán jump after the moment of relative calm and hidden fingers tore at the rags that counted as her clothes, roughly groping at the newly revealed flesh. From the crowd Rán could hear both jeers and wolf whistles as the whole city saw all of her and tears started to fill her eyes.

“Such a shame we’ve gotta ruin such a fine piece of merchandise” A hand smacked against her butt before giving it a hard pinch. “Still, what can you do eh? Besides maybe she’ll turn up in one of the brothels after this. Damaged goods and all. Then we’ll all be able to have a go with her. There was a chorus of chuckling from whoever was helping her tormentor.

“IS EVERYONE READY?”This got the loudest cheer yet from the crowd.

“VERY WELL, THREE!”

“NO! NO! NO! PLEASE! MERCY! MERCY!” Rán used all the strength she had to struggle against her bonds.

“TWO!”

The wood of the stocks creaked and groaned under the onslaught but the only thing that broke was skin as the rough wood scraped against the Aasimar's flesh.

“ONE!”

A jolt made Rán’s eyes to fly open. For a split second she had no idea where she was as her brain scrambled to untangle the mess of information presented to it. Gradually though, reality reinstated itself, and Rán realised she was lying on the floor of the cabin. Rolling onto her back, Rán stared at the ceiling of the cabin. Her chest was heaving, her heart was thundering her clothes were damp with sweat. She didn’t try to climb back into her bunk, focusing on trying to think of anything other than the horrors her mind had just inflicted on her.

When her breathing was her own again, Rán used the frame of her bunk to haul herself onto her knees. It took a lot of carefully quiet blind groping before her hands located the boots she had kicked off last night. She had no intention of getting back into her bunk. Sleep had extracted enough of a toll for one night. On deck, those hands who had piloted the ship while she had slept went about the duties in the strange pre-dawn light. For the most part though the deck was quiet. It was nice.

Winding an arm through the rigging for security, Rán swung her legs over the side of the ship and perched herself on the gunwale. It wasn’t the most luxurious seat, but it enjoyed one of the best views. Before her the ocean stretched on into the distance and merged, the occasional white horse the only contrast to the inky water. Later, as the sun was clawing its way above the horizon, Rán became aware of people gathering on the deck. Pivoting herself back around she saw the other new hands from last night milling around. Content where she was and with no pressing desire to mindlessly chat, Rán stayed where she was until the captain made his way over with purpose and self-assured grin. Joining the back of the crowd, she met the elf’s gaze, though she couldn’t hold it and listened to his speech.

“Hisani protect us.” The words were a murmur, barely audible against the noise of everyone else but still immensely reassuring somehow.​

 
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Sail; Oregano; Biryani;

Rudesind Pyr

The warning of the captain lingered on within his mind, reminding Rude that he wasn’t in some tavern ashore. If he found himself too disagreeable with the crew there would be no tavern next door where he could drink himself under the table once more. He would have to find a way to make it up with the lot, but the man found himself too old and too weary to remember what charm meant.

Going along with captain Drayon Rude soon found himself staring at the rising sun with a drink in hands. To wash away his sober self that was threatening to come out. It prevented a headache and lessened his fears. It didn’t soften his frown or lulled his mood, however. The world was disagreeable as ever and so was his humour, but at least he had learnt his place now. Quietly he turned himself around when the captain appeared once more, along with the rest of the crew. Another night had passed and while Rude was envious of the rest the others had gotten he felt himself brighten up at the thought of adventure.

Strolling near the edge of the ship the Tiefling rose up his glass to the captain’s speech, wondering how the captain could know they were the best crew. Half of them were new and Rude was sure he had seen at least one puke their guts out last night. If anything the ship was filled with bad omens and Rude wanted nothing of it.

“All the prayers to Zainth, we will need it,” he murmured under his breath as he overheard a little prayer from one of his fellow newcomers. “Hisani has no business on the sea,” he sighed, pushing the remainder of his drink towards the aasimar. "Have it before I change my mind," he grunted at the female. Perhaps, somewhere Hisani did help the Tiefling a little.
 
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Mea woke up very early each day. It was required of her, in order to make breakfast for the crew. Today was different, as she had to make enough food for everyone. Normally her job was easy enough, she just put some of the preserved meats and pickled vegetables on a plate and boiled some potatoes. Today, however, she had some fresher ingredients due to being docked. She barely knew what to do with them. She had enough to probably make a few meals today, but any leftovers would surely spoil.

She decided to make the best of it, starting a fire in the stone oven. Cooking up some of the fresh fish, various vegetables and mushrooms, and warming some of the small sweetbreads, it was definitely not what she was used to. She heard some celebrations happening on deck, probably drinking with the captain. She didn't drink, nor did she much like the captain, so she generally stayed away from such celebrations.

With most of the meal finished, she moved to the stairs and poked her head out.

"Pardon, but food is ready should anyone want breakfast." She called to the crew, ducking back down to start serving should they come down.
 
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Figsi "Fig" Skelder
@Holmishire.

Figsi's ears pricked up as the captain spoke.

She quickly clambering down the ratlines, having spent a languid moment in the shrouds waiting. While she would have loved nothing more than to waste away the morning in the darkness of her cabin, no good would come from a bad second impression—especially with the quartermaster as a bunkmate.

And so, with eyes still crusty from lack of rest, her feet padded discreetly across the deck before dropping her in the front of the crew, catching the tail end of Captain Draynor's little speech. "Glory'n safety!" she repeated, thinking that was probably the gist of it and not too concerned if it wasn't.

Figsi took a quick sip of her waterskin, not willing to let the man drink alone. Even if, being but water she had on hand, it was but a token gesture.[/hr]
 
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“Hisani listens to her children.” Rán raised the drink that Rudesind had thrust upon her and emptied it in one overly well practiced movement. “My prayers will go to her tiefling, not some idle pretender of a god. May she protect you too.”

“I don’t need a god who just listens.” Rude side-eyed the female. She looked young, younger than he was and for that the tiefling judged her to be naive, innocent. It took rotten years and experience to become hardened against the graces of the whimsical gods. “I just need this damn boat to stay afloat. For that we need a god who protects,” he continued before turning around to stroll over to the stairs at the call of breakfast.

“Better get a load into your stomach,” he called over his shoulder. Unnecessary, he knew. He trusted the crew to understand the value of food on the sea.

As the tiefling walked away, Rán weighed the empty cup in her hand. It wouldn’t be a hard to hit the oaf squarely in the back of his horned head. In her mind she could already see the cup shattering on his skull. It would be so easy. And stupid. With a reluctant sigh Rán turned to look over the side of the ship again. She had no desire for a whipping and even if she did, the first morning of a new hire wasn’t the time to pick a fight. Not if she wanted to see any coin out of this venture.

Impulse quelled, Rán joined the line of people making their way below cup still in hand. When she saw the tiefling again, and they were so easy to see, a new, less dangerous idea came to mind. Walking behind him, she gently placed the cup over the end of a horn before walking away silently.
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