Pre-Chapter Notes
This version of the story has been given a more serious and grim tone than the original comic; This is for purposes of experimentation with writing and plot devices. Considering the seemingly-medieval setting of the story, one might infer that they were called 'The Dark Ages' for a reason.
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| | | | Chapter I: OMINOUS TIDES | | | |
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Around Chapter 14...
Comic for June 29th, 2011...
SLAM!
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, NO?!"
Eric sighed, his eyes staring out one of the back windows of the ship's stern. Even as Flora complained, he used a match to light the end of his pipe, puffing occasionally from the pihra stuffed into it.
He sighed in relief as he exhaled the smoke, feeling the effects of the pihra, a variety of plant species that worked as a relaxant. One his good buddies in the Western Basitins was an underground botanist for this type of stuff, and he made good money off it, too.
"Hey! Are you listening to me?!"
Eric rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration. This damn Keidran was getting on his nerves. They were about halfway to the Basitin Isles, but this insufferable mutt was making it last much longer with her complaints about the slaves.
He looked up from the quartermaster's notes sitting on his desk, the smoking pipe held loosely between his fingers.
"I'm sorry to inform you, Miss Flora, but I'm not releasing those slaves."
"Why not?! They stuck their neck out for you!"
Eric grit his teeth in irritation; He'd spent enough years in his life dealing with bleeding hearts, hot-headed fools who brazenly dove into action without thought of the consequences.
And he'd seen where they'd ended up.
Shot. Stabbed. Beaten in a back alley, trying to naively save some poor soul from their fate- only to get eviscerated by lowly thugs armed with weapons.
Was this half-breed really going to lecture him on his morality? Please.
"They could have taken this ship for themselves and ran-"
"Yeah, they could have done a lot of things, Flora!" Eric lashed out. "But they didn't- you know why?"
Flora's face was rife with shock and anger as Eric stood up from his desk, leaning forward and hissing,
"Because they're slaves, Flora. Do you know what that means?"
He felt a bit guilty as he saw the look of concern and indignation on her face, and breathed a sigh of resignation. He pushed his glasses further onto his face, opening the lower-right drawer in the captain's desk; Inside were shot glasses and a bottle of Arctic Rum, brewed and distilled in the Snow Wolf Territory- along with a few saltine crackers. Considering the long voyage they would be taking, it was essential they packed several nonperishables.
"It means that they've been beaten, tortured, sexually abused- they've gone through mental and physical trauma, and it broke them."
He reached inside, taking the rum, shot glass and crackers out of the drawer and placing them on the table, preparing his snack for the evening.
"So they do what they're told, not out of noble intentions," Eric continued, pouring himself a shot of rum. "But because they are afraid of the punishment of not doing what they're told."
"YOU ASSHOLE!"
Eric leered in outrage as Flora swept her paw across the table, launching all of his food against the side of the cabin.
"Great, I guess I can mark those rations off of our already-dwindling food supply!" Eric shouted sardonically. In reality, he was bluffing. They had plenty of food onboard for the voyage.
However, as he glanced from the broken glass and liquid on the floor to Flora, he felt a pang of shame as he saw the tears in her eyes...
He sighed once more, taking two shot glasses out of the drawer and laying them on the table. He began pouring for both, then sat the bottle on the side of the desk. He took a seat in the captain's chair, glancing out the side of the window once more.
Although she was in deep anger, Flora could see that he was nonverbally offering a truce. Stifling her rage, she took a seat across from him, looking out the same window-
The sea pulled and pushed at the ship, throwing its waves against its dense hull- and yet, they were soothing to Flora in a way she couldn't explain. As if she were resonating with the chaotic harmony of the sea itself...
"You're free to down that rum I just poured you." Eric mumbled.
"I'd rather not."
Eric shrugged, taking the shot for himself.
"I'm not trying to get you riled up, Flora," Eric conceded. "But you knew what you signed up for when you boarded this ship. This is my business, this is how I make money. And I don't much care if they're Keidran or human, to be frank..."
His eyes gleamed ominously, cold and unwavering.
"As long as I get my payment, in the end. I have to eat, too, if you forgot."
Flora shook her head in disappointment and anger.
"You really are scum."
Eric felt anger rise to his throat as she got up from her seat and stormed out of the cabin, slamming the door behind her. He poured himself another shot of rum, stewing in his decisions. He looked beyond the glass panes of the windows once more- A massive, raging storm was brewing on the horizon, where they were directly heading towards.
His grip around the glass mug tightened; His navigator had not signaled there to be any particular high winds on their path- was this a serious miscalculation if he'd been wrong. But, taking the long way around could mean that they run out of food if they took too long to reach their destination...
He shuddered at the idea of starving in the middle of the ocean. He never wanted to experience that.
"Damn it!" He cursed, standing up from his chair again. He'd need to gather the crew and prepare to weather this.
(Queue '1 Hour of HP Lovecraft Music: Orchestral Ambient Creepy Horror')
Trace leaned against the wooden railing of the ship, staring into the grey chaos of the storm ahead. Its tendrils of black clouds seemed to stretch for miles in every direction, completely cutting off any alternate route to take.
Even more disturbing... there were vague silhouettes resembling eyes, blinking in and out of vision within the cloud, so that Trace was left questioning whether he was really seeing something inside.
His grip tightened around the railing; The soothing lull of the waves, the chirping of the seagulls, the wind blowing through his hair...
He could tell something ominous was on the horizon.
"Trace..."
"Huh?"
He turned around to see Flora walking towards him, tears in her eyes.
"What's wrong- oh!"
Trace was initially confused when Flora fell into his arms, resting her chin on his shoulder.
"What's wrong, Flora?"
And yet, he could tell she was deeply bothered by something. He looked back towards the cabin, seeing Evals and Mike doing their crew duties. Had Eric said something to her?
"Just... hold me." She murmured.
Trace closed his mouth, looking towards the storm as he held her in his arms; The sun was beginning to set in the distance, throwing a golden hue over the waters.
He was not liking the look of this.