Zharia: City of Ruins [FULL]

The same rocks that struck the ship were the same ones that supported Marlon now. The fog had finally cleared and Marlon examined his predicament. He was several hundred yards off shore. He had been below deck when the rocks had torn the ship apart, but he had managed to grab his weapons and possessions. He examined them now with little enthusiasm. He had a knife, a bow, a quiver without arrows, a short sword, one hundred feet of rope, and a grappling hook.

Marlon removed his armor and stripped off his pants and shirt. He tied knots in the legs of his pants, and used his belt to tighten the waist end. With the shirt, he tied knots on the arms and neck. Marlon smiled as he remembered the time when the assassins had taken him to that cold lake and taught him how to turn his clothes into flotation devices. It was paying off.

His armor, grappling hook, short sword, bow, and quiver went into the ocean. The knife and the rope he kept, they would be essential to survival when he made it to shore. With the knife, he could make everything that he needed and with the rope, he could make shelter and climb.

He got into the water and the cold shocked him momentarily. He put the rope around his body, filled the shirt and pant floats with air, secured his knife, and began swimming to shore.

The journey took ten minutes of intense swimming and at the end of it Marlon found himself on shore, gasping for air and shivering from cold. Rocks lined the shore and Marlon regretted kicking his shoes off in the water. He moved away from the surf and warmed himself on the rocks. He untied his clothes and laid them out to dry, as well as the rope. Climbing with wet rope was not wise and it seemed to Marlon that he would have plenty of time to figure out his next move. He looked over and fifty feet away was a body.

Terry/Tara
I was sitting bellow deck, untangling the rope in my backpack and sorting my equipment, when the sound of breaking wood suddenly reached me. I twirled around, just in time to see a sharp rock make it's way through the hull. I clutched the coil of rope I had been working on, and then everything went dark.

---

"Ey, Tara?!" Someone was shaking me. No, worse than that, someone was pounding on my chest.

I tried to breathe, but my lungs were already full, so I started coughing up water instead. I don't know how long it took before I finally could breathe normaly again. My lungs still burned, but at least I wasn't gasping for air. Heavy. My clothes felt heavy and cold, very cold.

"Are you alright?"

I looked up at the man who was standing over me. If my memory served me right, his name was Marlon. "Yes, somehow," I said while standing up on wobbly legs. The many bells on my anklets rang when I moved. I should probably take them of, as well as the jewelry I was wearing. I looked down at my feet and noticed my backpack on the ground. It was empty and wet, but better than nothing. "Are there any more survivors?" I asked and bent down to unclasp the anklets.

"I don't know, I haven't seen any yet."

I continued by pulling my bracelets, earrings and necklaces of, putting them into the backpack and then pulling all the jewelry and flowers from my hair, though I left it tied up.

"How come you were on the ship in the first place?"

He looked a bit suspicious. Well, dancers didn't normally go on andventures, did they? I giggled girlishly. "I have my talents, as I'm sure you do too." I looked around, realizing how exposed we were on the beach. "Now, what do you say we get of the beach and find the others?" I hoped that he was an able fighter, 'cause who knew what we would encounter on the island. I still had most of my throwing knifes hidden in the folds of my clothes, but how much use would they be against something with thick skin or a shield?

"Yeah, follow me."

I smiled at him. Good, he could act as my shield. The whole men-are-supposed-to-protect-ladies-thingy was quite useful.

Ryan awoke choking on a mouthful of his own hair, which was tangled around him like a net. He unwrapped himself calmly from the trap, this would not be the first time he woke up this way, but it was the first time he’s woken up completely drenched and washed up on a rocky shore.

Because the ship wrecked, that’s right.

With a groan he sat up and assessed the damage he could already feel on his body. He reached up with a tentative hand and probed the perimeter of a giant, throbbing knot that appeared on his forehead. Bruises marred his skin and he could only imagine them resulting from him being tossed on the rocks.

He gave an experimental stretch - his stiff bones popped – before standing up. His weapons were gone, this he found out almost immediately, but he still had his hair band, and that was all he really needed at the time. He tied his hair up and started off. The first order of business was finding the others, if anyone else even survived the crash, or ended up on the island.

He hadn’t been walking for long, definitely less than an hour’s time, when he saw another body in the distance, seemingly just waking up. He broke into a run to go and meet them, and when he got there they were already standing up.

“You’re from the ship.”

He recognized the man as one of the orcs, but his name he could not remember. He thought he had a clue, but did not want to be disrespectful by mispronouncing it.

Magnus FitzGerald

The water was over his head and Magnus couldn't tell his up from down. He was drowning. If he'd known he was going to drown today he would have eaten all of the ship's crummy biscuits - how could they expect to feed a man on those? But he was going to drown and the only thing they'd find in his stomach was water.

Magnus kicked uselessly against the sea until he'd kicked himself to exhaustion and he opened his mouth to drink in the ocean.

But the ocean spat him back out and by some miracle Magnus FitzGerald found himself washed up on the shore. He coughed his lungs empty, dragged his heavy robes over the sand and then lay flat out on his back and succumbed to exhaustion.

It was a long time before Magnus stirred. Long enough for many of the other stragglers to have gathered and formed a group so that Magnus had none of the hard work left to do. He opened his eyes and listened to the fragments of conversation from further up the shore, but few of the words got through and the first clear thought Magnus had was an awful one.

Gone. Everything was gone. Magnus sat up quick enough to start him coughing and hacking, the last remnants of the water gurgling from his lungs. He patted his robes and moaned aloud - oh my, oh no. Oh bangleshanks! "Gone! Everything's gone!" Magnus complained as he wrung his hands together, not registering for the moment that his ring had survived the sea. "My artifacts! My powders!" The rounded man felt about his belly and found that the belt he had attached his powder sacks to had been removed. He must have unfastened it during his struggle with the sea - oh mean, cruel world that would strand an old man with not a possession in the world.

And he was wet. Magnus rolled over and attempted to crawl hand over hand toward the voices he was hearing, but his wet robes dragged heavily along the sand and he wondered how he wasn't at the bottom of the ocean.

Kane

I struggled against the current as it tried to drag me down. Thrashing against it was proving useless but it was all I could do. I was deep now my lungs burned, my head pounded, and the seaweed brushed against my toes taunting me as I tried to struggle away. Slowly the blackness closed in and I gave into the seas will.

.....
Four days before the departure of *(don't know the name of the ship we were on will add when relevant information is know)*
.....

The cafe stunk of Sea-rot, A small moss that grew on the underside of rocks exposed to the sea, it reminded me of the hatchery. Collecting Sea-rot had been one of the tasks we were given. I sat on a wooden chair across from me sat my new master. He was a middle aged tall lanky man with golden hair which he had pulled behind his ears and parted in the middle. His entire appearance was in direct contrast to the cafe and the rest of its customers.The cafe was old and battered the once fine furniture was either ripped, torn or scratched. The curtains were moth eaten and flaying around the edges. The other occupants of the cafe were similarly tarnished. My new Master however wore a pristine grey suit with a black velvet waistcoat his boots were polished brown and went up to his knees. He smoked a pipe, a beautifully ornate pipe, the other patrons of the establishment had plain wooden pipes for the most part a few had tried their own hand at crafting and fewer still had crude ivory pipes. My Master has a large pipe the head of the pipe consisted of a ivory carving of the upper body of a female which was holding up a pot, the pot had a gold lining and within it was a strange blue moss that sent up purple smoke. From the head of the pipe came a wooden fish tail. My master put his lips around the fin of the pipe and inhaled the smoke he exhaled was blue.

Behind my master stood a tall bald man with a bronze breastplate underneath a grey blazer but over a white satin shirt. He held My masters brown leather jacket, which he had neatly folded.

"You will travel on the *(insert)* under the command of a man named Standirk" My Master told me and risked a tentative sip of his odd steaming brown drink from a small white cup. He grimaced as the liquid past his lips whether from the temperature or the taste I could not be sure. As he put it down on the table I watched, mortified as a droplet of the brown liquid fell off of the cusp of the cup and landed millimetres away from my life.

The handwritten contract that recognised my material worth was spread out on the table. My Master noticed my discomfort and carefully wiped the drop away.

"Are you listening?" My Master said and I blinked the daze away.

"Yes Master", I replied and he nodded slowly as he exhaled more blue smoke.

"If I may ask Master what should I call you for instance I called my last master, Master Manet" I asked and My Master shook his head.

"That will not be necessary" He said.

"Why not, you are my master are you not?" I said and my Master picked up his cup of coffee.

"I am", he said and took another tentative sip this time the brown liquid seemed to agree with him so the sip turned into a mouthful. That left the cup empty.

,"And I am not" He continued.

"Read your contract" He said and pointed out a line amongst the dizzying puzzle of letters. I focused on the line but I only recognised the words YOU, ARE and SWORD. My confusing master realised that I was struggling and slowly dragged his finger along the line speaking each word slowly as his finger passed over them.

"You...are...the...property...of...the..Silversword...Consortium" once he had finished he lent back in his chair and crossed his arms positioning his pipe conveniently close to his mouth.

"I am a Member of the Silversword consortium and I am indeed your master but I am not your ONLY master" He said and arched his eyebrows as if to inquire that I understood. I wanted to say that I did but that would be a lie and a i learnt along time ago that lying to your Master was just about the worst thing you could.

"But why are you not my only master?" I asked and he sighed putting his pipe down on the table he sat up slightly.

"Yes it is true your contract is in my possession and it is true that I paid the coin for it but neither the contract or the coin that prompted its creation was mine alone. As a member of the consortium are interests are intwined. Think of it like you and your contract" My Master said, he flourished his hands as he spoke, and I understood.

"And you may call me Herring" He said anticipating my next question. He picked up his pipe and took a few calming puffs.

"What do you want me to do Master Herring?" I asked.

"As I was saying, You will take passage on the *(insert)* under the command of a man named Standirk, You will follow his orders dutifully and without question for as long as his orders continue to align with the best interests of the Silversword Consortium" Herring said.

"What am I doing on the ship?" I asked

"You are in the pursuit of a Artifact located across the white sea in the city of Zharia you are to return the artifact to Silversword consortiums headquarters in Prospero." Herring said as he rolled up my contract and put it back inside a brown box with crimson lining.

"Master Herring I do not want to offend you but I must tell you that recovery of such an Artifact is probably beyond me, its just outside my skill set" I said standing up with him. His bodyguard took the brown box and put it safely inside a pocket on the inside of his blazer. He then helped Herring into his brown leather coat.

"I am aware that you are not used to being given such free reign to accomplish your tasks but alas unlike the other members of your company to be only I can give you what you really want." Herring said

"Which is?" I asked intrigued.

"Freedom, bring me what we have agreed upon and you will have your Freedom Kane"

.....
Several hours after the crash of the *(insert)*
.....

Like waking from an enthralling dream the world came back to me slowly and foggily until finally the ringing in my ears subsided and the sun beating down on my bear back became noticeable. The ringing in my ears was replaced by the crashing of waves. I quickly opened my eyes and looked around. The white sea had clearly not been content with me and had instead cast me back into the world. I stood up slowly but surely allowing my senses to recalibrate. The sky was clear now and I could see up and down the stony beech for miles. I began to walk.

Fortune favoured me and after only a few hours I found an round ran lying desperately on the edge of a small dune in an area where the beech was far more sandy. I recognised him as I got closer I realised that it was the Magnus.

"Just a bit more" Magnus groaned quietly to himself as I got nearer. I gently pulled him back from the top of the dune. He squirmed at first but soon let out a sigh of relief when he realised that his would be captor was me. Magnus motioned over the hill

"The others, just a bit more" he explained I crawled over the ridge of the dune and looked over into the small valley. Over the dune six dwarves were talking merrily around a fire, however something was off, there had not been six dwarves on the entire ship. Near them sat two bodies both with their skulls caved in. 'Zharia a land of outcasts, a land of killers' Standirk had warned the first time I set foot on his ship, he was obviously right.

"Perhaps a bit more than you thought" I said turning my attention back to the old wizard. Picking him up I began the arduous task of carrying him down the beach.

*Sorry for outdating your post Rydia I just felt as though your comment put other people in a difficult position in relation to the end of their posts, if you care a lot I'll change it*

Chandler

As consciousness came again to Chandler, the first thing that she was aware of was the sound of waves. At first it didn't seem out of the ordinary, seeing as how they had been on a ship. But when she opened her eyes, saw the sun and clouds above her and felt sand under her back, she knew something was wrong. Since she was lying on her back, she turned around and sat up, noticing her crew mates around her. Chandler brushed some sand off of her dress, when she noticed that it was torn.

"Does anyone have any idea what's going on?" She asked.

Chandler felt dizzy. She didn't really remember what had happened on the ship that had caused them to get to this point. She just remembered that they were in trouble, and then all had blackness.

"We shipwrecked," someone replied.

Of course...she was starting to remember now. Chandler paused, noticing then that something felt different. Then she realized that she didn't have her quiver strung around her shoulder.

"Where are our weapons? Where are they?" She scanned the surroundings for them, but she knew that in the back of her mind that it was futile, that they had been lost in the shipwreck. "This can't be happening," she said weakly. She was nothing without her bow and arrow. It was how she had survived after her husband died, how she had healed.

Kahlak'tisht

Without lifting his head to look around, the orc knew it was one of the elves who had spoken. He hadn't heard their approach, as the elf's footsteps were as light as a feather, but he had smelt the strange spicy scent that clung to the forest elf.

He said, "Of course I'm from the ship." The orc pierced the elfling with a baleful stare, "We've been travelling together for several weeks." His voice was gruttal and strange, hard to understand at first, "In such cramped conditions, it's a wonder I didn't eat one of you out of frustration."

It was the most Kahlak had said in one go. The elf looked abashed, as if wondering why he had uttered such an odd statement. Or perhaps he was suddenly wary of the large, well-muscled orc who could (if he could catch the nimble elf) snap Ryan in two.

"Right, well," said the elf, "You don't reckon we're the only survivors?"

The scaled bipedal creature stared off into the distance for a while before replying, "No. But they're a fair way off. Your eyesight is better than mine, can you see who they are up ahead?"

To Kahlak'tisht, the figures congregating on the shore were only tiny specks, moving from the water to a large boulder, probably carrying supplies and taking stock of what was left.

"Aye, I can see many of the crew, some look like they are arguing, judging by the way they're waving their hands in the air."

The orc bent down to pick up the short length of rope half submerged in the rocky sand. It was incredibly heavy, even for his extraordinary strength. The rope was soaked through, absorbing the water like a sponge. Despite the fat that kept the rope water-resistant on the ship, the rope was not created to be completely water logged, only to withstand constant sea spray.

He discarded the length of rope; it would be useless, even dry, prone to snapping at any moment.

"Come Ryan," said Kahlak, "the others may have found something better."

The elf nodded and fell in light step next to the tall and lumbering orc.

Elliot

Elliot regained consciousness feeling a slight pain on the back of his. Tenderly raising a hand, he felt a bump on the back of his skull. He slowly twisted, turned and tested his body in an attempt to find any other injuries, but other than a few bruises he seemed to be fine. Elliot heard a groan to his left. Opening his eyes Elliot sat up. Looking over he found the source of the noise. A young elf, who Elliot recognized as a fellow deckhand, was stuck on a pillar of rock, impaled through the stomach. Elliot rushed to the elf and began to attempt removing him from the spike of stone. The elf opened his eyes and used what strength he had to push the halfling away.

"I'll be damned before I let a halfling help me! I'd rather die!" the elf shouted at Elliot.

The dying elf spit in Elliot's face, closed his eyes and lay limp.

Elliot wiped his face.

"Any man who uses his last breath to spit on another is receiving no burial from me." muttered Elliot to himself.

Elliot looked around for a moment, hoping to find any of his equipment. Seeing nothing but debris, the halfling turned around and began his walk down the beach looking for others, missing the company of his guitar.

Belle

I woke up on the beach.

I'd flailed around in the water for awhile. I had no idea what had happened. I'd been sleeping when she ship started sinking. The cabin I'd been in had started filling with water and I'd barely made it out. I'd tried to take my sword with me, but it had slipped out of my hands. I'd swum to shore and passed out on the rocks.

The air felt cold and there was a heavy wind. My head pounded; I'd probably hit a few rocks. I looked around. The beach seemed to extend beyond my sight. Only rocks... and a small, wavering figure.

"Hey!," I called out, "Come here!"

The person rushed over and helped me up. "Thank you. I'm Belle."

He looked shocked for a second. His blue eyes were flitting around when he said, "I know."

I thought for a second. I didn't think I'd ever talked to him before. "Well I will call you Lee, because Lucky is too many syllables. Have you seen anyone?"

"No."

We started looking up and down the beach. We saw nothing. I felt around in my pocket, my flask was still there. I took a huge swig, the vodka burning my throat.

"Let's walk this way." I pointed to my right, where the bigger stones where. He nodded again and we began walking.

"Where are you from?," I asked. I didn't know anything about him.

He looked at me again, this time seemingly more shocked. "Um, outside of Kassia."

"I grew up on the ocean. It was this ship called the Angelique. My parents owned it but then they got to old. My brothers got it. I wanted to get off that boat, so I came to the other boat. Which is now obliterated. Funny, huh?"

Lee nodded again,"Why are you not being awful to me?"

"Why would I be awful to you?"

He took a deep breath. There was a bead of sweat on his forehead. He was now tensing up, like he was preparing for a fight.

"If it's because you're a halfling, I know," I smiled comfortingly, "I don't hate people because of their race. I hate people because they deserve it." I glanced ahead of us. There were shapes moving on the rocks. "Look," I pointed at them.

Merla

Merla was not impressed.

Firstly she was not impressed by the shipwreck. Well that was stupid, and could have been easily avoided if they had just listened to her in the first place. Morons.

Secondly she was not impressed by the lack of strong swimmers in her company. Yes yes, many sailors chose not to learn to swim blah-de-blah but seriously. Somehow, miraculously, a lot of them had washed up on shore by the time she had front crawled over, gotten onto the beach and emptied her boots of water.

Halflings, humans, orcs. A few halfbreeds. Maybe a couple of elves. It wasn't that she preferred the company of elves, not really. She just liked a person who could carry a good conversation. So far she hadn't really spoken to any of them enough to decide if they were capable of this or not. But here they were. Strong swimmer she might have been, but for now she was stranded with this bunch of idiots. Time to make some friends.

Putting on her best party face, Merla wandered over to the nearest semi-conscious group to introduce herself.

Marlon and Tara walked along the shore quietly, save for the slopping of their clothing. Marlon appreciated the quiet, he had a lot to think about.

It was almost afternoon and the beach was very rocky. Driftwood and some wreckage covered the shoreline. Large cliffs guarded the inland areas and Marlon wanted to be up the cliffs before the tide came in. The key was to find shelter, then water, and then food.

There was one other thing...

"You'll want to adjust your disguise before we rejoin the others, if there are others," Marlon said quietly. "It was good enough to fool me on the ship, but it didn't survive the shipwreck."

"You're not going to rat me out?" Tara asked.

"There is no advantage to me if I do. If we're discovered by strangers, they might interpret a woman as a sign that we're not a war party. And if they're hostile, then they might guard you less carefully than I. In return for keeping your secret, you have to promise to quit flirting with me. Deal?"

"Deal," Tara said. She adjusted her disguise. A few turns later, they discovered the rest of the group.

Etto

At first, what Etto heard was only the proud squeak of a bird, a beachgull, he thought, in chorus with the waning orchestra of the ocean waves. The splash of the torrent beat into a rhythm that pulses up and down as his weakened body was. His mind, still intact with the rest of his soul, drifted with the breeze of the wind he faintly heard with his wounded ear. And it drifted. And faded far, far away.


Three alarming knocks banged on the door. Then another. Then more. A woman, hair golden like the moon and face more radiant than snow, stressed her way around, moving hastily by and by, grunting and huffing as she scuffled from left to right, and her eyes, although not the most remarkable feature in the small image Etto can remember of this past, overfilled with tears.


Running. The next image was running. They were breezing, both of them, he and his mother, through dank streets wet with fresh evening rain. They were about to approach a small crevice in the city walls where she and her baby could push in through, but a glowing ball of light gained about the intersection. A elfin soldier. They were cornered.


The night turned blurry. The memory of the next thing that happened appeared very, very faint. As dim as it was, while Etto's mind drifted, he remembered a bearded man, all grimy and dirty and smothered in ash and slime. He remembered the man's gentle arms. The dirty hand on his face. The high-pitched scream of a woman. Another escape. The next thing he remembered, he was drinking some milk supplied to him by a halfling nurse.

Funny, it is, for his memories, albeit the fact he was but a child, have still survived all those long years. He was half elf after-all, and that was part of their proud talents.


Etto made it back. The crashing of the ocean waves became clearer and clearer and the gulls' noise increased in number. The hollowness, the semi-vacuum of air around him grew audible. His hearing slowly healed. And thus, he awakens.

When his full consciousnesses went back to him, he tiredly opened his reddish eyes. He saw nothing but darkness. He struggled around, flailing his arms and legs around, but he cannot. He breathed heavily for a moment, and when his eye adjusted to the darkness, he found himself guilty of forgetting he was inside a crate.

He was almost finished tallying the number of artillery left in the second basement storage below the consortium headquarters when he overheard some custodian staff about a secret expedition to the ancient ruins of Zharia. He picked up his memories about what he'd read about Zharia. One book told him that it was once a glorious kingdom. Another told it was a the seat of elfin civilization. A tome, which he had kept since he can remember mentioned Zharia many times, although some of those are only scribbles even to the elfin eye.

Something's there. Something which can bring the pieces back together. He thought to himself one night while being ready for sleep at an inn. Last thing he knew, he emptied a food crate he found in clusters in a titanic ship, fitted himself in and kept silent for hours. He had already thought of how he could 'join' the explorers without actually joining them.

"I could act like a poor lost child." He first murmured to himself. Monologuing was one of his weird habits. "No, who could a child be lost in Zharia!"

He heard then heard waves.

"Maybe I won't just join, then. But no, I need them to lead me somewhere safe, where I can learn things about Zharia. About elves. I need them to act as my shields. They're nothing but soldiers and mercenaries. No brains at all." he proudly said to himself.

The ship moved.

"Or, maybe I could just lie."

Now, after a time he hadn't counted, he found himself bound, stuck inside the very crate where he plotted his plans. His next plan should be how to get himself out, but he can't think very well because of the noise people are making nearby. He knew the group was near.

Magnus Fitzgerald

The half elf was uncannily strong and as he carried Magnus on his back, the wizard began to recover his spirits. "I'm so wet," he complained. "Think I drank half of the ocean!" He coughed noisily against Kane's back, retching up spittle and a gurgle of sea water. "Think you could get there faster? I need to lie down." The old man groaned and closed his eyes.

Kane continued to walk at a steady pace, moving away from the dwarves and toward the unknown. He saved his strength and spoke only sparingly:

"The likelihood of us coming across other survivors today is low."

This wasn't good enough for Magnus who was tired and old and felt he had already been cheated out of his group of survivors, though he did of course realise they'd been a group of people-eating dwarves. But it was the principle of the matter.

"I'm not making a fire until someone has made me a shelter. Me and my old bones won't survive through the night without one, then where would you be?" Magnus coughed hollowly again and then he groaned as he remembered once more that all his precious artefacts had been stolen by the sea. "A drink's what I need. Find us a tavern!" Never mind that he had no coin on him because the usually jovial Magnus was feeling like a sour old man.