wierdw

[Closed] Lost RPG

"Smouldering dahling... Smouldering..." ember cooed, despite the nausea. The nausea still made it into the tone, despite his best efforts. "... And I don't recall giving you a card--- Quite impressive though, a man in a chair, felling a tree like that."

He sucked in a deep breath. Slowly but surely, he could feel his own vigor returning.

"Sonia took a brawny bunch with her some time ago. I'd have joined them if I had been up to it, but sadly... That she-bitch of the saline persuasion took a bit more out of me than I imagined possible-- but I should be recovered enough to actually be useful here in a bit. Until then, I will busy myself with this light work."

[Closed] Lost RPG

@Pakde@A5G@Eviledd1984

Ember rubbed his head, then settled back in to nursing the cookfire. Despite his attempts to approach the horrid beggar woman, she seemed so much more vital than he did, and effortlessly evaded him without even attempting it. He would corner her and interrogate her later. --once his head cleared--

As for joining a search party, the idea of wandering off sounded both exciting in its prospects, as well as horrid in the same.

On the one hand, there was a chance at getting out of the sun, perhaps finding a natural source of water to wash off in, and generally an opportunity to shine-- the latter being something he very seldom shied away from.

On the other-- His head was swimming, he felt mildly nauseous, and he doubted very much that he could do much more than spurt some pretty sparkles from his wand at the moment. It would take him several hours of taking it easy to get back his proper vigor, at the least.

"You needn't worry about that too much, Sonia dahling... I wanted to apologize for my rash behavior; Rest assured, I'm already paying a heavy price..." Ember once more nursed his head, then poked another stick into the cookfire, before looking back up at Sonia. "I'll be quite content to say behind for the time being.. I'm afraid I've gone and tuckered myself out. I'd be more liability than asset, I fear-- but I can still make myself useful. I'll see what I can do with the resources we have-- such as they are-- and as my head clears, see that those we've found at least aren't wearing tatty rags..." Once more his thoughts drifted toward the spry beggar woman, and he fumed inwardly. He would find out where she got those from, for sure. Preferably once she returned, and that energy of hers had been used up, and his rekindled.

He leaned over to his more furtive companion in the goat-skull ensemble, and answered his query honestly, but discretely.

"I'm afraid not dahling. It will be some time before I'm ready to go off on an adventure. At the very least, I can keep an eye on the more ...unstable... of our number, and keep them out of trouble. Were you looking for something dahling? That was quite a show... I wish I had that kind of energy at the moment."

Despite his mild nausea, he knew he really did need to eat something. After a more than a moment of hesitation, he extracted one of the seared fish skewers from the edge, and timidly nibbled at it.

He sat still and silent by the fire, continuing to nibble, and sipping at the coconut vivian had given him, while the others formed a small party, and departed, leaving him and a number of other castaways behind.

[Closed] Lost RPG

"... Ezekiel you say? ... A bit .. 'old-fashioned' isn't it?" mused Ember bemusedly.

"Well, once i've had a chance to rest up a bit, I could see about mending your robes dahling... I take great pride and care in the... care... of.. my work....."

Ember trailed off, completely taken by surprise by what had just darted in front of him. That filthy beggar woman that had been lounging outside his quarters aboard ship had clearly not only survived, but had clearly found one of his missing spring pieces.

Worse still, she was... smearing it with..... FISH GREASE.. like it was some common rag from the gutter. THAT WAS MEANT TO BE ON A HOTTIE'S TIGHT LITTLE BOTTOM, NOT ACCEPTING FILTHLY FISH JUICES!! AND THAT BUNDLE! THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE TIGHTLY WRAPPED AROUND A TASTEFUL SET OF BOSOMS, NOT SOME COLLECTION OF OLD RUBBISH!!

The surge of emotion combined with his weakened constitution, in a momentary darkening of his vision as his blood pressure spiked, and the vagal response kicked in, sending him to the sandy ground on his bottom with a thud.

Dazed, his head swam, and for a single blessed moment, he felt maybe he had just hallucinated it, and that he just needed to rest and drink more coconut water... But he rubbed his eyes, and looked again as his momentary loss of verticality dissipated. It was quite plain-- It was not a mere hallucination. Worse, the vile creature was picking her nose, and rubbing it on the bright orange trousers, along with the greasy fish juice. He felt nauseous, but summoned the power to get to his feet, then staggered toward the abominable visage of the woman...

"If you'll excuse me sir.... I need to take care... of some business...."

[Closed] Lost RPG

Ember stooped pitifully near the fire, gently poking sticks into it every now and then, thankful for the fact, that for once, it was not something sustained entirely by magic.

He was positively drained, and probably couldn't manage more than a sputtering, and uncontrolled burst of pitiful flames had he been in the position to be trying that. The sticks were a perfectly tractable, and entirely practical, (if undignified) option, and he was very thankful for it being available.

"It sure beats sitting on the beach, in this insufferable sun all day. At least there'd be shade... Maybe we'd get lucky, and find a lake to get the salt off us. I can positively FEEL my skin puckering up like a priest of chastity at a bacchanal. We wont even discuss my hair..."

He turned to the 'very obviously a practitioner of the necromantic arts', appraising his tattered but still very apparent costume, and spoke in a hushed, private tone so that only the recipient would hear.

'I wouldn't dahling-- We have the superstitious types in our number.. The last thing we need, is a coup because somebody's dead husband is shambling around outside mucking out a latrine. If it were just us dahling, I wouldn't mind, but we must think about these things, given our circumstances. ...I'd rather not end up in a fire... Speaking of-- I never made your acquaintance-- I'm ember-- Transfigurist, and illusionist-- I specialize in fashion. ...Despite appearances... I can tell from your attire what your specialty is dahling--- I've designed similar numbers for some of my clients-- but I'm at a disadvantage for your name--"

[Closed] Lost RPG

Ember had heard enough. Sonia was trying honey, when what was needed was a bear. There was no reasoning with superstition and fear.

Sucking in his upper lip, he forced an iron composure on himself, then did his best to stride, (rather than stumble and stagger), toward Sonia and the unnamed woman, allowing his countenance to grow frightful and bewitching, working the more subtle of the magics involved in magical persuasion to fall into place around him. His appearance did not change at all, but the perception he was something powerful, eldritch, and otherworldly grew.

In the few moments it took to cross the distance, it had reached about as much strength as he had to muster, and he hoped it would do.

'Madam.' He said sharp and flat, the magic wriggling itself into the spoken words, turning them into a vehicle that drove them past the woman's defenses.

'Listen to the woman, if you know what's good for you-- There's only ONE witch around here, and it's ME.'

Terror gripped the woman like a vice, as pallor bloomed on her overexerted face. She made futile attempts at the talisman around her neck.

'That wont help you much here, madam.' Ember continued, pouring more strength into the invisible aura of terror he was projecting. 'Be careful throwing false accusations of witchcraft, my dear-- you might attract a real one, and they arent always as ... nice... as I.'

He relaxed the aura slightly before continuing.

'Madam. Powerful as even I am, i recognise when my talents are insufficient. The nice lady with the horns and piercing eyes, is just the sort we need--'

Protest and riteous anger welled in the woman's face, threatenting to overpower the magically induced terror trance, so he turned it back up again.

'Disbelieve it all you want, but it is so, Sonia here--Yes, she has a name, dahling-- is not magically inclined. That's MY speciality. No, she's a professional huntress, fur trapper, and monster hunter. The things that strike terror in the night? She dispatches them. It is often said that the divine works in mysterious ways, and that there is nothing that cannot be bent to serve its will. Does it not occur to you, that perhaps your prayer has been answered, and you are sending away your 'miracle'?'

Once more, he relaxed the aura slightly, giving the woman's mind just enough room to move again.

'Isn't curious, that when you washed up on this beach, you would find a person who is not only naturally hard to knock down, resistent to thirst or hunger, and most importantly of all, posessing the very skills needed to provide you with food, water, shelter, and those needed to find your missing gentleman?'

He relaxed the aura just a little more.

'Sure sounds like 'divine providence' to me...'

Then, just a little more.

'But what would I know about omens... i'm just a 'witch'.'

Then he relaxed it even more, now just berely projecting hidden menace.

'This nice woman may well be your ticket off this cursed island. I can guarantee you, life will be most harsh if you reject your 'miracle' dahling. I strongly suggest, that if she tells you to do something, you listen.

He turned to walk away, back up the beach, craneing his head over his shoulder.

'And if you positively MUST be in abject terror of somebody trying to help you, be in terror of the correct one. Terror is a horrid thing, and a powerful weapon, when weilded by those who know how. You would be well served, not to use that word in my presence again. Better served still, to overcome your fear entirely. Now stop endangering all of us with your disharmony, and come have a drink. Sonia found us some coconuts. I shall open one for you....DONT make me compell you again. We shall search for your man later.'

Then he released the aura completely, feeling the exertion of the effort taking its toll, but concealing it, as he once more, fought his body, harder this time, to 'stride' up the beach, and back to the encampment, leaving the woman and child in Sonia's company.

He would apologise to Sonia in private later.

[Closed] Lost RPG

Ember's face contorted at the hysterical outbursts of the woman. He had not made her acquaintance, but her behavior rubbed him raw, and his nerves were shot to begin with. This woman being a rabid contrarian out of wild, uncontrolled fear and doubt would imperil all of them, not just herself or her child. He hated the idea of stealing Sonia's thunder; robbing her of the chance to take charge of this situation, as was required for there to be any hope of their living long enough to be rescued-- but permitting this transgression was not something to be entertained, no matter his foibles. He would formally apologize later, in private. Perhaps in public too, if it was necessitated. People could be dumb cattle some times.

He waited a moment, sucking in an angry breath, to see how Sonia would handle this, then gripped his wand and stood up...

[Closed] Lost RPG

Ember held back the impulsive urge to rip the coconut from the girl's grasp and down it in one shot like a sorority girl at a drinking party, instead accepting it gracefully, then sipping it slowly, feeling the tepid liquid go down, and set to work on the burning of his insides.

He trembled a moment as it took effect, before looking obviously relieved.

"Thank you dahling..." he breathed, before setting the empty shell of the fruit down. "I must look like a ghastly sea-hag, dressed in this... .this...." he shuddered, and sighed, before turning behind him, flicking his wand at the encrusted trunk, which sent the kelp splattering to the sides and behind, as it flung open. Carefully, he appraised the insides, pleased to see that they were unharmed from their turbulent encounter with that salty slut of an ocean, and her temper tantrum. He extracted the hand mirror, opened it, then let out a mortified, almost shrilly inaudible shriek.

"Oh gawd.... It's worse than I thought!... Just LOOK what that bitch did to my hair!.... " Involuntarily, he pulled his fingers through the matted, frizzled, and completely soiled red locks, now devoid of any volume, bounce, or shine, as it clung wet and limp to his head and body in small streaks.

Seemingly invigorated by the small draught of coconut water he had consumed, the erudite mage gripped his wand with a stern faced intensity that just screamed "Fuck around and find out", then set to work transfiguring the mound of filth that still surrounded his foot locker.

Orange hued flares erupted from the sizzling wet kelp, amid puffs of steam, and angry hissing, as strips of the kelp were transfigured into thin strands of fiber that clung and fluttered gently in the light ocean breeze while he worked.

In a matter of minutes, the miraculous transformation of a good portion of the kelp into an undyed broad wrap and sunveil, with light fabric high boots was complete, but the mage seemed dissatisfied.

"Not my finest work..." he muttered. "Needs some color..Too plain..."

He cast an eye down at the sand of the beach, scooped up a handful of it, and rubbed it between his fingers.

"Well, let's see what we have to work with. Beggars aren't choosers, dahling....." he muttered to himself, before pointing his wand downward into the outstretched palm of his hand, where the wet ball of yellowish sand lay, sending it floating into the air. Moments later, he was holding his wand with two hands, focused intensely on the sandy ball, as it heated, fumed, hissed, and became encrusted in a white rind of molten calcerous mineral. He made a disgusted frowning expression. "Deplorable. I can get better from my back yard." he cursed under his breath, before giving the wand a flick, sending the hot, white rind of the orange-hot molten glob to the ground where it hit with a hiss. A small orb of molten 'something' still hung in the air, which he expertly twitched his wand at with subtle movements, causing it to deform, split in two, then reshape into ornate shapes, before cooling into an almost black shade of green glass, which he expertly wove onto the otherwise colorless gown as a pair of dark contrasting buckles for the cloth boots.

Fatigue suddenly made his hands begin to falter and tremble, and he abruptly sat down, sending the levitating clothing objects to the ground with a 'floof'.

"Curse this place..." he muttered.

After a moment of pouting, he leaned up, then set about helping vivian with fire tending, looking longingly at the new clothes from time to time, with a pained, saddened expression.

He desperately wanted to get out of these filthy rags, but dirty and brine soaked as he was, it would only serve to soil the new garments. He needed a bath, and was too tired to set about it at the moment.

[Closed] Lost RPG

Ember made a scowl at the foul man's cheeky attempt at humor at his expense, and sent a sticky glob of the seaweed clinging to him in the man's direction with a forceful extension of his wand, while continuing his struggle to get further up the beach.

"Really, I hadn't noticed." he snarked, before continuing. "And thinking of such extreme, outlandish prospects is foolish. If it WERE another planet, I very much doubt it would look like anything we are used to."

and with that, he mentally tuned the man out. Seeing Vivian and her former bunkmate up ahead, his heart lifted. At least there would be some INTELLIGENT company to while away the time with. The memory that her companion was a professional huntress flicked in his mind, and it gave him a momentary bit of relief. He knew full well he had no clue how to rough it out here. ...

...Wherever "here" was...

He turned back at the stiff gaited man, now removing seaweed from the back of his head. Ember was positive this was NOT "another planet."

"Vivian, dahling--- I'm SOOO happy to see you--- And you too dear--- Sonia was it?"

Vivian was sipping water from a halved coconut,and he was immediately jealous. His mouth was parched, and his insides literally ached from having been full of seawater earlier.

"You don't have another of those do you dahling?"

[Closed] Lost RPG

Ember awoke in a tangled mat of brown, slimy, and not pleasant to smell seaweed. It clung around and to him, in a mockery of the mermaid costume he had conjured up for his "Maiden voyage" send off.

Now, "Sent Off".

Groaning, and with aches in places he had no clue one could even ache in, he staggered to his knees, and reeled against the beating sun, as the waves lapped at his legs and feet. His skin was raw, and his pajamas were soaked, stained, and torn.

Feeling about himself, he found he still had his wand, though it too was completely enmeshed in the brown ball of gooey plantlife he found himself bound up in-- as if the ocean had heaved back, and coughed up a giant festering ball of snot, with him inside it.

He was still clutching the foot locker, but one would never have been able to tell. The weedy growth had nucleated around it, which is how he himself had become so entangled. Traces of the ice raft melted under the gentle lapping of the surf, as it swished the slimy mass this way and that around him.

Disgustedly, he retched, and heaved up a stomach of swallowed sea water.

He felt well and truly miserable.

Casting a dour expression out at the sea, he raised a fist at the now sublime and calm blue-green ocean, and raged at it.

"Blast you, you fickle, deep-trenched watery tart! Go and cough *ME* up in this ball of filth from your nethers, and not a single one of my babies! I'd tell you to go suck a whale, but you do it every day, you filthy whore! You've dragged more men down there than--"

He cut off, as he heard a strained, gurgling coughing sound coming from further up the beach.

"--DONT think I'm finished with you, you soggy strumpet! I'll have my vengeance yet!" he spat, then struggled to his feet, then up the shore, pausing only momentarily to summon the (still completely ensnared in seaweed) foot locker to follow behind him, illiciting an image of a demented seamonster slithering behind him, rather than a levitating trunk.

Wandering toward the coughing, ember lurched and staggered in the sand, with the undulating mass following in his wake.

[Closed] Lost RPG

Ember awoke with a start as the sounds of frightened passengers and splintering wood ricocheted around his cabin.
He had extinguished the lights in his room hours ago, but the unmistakable sound of water trying to shoot in under the doorframe was immistakable.

He fumbled for his wand in his foot locker, as the water relentlessly rushed in behind him, getting his butt and legs wet as he knelt down. Finding what he was after, he quickly illuminated the room. There were several inches of water on the far corner, indicting the ship had an aftward list; a condition that did not bode well for the survivability of the vessel.

"BLOODY HELL!" he rasped like an angry cat, while cursing to himself internally for not bringing a more suitable wand with him.

This was supposed to be a simple business trip-- and---

"MY BABIES!" he shrieked, realizing his **ENTIRE** spring collection-- that had intended to display to this year's student body-- was probably already under several feet of water in the deck below. He was now, well and truly enraged by the situation, bordering on panic and despair. Only the anger was keeping his wits sharp, and he knew it, as his face twisted into an almost demonic possessed snarl surrounding wide whites with brown circles for eyes, frenzied expression.

Saying nothing more, he spun around, faced the door, then blew it off the hinges, just as the ship lurched again in the turbulent waters.

"Come darling-- We wont lose you too--" he furiously fumed, flicking the wand behind him. The foot locker rose up on one of those silvery cushions, and glided obediently behind him, as he attempted to storm out through the now freely floating door into the hammock sleeping area outside.

Crew were scampering to the mess and galley, passengers were grasping at each other trying to get to the ascending stair, while more crew was barking angrily at them to stay below deck to avoid being washed away by the surf above.

Continuing the storming glide, and monitoring the flow of water gushing around his feet, he stormed to the dining area, where the ship's carpenters were furiously trying to hammer tar soaked oakum into a nasty gash in the wall.

"We'll all drown before you have that patched. OUT OF THE WAY." he barked, before leveling the wand at the wall, then sending a brilliant white flash from his wand toward it. The room filled with blue-white light, and in the space of a breath after, a thick encasement of ice clung in and to it where the split had formed. The wand was hot in his hands, as it had not been made to practice magic like a firehose-- or even at all really-- and its materials were protesting against such use; threatening to melt in half and seriously burn his hands, should he try such a thing again. With a scowl, he crouched, and dunked it into the water still swishing around on the floor, where it made an audible hiss from contact with the cold ocean water.

The carpenters looked at him with bewilderment, and a touch of disdain, as the concept of how to deal with ice on top of the damaged wall flashed through their minds-- if their expressions were any indication-- but the pregnant pause did not last. Another hideous groan and crash, and the ship lurched once more, before water practically blasted in through the now 'clearly fractured beyond all repair' galley's doorframe, despite the coating of ice that had smattered it. If anything, the ice was all that was keeping the door on, under the relentless pressure behind it.

"Oh--- SHIT."

From above deck, orders from the boson and boson's mate could be distantly heard over the furtive voices of the other passengers and the thundering waves.

'PASSENGERS AND CREW TO THE LONG BOATS-- '

Neither he, nor the ship's carpenters wasted time-- almost in unison, they turned from the doomed wall of the ship toward the stairs, ushering people above deck as the evacuation was being overseen by men tied to long ropes, being washed this way and that by the water cresting over what was left of the ship, working hurriedly and furiously to make the ship's pinnace and longboats ready.

It felt like an eternity, with water steadily rising behind...

The line was just beginning to move, (indicating that the crew had some manner of success with one of the smaller craft tied up above deck), when the barely held on galley door exploded from its hinge, and a mighty swell of water gushed into the ship from below, pushing Ember and his current company up the stairs like a champagne cork leaving the bottle.

Barely grasping hold of the hovering footlocker like it was a life preserver, he quickly found himself being tossed and tussled by the relentless waves after being sprayed out, and over the deck railing.

Cursing and profanity that would have rivaled any sailor's was drown out by the cacophony of voices, shrieking wind, and the ever present sound of rain and splintering timber, while he furiously worked his magic, creating a tiny shelf of ice just beneath and around the small foot trunk he was clinging to like a man on a saddle.

Time seemed to stretch, as if the dreadful storm would never end. The sounds of the ship became less, and the sound of the storm took over. It was everything the poor mage in waterlogged pajamas could do, just to keep the small raft of ice above water. He didn't have time, or energy, for anything else.