Atlantic Roleplay Community Boards

[Thrax]

---

Crimson clouds flitted past his line of sight, each one almost in single file, rimmed with gold and rolling with reckless abandon. They swept by from right to left leaving gaping holes upon a darkening sky. Stars glinted around the edges of his vision and they all seemed to be laughing... either at him, or their predicament of being forced to hang there motionless, he didn't know which. He felt oddly at peace and then suddenly realized the sound of laughter was not that at all, but the steady lapping of small waves against...

Thrax sat up in the boat and shook his head briskly. It was dusk. A faint, cool, breeze blew from the southeast. Like someone waking up from a dream in an unfamiliar place, he surveyed his surroundings with alarm and the fear of a trapped animal. He noted immediately that he was almost naked. Most of his armor lay all about him, including his helm and shield. His trusty club lay at the front of the boat. The smashed bodies of several sea serpents littered the deck both fore and aft. Flies blew the carcasses and they stank to high heaven. His mouth was dry and a fine layer of salt covered whatever of his flesh had been exposed to the elements. His lips and hands were cracked and bleeding. He stared out to sea and could only see open water for leagues upon leagues.

"What in the nine hells???" he muttered rising to his feet. He collected his armor and began strapping it back on. "I must be losing my mind," he thought to himself, trying desperately to remember how he got where he was, what he had drunk or eaten, that had caused this.

It gave him no satisfaction, much less pleasure, that he could not remember a thing.

It gave him less pleasure to find that he had apparently thrown his holy book overboard; his only means of instant exit.

It gave rise to rage when he saw that not only was the mainmast broken in half, but both tiller and tillerman were missing.

The stars were not laughing anymore.