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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Brimshack" data-source="post: 3148500" data-attributes="member: 34694">“And so then, McCoy starts pulling on the string, and there is this waxy stuff falling everywhere. His eyes! I tell you, we hadn’t even taken the gag off yet...” Keskeeri cold hardly contain her laughter as she described her evening’s entertainment. I’ve always liked Keskeeri, but I really didn’t need this blow by blow description. I had just climbed down from the Crow’s Nest where I had slept the night before. Hardly a comfortable resting place, even as it is my second home of sorts, but it was the only place I could escape the sounds of misery and terror coming from below our decks. Don’t get me wrong, I have no pity for the heartless wretch under examination. But I am not entirely without empathy, and a certain proximity to suffering does tend to etch its effects into my soul. Thinking me noble enough to pull an extra watch for the good of the crew, Keskeeri had delayed her own sleep in order to fill me in on all the happy details. It was a kindness I could well have foregone.Did I mention that Keskeeri was about to go to bed? She is a drow, you see. Unlike her 2 male companions, Keskeeri had never quite adapted to sunlight.  The woman dabbled in sorcery and served as a lesser Priestess of Vecna. A Jill of all trades, so to speak, Keskeeri had taken care to ensure that all of her interests could be pursued at night. With the sun slowly rising, she was soon to bed, taking only a little time to ensure that I knew the latest gossip. A self appointed maternal guardian of sorts, Keskeeri’s affection for each and every member of the 35 man crew aboard the Setting Sun was matched only by her complete disregard for the welfare of anyone not a member of our own crew. Envisioning her friends as a means by which she would cause others to suffer, Keskeeri’s love for her companions fed directly off of her hatred for mankind. It was an ironic love to be sure, and one which has often caused me no little discomfort. Of this crew, none have expressed more kindness to me than Keskeeri, but at this very moment, she seemed completely oblivious to my rather extreme discomfort. To say that she was oblivious to the discomfort of our ship’s guest would seem entirely unnecessary.The most amazing thing about Keskeeri was her incredible beauty. Dow women are, I am told, commonly blessed with this quality but not normally on a scale comparable to that of Keskeeri. She seemed almost to take on the appearance most desired by whomever she spoke with. More than once I have heard men sing her praises only to contradict themselves over the details. Where one would speak of green eyes and close cropped hair, another would pine over pure black eyes and long flowing hair. Many times I had stared intently at this wonder of a woman, trying myself to discern the details which seemed to escape her admirers, finding only this one certainty, that she was stunning whatever the details of her appearance. This morning Keskeeri seemed almost to sparkle with glee, this evil den mother, recounting with pride the exploits of her favourite children. At such moments, she frightened even as she held me in awe. Men would willingly go to her embrace, knowing somewhere deep down that she would as soon leave them in agony as pleasure. Truth be told, at this moment, this woman at least could easily have done the same.A brief kiss on the cheek, and this evil beauty was off to the lowest holds of our ship. I stood motionless on deck, still reeling from the disparate feelings of the previous conversation, and growing dimly more aware that someone below deck was still sobbing. I wondered at that moment if I really had the strength to stay with this crew, if the cruelty of which its members were capable might one day overwhelm scruples I hadn’t thought I really had. I wondered this, and I wondered about Keskeeri, ...tried to remember just what colour the eyes had been, the very ones that had held me transfixed but a moment before.“The Captain wants to see you below deck.”“Yes Sir.” I really couldn’t tell you who had delivered the message or whether or not it was really someone worthy of the honour of a “Sir.” I shuddered a bit and made my way down the ladders to a seen unimaginable in all my days. I will spare you a description of the carnage visited on our shackled prisoner’s body and tell you only that I hesitated. Less than a day previous, this great warrior had struck fear into the hearts of all about him, and indeed, he had taken a pound of flesh from one of our own. But now he appeared barely human, shaking and sobbing uncontrollably. Utterly broken, the mere sight of this once-man now lying on the floor was himself a source of pain to any with a heart. I sat down on the ladder and took a breath before catching the attention of the Captain. In front of the prisoner stood “Insidious Chutney,” the sole Hobgoblin on our crew, and I believe, a survivor of the village from which we had stolen our first vessel. How it is that this rather twisted mind sought to board our ship after what we did to his people I will never know. Truth be told, I am unlikely to ask. Chutney’s sole claim to fame thus far is the demise of two or three kobalds in the great battle on Illithid Isle. No-one was impressed with this creature, and not many of us expected him to survive the next real test of his courage,Unmoved by the suffering of our prisoner, Chutney appeared almost childish with glee. He was most definitely not the true cause of the prisoner’s suffering, and yet Chutney’s spear point was bloody when I came upon the scene. A smile cracked his ugly face as Chutney explained that the prisoner had moved somewhat and he had been forced to poke it, just as the Captain had ordered. The Captain just scowled.It wasn’t that Chutney was cruel, no, what bothered me (and I suspect a number of those present) was just how little he had done to earn his sadistic pleasures. To see this peon grinning like a school boy at the chance to hurt a warrior with skills beyond his present dreams, it was simply too much. Clearly fed up with juvenile antics and ready to get some rest after a hard day and a long evening, Captain Xavier, turned to me, “Teska, take charge of the prisoner. See that he does not escape, and don’t kill him.”“Yes sir.” I took up a position across from the prisoner and loaded my crossbow.  As much for Chutney’s benefit as that of the prisoner, the weapon would not be needed and I knew it. Still it was important to establish my domain, so to speak. And as the others filed up the ladders to the upper decks I settled in for a long morning.What had they learned, I wondered? We had all been eager to discover the reason behind the attack on the docks. In her haste to describe another's suffering, Keskeeri had entirely omitted the very purpose of the night's torture. So clearly broken, the poor wretch before me must have revealed everything he knew. But there was no-one left to tell me the result. No-one but the wretch himself, that is. I thought for a moment to question him myself. Just the threat of aditional pain might be enough to get him talking. Still, I thought, the effort to speak with what remained of the relevant organs, I just could not bring myself to inflict that much more suffering. Feeling nothing but contempt, and for just a moment wishing myself strnger, more cruel, ...I ended up giving the wretch a drink of water.  It was somewhat comforting to realize that I well suited to such a task, perhaps a better choice than most among this crew. Fair enough. Keskeeri's words came back to me, and I struggled to remember the colour of her eyes. Was I having thoughts for another woman?</blockquote>

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