Taokanf said:Camille frowned at the lack of organization. How could the dunderheads who put the supplies here expect anything else to fit? Hopefully they'd be reprimanded later. Sighing, she turned to George, and smiled exasperatedly.
"We should probably alert someone as to the state of these holds, Monsieur Barrow. Nothing can be secured here with them in this state. I'd move them myself, but I personally am not that strong, and you, monsieur, couldn't move all of them." At least, she didn't think so. The man wasn't a machine, even if he could move a few- he'd need help.
Camille continued to examine the hold as George departed to find help, and she began to sense the darkness. Dim incandescant lamps hanging from the ceiling gently swayed with the ship; shadows shifting, enlarging and shrinking with each rocking motion. She noticed that the light failed to penetrate to the far corners of the hold where the shroud of black offered concealment for...Drowned Hero said:'I think you are, right miss' 'we should get some help' he looks around with his flashlight feeling the cold and humidity of the ship 'I'm sure Øyvind and the other dog guys can help us out' 'Enke and Olav seems like what we need down here and Øyvind could walk his dogs around here too' 'maybe they can catch some rats or something...' He turns to walk upwards the ladder... 'are you staying here taking a look at the other stuff? or you coming?, i only got this flashlight'...
...George started to climb the ladders taking him to the higher levels. After some searching he suddenly hears a gramophone playing Alexander's Ragtime Band of Louis Armstrong. He is curious about where the sounds come from beeing surprised when he sees Øyvind lent back in a big comfy chair, boots on a crag and holding his snus tinbox in one hand and a beer in the other.
...something scratching. Camille could hear something back in the corner.
And then she heard a faint, soulful trumpet playing behind her, up the ladder, far away in some other hold.
Job (the tortured one).