Remember the Cavindale! (As his betters, i think we have a duty to help him)

[alsih2o]

What you will remmeber most is when the noise stopped.

After 28 days at sea the noise starts to be a constant you depend on. Those massive boards and timbers groaning
against the weight of the water. The slight feeling of the rise on the pit of your stomach as the swells lifted the boat.

At first it is hard to realize that the sickening sense of motion you feel is the actual lack of movement. That combines with the shock of breathlessness, and coughing out all that black sand in oyur mouth and nose and eyes.

As you achingly lift your head form the shallow surf you struggle against the stark whiteness of the light that seems to surround and violate you.

Eventually you realize you are a survivor.

For better than 3 weeks at sea you were only allowed up on the deck every 3rd day, and now the vast openness of the space around you, the constantly moving air, the missing sense of enclosure are enough to bring on a slight sense of agorphobia.

As you look around you see the long sweeping cresent of a black beach strewn with bodies. Some oyu recognize instantly, taking a brief moment to stare in shock at the unnatural positions their bodies take strewn across the large rocks of the coastline. Some just bob in the surf, so much flotsam being picked apart by busy crabs.

Then you notice others moving. You aren't alone! Here and there along the thin black wedge of sand that greets the ocean peopel are rising to their feet, some collecting in small groups, others checking the dead. Still others checking the pockets of the dead.

The palm trees that amrk the end of the sands mark a sharp line between the unrelenting heat of the sun and the cool welcome respite of what appears to be an island paradise.

Before any paln springs to mind the last few hours begin to rush back to you in small bursts: the sudden stop,a nd the loud husking, dragging sound that followed it, the cries of the men below deck, and the panic when you realized the experienced hands on deck were crying out to their gods and mothers, the awful rush for the lifeboats,a dn the fights for space, the cold, unrelenting grasp of the oceans inky darkness clinging to you wihtout remorse.

And now this.

As your head clears and oyu see things more clearly you can count. Nine people. Nine moving people at least, possibly another 40 thrown hither and yon by the sea that spat you upon this black pebbly shore.

 

[alsih2o]

loske will find she has awakened with her bow still on her back, and her scrollcase tucked firmly into her belt. It seems that her limp body may have been helped ot shore by the large wooden box of "healers herbs" she grabbed out of instinct more than common sense when the boat started to pitch horribly out of tune wqith the ocean.

Dogan awakens to find his head entagled in his leather armor, and his precious bag of tricks(including his "bag of tricks") mostly intact but his sword nowhere to be found.

Edward reaches for his holy symbol to find it still dangling from his neck, but he was not so lucky, or maybe was, wiht his morningstar. Farlangh himself must have freed him from that deadly weight. His bucklers weigh down his soggy, tired arms which find his scrollcase clumsily. Unsure of whether or not to be glad he was seperated from his armor he feels around half blindly in the sand until his hand falls on his crossbow.

Cale awakens to his head aching, and his neck pinched between two wide boards. as he extracates himself he realizes he is stuck in the remnants of a lifeboat on a rock 60 feet from shore. How he ended up in a lifeboat with everythign he owns is beyond him, as is how he is going to get ashore.

Swift has landed high on the beach, his nunchuka poking akwardly into his ribs as he sputters black sand form his mouth and eyes.

jobis awakens armorless, his knoves still strapped here and there around his body, his rapier still on his side. when he reaches for his precious wands he finds them tucked safely where they should be, right on his belt, where his scrollcase used to be. as he fiddles in his pockets he realizes the burning sensation on his thigh isn't an injury, but a slight chemical burn from the sunrods and tindertwigs disentigrating in the salt water.

Jak realizes quickly upon awakening that the only reason he survived his encounter wiht the depths is his axe. In the fear and panic over what was happening he had stashed his axe across his back fearing that it would be the soluton to whatever was happening. when he was knocked unconcious the axe had stuck in a piece of the main mast which floated ashore. All he has is his axe, but that is evidently all he needed.

Toskar wakes groggily, pushing his glasses form his eyes and unwrapping his cloak form his head. He is akwardly wrapped around his mace, and he feels the weight of his bow on his back.

Solomon can feel the rope wrapped around him, and as he shruggs himself awake he feels the 2 stones and 2 bags he keeps hidden in his boots for "just in case." A sick feeling of panic envelopes him as he cannot find his sword, only to abate as he realizes it rests under him in the gravelly black sand.

Kelkan awakens in a few inches of water. he is spurting and struggling abour 15 feet from shore. His scrollcase is in tact and full and he instinctively reaches for his spell components, feeling them in the pockets of his vest. a slight panic washes over him as he realizes he has no idea where his spellbook is. His tanglefoot bags are strapped ot his side by his silvered dagger, but he fears he has lost all else.

 

[Brother Shatterstone]

Loske: (Female/Half Elf/Ranger 3)

After visually checking that the contents of the scroll case are undamaged by the salt water and the less than friendly arrival on this black sand shores I scan the horizon for any chance of danger. I also gather my meager belongings and start to seek out people in need of aid and healing.

 

[Macbeth]

Swift (elf monk)

Swift adjusts his nunchaku, brushes the sand from his robes and surveys the beach, scrounging for anything of use and mentally considering the options: should he build a hut and wait for a rescue? or is a boat the way to go? he knows he can rely on himself, but are the other people able to contribute to his survival? or will he end up having to save these poor unenlightened people?

BTW, these are rehtorical questions. Just giving a little insight into whats going on inside swift

 

[Dakkareth]

Jobis 'Swifthand': Male half-elven rogue 3

After coughing out an impressive load of salty water Jobis instinctively takes stock of his equipment. That he didn't have his armor on probably saved him from a watery death as did leaving his backpack in the tiny, smelly cabin and with his talent for improvisation the loss of his gadgets is easily tolerable.

Especially as Trick and Treat, the two wands he spent almost his entire stolen wealth on, are still safely with him. Taking them out and twirling them around his fingers he briefly ponders using them on the alchemical burn, but thinks better of it. Tucking them back into his belt he looks up for the first time surveying his surroundings.

Few survivors it seems. But someone already helps them.

Jobis stands up and gives a mocking military greeting to Loskeruina, but his tone is serious.

"You're tending to the wounded? Good. Not many left, though."

He looks around to see, whether anybody is in serious trouble. If nobody is, he starts looking around the shore for stuff that could still be of use. Long trained instincts lead him to the corpses washed here and he start checking them for possessions. Not before checking pulses and other vital signs, though.

 

[ShadowX]

Edward Talmed

Kneeling down, Edward says a quick prayer to Fharlanghn. He quickly straps on the remainder of his equipment and starts to stride over to the other survivors.

"Is anyone in need of medical attention?" he bellows loudly. "I am a cleric and capable of healing your wounds. He surveys the beach to see if anyone responded to his announcement.

 

[Avatar_V]

Cale Tomen, Halfling Rogue/Transmuter

Cale rubs his neck where the slats had rubbed it raw. He then sits up and surveys his position. Not far off, he sees people moving on the beach. He hears a call offering medical attention and wonders whether his neck deserves it. But then his mind comes back to a far more immediate problem... they're there; he's here. It's not far, only 60 feet, but still too far for him to trudge. The water would be far too deep for even the half orc he sees on the beach to stand in. And for as comfortable as Cale is on a ship, he never did take to swimming; to be perfectly honest the thought always frightened him a little bit. Something about the vastness of the ocean compared to himself.

He could call for help, he supposes. Surely the half orc, or the kindly cleric would swim out for him. But then he thinks better of it. After nealy drowning to death, coming and rescuing his scrawny halfling self is probably the last thing any of them wants to do. But there's no need; he made it this far in the lifeboat, he can use it to get a bit farther.

Cale sits on the rock and sets to work pulling loose planks from the lifeboat. Using his rope, he very carefully binds several of them together to form a halfling sized raft (ooc: If a check is required, I'll take 20, +9 Use Rope). Once finished, he takes one last plank to use as an oar and starts rowing.

Once on the beach, Cale will take the rope from the raft and put it back in his backpack; Rope can be useful in countless situations he thinks to himself. Seeing Jobis checking pockets, Cale thinks to himself that that's not a bad idea. Those poor souls won't need their trinkets anymore, may as well put what resources they have to good use. Cale, too, begins checking pulses and pockets. He does ponder though whether or not a necklace or some such thing may have been a treasured heirloom or something. If he finds something that he suspects the victim may have liked to have been buried with, he leaves it; but other wise, he pockets any valuables. We should bury them Cale thinks as he travels about the beach, but that's something that can wait until everyone has gathered their senses and the survivors have all gotten together.

 

[infax]

Kelkan: Halfling, Wizard

Getting to his feet, still coughing, Kelkan makes a sign with his hands indicating he doesn't need any further help.

"Nostalgia!" Yells Kelkan, looking to the sky for his dear plummed companion.

He checks his gear one more time, then looks inland to try to determine the lay of the land, the kind of vegetation near the beach and the topography, perhaps this will indicate where exactly the storm landed him.

After determining this and if no danger seems immediate, he sets to walk the length of the beach as far as he can keep an eye on his comrade survivors to check for his stranded gear and other useful items - in special provisions.

Kelkan is very attentive to the actions of other survivors, trying to determine what kind of people those are.

 

[Avatar_V]

Cale Tomen Halfling Rogue 2/Transmuter 1

Hearing Kelkan calling out a name and looking to the sky, Cale is suddenly reminded of Shadow. In all the bustle of trying to get off of his rock, he hadn't had the time to spare a thought for his friend. He looks around concernedly.

 

[Manzanita]

Solomon Kreel (half-orc Barbarian)

Solomon stands as soon and as swiftly as he is able once he awakens. He coughs and feels his powerful, but lean body over for injury. Finding none, he runs his fingers over his now-meager possessions (including his Black pearl necklace, I would think?).

Observing the nearby activity, he approaches Edward. He speaks in his deep, gravely voice. "Sir, you are a cleric. Who is your god? I will try to assist you to help others. I am very strong."