Open Chronicles The Black Bay Burned

[Carter]

The water guzzled in his lungs as fought to expel it from his body. A hacking cough wracked the drenched boy as he vomited up what could have been a cup or so of ocean water. The refreshing sea air chilled his throat as he drew in a few desperate breaths, and it was only after a few long second of motionlessness that he dared to look up from the sands he'd crawled up from.

Night had fallen over Cerak At'thul, though Carter had no idea as to what time it was particularly. The pirate town was alight with dozens of tiny fires from lamps and open shops, but its orange glow was dwarfed by a far larger source of illumination. A great galleon had been engulfed by a raging inferno in the middle of the bay. The dazed youth struggled about and fell on his backside, his blue eyes hazy as he watched the monstrous ship slip quietly beneath the waves.

Memory slowly found its way back to the forefront of his mind as its mast disappeared into the blackness of the sea. That boat had been his father's, and the men aboard his crew. He doubted many of them had escaped the inferno, if any at all.

"Welcome to your new life," the ghastly whisper of Gorranth's voice hissed in Carter's own mind. The youth's brow furrowed.

"I don't see you." He mumbled with quiet confusion.

"You will when I want you to. We are bound now boy, but you are not my sole charge. I will speak to you again at a later date - I want to see if you can survive without my assistance."

Carter parted his lips to disagree, but something told him the specter would just ignore him. Tired and disheartened, the youth rose to his feet, and began slowly trudging through the drenched sand. He needed to get home, get his gear, and then -...

"I have no idea what to do," Carter admitted to himself as he stumbled toward the distant bay town.

 

[Douglas Haley]

__________________________

As the center of the bay held a psuedo sun, many of the cities crowd had come hither to watch her burn. A parade as far as the Cerak At’thul was concerned, this was about as lively as the drab ‘Black Bay’ ever seemed to get, and the tiresome affair had worn on Agron’s patience, his brow furrowing as this slumlord and that wench came scurrying to gawk at a ruin set aflame. Shaking his head, he quietly readjusted his hood before walking towards the beach.

He was here for slaves, hiring them to run errands for him around the continent, but if any survivors from the boat were still alive; perhaps they’d feel obligated to owe Agron a favor should he ‘save them’. Not that he was much in terms of striking a deal outside of cold apprehension and intimidation, it would nonetheless be purposeful and worthwhile should only one survive. Maybe a slave, in which he’d get a great deal on whoever he returned it to.

Still, as he walked onto the beach and saw a single man wander forward, he glanced around to see if any others had witnessed him; yet none did. The one man on the beach besides Agron, and the entire city was more concerned by shoddy fireworks. Noticing the wetness that trailed behind the boy, it was simple to assume that whatever reason that the ship was burning, he was somehow involved.

Closing the distance, his metal prosthetic hand moved with some brunt force to stop Carter from moving forward, his expression and tone apathetic and monotonous as always;

“Did you have something to do with the ship?”, he said abruptly.

No beating around the bush, it seemed.

Carter​

 

[Carter]

The youth's brow furrowed as he found his stumbling momentarily halted by a hunk of iron. The dazed look faded from Carter's eyes as he realized the iron was fashioned into a prosthetic, and that prosthetic was attached to a person.

The stranger spoke words that rang hollow in Carter's waterlogged ears; he had to focus on the man's voice to make his words out coherently.

"What does it look like?" A scowl founds its way onto the youth's face as he stood up a bit straighter, his leg shifting to hide his rather obvious limp.

"If you want to loot it, be my guest, but she's at the bottom of the bay now." He gestured out toward the blackened waves, "Don't know of anything on board of worth." He turned to walk around the stranger, evidently rather intent on getting out the area before anything else could go amiss.

Douglas Haley

 

[Douglas Haley]

__________________________

“It looks like you’re guilty of something.”, he said, never betraying even an ounce of anger or resentment. Infact, his facial muscles seemed almost rigid as he spoke, but never so much to be unnatural.

A quick glance to the crowd, and nobody had seemed to notice either of them, but a few jostled in the crowd spoke more than either could see. The local ‘guards’, if one could call them that, had decided to show up; and it would be only a matter of moments before Carter would likely be subjected to the cruel punishments that only occured in the dungeons of rich despot’s dungeons. Agron didn’t know who on the boat had died, nor their connections, but it was best not to find out.

The iron grip of his magically induced prosthetic tightened on the shoulder of Carter’s water logged shirt, suddenly evident just how much strength was in a mana-fueled claw. As Carter spun back to look at what Agron’s purpose was, he didn’t speak, only motioning towards the first of the guards to appear followed by a quick motion back the other way. His movements cut across the beach, sticking both close to the wall, as he kept the momentum up; hoping the whooping and hollering of the nearby crowds were mask the troubled movements of a few lowly men on the streets.

After a few moments, once both were through the majority of the crowds, Agron spoke up before Carter had a chance to walk off;

“Who was on it?”, he said abruptly.

The man spoke little, but when he did it seemed to send ice through the air and a shiver up any passerby’s spine. He stood a relative giant, towering nearly five inches over Carter himself, with a build that while aged, seemed to outmatch Carter’s own regardless.

Carter​