RA GNAMH ISLANDS
Teth had left a bad in Yeshua's mouth.
Hell, the whole frozen north had. Against the advisement of his First Mate, the Captain of the Yarikho decided that heading to unknown waters was the best idea. Theirs was a crew cultivated by the southern seas - meaning they were used to a much warmer climate than this. But, the Baron-turned-Captain was the one who made the rules, so Yeshua had to follow them. Now, as his First Mate, his protests had some weight; but ultimately, his words fell upon deaf ears.
What's worse, their visit to Teth only seemed to restore the vicious side of Captain Erik that Yeshua had worked so hard to suppress. That bloodthirsty, ambitious side which had seem them ousted from home was now gleaming in the man's eyes. Teth, you see, was a den for all sorts of pirates. It was the sort of place that men who loved bloodshed on the high seas would gather. Now, Yeshua was a merchant by trade - Teth didn't mesh with him at all. Yet Erik? He was right at home.
Now, the bloodthirsty bug up the Captain's backside had the crew fighting for their lives. A winter storm - a winter storm - blew up as they approached the islands north of Teth. The pirates inside the city had advised there wasn't much up there, but Erik just had to see for himself. Now he had men flying overboard left and right. Yeshua howled above the noise, trying to keep the survivors steady. Trying his hardest not to be blown away himself. Fighting against cold and howling winds was not a combination he'd wish upon his worst enemy.
Neither was a plunge into the icy depths.
Splash!
The barrel had gotten him. The wind took a barrel of their freshwater and sent it hurtling into Yeshua, casting him overboard. The collision had taken the wind out of the man, so it was difficult to even fight against sinking, let alone figuring out what direction was up. All he could do was fight. He couldn't let it end like this. Not like this. Not like this...
When Yeshua came to, he felt rough edges underneath him. Rising, he saw that he had washed upon a rocky beach. Most likely the islands that they had been headed toward. Taking a step forward, he winced, noting that his body was freezing and hurting. Great. First order of business? Getting the heck out of the cold. He noted a cave's entrance nearby and stopped along the way to retrieve some driftwood. He prayed that these pieces weren't from the Yarikho. Hopefully they all made it out alive. In the meantime, he settled inside the cave and set trying to make a fire.
His crewmates would have to fend for themselves for now. Yeshua had to focus on staying alive.
Hell, the whole frozen north had. Against the advisement of his First Mate, the Captain of the Yarikho decided that heading to unknown waters was the best idea. Theirs was a crew cultivated by the southern seas - meaning they were used to a much warmer climate than this. But, the Baron-turned-Captain was the one who made the rules, so Yeshua had to follow them. Now, as his First Mate, his protests had some weight; but ultimately, his words fell upon deaf ears.
What's worse, their visit to Teth only seemed to restore the vicious side of Captain Erik that Yeshua had worked so hard to suppress. That bloodthirsty, ambitious side which had seem them ousted from home was now gleaming in the man's eyes. Teth, you see, was a den for all sorts of pirates. It was the sort of place that men who loved bloodshed on the high seas would gather. Now, Yeshua was a merchant by trade - Teth didn't mesh with him at all. Yet Erik? He was right at home.
Now, the bloodthirsty bug up the Captain's backside had the crew fighting for their lives. A winter storm - a winter storm - blew up as they approached the islands north of Teth. The pirates inside the city had advised there wasn't much up there, but Erik just had to see for himself. Now he had men flying overboard left and right. Yeshua howled above the noise, trying to keep the survivors steady. Trying his hardest not to be blown away himself. Fighting against cold and howling winds was not a combination he'd wish upon his worst enemy.
Neither was a plunge into the icy depths.
Splash!
The barrel had gotten him. The wind took a barrel of their freshwater and sent it hurtling into Yeshua, casting him overboard. The collision had taken the wind out of the man, so it was difficult to even fight against sinking, let alone figuring out what direction was up. All he could do was fight. He couldn't let it end like this. Not like this. Not like this...
When Yeshua came to, he felt rough edges underneath him. Rising, he saw that he had washed upon a rocky beach. Most likely the islands that they had been headed toward. Taking a step forward, he winced, noting that his body was freezing and hurting. Great. First order of business? Getting the heck out of the cold. He noted a cave's entrance nearby and stopped along the way to retrieve some driftwood. He prayed that these pieces weren't from the Yarikho. Hopefully they all made it out alive. In the meantime, he settled inside the cave and set trying to make a fire.
His crewmates would have to fend for themselves for now. Yeshua had to focus on staying alive.