| THE VILLAGE - THE NEW WORLD |
As the boat sailed away from the harbor of the people of Gorr, the sun began to set on yet another day. This vessel wasent any old boat though, this boat was a great hulk, used for keeping large amounts of people on board.
As the captain Karzun, an immigrant from south-west Bronimina, looked bck on the port he wondered if this would be the most 'safe' journey he had been on.
"Capitain?" somebody said in the Bronimina dialect. It took a moment for Karzun to realize what the voice had actually said. Eventually he realized that he was being spoken too.
"Uh, yes Beia Thorr?" "The sternmen wishes to be knowing our destination of land-" Beia broke into fluent Nor dialect "Sir, must I speak in your homeland tongue around you? I mean, you can speak Nor perfectly. I on the other hand sound like a fool when speaking your language. You know how hard it is for our people to learn other dialects!"
There was some awkward silence as Karzun nodded his head. "Anyway sir, I am here to ask you about where you wish to be landing along the coast."
[[All other members of the crew are belong deck, talking of what is said to be in the new world]]
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Major Valan Septim, a former cavalry officer from Cidel, was below deck. His family sword, Firengard, was at his side. He was a grizzled old soldier with several small scars on his face and one long scar stretching from his forehead down under his eye-patch to his mid-cheek. He looked to be around forty years of age, and he had obviously seen his fair share of action. As he got up from his seat on a small box, a minor limp marked his step where an arrow had struck his leg many years before. It did not affect his riding, but it had a small effect on his running ability. He soon approached a younger man, who turned to look the old soldier in the eye.
"Well Deallus, I believe a new life can be made here. I am tired of fighting for a country that gives nothing back to its soldiers," said Valan with his rough voice.
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"Yes, hopefully we can make the best of what we will find in the new world. I have heard there are riches to be found, but I will not be discouraged if there are none. I am a man who cares little about wealth. I just wish to find a place away from our own country." replied Michael Deallus. The tall man had no visible scars, but had seen his own share of combat. He had not been made the war chief for nothing. "I hope I have your loyalty since you are the head rider." said Michael as he continued.
Michael was a tall man with medium lengthed black hair and had hazel eyes. He carried two swords at his side, but made no mention to them. He had strong and powerful looking arms that looked like they could move the blades swiftly through the air. He looked around until he saw the man he was looking for. "Hirgon Sadron, it looks like you are my man in charge of archers. I guess I can rest easily since you seem a competent man. I hope that I have your support in any future endeavors." he said.
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"I support whoever has a good head on their shoulders," said Valan as he looked around, "If you give me a dumb order, I sure as hell won't listen. So if you're a smart man, you have my support..."
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Hirgon strode over to where the two older men stood. The young captain was in his mid-twenties, but unlike most officers his age, he had acquired his rank through skill rather than through family connections. He had grown up in the forest, and had been a woods-guide for a large portion of his life, so he knew much of forestry, archery, and stealth. He walked confidently, yet not arrogantly, and it was clear that he would defer to the older men.
"Deallus, I know of your competence, and it seems like you will listen to differing opinions, so you have my support," he said. Then, more softly, "Thanks for your confidence in me, but I am little worried about my men. Half of them are much older than me, and although they know how to do their jobs, they think someone older should have been chosen to lead the archers. They will follow orders, but until I have their respect, I fear they may do so grudgingly and in their own ways. The other half are headstrong sons of lords and nobles; they are all excellent with bows, but most have never taken an order in their lives..."
Hirgon's brown-and-green eyes came to rest on Septim. "I am not a renown Cidellian cavalry major; I am only a woodsman from the northern forests of Rilienor. I hope I can earn the respect of my men before it is too late."
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"You and I are a lot alike. I did not start off with this rank, Sadron, I earned it. You know how I got these scars? Well, there's a story behind each and every one of them. I'll tell you about the one I'm most proud of, this one," said Septim as he pointed to the one that went over his no longer existing eye, "My second horse, Jorlan, was killed by a pikeman. I managed to get off and kill the pikeman, along with two swordsmen, before a man on a horse rode up to me. I dodged two lance attacks before dismounting him with a fallen pikeman's pike. I didn't know that he was the Crown Prince of Valkond and his father's only heir, but I wouldn't have cared anyway. I drew Firengard right there and attacked. He was no pushover, his father's men taught him well. I dueled him for two minutes until he got a strike in, slashing upwards, his blade went from my cheek to my eyebrow, cutting my eye open. I fell to the ground, it hurt a lot, I was young then, not as used to pain as I am now. And as he walked up to me to do a finishing blow, I picked up the chopped off end of the pike and drove it into his neck. His "royal" blood went everywhere. It wasn't until after the battle that I found out who he was, got the Star of Cidel for that. I'm no noble's son, boy, I earned everything I have..."
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"It seems that you are no stranger to injuries Septim. I am also young in my years, but I hope to make it up with my born talent. I will lead these men carefully because if I get them killed, who will protect everyone else? The others will be relying on us to protect them against any dangers in this new world." said Michael as he folded his arms. "Your past is intriguing and maybe you can tell us more about yourself when we are not overly busy protecting everyone else. As for your archers Hirgon, we may all work together to help gain the respect of all our men." he said, finishing up.
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"I look forward to fighting for people I know and like instead of fat nobles living safely in their castles..." muttered Septim as he pulled a flask from his jacket. He took a swig, then turned his head to face Deallus.
"Water, I quit drinking years ago when I still felt pain..." said Septim.
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"I would like to hear about more of those scars when we have the time, as well, Septim" said Hirgon, eyeing the man with a bit of admiration in addition to respect after hearing about that scar. "Deallus, from what I see here I suspect gaining their respect might go more smoothly than I thought. Now I must respectfully take my leave; I need to talk to the head of scholars about an idea I have for a research project, and want to catch him before we land," and with that, Hirgon took two steps backwards in a Rilienor-style salute, and went off to find the Scholar.
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*Ranraac looked at the rest of the crew as he sat below the deck of the ship. He saw that the people seemed very friendly with each other and most people were chatting merrily amongst themselves. He quietly examined them from under the hood of his robe, thinking quietly.
Ranraac was a young, quiet man who kept to himself most of the time. He had a rugged appearance but was always covered with a hood. His robe was black and tattered in places. He also carried a White Oak staff with a curious red gem on top and a knife at his belt.. The gem on the staff was very symbolic to him and was actually a Ruby. Ranraac also specialised in Fire Spells, although he knew spells from all schools of magic.
Ranraac's quiet nature and dark robes had earned him the nickname of 'Wraith' among the others on the ship. Wraith was one of the few mages on this voyage and due to his experience he had been given the title of Head Mage. Although he thought it was a bit strange to have a leader over 3 people, he didn't argue. It wasn't in his nature to do so. He had silently nodded at the time.
Keeping his thoughts to himself, Ranraac mused to himself and wondered how much longer the boat trip would take.*
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After telling the story and hearing the two opinions, Septim went to the box that he was sitting on before and took a seat.
I hope we reach the New World some time soon, I'm not getting any younger...
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Demonsul stood by the wheel. Officially, he did not have to be, but he was more than happy to stay near the central control point of the ship.
Looking down onto the deck, Demonsul was glad to see that the selection of men he had been given were getting along. The last thing he needed on this colonization trip was nation-related arguments.
Looking at the chart he had taken earlier, Demonsul ran his finger along the ink line that was their route. It came to rest quite close to the end. Hopefully, they would be reaching land soon.
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Beia Thorr came running up to Karzun. "Sir, the map readers below deck wish for your presence!"
With that Beia ran back down the steps of the boat and into the lower levels of the vessel.
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What could they wan now? thought Demonsul. Those map makers kept taking up his time, but they were doing practically nothing. Thy had no maps to make.
But he didn't have much choice. Demonsul went below to see them.
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Killer cast a critical eye over the rag-tag band of forty, who he had gathered up so he could examine them before they landed. His bright blue eyes came to rest on a man clinging to the side of the boat and puking. He strode quickly over to the man, deftly taking from his pocket a curious looking herb, a single leaf which was split down the middle and a light blueish colour. He gestured to a nearby man and instructed him to crush the leaf and put it in a mug of boiling water. He came back presently, and Killer raised the vessel(a wooden tankard) to the young man's lips, telling him to drink slowly. The man was soon lieing on the deck, snoring softly. He was carried carefully to a less precarious position.
Killer addressed his men, "Your mission on this island to tame any wild beasts we may encounter. There will doubtless be some, and many may unfortunately be dangerous. It is our mission to make use of these beasts, and perhaps take some back for further examination. Don't be fooled, this job could prove much more dangerous than the soldiers there, even a small creature with the right tools could kill a man." He stopped in front of a elderly man, who he judged to be one of the oldest on board, who had a walking staff in his right hand, and an eyepatch wound it's way across hi face. "What is your name and age, old one?"
"Grelid, sir, and I am of three score and five years." he answered in a rasping voice.
"A respectable age to reach. Do you feel fit to tame these wild beasts?"
"Aye, I do sir. I worked with them many a long year, mostly horses, I'll admit."
"We will have much to learn from you, Grelid, and I have no doubt you'll be able to catch a few. A man of your age must have learned how to deal with hardships."
Killer wandered around, asking questions of various members of the group. He explained the difficulties they might face, and what instruments they might need to use. "For example," he had said "you may have seen that young man there fall like a sack of potatoes after receiving that drink. I feared he was not fit for a sea journey such as this, and so I used the herb to put him to sleep. Beastmastery is not all about bravery and strength, one must be sly and quick. Can anyone tell me what that herb was?" A hand was raised, by a slight young man, hardly more than a boy. "Age and name, young one?" Killer asked.
"Lanoc, sir, and I am ten an' five years," pausing momentarily before continuing, "The herb was Gouple, sir." Killer nodded his head. "Indeed it was. Now get back to whatever you were doing," he ordered.
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Valan Septim soon got up and limped over to a section of the ship where a total of thirty-four men were sitting around.
"Alright men! My name is Valan Septim, I'm going to be your commander on the battlefield. I've seen and done a lot men, you can trust me, and if you don't, you soon will. You can call me Captain, Sir, or Septim, but not Valan. That are for my friends, and at the moment I don't know any of you," said Valan Septim.
"Yes sir," said a few men half-heartedly.
Septim didn't say anything as he limped away. He merely let a small smile form.
Bunch of cherries...
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Electric stumbled out of the lower deck holding his head with a packet of ice.
“Who’s the *beep* who shoved that hammer off the shelf onto my head? Bah, never mind.”
Electric walked dizzily over to where nine 25-40 year old men were sitting.
“Alright, remember what I taught you about those herbs that have been seen around here that are a reddish-green color? Pick as many up as you can, but be careful to avoid greenish-orange ones, because they excrete a mild acid when touched. They’ve also been known to cause sickness…”
Electric walked over to Demonsul and asked, “What is our first job, Captain?”
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Hirgon walked out onto the lower deck, and spotted Electric talking to Demonsul. He strode over, and said to both of them, "I have a proposition for research once we land, if I may; I am sure the captain has some projects he that are more important, but I would like to try to get this near the top of the list. My archers are excellent with their bows, but we may come up against beasts that don't go down easily. Would you consider research into poisons and their antidotes? It will also be useful if we end up scouting through wild terrain. Oh, and if we do end up roaming through wild terrain, my men could aid the scholars in gathering plants, herbs, and the like."
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Travis, an Englishman that travelled to Norway, sat on the deck, smoking a pipe. He joined the crew mainly because he was bored and wanted adventure. This venture was an opportunity he could not decline, and immediantly joined. However, things have gotten boring recently, and he has been doing his jobs not as well as he was.
"Ah, what I would do for some action..."
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Rhade stretched and wandered up onto the deck for a bit, taking in the views that the water offered. Even having lived in Norway all his life, he'd gotten to see little of the seas, but now was enthralled by them. He'd only been sailing for about two months before news of this venture had reached him. A chance to sail for this long, a chance to leave Norway, those were things Rhade could not turn down.
He was a large man, having worked in the lumbermills most of his life, and could have a rather intimidating presence on those who did not know him. Few among the two-hundred plus men he would command were larger, but any man who could put in a hard day's work would earn his respect. Rhade was not quick to anger, but once riled he held a grudge like a bulldog held its victim.
Having had his fill of the salty air for now Rhade meandered slowly back down below deck and sat with his labourers, joining them for a drink and conversation. They'd be the backbone of this new land, and it was important to Rhade that each of them knew that. He'd connected with most of the men on some level already, but always kept in mind that he needed to keep enough distance to be seen not only as a friend, but as a leader.
Rhade leaned over to one of the men sitting next to him, an older man by the name of Arthur, and began speaking with him. "Now, when we first head out, it's likely the Captain'll want some kind of at least rudimentary shelter before we even get started on building anything permanant, which'll take a lot longer. If you'll make sure the tarp and ropes are ready to go for tents I'll work on preparing enough tools to clear away what is supposed to be some relatively dense terrain, at least in some places."
Arthur nodded, not much of a talker from what Rhade had come to know. He respected him for it though; Arthur said what he needed to, when he needed to say it, and not much else. After that short conversation and a little bull*beep*ting with the other men at the table Rhade stood and began walking towards the lower deck where he'd seen the captain earlier. He needed to make sure they were on the same page.
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[[Okay let me clarify.
your not 'Norwegian', what I meant to say, is your like Norwegian Vikings.
THIS is the map and world we are basing it all on. The country that is sending this vessel is the area of land next to Bronimina, these are the people of Gorr, not Norwegians. But they are the equivilant to Vikings in this world, only more muscle and only wear fur. and big helmets with horns on them.]]
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[[OOC: And here I thought I was doing it wrong. XD]]
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[[...I don't have any problem with RP world's viking counterparts, you should have just said this earlier.]]
Demonsul looked blankly at Electric and Hirgon. "Yes, sure, of course, I'll just deal with it now," he said irritably, before turning to Electric. "Mr. Hirgon here would like to talk to you. He thinks he could help you gather plants and stuff if you research some poisons for him. Do you feel up to that?" Without waiting for an answer, Demonsul turned and strode off to the belowdecks in search of the mapmakers.
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[[OOC: Salaracen has let me join :D]]
John D. Wilberforce a man of questionable legitability it is said. A shady looking character they said, behind his back, with reason too it seems. Known by his friends as Wilber, he had lived in the poorest region of the large city Turmonis. He survived by stealing, killing, maiming. Whatever he did, he did it to survive and due to his experiences, he had a few scars to match that cavalry officer's scars.
With experiences such as his, it was always wise to carry around a dagger or two, just incase any situation arose where he could be threatened. These daggers had served him well during his time in the army. He had killed his commanding officer with these for attempting to give him 100 lashes and fleed the country of his origin.
The more intelligent people knew best to avoid even eye-contact with the man. Wearing his tattered hood and cloak. He also carried around his original armour and the crest of his regiment, although rusty and worn from his escape. He had to hide in an ice pocket under the ice in a river for 24 hours with the risk of being captured and executed. That was the past however.
John D. Wilberforce was a huge muscular build, towering over the average man with an insane pain threshhold (with was caused by the intense freezing cold temperature in the water) to match. He was a powerful man to be recogned with indeed and could easily out pace any other labourer.
Indeed, many where afraid of him, thus got the work done on time... every time.
He had been placed along with Rhade as a co-master labourer. He probably would not see eye to eye with Rhade, or the man he called Arthur.
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Killer lazily ambled along the boat, giving a hand whenever needed. He decided that he would assemble his men together again, he hoped they would soon land. They arrived shortly, and Killer ordered them into five rows of eight, cramming into a small space at the back of the boat. "Men," he roared, above the clamour of the waves and crew, "I believe we will land soon, but I cannot say for certain," he said, and a ripple of excitment ran through the small band. "In fact I have no evidence of this fact whatsoever." This dimmed the group's hopes somewhat. "However, I haved called you together so we may discuss our plans. I have no doubt that our services will be necessary, and I wish to know whether you are capable of the work or not. You sir," he called to a man towering in the crowd, what name do you go by?"
"I am called Egwert, sir."
"And what is your purpose aboard this boat?"
"To go to this isle and find beasts, and tame them so they may be used for a good purpose."
"And why do you wish to do this?"
"Well sir, food will be needed for the settlers, animals will be needed to ride on, they'll be needed to plough the lands..."
"I asked why you wished to do it, not the reasons for doing this work, other than for your interest, that is."
"Well sir, I wished to learn of the beasts of lore, and what better place than upon this newly discovered land?"
"Where indeed?" Killer mused.
Killer strode around the deck, asking each much the same question. None, fortunately, gave the answer he had dreaded. "Well men, I think it will be a pleasure to work with you, but now I must lay out some rules." He heard a few groans. "Firstly, you shall not kill any animals without reason. Secondly, you must obey my commands to the word, except in some extreme circumstances. Thirdly, you shall not harm any crew aboard this vessel or off it. Fourthly, you must not harm an animal without need, for many reasons, of which I hope you know. Lastly, every animal is to documented, and any new information on any species will be given to me. Do I make myself clear?" A few half-hearted positive replies were given. "Ok, good, get back to your stations." Killer retired to his quarters, a chair chained to the deck, and nodded off, weary with the day's exertions.
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Electric limped down from the quarter-deck and fell on the last 4 steps.He didn't get up, but instead fell asleep until a large wave splashed on him.He woke up and looked and thought he saw land.He gazed at it and saw it was only a log.
Wait, if there's a log..there has to be land somewhere near here! He thought. He yelled to his men to look at it. They confirmed it was a log, but that it was very rotten. as it passed the boat, they saw it was a strange log. One of them jumped over-board with a rope and pulled the log towards the boat. he climbed up the rope after typing the log to it, and helped the other men pull it up. They examined the wood and could not confirm what it was.
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Hirgon watched the Scholar leave the deck, and considered going to help him when he fell. But Electric seemed alright, and Hirgon was slightly put off that Electric had not even listened to his proposal, so he let him sleep on the deck. Hirgon then strode off to find the archers.
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Electric heard Hirgon's proposal, and ignored it, because he already had many weak acids and strong sleeping-poisons.After about 5 minutes after they had towed the log on board, a strange creature jumped out of the log and started biting and snapping at everyone.
"KILLER!!!" Electric screamed, "HELP!!!!".
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Septim limped over, drawing his sword in a quick motion. With near lightning reflexes he grabbed the creature and slammed it down to the ground, readying his blade for a killing strike. He then looked at the squirming creature closely with his one eye and turned his head.
"Don't know what it is, but it sure as hell ain't dangerous," said Septim, "Killer, you're the beast trainer, what the hell is this?"
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Killer heard the cries of Electric, and wandered over just as Septim caught it. He pondered a while, and then answered Septim's question. "I believe it is the young of a Florg, a strange creature descended from a frog. That one looks like a juvenille. I've only seen one of them, long ago, an adult, but I guess that's what it is. It is fairly large in comparison to the frog as you see, the size of a kitten or such like, and the juvenille is much the same size, with a short tail. Of course, it still starts off as a tadpole and it grows for a much longer time than their cousins. I'm sure your surprised at it being an amphibian, due to that fair bit of hair there, which is odd. It's a mutation of some sort of frog, not sure which, and it gradually grew bigger over the centuries. It mostly lives in trees, its legs are adapted to hold onto braches. It used to eat flies and such, but it can't really sustain itself on the little ones you see, it eats larger insects that it can find, and they are fairly rare, most tadpoles being eaten by their brothers and sisters when they hatch. It's even got fairly large teeth, but their jaws are incredibly weak, and the teeth are blunt, it would hardly do much damage to a human. Anyway Septim, I'm sure you're getting frustrated from my idle chatter and want to get away from it, so get up and I'll take it from you."
Septim gladly got up and handed it to Killer. Killer ordered one of his men to get a box, and Killer gently put it into it, taking care not to damage its weak legs. He found a spider's web, the dead spider in the centre with many flies ensnared on the sticky entrapment. He fed the Florg with the insects and it fell asleep with the brief glimmer of sun up in the sky, resting and relying on the sun to warm it up, it hadn't enough fur to keep itself warm in these cooler climes. He let it rest awhile, and the wondered what to do with it. It could not really be trained as such, it was not intelligent enough for that, and he decided to let it go, once they reached land of couse, unless a person on board the ship expressed a keen interest to raise it, and they did not mistreat it. It could be useful for keeping away the flies, he mused. He decided that they must be fairly close to the island by this stage, as it would not have survived for too long otherwise, even though the creatures had adapted to live for a short while in the sea-water, they were still at home in ponds and the like. He fell asleep with the creature in his lap in the box, being warmed the sun and sheltered from the icy winds by the shelter of the box.
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[[OOC: I sent Salaracen a message. If he doesn't respond by tomorrow night, I think one of us should adopt this. Demonsul, Deallus, or I would be good choices...Salaracen might've left again. =( <--- sad face XD]]
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[[OOC: Not I, and I think The Village should be an RP that only Sal should run...I wouldn't want another Stormborn-like thing to happen(where we end up adding another 3 RPs to the series until we think we put a bullet in the head of it) Wish Ragnarr was around...]]
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[[OOC: All were good except the last. Screwed it up. Anyway, Sal just messaged me, he's still here, though addicted to AoE! :-D]]
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[Salaracen, can you do something, please? This was going well]
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[[OOC: He's addicted to AoE...when he gets on, he doesn't post in here...>.<]]
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Emerging from the shadows, Wilber wondered what had happened during the time he had been sleeping in the hold. Pondering who to ask yet and noticing the cavalry officer, Major Septim. Another blood officer, Wilber thought to himself.
"Oi, Septim. What is going on? Are we nearly there yet?"
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Septim turned to look at Wilber with his eye, and frowned.
"I have absolutely no idea where the hell we are. People have found logs and big frogs, so we're close to something. I suggest asking the Captain..."
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[['Septim turned to look at Wilber with his eye,'
Septim? XD Isn't that a tad obvious? You can't really look at him with your foot, can you?]]
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[[OOC: I wanted to put emphasis on the fact that he has one eye...=P]]
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Noticing the blatant frown, Wilber slipped out his dagger, not showing
it to Septim but concealing it under his loose sleeve, where he could
still cause a deep wound.
"You got something to say?"
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[[We have a pathological bloodthirsty homicidal maniac on board...either that, or an assassin, or spy, or idiot...]]
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[[Nah...he just is dangerous when talked to. Perfectly normal]]
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[[To accommodate for my couple-of-day absence, my character will now go sick until I return. I entrust colony command to all the other players/group leaders, they will work as a democratic council with decision making meetings and votes and stuff.]]
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Septim’s mouth curled as he stared down Wilber, forming a smile.
“Sure I do, you’re a cherry bastard until you prove otherwise. So get the hell out of my face,” said Septim with no fear. He could sense the dagger on Wilber, but he was never one to be intimidated.
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[You needn't worry Demonsul...]
Killer couldn't help but overhear the conversation, if that it could
be called, between Septim and Wilberforce. He took an instant dislike
to the younger man. He didn't care to interrupt however, as he had heard
the captain had grown sick, and both men looked rather dangerous. He went to the captain's cabin, and was
admitted by a soldier. He hadn't expected to know what the sickness
was, and he decided to find another more learned person aboard the ship
to see if they could find a cure. Demonsul could rest for another while
however, he would need to stay in bed a while even after the sickness
had passed, even the untrained eyes of Killer could see that. He
decided to find the scholars, so that they may discuss the sypmtoms.
Killer advised that the captain should not be disturbed however, and
told them the symptoms, which they hurriedly jotted down.
Killer trusted the scholars to look after it, as he could not think of any more suited to the job. He also mentioned it to the first mage he found, in case they could rely on magic to cure him. He doubted that such extreme measures would be needed though. He then went to his chair, and threw an unsuspecting crew member off it. There was some grumbling, but the figure drifted off, not sure about the creature inside the box. Killer asked if land had been sighted as of yet in the crow's nest, and the reply was in the affirmative, though a quite a fair few knots away as of yet, and the boat wasn't particularly fast. Killer sighed and returned to his chair, dozing off as the sun set the sky an iridiscent pink. He cuddled up in his few warm wrappings as the frosty night drew in.
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[[OOC: I believe this is appropriate, given my title of Hawk eye...]]
Hirgon spotted Wilber draw the dagger under his sleeve from across the deck. He sprung to where one of his archers stood (this man happened to be the youngest of the lot), took the man's bow, and pinned Wilber's sleeve to the mast with a single arrow.
"Oops, sorry about that," he said with an innocent look. "I was just giving this youngster tips on quick-drawing and shooting. I don't want you to think I'm a lily-livered, half-brained coward who'd draw a weapon on one of the members of this community, or anything like that. I think we both know that if too many of us start doing things like that, we'll all end up dead. Let's hope no one with that short-sighted of a view of things is on board, shall we?"
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Septim saw the arrow pin Wilber's sleeve to the wall and gave hardly any reaction.
"I suppose I'll take my leave," said Septim, "I hope that future conversations have less hostility, or one of us is going to get hurt..."
With that, Septim limped away.
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[[Sorry about the lag in my presence here, Age of Empires 3 has taken my attention...]]
As Demonsul descended to the map charters quarters on the lower part of the ship he noticed a large map spread out on the table ahead.
"Captain, finally, we begun to worry for a while there" Said one of the map assistants huddled around the table.
Demonsul was pulled towards the table. "Here sir, this is the map, we have 3 landing zones for you to choose from"
[[Demonsul, please choose a destination, it doesn't really matter where you choose (In other words, just because you choose a certain location wont mean you miss out on being eaten by something) ]]
"This is all that was written on the map, I guess it means that these are the only spots that we are able to land at?" Beia said.
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[[OOC: Salaracen, please read the posts in your thread before posting. Demonsul is gone (sick)...sooo...yeah. He said to make it democratic, so I vote number 3 'cause I think it has cookies!]]
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[[Dammit I thought he'd be back by now...]]
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