Truth in a Dark Place RPG

[Arvedui III]

"TURTHOL!" Rangar screamed wildly, not daring to believe what he was seeing as he watched his friend fall over the side helplessly. For one moment, sheer shock took him and time seemed to stand still. All that had come to pass registered with full force in Rangar's mind. His stupid mistake of being unarmed, Barodin, a seering rage began to build up, Aerin, no, no, he was not going to pass out. She had given the utmost measure of loyalty, no, don't cry. Turthol. His dearest friend. He had just watched as Turthol swayed limply under that rope, after all the ranger had done for him, he had just watched. Just watched. And for that reason, Rangar decided, he had failed, nay, betrayed his friend in the worst way. I just watched him die.

Suddenly, the rain pounded away at him and the deck veered dangerously beneath his feet. Men were shouting, someone was crying, and in that instant Rangar made up his mind. "HOLD ON!" He cried and half-ran, half-slid to the railing. "Rangar!" It was Ani Dao "You can't, don't!" The rage that had been building came over him, and the unsound reason of his plan outmatched the elf's clearer sight. "Like hell I can't, she-elf!" He yelled furiously, and threw himself over the side.

Rangar had the faint impression of salty air before he hit the water, causing pain like a hundred knives to pierce through to his bones. He was lucky though. The wave did not fall until he had breathed, any sooner and he would have been knocked out. But then another wave hit, and another, and though he foolishly wasted air on calling out to Turthol, Rangar saw no sign of his friend, and his strength to tread water was quickly waning.

Straining against the inevitable, a surge of hope reached Rangar as he felt his hand grip something... What is that? Squishy. Rangar gratefully grabbed hold of what he assumed was a piece of wood, noticing grimly how close he was to the ship now. Now! Let go! Find your friend! Let Go! His mind commanded, but his body would not obey. All Rangar could do was clutch the soft thing he held onto.

Something then hit him on the top of his head as yet another wall of water broke over him. The result was that Rangar was winded and the thing he had been so desperately clutching rolled away and began to sink a little. If he wasn't already in a state of shock, this did it. For a split second before the next wave broke, knocking him into the ship, he stared into two glossy, stunned eyes. Aerin.

Rangar wanted to yell, cry, do something other than bob helplessly in the storm-tossed sea, but he had not the strength. Something hit him on the head again, and from another world it seemed, voices wheeled above him. Rangar grabbed onto something that felt rough in hands, and had the distinct impression of being pulled upwards before the sea lashed out at him one more time and his head collided with something hard. "Turthol," He mumbled, and then welcomed the darkness.
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Something hot was being forced down his throat.

"No, no, I don't want another drink." A man came into forces. "You are no fun, you know that right?" A smile, he was smiling, so was his friend. He supposed it was his friend, he seemed amiable. "All too well." This man's name was Rolen. How did he know? Well, it sounded right. It made sense, after all, what else could the man be called?

The rain was pounding.

Pain, lots of it. Something hard hit his head and shattered. Wood was racing against the floor, large lumpy things were falling, screaming, the world spun out of focus and then another man came sharply into view. "Niggard, failure." The man taunted. He punched. It felt good. The shadowy man punched back. More pain.

And suddenly, Rangar woke with a start, the familiar sway of the ship confusing him further.

[ June 14, 2003: Message edited by: Arvedui III ]