Númenórean Blood Runs Black RPG

[Durelin]

His appearance that of a man slumped over in exhaustion, Chakka forced one eye open to peer over the top of his arm that rested on the oar. He had heard footsteps, and had guessed who they belonged to. The young man had returned from his little escapade. Chakka kept still as Jagar cautiously made his way back to his place next to the colossal man, even though his muscles ached, desiring a good stretch and considerably more space. He was a giant dark lump that few who passed by paid much mind to other than noticing his great size, particularly in the night, scrunched up as he was amongst the oars. Jagar certainly spared his seeming sleeping form only a glance, though he seemed more doubtful than before he had left that Chakka was really asleep. Though the large Southron seemed relax, he was more the animal prepared to pounce, once its prey is settled, and unsuspecting. So he waited until Jagar crawled into his place, prepared to hide away his prize and rearrange his chains to appear untouched.

“Perhaps it is unlucky that you have returned alive,” Chakka said as he raised his head up to stare at the young man, his eyes practically glowing white in deep contrast with his skin. Though his words seemed so, there was nothing menacing about his tone or the look in his eyes. He stated simple observation. His gaze traveled down to the bottle still gripped tightly in the young slave’s hand. This boy, by the looks of him, seemed to be just as insane as the other one, that Ferethor. Perhaps it was the oars, the sweat, the blood, and the smell that had done it to them. But did either of them really expect to gain anything from this? Or did they simply not care any longer? They would secure their fate, as well as his own, and Chakka would not let that happen. After all he had done to try and gain his freedom, and even to attempt to help the others to freedom, they proposed to burn them all to ashes along with the accursed ship, and let the ocean swallow what the flames did not.

He had truly expected the boy to be caught in his folly. He doubted that the slave had any way of getting into anyone’s cabins, and doubted that he would find them completely empty, even though the ship was docked and most of its usual occupants busy. But somehow Jagar had returned, obviously with what he had sought to get. He could not remain unnoticed for long, though. Stealing did not escape notice, and everyone would pay for it if a culprit was not found. And luck truly was against the slaves, for chances were that Jagar had procured the alcohol from Rakin’s cabin. Surely such would not escape Rakin’s notice, and, if he discovered the bottle anywhere near where Chakka was chained to the floating mass that was his prison, the slave knew that any progress he had made with the Captain would be lost. It was as if the knife lodged in the planks beneath him had risen up to strike him in the stomach, creating a piercing pang of a mix of anger and hurt. To think that this was what his efforts might come to…

“Please, Jagar,” he began again, his voice low but clear and fervent; his voice revealed no kind of anger, which was replaced by an intensity that reflected importance of his words. “Throw it into the sea. If it is discovered, we are all doomed, as we are even if Ferethor’s plan unfolds as it is meant to. We can yet have freedom – do not give in to a last hope. Not yet.”

Whatever the Fame and Fortune was getting involved in, if it fell, then so did the slaves chained to it. Chakka would not seek to aid those despicable men, who even at that very moment were most likely plundering and slaughtering to their hearts content, but there was no sense in seeking his death before it came. He could hope that Rakin at least would die in some kind of skirmish, but that most likely would do only to hurt him further. The Captain at least knew his name, and he hopefully would not be forgotten and left to rot in the slave deck as long as the man, as black-gutted as he was, was alive. There was time, yet, and there was a chance. Chakka would be a free man; no oars, no chains, no whips could tame him.