Following the Nord's queue, Volumnius did the best he could to force his body to support the chest. Adrenaline was beginning to kick in, and he managed to do his part well enough, albeit forcefully. The noise and clatter around him was like flies buzzing around his head; he could hardly concentrate on anything besides the task at hand, and didn't even notice the Altmer's shout. With all his might, he began to slide the chest up the rail. The Nord looked just as weak as Volumnius felt; he hoped the two of them could support the weight of the chest.

"Must get to deck" was the phrase that ran through his mind constantly, though he didn't even know why it was such a necessity. Either way, he was likely to drown, or be skewered on a shard of wood splintered off by the storm. But of course none of that would have registered in Volumnius' mind, had he even considered it at the time. The most important thing in the world right now was to get himself - and the Nord with the chest - to the deck, whatever hurricane might be blowing outside.

Garum struggled to hold on as the ship rocked from side to side. He glanced down the stairwell, and saw some men who were attempting to get a heavy chest out. What in the blazes of Oblivion are they doing with that chest? He wondered as the rain lashed his face, reddening it. If I survive this, I might have a few bruises from this rain. Maybe.

The Altmer rushed down the stairs, his feet sliding from one step to the other on the slick wood. "You have to hurry!" He said, "Forget the chest! The ship is going to crash! Grab something to secure yourself or Nine knows what will happen to you." Although Garum didn't even know the men, he didn't want to see anybody die in this imminent wreck. It was almost a sure thing, and some poor souls had already died trying to launch the row boat, but Garum preferred to keep the loss of life at a minimum.

"If you absolutely need the chest, let me help you." Garum shouted over the sound of the wind. It howled down through the hatch like a foul Daedra let loose from Oblivion, and it carried Garum's words away even as they left his lips. He could only hope that the could hear him.

ooc: *points at OP* Since Scow didn't make a kitty, I thought I'd do something different too.

ic: Sammensia had been in the water before, but never where she'd been unable to see the shore for being so far out. When she'd stood on deck and watched the land fade into mist, her stomach had lurched a little, but over time, she'd found the soft rock of the boat and the gentle roar of the sea to be as comforting as a leather hammock and the hum of crickets. She still didn't quite understand how to work the 'civilized' beds of the other races, though, so she slept on the top of them. Supposedly, one tucked their body under the blankets laid on top, but Sammensia didn't know how anyone could stand the itchiness. Perhaps I've only seen the shoddier ones. The Bosmer had thought, though she often also thought that perhaps she also should have brought one of the soft leather blankets from home. The fluffy pillows were nice, though, she had to admit.

Currently, the former clan medic was sprawled comfortably out on the top of her bed, her garments folded neatly on the table beside her. She snored as she dozed, dreaming of her home, of her mother and father whom she'd left behind, and of the ornery old woman who had led their clan. She seemed to be the only one amused by Sam's antics, despite being the one who usually punished her for it. Her pleasant dreams of Valenwood were interrupted, however, when the ship bucked suddenly and the small elf was literally thrown into the opposite wall. Her chestplate flew at her as well and she only looked up in time to dodge it. It left a good dent in the wood where it hit and Sammensia was glad that hadn't been her skull. She rubbed her head and groaned as she sat on the ground naked and dazed. Only when she realized she was sitting in cold water did she jump up and let out a little squeaky yell.

"Agh! What in the name of Y'ffre?! It reeks!" She complained as she stood up, brushing the wet off herself. "Ugh.. seawater is disgusting. I've smelled animal dung that was more pleasant.."

Grabbing her underclothes off her bed where they'd been flung with the bucking of the ship, along with her other affects, she attempted to get dressed. She got her upper half done and was yet again tossed at the wall. Luckily, she managed to avoid falling ass-first in the water a second time, but was still miffed at having had the brine on her in the first place. Once she'd slipped into the last bit of her equipment, the Bosmer healed a small bruise on her back where she'd hit the wall the first time and headed towards the deck. Did we hit a rock, or do we just have a dumb [censored] at the helm? I knew I shouldn't have agreed once I found about this whole ship travel thing..

In the corridor, the elf found herself looking up at a pair of humans trying to rescue a chest and couldn't help but laugh. Walking over, she set her hand on the chest and channeled a medium-strength feather spell into the object, figuring the chest itself was most of the weight. "Any better, ladies?" Sam asked, cocking an odd grin, "I can't say what that's gonna do for you if this stupid thing breaks open, but I can tell you that you're better off grabbing a sack of some kind and just saving the basics. You can't swim too well carrying a chest, even a magicked one." She advised in a high-pitched but gentle voice, then carried on past them. She didn't have time to chat with anyone at the moment, especially if she was going to have to go swimming in her medic gear soon. She'd need all the time to enchant herself she could to make sure she didn't sink like a rock.

Ugh, swimming in this stuff does not sound like fun to me. The Bosmer thought as she slogged her bone boots through the water. She walked up the stairs towards the deck and saw an Altmer in metal armor there, the din of the storm pouring in around her. Covering her eyes from the whipping rain that came in with the storm, Sammensia shouted to the Altmer but a mere few two feet from her, though the sound only barely carried. "What the hell is going on?!"

OOC: WOW, this has to be the first Beast free RP I've ever been a part of

IC: Kiels excellent ears picked up the yell of a small Bosmer girl, who appears to have just woken up. How can one sleep in weather like this? He walked over, knowing the Altmer was busy helping others get on deck and save there lives. He walked over to her carefully, and grabbed her arm gently, knowing that yelling through this wind was useless at this point. Once he thought he had her attention, he got a little bit closer to her, and said bluntly "We're caught in a storm and we are about to crash." He said just below a yell, to make sure she'd catch all of it. "If you want to live, get up on deck and find a safe spot. Understand?" He said politely regardless of the life threatening situation. Delaeon always preached chivalry.

Elarian was quietly lying in his bed, dreaming. Not of glory and noble battles, but rather of gold-laden support caravans and profitable plundering. But these charming visions of a future he had every intention to make real suddenly shattered as a shock threw him out of bed and into the wall. Standing up with a string of foul curses he started figuring out the interruption. Hearing the waves crashing against the hull, the wind howling like a crowd of enraged daedras and closer to him the creaking of a strained hull. I'm no sailor, but I've been in enough siege to tell this wood isn't just strained, it's breaking apart. Crap.

Quickly reviewing his possession, Elarian made a quick selection, retaining only what he could swim with or discard before getting dragged down. Which amounted to his travel clothes, his dagger and his purse. Completed with his sword and a bundle made with his clothes and the hauberk of his armor.

As he prepared to move out, the door refused to move, stuck in it's frame. With another string of curses he kicked it, breaking the panel and getting out. Which didn't improve things that much, the stairwell to the deck being cluttered with what felt like a small crowd in the confined space. Apparently trying to move a large chest to the deck. Vivec ! What's that nonsense.

His eyes narrowed as he noticed from the smell and stains that the nord hauling the chest seemed to be emerging from a drunken binge. A stinking animal smeared in it's filth, I wouldn't be surprised of this chest being filled with bottles. But he'd better get out of the way soon.... Elarian's mind started reviewing his spells in case he would need to clear the stairwell of it's obstruction, while speaking loud enough to be heard over the storm "Get that damn chest out before it traps everyone underdeck."

Don't tempt fate, Faldom.

ic: Before the Altmer could reply, Sammensia found herself knocked to her hind end in the filthy, smelly water yet again. The ship had bucked again and the small elf simply stood no chance of.. well.. standing. If I survive this, I'm gonna need a bath. A long, long, one at that.

Pushing herself up, the Bosmer groaned, then let out a tiny yelp as something grabbed her arm. For a split second, she thought maybe there were some kinds of sea monsters that she didn't know about, and one had grabbed her. She got ready to fight back, but as she turned, found herself looking at a dark skinned human. She'd only seen these kinds a few times. What are they called again? Raggurds? Ugh, I can't remember.

"We're caught in a storm and we are about to crash." The human told her, his voice barely carrying over the storm, "If you want to live, get up on deck and find a safe spot. Understand?"

Her eyes widened as she heard what he'd said. "Up on deck?! Are you insane? I'll get blown off! Surely it must be safer inside!"

OOC:Oh it's too late! Fate, I challenge you to try and make this a non-beast-free roleplay

He could tell he startled the Bosmer as he grabbed her arm. "Up on deck?! Are you insane? I'll get blown off! Surely it must be safer inside!" The Bosmer said as her eyes widened.

"If by safer, you mean getting crushed by the ship collapsing in on you, then yes it is much safer." Kiel said in a non-rude way, only proving a point. As he waited for the Wood Elf to come to her senses, he looked past her and saw the people attempting to bring a chest up on deck. Can't they understand that there lives are more valuable than whatever is in that chest? He knew that if they did not hurry, they would not make it in time.

As the bosmeri woman spoke, Elarian took a better look at her If I'm not mistaken those tatoos point her as a healer of some sort. I've seen them along with Valenwood's bowmen. Odds are I'll need her skills. But staying inside isn't safer...

coming close he almost yelled to overcome the storm's racket. "From the way that tub is taking water and creaking, it's about to fold like paper or break appart. I don't want to be in it when it happens. I'd rather get dumped in the drink than squished like a bug. The odds might be long but they're better than trying to keep two decks appart."

OOC: Sorry for the OOC only post, but I am waiting for the ship to go kaploowie... So... might as well make a few comments: Faldom, my khajiiti character is already in the works. Initially, Davian was to be just a redshirt until we reached Privateer Hold... but due to redundancies between M'rria and Sam, I'll have his crimson tunic turn mauve when he wakes up in PH... His concept wasn't even one of those mentioned by me in the discussion thread, and his class is the generic Warrior class.
Aulakass, curse your so-totally-different character! Now I have to keep Davian because my Kynaren Dancer is too similar to your welf... If it weren't for my furry fetish, I'd probably play Bosmer females more often than khajiit females...

Yanmir turned to face the bunch of people fiddling with something just slightly below deck, some guys trying to save some chest, and a bosmer woman hesitating to get up on deck. Idiots... What are they doing there... Can't they see we're about to hit a rock? Taking a deep breath, he howled at the top of his lungs.

"Are you morons going to stop gawking!!? We don't have time for your foolish bickering!!"

A few seconds later, a sharp rock scraqed against the side of the ship, tearing off a large part of the hull. When it seemed like it couldn't get any worse, one more gargantuan wave crashed against the other side, pushing it against the rocks. The whole ship was split in half, rapidly being flooded with sea water, sinking below the surface. Yanmir slipped into the briny sea. He rose to the surface and tried to swim, but the waves were too strong even for him. He ended up being pushed around by the mighty waves. What became of the others, he did not really care about. They could just as well have drifted away, or pulled down by the undertow of the sinking vessel. No.. It cannot end like this. I must not fail... the emperor...


Many hours of floating along the waves, he finally arrived at a natural cavern. Exhausted, he crawled up on the beach and into the cave. Halfways in, he heard something rumbling above him. With his last strength he crawled quickly across the stone floor. Finally, some rest... He collapsed on the floor, finally giving in to fatigue.

[OOc : considering how you've described things, wiht the entrance collpasing behind Yanmir, he'll logically be alone in the cave]

Hearing the scream, Elarian decided to move, readying a spell to clear the way out. But before he could unleash it he lost his balance and was tossed around as a strong shcock and loud cracking sound told him the ship was hitting something. As he struggled to regain his footing, cursing with the worst profanities of a long mercenary career, the whole hull gave way as the ship ripped itself in half. Without a second thought he dove into the water rather than risking to be trapped into a sinking or collapsing wreck.

As the waves and current bounced him around he bumped into somethin, feeling wood and rope under his hands. Apparently some piece of rigging. Clinging to it Elarian managed to somehow tie the bundle he had made to the piece of wreckage, letting hismelf be carried as the waves would see fit.

OOC: I agree with Manu, I think you should somehow change so it's after every was in the cavern crumbled

Kiel saw that they were approaching the rock, it was a matter of seconds before they sank. The ship rattled at it went across the rock, a huge gash opened in the side of the ship. To make it worse, the ship had split in half, it was sinking in a folding-like motion. Kiel watched men fall into the water, the poor souls that did not make it on deck were the first to go. Kiel had to think all the way back to when he was a young, and about what parents told him about sinking ships. He vaugely remembered something about grabbing something that floats. He found some rope that had come loose from the sails and quickly tied himself to a nice sized plank. The next thing he knew, he was hit in the head by something hard.

Kiel awoke in an unknown place. He obvserved his surrondings, he was in a dark cavern, he looked around and saw that many people had washed up here. They were all exhausted and they will be out for a while. Kiel gathered some wood that wasn't wet, probably leftovers from other ship crashes. He gathered them into a pile, and made quick work of converting them to a fire. He himself was cold and wet, and figured the nice warm fire would change that.

ooc: Yai! I'm here, introducing my guy:



ic: 'Oh sweet sorrow that the waves do bring under this most violent clarification of brown and gold, how does a ship tumble when it has been built so strong, mighty and bold?'

As the ship capsided, Banor remained oddly came with a small disturbing smile on his face, as if in a trance. It seemed as if he wouldn't move at all, until a large piece of tumbling wood smashed him around the backside of the head, and his vision went blank.

Oh, so pleasantly black.

Banor awoke with a pleasant pain throbbing through the back of his head, the cave he had floated into was dark and cold, made even worse by his wet clothes - but he could hear others inside. It seemed as if the waves hadn't been as erratic as the storm had suggested, taking several survivors to the same destination, himself included. Weakly, he pushed himself up, though remained sitting down against a stone, as his eyes got used to the darkness he gained more vision, enough to spot a rather large Redgaurd already getting to work with some wood in the cave.

He smiled and laughed quietly for reasons that he himself probably didn't knew, and remained sat for a while longer, merely regaining his strength. His eyes danced around erratically as he sat, as if eager to take in every detail of this new place.

OOC: Sorry, Tom! Looks like we won't be able to continue that dialogue now things have moved on and I couldn't post!

IC:

The boat was long gone and Loss? snapped from his reverie with an immense pain; flames licking and twisting from his fingertips to the flat of his shoulder blades. His collarbone was hot and itchy. All was hazy, but Loss? knew what he was doing. As he tried to rise, he opened his eyes and took in his surroundings.

There was a vague smell of fish and mushrooms. The stone floor was rough and natural, but Loss?'s left hand slipped and slid over the almost polished-smooth surface. He wrenched his right hand out from underneath something large and heavy. My chest. He released a soft moan, both a sigh of relief and a complaint of pain. Writhing, Loss? moved to svck on his bleeding fingertips but his arm reflexively spasmed back to the stone in agony.

It was oh-so-cold, freezing with salt-drenched clothes sticking and refusing to let go. Blood and water, steel and stone, cloth and fire, everything was different, a variety of sensations across his broken body. The possibility of ever walking the waking world beneath a bright sun through green fields seemed distant like a memory just beyond reach.

Veins pulsed, fingers twitched, back arched in pain, Loss? strained to open his squinting eyes properly. It was dark. Dark like a black hole that has not known light in all its time. Where am I? The boat... What? The Imperial... He grunted. With an aching jaw he opened his mouth and muttered aloud in the almost complete silence.

"Is there anybody out there? Or am I alone in a black hole beyond the world? Am I dead? Gods forfend..."

A thousand things seemed to be happening at once. A sort of blockade was forming on both sides of him, and shouts were flying left and right. His patience was being tried. As frustrated as he thought humanly possible in a situation such as this, Volumnius, wanting the whole affair to be over and done with, gave a final yank to the chest to shove it (and whatever was in front of it) forward and out of the deck. What he hadn't remembered was the spell that had been cast on it several seconds ago.

The now-lightweight chest, along with Volumnius and whatever was in the near vicinity of them, went hurtling forward out the door and onto the deck. Ah, but fortune was not quite yet done toying with its prey. The laborer hardly had time to collide with the deck below him before another monstrous wave crashed into his side.

His body was limp, like a piece of seaweed in the tide, and he didn't even realize that he had completely lost track of the chest- he had no idea what had become of it or anyone around him that had been taken with him in the lurch. The Nord, the Altmer, the Bosmer- they were the last things in his mind. The first was whatever awaited him in the waters he was being tossed into. His thoughts became a jumble of panic and trying to stay upright, but the difference between up and down soon became impossible to detect. He couldn't even tell that he had been plunged into the water.

His chain shirt was gone. The only reason his weapon was still with him was because it had been strapped to his side...and that was now what was causing him to plummet downward. Blinded, all Volumnius could determine was that he had to get to the surface at all costs. He began fumbling with the straps on his belt senselessly, trying in vain to release the morning star at his waist. But before he knew it, air washed over his face again: he had been tossed into the air again by a wave, like a rag doll. Barely in time for a desperate gasp, his face was stung by the crash back into the salt water, and all consciousness left him.

---------------------

Consciousness came back sheepishly. Between the brief moments of being half-awake, all the Imperial could feel was cold, damp air, and the garbled sounds of voices. But that didn't matter. His attention was focused on the beloved solid rock beneath him.

The wind whipped Garum's hair into a frenzy as he watched in horror as the dark rocks grew ever closer to the ship. As the Nord knight shouted at everybody to prepare for the impact, Garum grabbed onto what remained of the mast. A flash of lightning, and Garum spied the dark blobs of impending doom. Gods protect us...

With a stupendous crash, the ship hit the first rock. Splinters shot through the air, and the sound of water rushing to fill the lower decks met Garum's ears. Mixed in with the howl of the wind and the crash of the waves were the sounds of seasoned sailors crying out in terror or pain. Some were hit by splinters from the collision and were screaming their last. The sound was one that Garum knew he would never forget.

As the Altmer cursed his own inability with the school of alteration, he casted the best shield spell he knew and wrapped it about him in a protective magickal cocoon. It didn't help much when the ship was swept into the rocks a second time. This time, instead of scraping against a boulder and bouncing away, the entire ship split in two. Garum was thrown free from his grip on what remained from the mast. For a precious few seconds, as the ship disintegrated, Garum flew through the air.

The seconds ticked by, though in reality it was no more than two or three. As Garum watched the dark rock come hurtling towards him - or rather, him towards it, face first - he felt time slowing down as he realized he was staring into his own doom. So this is what it feels like when you know you're about to die.

I would have thought it would be a little more frightening. How melodramatic. Then with a sickening crunch, he impacted head-first into the stone, and everything turned to night.



Vaermina had her fun that evening. The Daedric goddess of nightmares conjured up images in Garum's injured head that would frighten any man to death, were he not unconscious and were the images real. In each and every one of them, Garum found his face wet with his own blood, and he was always cold. Why cold, why so, so very cold? He would later remember thinking.

It was, of course, explained as he opened his eyes slowly. Garum was soaking wet, but he was on dry land; or what passed for 'dry land' in wet stony caves, that is. He rolled onto his back with a low groan, hearing the distant roar of the surf and the gentle howl of the wind at the cave's entrance. There were other people around, and one was already working on lighting a fire. And those fellows saved their damned chest.

The Altmer sat up with a louder groan, touching his fingers to his head and coming away with blood. His head hurt like he couldn't imagine. If it hadn't been for the weak shield spell he'd erected, Garum knew his head would have split open like a ripe fruit. As it is, it's pretty bad. He realized as blood dripped down over his face. I think... I'm gonna be sick.

With a groan, Garum tried to stand. It wasn't such a good idea. Everything duplicated, swimming around like the haunting images from his dreams, and Garum came to his senses a moment later, bent over with his half-digested lunch on the stone between his feet. "Is everybody-" He tried, realizing that his throat was rasping. Garum blinked blood out of his eye and stood up straight. The dizziness was threatening to overcome him again, but he was dealing with it better this time. "Is everybody okay?" He called out, peering into the darkness of the cave.

A click of the fingers, and Garum felt the familiar warm flow through his veins as he casted a fireball. Holding the magickal flame above his palm, Garum enlarged it, using it as a temporary torch to look around.

Julia never would have guessed the ship could sink so fast. One moment it was afloat, the next the deck had quite literally turned splinters under her feet, and she was sinking, the sea pulling her down. She tried to pull away, tried to reach the air, but her sodden cloak was so heavy, and her weary brain struggled to think of the commands to make her body shrug it off. Finally, she escaped from beneath the cloak stranglehold and broke the surface, gasping for air.

Then followed a long period of drifting. She lashed together a couple of spars and then let the sea carry her at will. She dozed, lulled by the increasingly peaceful waves.

She awoke to find herself in some sort of natural sea-cave atop a large pile of driftwood and other rubbish from the shipwreck. Somehow, miraculously, her left hand still clung to her leather satchel.

The cavern was quite dark, but there was enough shuffling and groaning going on to alert Julia to the presence of other survivors. She tried to stand, but was forced to abruptly sit again when a series of painful spasms ran through her lower back.

"Is everybody okay?" a voice called out. There was a sudden flare of firelight, and she clamped an arm over her eyes, temporarily blinded.

Relieved to hear another living voice (it felt as if hours had passed since the ship's sinking, but it seemed doubtful, or all the survivors wouldn't have arrived at the same place), she composed herself and called out "I'm fine!"

And though it was both ridiculous and patently untrue, it comforted her to say it.

After an unknown while Elarian could agains sense and feel. Sounds like I got knocked out by the waves.. A few tentative motions felt like he stil had all his body parts in place, albeit thoroughly bruised and battered. He could feel against his body the piece of wreckage he had tied himself to, along with the familiar weight of the sword on his back. As he started moving and untying the rope, he even felt the bundle he had brought along. I hope I can recover the clothes, but at least I'll have my mail. A mercenary without decent armor is stuck with hte crappiest jobs.

While carefully getting on his feets, he could hear others stirrung and groaning around, seemingly as battered as himself. That's when a sudden light pierced the darknes, acompanied by a voice asking if everybody was okay, answered by a feminine voice. Which decided him to answer with some style.

"I feel like I've been the ladie's favorite dancer at a bear reception, but at least all parts seems to be there and working more ore less as they're supposed to. I guess it sums up to 'okay' after that sort of shipwreck."

OOC: And now, for something totally random, but this is too awesome/funny not to include. Surf's up! :rock:

IC: Davian's mind had cracked. That was all there was too it. As the ship was torn apart, he felt like he was flying free... Was this how he was to die? Hell No! As the storm scrapped the ship into nothing but waterlogged flotsam, he released his grip on the ladder and jumped overboard. Miraculously, he landed feet first on a large plank of wood which did not proceed to immediately dump him. His wild flailing kept him remotely steady enough to stay uprigt despite the harsh wind. The pressure of the wind and swelling of the ocean propelled him and the board at high velocity through the treacherous crags, the chunk of flotsam's direction guided by his frantic flailing.

Seeing his ridiculous predicament, the breton began to laugh maniacally. Here, his life was in mortal jeopardy, with only a thin chunk of a lifeboat's hull seperating him from the thrashing ocean and certain death. If he were to fall, he would sink to his doom... But he would not fall! He kept his feet under him, crouching on the board instinctively. He glanced up from his frantic position and saw an even more chaotic patch of water ahead, where the current battled with itself. Without thinking, his feet shifted, sending the board right into a small rock, the velocity catapulting both him and the chunk of flotsam into the air. "ha Ha HA!!" Davian laughed as the board parted from the water, despite the raging storm around him. He hardly noticed his board spinning as it came down, causing the board to be nearly jerked out from under his feet as he slammed down into the water again, only barely maintaining his balance at the sudden shift in direction. He continued to ride the waves, held on by nothing more than sheer luck, occasionally riding off of the breaking of waves as they crashed into the crags and rocky outcrops.

Only after he cleared the treacherous rock formation did he fall from his awkward standing position on his board. Had his reflexes been any slower, he would have fallen and sunk to his death, but through either skill, luck, or Sheogorath's will, he landed rump-first on the board, and was stuck in a rather silly sitting position, keeping all limbs on the narrow board as he tried to prevent it from flipping from his weight. After what felt to be an eternity, the storm started to clear up, and he noticed that the current was pushing some of the other survivors from the wreck along as well.... He tried to say something, but his delirium and facial damage morphed his words, causing him to utter something along the lines of, "Yo, 'sup..." to the other survivors, though they seemed mostly unconscious. Eventually, his consciousness started to fade, only awake enough to keep from flipping...

... he finally snapped out of his stupor in some sort of cave. in the gloom, it took him a moment to make out the forms of the survivors. "I think I'm okay..." he managed to mutter, before his head cleared. "I hope this experience doesn't put anyone off sailing... It's still the safest mode of transportation on the Illiac Bay," he then remarked dryly, standing up on his board, which promptly flipped and dumped him into a patch of knee-deep water in the cave. "I'm awake! I'm awake!" After a few seconds taking part in exercises in futility, he managed to pull himself to the dryer land in the cave.

ooc: Heheh. Nice.

ic: "If by safer, you mean getting crushed by the ship collapsing in on you, then yes it is much safer." The man replied, and Sam set her hand on her hip and was about to make some smart-alack comment back when the ship shuddered and sent her sprawling to the ground. She screamed and cursed colorfully, thrown yet again into the reeking seawater. "If I live through this, I am never, ever, going to even look at another damned ship!" Sammensia yelled, then stood up again. Walking out into the deck as she was told (she didn't want to get crushed inside), the boat shuddered again, throwing her forward about six feet to the deck. Yelling as she hit the soggy boards, she realized the boat wasn't just shuddering, it was shaking and tipping backwards. What the hell? What would make a ship tip up on its rear end? That doesn't make any..

As she turned around, her thoughts trailed into nothing. She saw now that the ship was not tipping on its back, rather, it was tipping towards its middle. In two places. The thing had splintered apart. Pointlessly, she scuttled backwards on her hands and feet, staring into the abysmal waters that threatened to swallow her. Between the noise of the storm and the sounds of the wood cracking and snapping, Sammensia found herself deafened entirely for the time being. All she could think of was that if she didn't do something soon, she was going to die. When the boat half she was on finally tipped vertically, she slipped, getting a splinter in her ass as she slid down the deck and fell. Plummeting towards her imminent demise, though, she had an odd moment of clarity. Water breathing could help, couldn't it? Hm. Does water walking work if you land on your face? Couldn't hurt to try.

In free fall, as her stomach attempted to escape out her mouth, she managed a mental incantation to cast both effects on herself. The water's surface came ever nearer to her and when she hit, she landed on her hands and knees for a moment, went under and gasped in liquid, then came back up to the surface. Pushing herself to a kneeling position, she found herself glad she'd cast the breathing spell as a precaution. As she started to run away from the crash, hopping over waves and debris, the little Bosmer couldn't help but think that this had gone very well. Perhaps a little too well.. But, I'm far enough away that I should be safe from flying deb--

As she turned to glance back at the ship, as her luck would have it, a fragment of the deck struck her across the head and her world turned to ink. The tide tossed her body around on the surface, the water breathing spell allowing her to escape getting liquid in her lungs, and she floated, face-down, into a small seaside cavern over the course of the next few minutes where her soaked and freezing form washed up onto cool rocks. Her eyes fluttered for a second at the change of density below her, but she did not wake. In her mind, strange dreamlike snippets of her life flickered past her eyes; playing in the forest, pulling pranks on her fellow clanmates, getting spanked thoroughly by the clan elder, her time with the small band of mercenaries who had helped her develop a form of mild alcoholism and then.. water. Lots and lots of water. Her eyes squeezed shut and mouth twisted in a small grimace of confusion. What the [censored] is with this water? Go away! You smell, water, I don't like you. She thought at it, and it seemed to emit a feeling of offense at her words, then attacked her, soaking her body and clothing and belongings. She yelled at it in surprise and the chill and stench of the water suddenly became very real.

Finally, the pair of acidic eyes flickered opened and immediately, she began violently shivering. It took a little effort, but she managed to push herself to her feet and stumble, shaking, along the wall. As her body awoke again, her taste began to function once more and a wave of foul, salty flavor hit her like a mace to the skull. She hadn't noticed the others around her yet, but in their midst, she collapsed to her knees and retched violently, kelp and saltwater clinging to her body, the water penetrating her skin and making her feel extremely filthy, a thing she would notice once her stomach emptied and she managed to stop heaving. For now, though, she puked and coughed and moaned in pain as her gut cramped.

Maybe it'd have been more comfortable to have died.. She thought bitterly.

Kiel heard voices deeper in the cave. Survivors! Kiel was laying by the fire he had made, the red glow felt like the hug of a tamed bear he had come across in his travels once, wrapping him in it's warmth and comfort. "Hello? If anyone is there, I have a fire started over here!" Kiel said loud enough to be heard throughout the cavern. Kiel went through his pockets and took out a map. He was looking at his map of the Illiac Bay he had brought along with him. Because he was sailing the ship before the storm had hit, he had an idea were they generally were. He had to calculate how the storm had carried them first. He found that they had landed in the Region of Daggerfall.

OOC: Sorry, bad post...

Garum stumbled over to the firelight as cries from survivors reached his ears. It seemed that nobody was seriously injured, by all the shouts of 'I'm okay' that reached his ears. He lowered himself carefully by the fire, pressing one hand against his bleeding head. "I'm glad somebody is." Garum said. His head throbbed with every beat of his heart, and for a third time Garum felt nearly overcome by dizziness.

The Altmer watched as a few more people woke up and were washed into the cavern. One man by the fire, though, seemed to be smart. He already had a map out and appeared to be trying to calculate their position. "Thank you for the fire." Garum said, extinguishing the flame in his palm and reaching out towards the small fire. A brief mental focus and a mumbled incantation, and a gout of flame danced from Garum's fingers and across the logs, lighting them brighter and hotter than before. "I think we all... could use it right now."

Garum's eyelids were like iron weights. He knew he shouldn't be this tired, but he felt exhausted for no apparent reason. Exhaustion, dizziness, trouble concentrating... gods damn it, I have a concussion. Garum realized. He applied more pressure to the wound oozing blood in his skull, "Don't let me fall asleep. I have a concussion... I don't know how severe it is." Garum said to Kiel and anybody who might be in the area, "If I fall asleep I might- might fall into the Deathsleep."

Volumnius, eyes only an eighth open, sensed light in his peripheral vision. Light? Heh...must be the cabin's lamp. I wasn't drunk last night, was I? My head's pounding... The pilgrim attempted to prop himself up on his bed and get his bearings, but was only met by an agonizing pain in the arm upon which he had attempted to prop himself, accompanied by the equally agonizing reality that he was not, in fact, in a bed, or suffering from a hangover, or that he had spotted his cabin's light. As he collapsed to his back once more with a scream of pain, cradling his arm, a scattered collection of memory fractions came flooding back to him. Something about a storm, some Nord and a chest, and then... Oh. Right. Volumnius' heart sank as he remembered why he had come to his present state. It was hazy, but the whole concept of "shipwreck" was apparent enough. And apparently, judging by the excruciating pain in his arm, he had broken a few bones in the process.

Wait, didn't I see a light a few moments ago? Still on his back, he turned his head to the source of the flickering light only a short distance away. Oh, its fire. Wait...fire...people! Still very dazed, he stretched out his functional arm and began to drag himself towards the fire, around which there appeared to be a small group of people huddled. His right leg also seemed to be broken. At least, he assumed so, as he had no use of it whatsoever, and it felt like fire had been set to it. "H-hey! Can...can you help? Hey!" The Imperial's croaking voice gasped out all he could before he was forced to pause his crawling progress to lean over and vomit a good deal of salt water onto the cavern floor.

Hearing the croaked cry for help near him, Elarian paused in his hispection of what was left of his possessions, moving to the source of the sound. Despite the fire buring afar this part of teh cave was still close to pitch dark. With a few handwaves and a short incantation he called forth a shred of magic, gathering into a small loating globe of light. It would be oh so stupid to have survived the shipwreck only to stumble and impale myself to death on some piece of wreckage. Fitting for a drunken lout of a nord maybe, but too undignified for my tatste...

Coming closer he now could see the source : a rather burly imperial in commoner's clothes, one of the pair who had blocked the stairway wrestling with the chest with what had appeared as a drunken mix of obstination and ineptitude. Both of these drunken cretins made it out. One more proof of the God's odd sense of humour.. Stepping aside of the freshly vomited water pool Elarian took at closer look at the man, noticed the odd bent of one arm and leg. At least he's incapacited by wounds, not drunkenness.

"Let me have a look - I'm not a healer, but I've dealt with my share of wounds." Kneeling next to the man, Elarian started a quick survey, his hands moving all over his body, probing and poking as he checked the wounds. As he finished his inspection he commented on his findings "You have your right leg and left arm broken. From what I felt they're both simple fractures and the articulations seems fine. With proper splintering it should recover right, but don't plan on running around for some time.". He paused a few seconds considering his potions "I'll bring you by the fire, it migh hurt be I'd rather thave some true light before fixing you up".

Taking out his sword, Elarian drove the tip into the ground with a smooth motion, before moving again to Volumnius. Grabbing him firmly and lowering himself, he lifted the heavier imperial over his shoulders into a fireman's carry. Straining under the weight, Elarian moved to the fire before lowering his burden to the gound, panting slightly from the effort. I'm not too old for that kind of games, but it's not getting any easier. I'm a bit out of training too. Hauling stuff, digging and the like might be beneath an officer's dignity, but they sure help with being fit.

OOC: Imperial, not Breton. :whisper:

IC:

Volumnius would have heartily objected to being carried, had he had a chance to speak or remember that he had only covered about a foot before the Dunmer had approached him. Gritting his teeth to suppress the pain of his broken limbs being shifted during the lift, he let out a sigh of relief after he had been laid down by the fire. In the firelight he managed to get a decent look at his benefactor. It was a Dunmer, surprisingly, and what seemed to be an old one at that. At least, that was what he could judge from his extremely limited exposure to elves.

"Thank you, sir," he said, with a slight inclination of his head toward the mer, quite surprised that one who appeared to be as wealthy as he had helped an Imperial such as Volumnius. "What...what happened? The Nord, did- and that rich woman- and-" he did a double take as he caught sight of the Altmer from the ship, recognition awakening in his memory. "You- you were on the ship, right?" His dazed mind started to blur again, and he managed to mumble to no one in particular, "Where are we?"