Post
Region: The Celestial Empire
The Hunt of Black Island III
Black Island, Middle Ossaran Sea
Collab with 
Kushmire, 
Tangwen, 
Elodia, 
Falkenberg, 
Temris, 
Celaguun, 
Hoydland, and 
Swarzia-
~~~~
Ralph immediately started moving as the mad heir watched from the ship smiling in glee. A mere week ago he was standing in the middle of the empire gluing soldier's feet back together, now he was in what he believed was hell.
Ralph wondered if perhaps he was dead, that the Reichskriegan patrol he came across shot him, and the white knight that came to pick him up was Death himself. Perhaps this is God's idea of a test for heaven, maybe this is atonement for his sins. After all, he was no saint either.
Ralph ran north, figuring that he could find something along the coast that he could us, washed up from shipwrecks or storms. He ran north, with the shadow of the Reichskrieg ship slowly fading behind him.
He continued heading north until he stumbled on the opening of a cave. He looked inside of its large gaping mouth and turned to look back in the direction where he came from.
~~~~
Augustus Thalgaard stumbled through the undergrowth, away from the ship and those horrid Reichskriegers, his Swarzian uniform nothing more than a dirt-stained rag. The aftereffects of his beating had come to bite him. The plants seemed just a bit too bright, the sunlight a bit too harsh.
His tongue passed over his parched lips, probing for the slightest hint of moisture, but found none. He could hear other prisoners lumbering through the trees some distances away from him.
"Must..." he said incoherently, as he lurched towards something propped up against a tree. "Must... get... out..."
To his confusion, what he found was not water or food, but a full skeleton, yellowed by the elements, with specks of blood still on it.
-
He was fifteen again, in the classroom, listening to Herr Schwaber speak.
"What happens, when we are separated from what we call modern society?" The old teacher asked, his snow-white eyebrow arched higher than usual.
A few of them raised their hands.
"We forget our table manners," one said.
"Wrong," Schwaber shook his head, frowning. "This is what happens. A man, separated from modern society and its creature comforts... cannot be called a man, but an animal."
-
Without realising, Augustus had wrenched the skull from the skeleton, turning it over and over in his blistered palms.
"Aargh," he gargled, as he unthinkingly gripped the skull and licked away at a patch of blood on its cranium, desperately hoping to glean a single drop of mixture.
To his horror, the bone yielded no cure to his thirst, and with a string of curses, he held onto the skull, in the hope that it could be of use to him.
The Swarzian muttered something incomprehensible, before moving onwards.
~~~~
"Hmm." Giovanni walked off of the gangplank. It had been what, a few hours for him?
Not that it mattered. Right now, he needed to do what he could do best with his own surroundings. He walked down the beach, trying to find a way off the island. Failing to find a way he could sneak off, he settled for crafting a rudimentary fishing rod using some plants he found and a log. He removed his case of tackles and hooked them onto his fishing rod. Well, he didn't really know what to do here, but there was one thing he was good at - fishing. He supposed that that was all he could do for now.
~~~~
With him set loose, Oliver did the bravest thing he could in that moment and waited for zero ques to start booking it into the interior of the island. He was a Reichskrieger for gods sakes he was definetly not supposed to be here. Maybe if he found some cover and hid it out, he'd be able to figure out... something. What the something was he didn't know. Maybe he'd write a story on this when he got back to civilization- He shook the thoughts out of his head. This was not the time nor place for any of that. As the lack of eating anything actually substantial hit him like a ton of bricks, he observed his surroundings to see a monkey climbing away from him in the trees. As he pondered about if those things were even native here, a lightbulb went off in his head.
~~~~
The only thing the cripple could think of was the infected wound in his shoulder. As soon as he was set loose he limped to the coast, tightly pinching his arm to somewhat distract from the pain. Having arrived he sprang into the ocean, thoroughly cleaning his wound with the salty seawater. It felt like a horde of hornets had decided to nestle in his shoulder, but at least now his odds of dying were significantly reduced.
He appeared not to have ran as far as he thought he had, for looking to his right he could still see the Reichskrieger warship off in the distance. He waded back to the shore, hoping dearly to find any kind of shelter he could use to escape the enemies’ grasp. The forest was incredibly thick, which significantly hindered his traverse. Slowly but steadily, he made his way through the eerie woods, eventually spying out a nice and secluded grove, far off the beaten path. Trelo was glad he could finally rest his crippled shoulder. While he was stumbling to the grove, he heard an ear-piercing scream coming from above him. Looking up, he found what looked to be some sort of monstrous monkey. Fearing both the Reichskriegers having heard the scream and the wrath if the roaring beast, he thought it best to abandon this strategic spot and get out of the way post-haste.
~~~~
As soon as Jetei took his first weakened step off of the ship, he made a mad dash towards the south. His mission was clear: survive. He had to see Suvdan once again. Shoving past the men around him, he certainly wasn't the fastest, mostly due to the stuffed bullet wound in his leg, but he even surprised himself when compared to the other, many worse off, prisoners like him.
He ran, and ran, and ran, until his legs turned numb. As his stride slowed to a walk, he tripped over a hump in the dirt below. As he regained his breath in heavy increments, his eyes scanned the jungle around him. Not a soul in sight. He could hear other prisoners that had traveled in the same direction as him, but none were in his immediate vicinity. At least, he hoped they were fellow prisoners. Soon, his eyes trained towards the hump he had tripped on. Without another thought, he began digging at the hump with his bare hands.
After a few minutes of digging, he saw a wooden surface. Eventually, he was able to lift it out of the ground. It certainly had some weight to it. Brushing off more earth from the large, widened oval, he realized that he had discovered a barrel. Almost with desperation, he kicked the barrel open under his boot. Tearing away at the shell, his jaw dropped as he realized the contents of the storage: a stack of various alcoholic beverages. A strange sight in an environment like this, especially given the circumstances, but he wasn't complaining. After all, he was no stranger to alcohol.
Stuffing a variety of bottles into his pockets, he took out an expensive-looking case of whiskey. Taking a quick swig, he let out a sigh of relief and victory alike. Soon after, realization washed over him. His hunters would be coming for him soon, if not already here. He stuffed the remainder of the barrel into the hole he had created. Using a small, nearby sharp rock, he carved his name into the tree adjacent to the barrel. And with that, he was on his way once again.
~~~~
The man who now called himself Shen departed the ship. He stood for a moment upon the shore, watching the other prisoners scatter into the trees. Then, he went south.
He went in such a peculiar manner, loping, bandy-legged, over root and stone, seeming to clatter into the various trees as he went: it was as if the act of walking was, itself, unnatural to him. He went without a word and came upon some movement in the brush ahead.
He crouched low and spied some prisoners, like him, searching. They were separated by the trees and went about independently. It was at that moment that he pondered: “we’re all desperate and the foreign man has a gun. After the panic I think alliances are gonna form. It ain’t going to be wise to try alone… or maybe it will be… groups are a larger target… No, what if he finds us in a group? He’ll shoot at us—three or four targets instead of one—less chance to get hit. But it ain’t time yet—ain’t time to approach—they’s gonna panic. Gotta explore. Gotta find stuff to barter with. There must be something of worth on this island.”
He then turned to walk off and kicked something. He looked down. It was a bucket, covered in sludge. It stunk to high hell and the smell grew only more potent when he lifted it up to inspect it closer. He cocked his head and frowned, scrunching up his nose in a vain attempt to keep out the smell; he then shrugged and walked away. He was going to wash the bucket in a stream or the ocean, whichever he found first.
~~~~
Iarlaith did not wander far from the ship that had brought him to this mysterious place. The others scurried off like rats into the trees, each eager to go gods knew where. But Iarlaith stumbled his way onto the beach and stood there for a moment or two. He surveyed the people who’d brought him, their ship and the backs of the other prisoners as they ran. He was too tired to follow.
Moving further down the beach, though not very far, he came across a smell most rancid. Twitching his nose he followed the scent for a short moment only to find the rotting carcass of a large fish tossed ashore by the endless waves. A silvery sheen glossed the putrid meat, and a dead seagull lay not far off. Iarlaith shrugged. He’d see worse pop upon the blackened shores of Temris’ tainted coastline.
Finding a tree upwind, the muscular Temrisian eased himself under its bountiful shade, the ship still in sight. Counting his fingers and toes he gave Basrodec his thanks for each. Twenty tiny digits total. A miracle for any grown Temrisian. Taking a deep breath he grimaced at the salty air. How his heart longed, as every Temrisian did, for the green hills and golden fields of his homeland. Running a hand through his hair he nearly resigned himself to whatever Basrodec had ordained for him. The great god of Temris was benevolent to his children, but even a father has his favorites.
Closing his eyes he figured that here, under this tree, he might die. Iarlaith Dunn, a son of the mighty Jesse O’Rourke, ordained to die unnamed upon a foreign shore. He smirked. How befitting of a warrior.
~~~~
The Mad Duke
The sounds of panicked flight filled the air, feet pounding on the shore as Krallemann stood vigil, a smile stretching from ear to ear as he waited intently for his deckhand Caddie to return.
The day was young, and it would age like fine wine. The sailors aboard the Eisenhaut shot worried glances at eachother as the Duke stood, facing off into the treeline like a foolish dog staring off into a bare wall. It was unnerving to all, the quiet air, save for the sounds of prisoners receding into the jungle. It would soon be time, soon. But a rabbit hunt would not nearly be so interesting if they are not given time to scamper free of their cages, despite Krallemann taking pleasure in a hunt of either ilk.
As the last of the men disappeared from the immediate shore, a meek, fearful voice piped up behind the Duke.
"S-sir, y-you bag..." said the Deckhand, his white and blue uniform shining crisply in early light. He carried with him a large, long bag, it's end sprouting a half-dozen wooden stocks, each polished to an ethereal gleam.
"Good, good, Caddie. Hurry, come, we will-"
The Duke's words were interrupted by a loud shriek piercing through the canopy. A howler monkey. A sinister light began to burn behind Krallemann's irises. His polished boots pounded over the deck and onto the top step of the gangplank, his head still locked onto the shriek's position in the woods.
His mouth cracked open wide, and his lungs bellowed childish words in heavily accented Common.
"Olly olly oxen free!"
His steps down the gangplank sounded off the drums of hell.
~~~
To be continued...