Tol-in-Gaurhoth XXIII: Journey to Hy Brazil

[Cailín]

As soon as the passengers had all boarded Cailín and Nogrod made ready to leave port. With Nogrod's clear instructions, they quickly hoisted the sails, while the passengers huddled together uncomfortably. Some were already glaring at one another. The deck would prove too small for the large group.

A storm caught them not three miles from the shore.

"Don't worry. That was supposed to happen," said Cailín, her eyes shimmering with excitement. "Adventurers always get caught in a storm before they get anywhere."

Nogrod gritted his teeth and made no comment. After a while, only the pleading voice of Rune begging for cheese was heard of the raging of the winds.

As dusk settled, the storm lay down as quickly as it had appeared, though the ship still seemed to be spinning in every direction. Confused, Nogrod ran to the front of the ship, pushing several weary-looking passengers aside, and spotted Cailín, who was fervently spinning the ship's wheel. Every once in a while, she glanced at a piece of weathered paper she was holding.

"Cailín, let me handle the wheel. We need to get her stable!"

"You said I could be the captain, remember?" yelled Cailín. "Besides, you have no idea where we are heading!"

"Cailín, do not be a fool! We need to work together. You cannot steer the ship all by yourself!" grunted Nogrod. He considered for a moment. "It seems you cannot even steer a ship, period.

"I can perfectly well do everything. And by myself," said Cailín, while giving the wheel a final twirl. "There she goes. I'm sure fate will take us wherever necessary."

Nogrod cast her a disbelieving look.

"Oh, and I shall take the cabin," Cailín added. With a last look at the disturbed passengers, taking little note of Lhuna, who was looking decidedly greenish, leaning over the railing, she retreated for the Night.

[Cailín]

Captain Cailín's Log

We left port with 21 passengers aboard. None of them seem particularly interesting. Nogrod is so annoying. Where we are now? Tis a secret.

--

Night One has now started. Werewolves, you may talk but do not need to decide upon a kill toNight. Lovers, do as you will. Seer, please PM Nogrod and me with your first dream.

[Nogrod]

In the darkest hour of the Night, four creatures could be seen crawling the deck as if the ship belonged to them. Triumphantly, they gazed at the black sea stretching out in each direction. Their prey would never escape.

Only Nogrod was still standing at the wheel, muttering to himself. He had tried - in vain - to get the ship back on its original course. While he was trying to judge their current position by the stars, he had to conclude that they had indeed travelled far in one day. It seemed indeed to be further than he had ever travelled. Nogrod was puzzled. None of the constellations looked familiar.

Suddenly, he was disturbed by a noise coming from behind. He turned around, expecting to see Cailín coming to apologise, when he felt a knife piercing his back. Or was it a knife? With semi-conscious eyes, Nogrod took in the shape of four miscreants: hideously large, hairy creatures, part wolf and part man. As the larger one approached with his teeth bared, the brave sailor could not help but faint.

In the morning, Cailín woke up from a dreamless sleep. She blinked a few times to get used to the bright light of a day at sea. As she stretched out, she felt something strange and squishy at the end of her bed. She let out a soft cry. Sitting up in annoyance, she gazed at the thing that had caused her discomfort. Except it was not a thing. It was a mangled corpse, still bearing the marks of the sailor she had known so briefly, though hideously disfigured. His mouth was still open in shock and from the remains of his tongue dangled a crumpled piece of paper with a short note.

The real captain. He was delicious. You'll be next.

In spite of herself, Cailín screamed.


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


Her scream woke the other passengers with a start. Some of the more alert ones immediately rushed to the Captain's cabin. They quickly took in the scene, several crying in dismay at the sight of the mangled body of the person they had really trusted to take them home safely.

"Oh dear," said Firefoot.

"Look!" yelled Cailín. "Look at the marks, the hairs! We have werewolves aboard, there can be no other explanation!"

The other passengers exchanged fleeting looks.

"Well," said Taliesin eventually. "I can think of one other…" He grinned, never letting his eyes of Captain Cailín.

"He is right," said Findeasea softly. "We overheard them fighting. She must have been afraid Nogrod would undermine her authority."

Slowly, the passengers closed in on her.

"What…," whimpered Cailín, starting to comprehend.

"You tricked us aboard!" screamed Lhunardawen suddenly. "You tricked us and now we are all going to die!"

"I didn't…," Cailín interrupted her indignantly.

"You lured us aboard with false motives and empty promises," cut in Lalaith. "Can you deny it?"

"Not completely false and empty," protested Cailín.

"There is no cheese on this ship!" cried Rune hysterically. "No cheese!"

"She's mad," claimed Caranlondien. "You saw how she acted last night."

"Besides, there is something basically wrong with the entire concept of having a 'Captain'," stated Friedrich Engels wisely.

"She is a wolf. Don't ask me, I can just tell," said Eomer of the Rohirrim with his usual air of casual superiority.

"Well, dear," said Gurthang. "Seems like you are going to walk the plank!"

Dragging Cailín along, the passengers left the cabin and stepped out on the deck. The young woman was hardly putting up a fight, just looking thoroughly annoyed and extremely sorry for herself. Sir Anguirel hoisted her up the plank and there she stood, gazing at the crowd.

"She's one too many on this ship," said Gurthang, approaching the Captain menacingly. "Any final words?"

"But…," Cailín said with her lip trembling. "But it's my birthday!"

"Oh, who cares!" came in Formendacil.

With one final, decisive shove, Cailín tumbled into the water. After splashing around for a few moments, the passengers saw her submerge. They waited patiently, staring at the calm sea below them. Two full minutes passed before the body of the once captain Cailín surfaced again, eyes still wide open. staring helplessly at the unknown sky. She had not transformed and all secrets she may have had drowned with her, then and there.

"Maybe it wasn't really her," said Holbytlass, after all had been silent for a while.

"Quite possibly," agreed Sir Horatio, glaring at his fellow passengers suspiciously.

"But that means," continued Holbytlass, looking decidedly uncomfortable. "That means that among us…"

Several others nodded in agreement.

"Told you it was a bad plan," said Mormegil triumphantly. "Now what do we do? We're lost and we have no captain."

"Someone must keep the log," said Durelin. "It's the sensible thing to do."

"I can be captain!" spoke Dread Pirate Roberta. "Aye, and a bloody good one, too."

"Aye," imitated Weslamond.

"To hell you can be captain!" yelled Firefoot. "You probably are responsible for this in the first place."

And thus, accusations began flying.

[Nogrod]

Captain Cailín's Log

We are in the middle of nowhere. We have werewolves aboard. We just killed the one person who had some clue where home is.

Sounds like trouble.

Signed,

Formendacil



--

~The dead ~
Nogrod – sub-mod, ripped into pieces of flesh and bones by the werewolves on Night1
Cailín – mod, forced to walk the plank at the end of Night1/ the beginning of Day1

~The living ~
Durelin -- eye-borrowing Jounin instructor
Caranlondien -- ships's bartender
Holbytlass -- whale hunter
Findëasëa -- Occupational health and safety specialist
Lhunardawen -- seasick reluctant traveler
Kath -- plotting slave
JennyHallu -- Dread Pirate Roberta
Lalaith -- Football Widow
Diamond18 -- Weslamond, the Dread Pirate Roberta's protégé
Firefoot -- wandering traveller with a dog that dislikes pirates

Gurthang -- Plank Operator
Formendacil -- Ne'er-do-well stowaway of snobbish, blue-blooded origins
Nilpaurion Felagund -- renowned Jinchuuriki hunter
Rune Son of Bjarne -- crazy slave, with an obsession for cheese
Mormegil -- the vocal nitpick who can find fault in anything
Taliesin -- criminal who was set adrift
Saucepan Man -- Rear-Admiral Sir Horatio Potboiler
Sir Anguirel Spens (Anguirel)
Eomer of the Rohirrim -- slavedriver
Glirdan -- drunken porter
Friedrich Engels (the guy who be short)


Day1 has now started.

Wolves stop PM-ing.

Lovers can continue PM-ing and the Hunter and Ranger may start PM-ing.

Villagers, start talking. There will be more deaths yet toDay.

[Diamond18]

Werewolves aboard a ship? Inconceivable!

(Bet you're surprised I can say more than just "aye," aye?)

We all know Eomer is guilty so let's just off him. And then drink rum. Sound like a plan?

[Anguirel]

O lang, land may the ladies sit
Wi' thair gold kems in their hair,
Waiting for thair ain deir lords
For they'll se thame na mair.
Haf owre, haf owre to Aberdour,
It's fiftie fadom deip:
And thair lies guid Captain Cailín,
Wi' the logbook incomplete.

Ah, whit grim dairstard did the deed?
Word goes 'gainst Eomer,
Yet Weslamond there sits content
Nursing a scheme not fair?

Well, that was rather stupid of us. I know I was overdoing the Scotch. But can you imagine my emotions when I checked the chart and found Norroway was the other side of the flipping ocean?

Ahem. More when there is more of moment to discourse (and balladify) upon.

[Formendacil]

Sweet, I got to make a note in the logbook.

Don't kill me, all of you: I now have a job.

The temptation to pull a Nilp and vote myself is... tempting. I simultaneously want a quick out of this game (laziness) and to survive to the end... being a good sport, I'll try for the latter... but a Day 1 death would amuse me no end.

Especially since it would likely be because of this post here.

As I've stated game after game.... short of a stupid slip up (an' I ain't stoopid...) there is no way other than dumb luck to catch a wolf on Day 1.

Day 1s...

[Glirdan]

Hic! What's hic all this I hic hear about our Captain hic Cailin being forced to hic walk the plank? Hic hic HIICCC!! Oh dear. Hic! Now how are we hic going to hic get hic home!?

I say we scrounge hic around in hic the Captain's quarters to hic see hic if there's any hic maps. *Looks around groggily* No volun-HIC-teers? Okay. Hic! Fine. Hic! Until someone hic get enough courahic to check, I suggest we hic look for those damned hic Wolves starting with hic that plotting slave, Kahicth! I mean come hic on! She's a hic slave hic plotting hic something! What if it's hic the dethic of us?

I need to go hic lie down. I shall be hic back once I feel hic less sihic.

[Diamond18]

Leave it to Form to bring up the spirit of Ennui first. Might I suggest a signature change to something along the lines of "I'm so bored, kill me now"?

I still maintain that a more satisfying and enjoyable way to spend the Day would be to gang up on the kilted slave driver. Yo ho to ho.

I'm going to go scour the ship for treasure and slay a few rats for fun. I'll be back in a few hours to see if there's anything interesting going on (i.e. to see who has taken the "I'm so bored, kill me now" bait. )

[Durelin]

Whoa.

I'm...

on time?

No..wait...

early?

Arr, werewolves?!

. . .

Shunshin no Jutsu!

Gone.

[Gurthang]

What horrible timing. This interupted my Bible reading. Just got finished with I Corinthians 13. Oh, and I swe... er, I'm not supposed to do that, am I.

Originally Posted by Diamond18

We all know Eomer is guilty so let's just off him. And then drink rum. Sound like a plan?

Yeah! Except one thing... the rum is gone!

*Captain Jack Sparrow appears out of nowhere*
Sparrow: "But why is the rum gone?!"

Well, it's gone because... Glirdan drank it all! I say we send him off the plank next for drinking all the rum.

[Kath]

That slave driver's been driving me nuts.

I've an idea! Let's kill him off now, Rune will back me up, if he quits playing with that cheese of his.

I'll be over there *points vaguely* plotting. Yell if you want me.

[Rune Son of Bjarne]

werewolves that's terri. . . .What is that, do I smell cheese, yes it deffenetly smells of Edam cheese!

what was I saying, oh yeah. Thats not good at all, unless they are really fuzzy and cute, uh what if you can milk them then we could get some cheese! That would be nice, yes it would really nice.

[Taliesin]

What now? Werewolves? Lynching.. that almost sounds like my sort of thing.

Perhaps we should start off by killing Glirdan, with all that booze and
hiccing of his, I doubt he makes much sense .

[Lalaith]

It looks like the sun is well and truly over the yard-arm and many of my fellow passengers are resorting to strong drink to get them through what has become a truly horrible journey...actually, now that you come to mention it, if anyone's got a spare G-and-T knocking about I wouldn't say no.
Even taking alcohol consumption into account, here's more eccentricity flying around than I would have expected, even for day one. And some things that are just plain odd. Our stowaway grandly talks of suicidal ennui and stupid slips, while the plank operator seems to be dropping not anchors but biblical hints.
I must away to my cabin to sleep and ponder, but will join you again anon.