Chaos in Trios - IC

[SailorKat]

The docks of Trios were the center of the city. Not so much literally, as they were the center of the economy, of the culture, of everything. Piers jutted out from land like the ragged spokes of an enormous wheel, and every inch of dockspace taken up by ships of all sizes. More ships anchored in the bay, forced to ferry their people and cargo back and forth in small skiffs. The docks were never quiet. The constant call of orders as cargo was unloaded and loaded from the warehouses across the street. The cries of seabirds wheeling overhead, and dropping presents on unsuspecting heads. The smell of salt and fish hung heavy in the air. Gregory knew it as his second home.

From the time he was a small boy, his father had taken him down to the docks frequently. He strode the lanes of his three massive warehouses with the pride of ownership. “One day it’ll all be yours, boy. Remember that.” As if he would forget.

The Argus was the finest ship in Gerrard Gallagher’s fleet of twenty. It might have been delayed slightly, but it was now docked, safe and sound. This should have been a good thing.

This is bad. This is very, very bad.

Gregory, son of the shipping mogul, ran a hand through his hair. It was a nervous habit, and probably half the reason he couldn’t get it to lay flat. But his hair wasn’t the problem. He gestured at the shattered remains of a wooden shipping crate. “Where is it?”

The sailor he’d recruited to help him with this one crate, this very valuable cargo that was worth about ten times the total contents of Argus’ holds, shook his head. “I dunno. ‘Twere fine only a bell ago. And we follered yer pa’s orders. Never opened it, just stuffed a bit of meat through a hole now and agin.”

Gregory searched the dimly lit hold with his eyes, trying to see clues or anything that would lead him to the creature’s whereabouts. “Are you sure none of the crew saw—”

A scream sounded topside, remarkably high-pitched for a member of the all-male crew.

Gregory cursed, sprinting up the ladder and climbing out onto the deck, squinting a little in the bright daylight. “Where is it?” he yelled. The milling crowd on deck pointed vaguely towards the pier.

No! No, don’t tell me it...

He ran towards the brow, shoving at sailors left and right. As his boots hit the wooden pier, another scream sounded off to his right, this one decidedly a woman. He changed direction and ran towards the growing mass of people.

More screams. Work halted as people rushed towards the source of the disturbance. Sailors unable to leave their posts strained in that direction out of morbid curiosity. Gregory groaned and pushed through the crowd, desperate to find what he’d lost.

[Ragdoll]

The deck swayed beneath his feet as they rounded the bluff into the bay of Trios on light sails and sweeps, the shouts of the men on the oars below filtering up through the deck. A call from a man in the rigging confirmed what he already knew; the Argus had returned home. As they had raided the northern reaches of the Spice Isles, Christoph had heard tales of the cargo that ship was rumoured to be carrying. Some men swore it to be a beast, others a mythical creature thought long dead, one old man claimed it to be magical. Whatever it was, the consensus seemed to be that the cargo was alive, dangerous, but (more importantly to the Cruel Maiden and her crew) valuable. A merchant princess he and the captain had dined with (and Christoph had later spent the night with) on Skiafos hinted that she might be interested in such a prize and would be willing to reimburse any honest trader that could bring it to her. Christoph believed that where there was one buyer, there would be many and his captain agreed.

Captain Morgan had set their sights for Trios immediately. They had made good time, considering they had been sidetracked twice when crossing paths with trading vessels. Opportunities too good to pass up. Now their holds were close to overflowing with silks, spices, soft wools, and other items to trade. Morgan was a forward thinking man and, where possible, stole paperwork along with any goods they found in a ship’s hold. Where that was not possible, the Maiden was riddled with secret compartments and hideaways.

Christoph had ordered the black flag they flew to be replaced with one from the Salt Isle a day before they were in sight of land. Now, as they entered the bay, he could see there was no dock space available for them. It did not matter, in fact it worked to their advantage. While the Captain kept the port officials busy, Christoph could slip ashore and start investigating the validity of the rumours concerning the Argus and her cargo. As soon as the Maiden was anchored, Christoph gathered a small crew, donned his waistcoat and coat, and they made their way to shore.

He was questioning a seasoned sailor when he heard the first scream. His hand went instantly to his sword hilt before he thought better of it and took his dagger in hand instead. Christoph ordered his crew to search the crowd while he went to seek out a higher vantage point.

[Taerra Firma]

Dr. Olympia Masterson was not a woman to be easily intimidated or discouraged. She had been through enough in her life to be secure in her ability to forge ahead, despite adversity. So it was with hardly a thought that she left her coach at the top of the hill and walked alone toward the busiest part of the docks. There was a faint hitch in her stride, but only noticeable if a person was looking quite close. She barely noticed it any longer, and the silver topped cane in her hand was more for just in case than necessity.

She had come to the dock to check up on several of her patients who had returned to work there. She was most interested to know how the false limbs she had fitted them with were working when put to increasingly heavy use. In addition, there was a rumor floating around among her contacts at the harbor that a rather unusual bit of live cargo was coming in on the Argus. There were hints that it was a inhuman monster from a far off land. Olympia did not believe in monsters, but she was intensely curious about new species discovered in far off places.

She had given in to curiosity and traveled out to the harbor today, instead of her usual day, hoping for more substantiation of the rumor. Now she drew near where she had been informed the Argus was docked, and there was screaming. It seemed to be drawing nearer, but the many buildings and close quarters. Perhaps a hundred yards away, or more, there was a disturbance in the crowd. People were jumping out of the way, and the shrieks were louder. Where there were screams, there might be injuries. Olympia grasped her cane more firmly and barrelled ahead into the scattering crowd, her limp becoming more pronounced as she hurried.

[Shine]

Trios was far too cold. Portia's fists were buried in her pockets, her gaze fixed on the open window. The harbormaster's office was a modest shack in the large buracratic building filled with halls, offices, paperwork, and very few sailors. This chaotic corner of the city was where policies were decided, captains came to declare their intentions, and trade practices implemented. Worst of all, it was a democratic process. Portia disliked being here but the harbormaster had insisted on her making her presence known. By this he of course meant standing in the middle of the room, nodding occasionally, and staying quiet but present. Politics were the devil's own invention.

"--Portia!" The adviser's gaze turned in the direction of the harbormaster's voice. Currently the young man was buried behind a mountain of paperwork and surrounded by a haze of cigar smoke and politicians who fancied themselves to be sailors.

"Harbormaster?" She asked lightly. The room was quiet. She hadn't been paying attention and all eyes were fixated on her. If it was so important that these men who love the sound of their own voices should quiet suddenly, then...

"The Argus has just docked. I need to meet the captain immediately. Escort him here, would you?" He fumbled through some papers and handed off one fresh looking sheet to an appeasar. The man hurriedly walked it over to Portia and she glanced it over. It detailed the location, a description of the captain, and...Portia tucked it away. That's all she needed for the moment.

"With haste, sir." An excuse to excuse myself. Portia turned on one heel and faced the window. She sprinted towards it with no hesitation and the practiced ease of experience. Her legs coiled and she jumped through the open window, soaring. The cold, biting wind sliced through her layers of clothing and the adviser landed with a loud thud that cracked the shingles unfortunate to be under her boots. Over her shoulder she heard the rambling and arguing continue, with the harbormaster's voice yelling out towards her. "PORTIA! REMEMBER THE CAPTAIN HAS--" Portia was sprinting before he started the sentence. Her sprint was interrupted occasionally by jutting chimneys or poor footing but she was accustomed to this city. She knew it's roofs, which were more reliable than the streets below or the people who scurried across. She didn't deny she just enjoyed the acrobatics of it as well. Jumping from the closely nestled rooftoops to and fro, Portia soon found herself at the docks.

That's when she heard the screaming. In the direction of the Argus. Portia dropped down to the cobblestone street with a light thud and began her sprint towards her mark.

[SailorKat]

The people seemed to fly by him as he ran as fast he could to the nearest police station by the docks. What he had seen back was almost terrifying for him, he had no idea what they were thinking bringing something like that on board a ship as cargo. Conner didn't even know what it was.

It had happened while he was delivering a message to a kindly old shopkeeper named Agatha Kingsly. He was her favorite messenger boy and she would always try to tip him more than he was supposed to get. He came up to her shop and said, "Hello Miss Kingsly, how has the business been doing?"

She smiled at him and replied, "It's been good, not as many customers as yesterday, but still an average number."

"That's good miss. You're the first person I've delivered to this entire day, and I was about to get bored from all the waiting. A customer is still a really good sign, and it's better here than at the factories," he said. It was true, working a shop could sometimes seem like a breeze compared the factories where his father worked.

"You're thinking about your father's work the factory, am I right?" she asked, but it sounded to Conner like she already knew. She sometimes did that, and when Conner asked, she would just reply with saying that her age has perks to it.

He didn't ask and said, "Yeah I was. I am worried that they may run him ragged." He sighed; he worried about that on several occasions.

"I don't think your father would want you to spend your time worrying about him," she replied in a kind voice.

"But it's not fair. My mum and dad work just as hard if not more hard in a day than most of those guild members do in a month," he said partly frustrated.

"I know that life can seem frustrating sometimes Conner, but there are still great things about you that makes you a great person. You're kind and fun. You work hard and you are very loyal. Those are qualities that are missing in a lot of people who are more fortunate, so that makes you special, never let anyone tell you otherwise."

Conner smiled. Mrs. Kingsly was such a sweet and kind old lady. "Thank you, Mrs. Kingsly."

Agatha reached for her purse, and pulled out several shiny coins to tip him with. Again he tried to tell her that it was too much, but she wouldn't hear, so he took the coins and gave her another smile. "Thank you Mrs. Kingsly."

He said his goodbye and left her shop. He walked around the docks to take a look at some of things shipped in from other lands. It was then that it happened, the horrible creature appeared before his eyes and he was nearly paralyzed with fear.

The memory of the encounter was terrifying for him and he tried to focus on getting to the police station as fast as he could. He saw the building come into view as he maneuvered his way through the throng of people, and nearly burst through the police station. He was hunched over gasping for air and saw that everyone looked at him like he was some wild person.

"T...t..there is a monster running loose on the docks!" he managed to get out before needing to take more huge gulps of air.

There was an instant of silence in the crowded waiting room, and then everyone burst into laughter. “A monster at the docks, boy?” A crusty old man gave him a lopsided grin from his seat by the door. “Couldn’t you come up with a more interesting tale? Mermaids now, that’s the ticket, boy, if you know what I mean.” He gave Connor a wink.

“Alright, that’s enough!” A sharp voice cut through the laughter and chatter.

A tall, lanky man leaned in the doorway of an office off to the left. “He’s entitled to make a report, same as anyone.” He eyed Connor and jerked his head towards the office. “Come here, kid. And calm down. Panic never helped anyone.”

Conner took time to take massive gulps of air and catch his breath. He looked at the tall man and walked over to him. He had been worried that they may not believe his story, and it almost stopped him coming here. But he had too, otherwise who knew what type of damage that thing would cause.

"There is a monster at the docks, sir" he said with a more calm voice now. He hoped that this officer would believe him, otherwise he would be just making himself look like a fool.

Casey Ferras straightened from his slouch, but his slight smirk didn't change. "Kid, there's monsters everywhere, and unfortunately most of them look like men. You're going to have to be more specific. What's happening at the docks?" His gray eyes were focused on the boy, but the gears in his head were already turning. Shift change was an hour ago. There were four officers in that area right now. Mornings weren't generally a problem, so coverage was light. He'd have to go, as well, if the situation was as dire as the boy said.

Conner tried to think of some type of description of the horrible beast to give to the officer, but he couldn't, it had happened so fast and he had been so terrified that he didn't really get a good look at the creature.

"All I can really tell you sir is that it's big, and it's terrifying" he replied. That was pretty much all he could give as description of the monster, and if he didn't get this man to believe him, who knew how much damage that horrible creature could cause.

The smirk disappeared, and Casey’s voice grew lower, but harder. “Listen boy, I don’t give a damn whether it was purple with pink polka dots. I asked what. Happened.” Casually, he hooked a thumb in his belt, on which hung his sword-breaker and a neatly coiled whip. “I’m not running into a situation blind, you understand? That kind of crap gets you killed. Now, where was the thing at? Were there efforts to contain it? Is there anyone hurt?” It was probably just a new curiosity for the Menagerie that got loose, but no less dangerous for all that.

"I can't really tell you sir, I was at the docks and I heard screams so I guess a few people may have been hurt, and as far I could see there was no effort to contain it. Again it happened so fast, and I ran to get here as quick as possible. Look the more time we spend here talking, the less time we have to stop the thing before it causes serious damage, so I don't see how this is not enough for you to come help stop this thing," Connor said almost frustrated.

This interrogation was making everything take longer, and it was making him more impatient.

“Above all else, keep calm,” Casey admonished the boy. “Come along then. And I hope you’re not afraid of horses.” With that, the Captain strode to the front doors and pushed through. A stableboy stood there with a tall grey gelding. Casey swung into the saddle and leaned down to catch Connor’s arm and toss the boy behind him. Kicking the horse into motion, he dodged in and out of pedestrian and cart traffic, headed for the docks.

Conner was nervous, he didn't like the idea of riding horses, but he tried as hard as he could not to show it while they headed for the docks. He just hoped that they would get there as quick as possible, he didn't want even think what might happen if that thing beast got away.

- - - Updated - - -

It was feeding time. Once every Sun, they would come down into the dark wooden place where he was kept. They shoved bits of dead meat through the small holes in his box. He hated the taste of it, but there was nothing else. They were afraid of him. He liked it that way, but he didn’t move when they came any longer. After the first few Suns, when he’d raged and smashed himself against the wood, tearing at any of them that came close, they stopped feeding him anything. Exhaustion seeped in; hunger a constant companion.

He lost track of the Suns. Time was different down here, when he could not see the sky. They were moving, he knew that much. The Sea lapped against the other side of the wooden wall. The air was saturated with salt. Sometimes he wondered if and when the journey would end. If it was a journey.

The end no longer mattered. He spent countless spans simply staring at his claws. Would the Sea take him? Would the Sea embrace him? Bring him to peace?

The door opened and closed. They were gone. To leave him in torment. And peace.

*****

The movement stopped. Distantly, he heard the cries of gulls. Land! Was he home at last? The small flare is hope is more painful than resignation. No, he cannot hope. He cannot feel. Instead he placed his nose at the slit, breathing deep of fish and smog and filth. Nothing like the sharp pine of home. Involuntarily, he stiffened, his body demanding a stretch he cannot have.

The box squealed at the pressure. He kicked the side. A gap where there was none before! Suddenly in a frenzy, he kicked and rocked the box from side to side, until it failed. Sprawled out on musty straw, he panted, exhausted. A shaft of light leads him to an exit. He jumped up onto the topdeck, but ducked behind a pile of boxes before he could be seen. Staring out across the wide expanse of water, he can almost taste freedom. Oh, if only he could sprout wings, escape would be easy.

PAIN. His shoulders burned, the skin stretching, tearing. Tears streamed from his eyes. Tried to stand, failed. His mind was confusion as it tried to sort out sensations from two new limbs. He tried again and stood, though shakily, and stared in horror at the black leathery monstrosities that had sprouted.

“Monster!” someone screamed. The word echoed like wildfire and he saw he was no longer unnoticed.

“No!” he howled in despair. Instinctively he flapped the wings he shouldn’t have, lifting himself off the deck. He flung himself at the dock, landing in a heap. Screams echoed in his ears as he ran. He curled the useless things up to keep from tripping.

Someone tried to throw a net on him. He dodged, hearing curses mingle with the screams. Why, oh, why had the Alpha ever agreed he should go with those men? “You will represent the Clans,” he said.

There had been no negotiations. Only pain, and ---his mind shied away from those thoughts. He ducked into an alleyway, leaving his pursuers behind. A door was slightly open about halfway down the wall. He opened it wider to accommodate his wings and slipped in.