HazmatMedic — Roleplayer Guild

The sight of the boat was disturbing, to say the least. Naqah's fishermen rarely went beyond the shallow waters - the pirates never bothered them unless there were shipments going in or out. The locals were not used to such savagery.

It wasn't long before a detachment of the Royal Regiment came to investigate the ship and disperse anyone who had come to see it. It was a sorry sight. Corpses scattered everywhere, the ship was in tatters and the flag of the pirates was flapping away, taunting both the suvivors and the Regiment.

"Alright, lads, let's not lose our heads" the Captain of the assembled Warriors said, his voice firm "When we get on board, the firstthing we do is search for survivors. Niraph is just down the road - if you find anyone, take them back to the baracks there. Then search the ship for salvage - find anything useful and recover it. Finally, we give these poor sods a quick funeral. No one should ever have to see this. Are we agreed?""
A mumble of agreement came the lips of each soldier. This was disheartening. They'd take duelling with Wildlings over this any day.

The men scrambled aboard and instantly, half of them cursed
"Fomorii! (Demons!)"
Many had heard legends about the grey-skinned creatures that lived in the east. They were strong, intelligent warriors, who turned anyone who got close enough into one of them. If something had taken these creatures down, perhaps something even more terrifying dwelled in the water.
"Gentlemen, please. Surely you don't believe in a bunch of myths and legends?" the Captain quickly regained control of the situation "If there are Fomorii on board, do not harm them. They will be weak and confused. A true Warrior never strikes a weaker soldier first. Now, spread out. Let's see if any of these beasts survived"
And with that, the soldiers began to search the boat.

"I got a live one!" A young guard looked at the Succubus with a mix of fear and curiosity. His scimitar was drawn, but he held it in a defensive stance, ready to strike if the demon made for him.
"Are you okay, demon? Are you hurt?" the guard nervously whispered. "What happened here?"

"Big Fomorii!" the call rang out from the other end of the ship. Two guards studied the Nephilim carefully, watching for any offensive manouvres. One was fairly young, with short blonde hair and a handsome face. The other was slightly older, with a full goatee and jet black hair.
"It looks badly hurt" the older one noted
"Perhaps we should just kill it" the younger one responded "it would be more merciful"
"More merciful? I don't think you know what mercy is."
"You want to let him starve to death? Or die of exposure?"
"No, I want a healer to look him over. We make sure he isn't beyond saving before we stick a sword through his gullet."
"I wonder..." the blonde one ponders for a moment, then says, in the Common Language "Demon. Can you speak? Do you understand what I'm saying?"
The bearded guard simply looks at the Nephilim and awaits a response.

"Another survivor!" a female Warrior looks at the Imp with genuine warmth in her eyes. She kneels down, brushing her brown hair out of her eyes in the process
"Rough journey, huh, little guy? It's alright, you're safe now."

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