Prophecy

Endure and Survive

Jackson

A thin beam of dull orange light penetrated the darkness of the apartment as Jackson parted two shutters in the blind, his narrowed eyes watching the streets below intently. Red and blue lights, accompanied by the perpetual noise of sirens, disrupted the often tranquil area while harsh rain beat down upon service personnel. Tree branches swayed in a breeze that Jackson felt faintly upon his skin, and their leaves were caught in a frenzy of nature, littering the roads and turning them into shimmering paths of green. A smell lingered in the air, but what it was could not be defined in a single word. It was the smell of wet pavement and freshly cut grass, intertwined with the overwhelming stench of gasoline and burning wood. It was a sinister combination that made Jackson's stomach turn, yet he could not pull himself from the window. He was so close that the glass fogged over due to the heat of his breath, but nevertheless he wiped it clean and continued to watch.

Below the window that he stood at an ambulance was stationed, it's parking slightly askew, causing one wheel to ride the curb while its back end ventured into the opposite lane. Its lights cycled from red to blue and the back doors were open, but - to Jackson’s relief - no siren could be heard. On the roof leaves had already began to settle and deep puddles at the edges of the road now claimed the rubber of its wheels. If he hadn't known better Jackson may have thought that it had been there for weeks, even months. It looked abandoned in the street, left to be retaken by nature; however soon enough four people emerged from the flats next door. Between them they carried a stretcher, but the face of whoever lay on top of it was obscured by the paramedics and rain from the building storm. After hastily securing the stretched in the back, two of the four paramedics hurried to the front of the vehicle, their clothes soaked through as they hopped inside. Then, as the siren shattered what little silence there had been, it sped up the street and took a sharp right out of sight.

Jackson sighed, pulling away from the window slightly. For a moment he simply watched rain droplets roll down the glass, but soon even that began to irritate him so he stepped back and allowed the blinds to clatter back into place. His hands bawled up into fists and he hammered the wall out of frustration. In the distance another siren blared in to life, but he wasn’t interested in seeing where it came from. He scratched his head irritably and paced back and forth, his toes sinking into the fresh carpet under-foot. To his left Erica sat on the sofa watching television. The news played out, illuminating the otherwise unlit room. A man was talking on-screen, ashen faced and above all else tired looking. He described the overwhelming number of patients being reported at local hospitals, but never went into detail. Whether that was by choice or not remained unclear. Jackson watched for a moment longer, hoping to hear something more than the vague updates being spoon-fed to the Anchor. Yet more numbers were listed, but nothing that helped Jackson understand what was going on.

While he listened something caught his attention on the kitchen counter. His phone. A small red light in the top left of the screen flickered insistently; a signal that he had missed a call. He furrowed his brow, wandering who would call him at such an hour. Possibly a family member who had forgotten the time difference, it wouldn't be the first time. Hoping to distract himself Jackson made his way into the kitchen, his hand intentionally brushing the top of Erica's arm as he did so. The cold tile floor sent a shiver down his spine as he approached the counter and gripped the phone in one hand; the screen lighting up and revealing the missed call. It was from Matthew, a friend who lived only a few blocks away. He went to press on the icon that would allow him to listen to any messages left when a flurry of chilling air raced up the sleeves of his shirt, seizing his body with shock for a moment.

"Bloody window," he muttered, reaching for the window over the sink and pulling it too with force. This window faced a different way to the one in the living area, instead overlooking houses towards the outskirts of town. If anything the storm had become more vicious in the few seconds it had taken Jackson to reach the kitchen. Clotheslines could be seen in distant gardens, the wire pulled taught by the wind and the clothes on them drenched as they flailed about on the brink of coming loose. Even deckchairs and shed roofs were claimed by the gale, tumbling across gardens and splintering the wood of fences. "It's crazy out there," Jackson called to Erica, re-emerging from the kitchen a minute later with a packet of crisps in hand. “Seriously, I wouldn't be surprised if that's what all these ambulances are about."

He took a seat next to her, pulling open his packet of crisp and allowing the smell of salt and vinegar to consume the area. Then he placed his feet over on the coffee table and reclined into the soft fabric of the sofa. The same dreary looking man was still reporting on the number of casualties, the screen occasionally changing to a young woman who stood outside of the A&E department doors at a nearby hospital. The storm was obviously causing technical difficulties though, as the sound or display would often cease to work. It wasn't until a few minutes later that the screen cut to black for a moment, plunging the room into complete darkness. Jackson instinctively reached for Erica's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He assumed that there had been a power cut, but almost as soon as the thought had occurred to him a blue screen lit the room one more. Across the top of the screen it read 'EMERGENCY BROADCAST' in bold red letters, and below was more writing; smaller and gradually shifting across the screen to make way for the long string of words.

"What on earth is this all about?" Jackson said, sitting up and leaning in so that he could read what was on the screen. He had trouble though, the words disappearing off the edge before he could make sense of them. Turning to Erica he spoke, perhaps a little too impatiently. "What does it say? What does the writing across the screen say, Erica?"

Endure and Survive

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Zombie Apocalypse RP (M/F preferably female)

The title says it all really, I'm looking for someone who wants to start a zombie RP. I'd prefer a female as I find that it usually adds a more interesting dynamic to the story, but male is fine as well. The plot of the story (characters, location etc.) are something I'd talk about with anyone interested because I don't like the idea of one person having a set story-line to begin with... or having a set story-line at all.

I'm looking for quality writing and at a decent length. If you're interested I'll want to see a sample of your writing - simply because in the past I have found that I write far more than the people I RP with. Of course, I'll also give you a sample of mine so that you know what to expect.

I already have an idea as to how the story would start, but I'd love to hear yours. Just shoot me a PM if you think this is something you're interested in.

Blood is Thicker Than Water

Jacob

Jacob slept briefly, but it was plagued by strange dreams filled with dark figures, and the undeniable laughter of a woman. He woke frequently, his forehead and palms sweaty and his heartbeat faster than usual. No amount of alcohol could lure him into a peaceful slumber, so instead his lay awake. Blood. He had seen blood in his dreams, but why? And the dark figures who seemed to stalk his unconscious mind, who were they? What was the laughter, and why did it belong to a woman? These were but a few questions that he asked himself again and again, repeatedly, until he felt exhausted - but not exhausted enough to sleep. No, Jacob was sure that sleep would not find him that night.

The crew member who spoke to him of 'bad omens' was now asleep. The two of them had talked for a while longer, but despite his best efforts Jacob could not persuade him to reveal just what he meant by 'bad omens'. All he mentioned were sharp, piercing teeth and brutal strength. It sounded implausible. Maybe he was mad, he was certainly old enough for it. Perhaps he had been talking nonsense because he was delusional. Jacob could only hope that was the case, otherwise he feared that something terrible would happen. He didn't know what, but in the pit of his stomach there was a tight, anxious sensation that would not leave him. If this old man was right then surely no one was safe?

He didn't dwell on that thought. He felt stupid for even considering the possibility that such a fragile woman could be of any threat. The things that the old man spoke of existed in stories, and stories alone. Out here, in the brutal open waters, the crew of the Lusty Pillager were in their element. They were rulers of the sea, just as kings were rulers of the land. They were pirates, fearing little if anything at all. What happened on-board The Lusty Pillager was decided by its crew, and no mere woman had the power to change that.

With reassured thoughts on his mind Jacob finally managed to open the door into an uninterrupted slumber. He felt his body relax, and his heartbeat slow down to its regular rhythm. Soon he was flying high above the ocean, not in the real world, but in his dreams. The vast ocean reflected the vibrant blue sky, making it shimmer like a diamond by the curl of its waves. It was not just a stagnant body of water, but a flowing, moving mass that could have easily been alive. It was fierce and brutal to the unwary, but Jacob was not unwary. He flew safely above it, admiring it like a fine piece of art while his skin was kissed by the silk clouds around him. The air was fresh - and chilling had the sun not warmed the back of his neck and his outstretched arms. If it were possible Jacob would have fallen asleep as he soared through the sky in pure bliss, but that was not possible, he was already dreaming. So, he settled for an unmatched view and marvelled at its beauty.

***

Jacobs’s eyes were thick with sleep when he woke. For a moment he let the gentle sway of the ship claim him, and he was sure that he would fall asleep once more. He didn't though. Much to his disappointment there were jobs that needed doing, and he would not be ranked very highly by his fellow crew members if he slept through the day. Swinging his legs over the edge of his bed Jacob sat up and wiped his eyes. Around him a few men wandered about, dressing themselves and preparing for the day, and through the ceiling a number of footsteps could be heard. At night the ship sailed slowly, and the captain would often leave it manned by another member of the crew, but during the day it sailed faster; and with speed came more work to be done on deck.

The Mess was still teeming with life as Jacob entered. It was early and most had just woken up. After grabbing a bowl of watered down gruel he sat down next to Smith and a few others, receiving a few firm claps on the back as he did so. Jacob ate as they talked, but listened to everything that was said. Through mouthfuls of food he would occasionally nod in agreement to a statement, or laugh at a joke that was made. However - not the surprise of Jacob - conversation soon turned to the latest arrival on-board the ship.

"Aye... she a beauty that one!" Smith said, much to the amusement of everyone else around him.

"Yer, what would you know ya swab." Someone - Jacob didn't see who - said while he went for another mouthful of gruel. "She had a bag o'er 'er head!"

Everyone burst out laughing, Jacob included. He spat his mouthful of food back into his bowl as he laughed and elbowed Smith firmly in the side while he stood. He could have stayed and talked, but other more pressing issues troubled him. He grabbed another bowl of gruel and took it with him, leaving the Mess. The hallways of the ship were empty, but their wooden panels carried the faint sound of laughter with them so it didn't feel like it. Smith's voice is still present, and if Jacob hadn't lived on The Lustly Pillager for so long he would have thought the man was right next to him. For a second he became paranoid and turned around, just to check that he wasn't, and he wasn't.... Of course he wasn't. Jacob only worried that he would be caught visiting the prisoner.

He wasn't far from the room in which the woman was being kept when he passed an open door. Through it he saw a small group of people huddled around a bed; whoever lay on top of it obscured by their heads and bodies. All of them whispered to each other, some exchanging worried looks between them. Through a gap in the congregation he could see a man kneeling down by the bedside, frequently turning to face those behind him and giving them items to retrieve. A few approached him with jugs of water and clothes torn into thin strips. It looked as if an operation of some kind was being performed, but Jacob knew that no one on-board had those kind of expertise. Jacob moved into the room quietly, setting aside the bowl he carried on a nearby table. He didn't gain any attention as he stood by the edge of the group of men and peered over their heads to see what was going on.

Samuel, a young man not much older than Jacob lay on the bed. His face was deathly pale and his veins were prominent through the opaque of his skin. He seemed to be on deaths door. Sweat rolled down his face and a jumble of slurred words poured from his mouth. His limbs flailed about uselessly, as if they were trying to grab at something with little success. The man who knelt by his side was the so-called doctor. In reality he was just another member of the crew with partial knowledge in the field of medicine. He pressed some damp cloth to Samuel's forehead, and wiped something on the man's neck. It looked like he had some kind of wound on his neck, but it was closed now, and the water must have simply been to clean it.

"What happened?" Jacob whispered to the man next to him. At first he received no reply, the man only continued to watch what was going on intently. However soon enough he was shaken from his daze and regarded Jacob with a frown.

"Poor sod, woke up screamin' so he did." He said, casting a quick glance back to Samuel. "Don't look to good. The doc says he won't make it through the night."

Won't make it through the night?, Jacob didn't understand how such a lethal illness had made its way onto the ship. Crew members had been ill in the past, some had even died at sea; but never before had an illness struck a man down in just one day. Yet not one person seemed to worry about their proximity to Samuel. Surely if they stayed in such close contact with him they too would contract whatever it was that was making him so violently ill. So, grabbing the bowl of gruel and quietly thanking the man who had answered his question Jacob backed out of the room and into the desolate hallways; not fast enough to avoid hearing strained retches and the sound of Samuel paving the floor with the contents of his stomach.

The hallways stayed empty until Jacob reached the door to the woman's makeshift cell. He knew better than to unlock the door right away. She could be waiting for him on the other side, ready to pounce at any moment. Still, he glanced down at the keyhole, furrowing his brow as the key itself hung loosely from the lock. It seemed as if it had been moved and placed back into the keyhole in a rush, but Jacob assumed it to have been someone else on-board the ship who had simply been careless.

He knocked on the door; not entirely sure why, possibly out of respect. He needed to see if the woman was awake or not, but became impatient and spoke regardless. She would be awake, Jacob was sure of it. Captives rarely saw much sleep, mostly due to the sheer terror of what could happen to them.

"I've got some food for you." He said, placing it on the floor and pressing his ear to the wood in an attempt to hear any noise she made. “Are you awake?”

Blood is Thicker Than Water

Jacob

Jacob smiled, but continued to work on raising the sails at the young boys questioned him. He had seen the boy before on the ship, but only briefly in the mess. The Lusty Pillager was large, so large that it was as if it were its own world. Whole days could go by where Jacob might not see some members of the crew. It came as no surprise that he had rarely seen this boy. Most of his time was more likely spent running around after older crew, earning a reputation for himself. That was certainly what Jacob had been doing during his early years. It was a tough initiation, but it was worth it in the long run.

"You should be working, boy." Jacob said, not too bluntly, but not too friendly either. As he said these words it became apparent how differently he spoke to the young boy. He knew why of course. Jacob had come from a family that had once been wealthy and well-educated, and even after all these years no other accent or dialect had rubbed off on him. It was - along with his reputation for hitting his head - one of the things he was famed for aboard the ship.

He continued to unravel a large knot of rope that lay before him at the foot of a mast. However, while he worked he sensed the boy's lingering presence and thought of what to say. Truth be told he knew nothing of this new arrival either. Her face had been obscured by rough fabric as she was hauled aboard, and after that a wooden door had separated them from each other. All Jacob really knew was that she was young. It wasn't just her gentle voice and feisty attitude that told him this, it was the way she moved with a reckless - almost childish - elegance about her. Despite never seeing her walk, he could tell by the soft creaking of the floorboards as they talked only minutes ago. And by her violent, yet tamed resistance as they dragged her away from her home. It didn't matter who you were, Jacob knew that if you twisted your body and threw all dignity aside, you could break free from your captures. Maybe not for long enough to escape, though. She was surely a woman of great wealth.

"She's worth a lot of money, that's all I know." Jacob finally said after unravelling the rope and setting it aside. "Don't go getting yourself into trouble. She's not the friendliest sort either." With a firm clap on the boy's back Jacob nodded to the the crates waiting to be thrown overboard and returned to raising the sails. He didn't want the boy to go and mess around with a captive, so he decided that giving him as little information would leave him uninterested. Surely he wouldn't be foolish enough to speak to her.

* * *

And hour later and the ship began it's voyage into open water, leaving behind a mass of crates and other useless junk in it's wake. It was cold on-deck, but luckily the sea was calm and the wind was steady. The deck itself was dotted with a few crew members who busied themselves with small tasks, and at the helm the captain stood, steering the ship roughly northward. Aside from that all was quiet up top. The majority of the crew were down in the mess, and those who weren't lay in bed and recovered from a tiring day. Jacob was one of those people. His day hadn't been very hard-working, but the days leading up to a kidnapping certainly were and he relished the calm of life on-board the Lusty Pillager when all was going according to plan.

"You spoken to 'er yet, lad?" A voice said from across the room as Jacob lay in bed thinking to himself. It was an old voice that belonged to quite possibly the longest serving crew member aboard the ship. Jacob turned to see the rugged old man sitting up in his bed, his face tired and worn. His name didn't spring to mind.

"Yeah." Jacob said simply, sitting up to face the man.

"She's brings bad omens with 'er, I'll tell you that." The old man shook his head, as if her were remembering something that he wished he hadn't. The lines on his forehead grew deeper his eyes seemed to take on a new, darker shade of their usual brown. Jacob had no idea what he meant by 'bad omens', but it didn't sound good. "I've seen that sort before."

Blood is Thicker Than Water

Jacob

Jacob couldn't help but laugh at the woman's arrogance. Not even the fiercest of enemy ships could best the crew aboard The Lusty Pillager. Still, the threat made his cheeks hot and he felt slight anger claw at the inside of his chest. Surely she hadn't meant for him to hear; but he had. Little did the woman realise that while Jacob was rather forgiving when it came to brash talk such as that of killing the crew, others were not. Smith in particular would not tolerate that behaviour.

Jacob grimaced at the remembrance of just how poorly Smith could treat prisoners. Young, old; male or female, they were all the same to him. Limbs had been broken and blood was often spilled, some never made it out of that room alive. It wasn't something Jacob liked to dwell on. After all, Smith was a superb sailor and a good friend when he wasn't drunk or angry. He had settled in just fine among the crew, joining just a year after Jacob, and in the captain's eyes could do no wrong.

"I mean it, stop with the damn threats or you'll get yourself killed." Jacob said, listening intently as the floorboards creaked slightly before the sound of footsteps moved from one side of the room to the other. Everyone got free from their bindings eventually, but this woman had obviously known a sailor at some point in her life. How else would she have freed herself so quickly? Rising to his feet once again, Jacob walked to the door and leant against. "Impressive," he said, not quite mockingly, but not completely sincere either. "Is your father in the navy?" Jacob laughed, pacing up and down in front of the door. "Sorry, was he in the navy?" He didn't really know if her father had been murdered during the kidnapping, but he wanted to inflict some pain upon her. Was he doing it for his own satisfaction, or for her own well-being? He needed her to think; needed her to stop throwing threats about so openly. If a blow such as that could shut her up then so be it.

On deck Jacob could hear chains rattling and the wooden ramp that connected the ship to the docks beings heaved on-board. They would be departing soon. Before long they would venture into open water, leaving little chance that this woman would ever see her family again. That was if any of them were alive. Jacob was confident, but not certain that the family would be alive. He was essentially the look-out, and for that reason he would never actually enter the residence of a target. What happened inside was none of his business. For all he knew the family may have been tied up in a corner; watching as one by one their members were shot in the head. He had never heard gun shots though, only frantic shouting and the overturning of furniture.

"This has been fun," Jacob said bluntly. "But I really need to go and help on deck. Keep your head down or you're not going to make it to the drop off unharmed. Smith will probably bring you some food later. He is one of those people who you don't want to annoy."
Jacob turned on his heels and walked down the hallway until he reached a set of stairs that lead on deck. The hatch was open and the hushed voices of a few dozen men could be heard above. They had to be quiet so that they didn't attract too much attention. Time was ticking and soon the guards would be on the lookout for them. It was dark too; no other ship in port was lit at this time during the night, so the crew worked in something close to pitch black.

As Jacob ascended the stairs and joined to help two others raise the sails he took in the silent anarchy. Men rushed from port to starboard, pushing crates or dragging netting behind them. Ropes were being untied from the docks and any extra weight that had been accumulated during their stay was now being cast into the water. Above Jacob, only visible by starlight, were crew readying yardarms and checking that everything was in working order. The shuffle of feet was constant, but it was disciplined. The Captain stood at the helm, planning out the route of the journey on a map, his face the essence of focus. No one bothered him, no one dared to. He was supposedly one of the finest captains alive, but he needed his space. If not the ship, along with everyone on board, could end up lost at sea for months.

Blood is Thicker Than Water

Jacob

Jacob stood still for a while, finding comfort in the gentle sway of the ship. In port this sway was hardly noticeable, but out at sea it was strong and could easily throw you out of bed. A smile crept across the young man's lips as he remembered his first few weeks aboard The Lusty Pillager - a strange name for a ship he had thought. Vivid memories of waking up on the floor - battered and bruised after being thrown into furniture during the night - were some of the best he had. It sounded strange, but it was true. Those memories were a testament to the latter part of his childhood and he looked back on them fondly. And of course, there were the long days spent working on deck; occasionally below. Jacob clearly recollected being thrown head first into a cannon and waking up the next day with black eye and swollen lip. It didn’t happen just once either, he had gained quite the reputation for his skirmishes with masts, oars and doorframes. Nevertheless the violent sway of the ship helped him sleep at night, always had, but he didn't want to sleep anymore. No, something had peaked his interest. Jacob's fingers tapped along the wall behind him while he whistled a tune his mother had once sung him. It echoed somewhat down the hall but no one was there to hear it anyway; except the woman.

Through the door a slight struggle could be heard. It was obvious that she was trying to break free from her bindings. Jacob didn't expect anything to come of her little endeavour but a sharp intake of air and a sigh of relief told him otherwise. Strange, he thought, that such a fragile looking woman could break free from a sailor's knots. It had occurred to him that she was strong as they carried her on-deck, but it was nothing to worry about. The door between them was strong. It had seen its fair share of beatings and lived to tell the tale. So, instead of pondering the woman's strength or worrying about her confinement, Jacob continued to whistle his tune. He was mid-way through the chorus when shouted threats met his eardrums, shortly followed by a plea for freedom. It was silly of her to beg a crew member for release, the only man who could authorise that would be the captain - a man who would most certainly not let her go. Jacob had been told the previous day that this girl was worth a very serious amount of money. More money than they had seen in all their life combined, supposedly.

"We're not going to hurt you, don't worry." Jacob said, pushing away from the wall. He stood just in front of the door and sighed before adding, "We're also not going to let you go either." His eyes darted about the hallway, searching for anyone who might be below deck. There was no one. Most of the crew, if not all of them, would be preparing the ship to leave port. Soon the city guards would be alerted to the disappearance of the young woman and the captain did not want to be docked when the happened. "If I was you I'd keep the threats to a minimum. Not everyone aboard this ship is as kind as I am."

After leaving a moment to let the words sink in Jacob paced back to the wall opposite the door and, with his back pressed firmly against it, slid to the floor. He sat with his knees up and rested his arms on top of them. Then, tapping his foot in a steady rhythm he began to whistle the tune from a moment ago, picking up where he left off. Combined with the rocking of the boat and the creaking of floorboards the tune sounded distinctly sinister. He hadn't meant for it to. Occasionally he would whistle an off-key note, at first by accident, and then to spook the woman behind the door. It sent a shiver down Jacob's own spine, he couldn't imagine how she felt. Eventually the tune came to an end and instead of beginning another Jacob leant his head against the wall and closed his eyes. He resumed his appreciation of the gentle rocking and again he cracked a smile. It was astonishing how many parts of a person’s life could be captured by a single movement.

Blood is Thicker Than Water

Jacob

Darkness had long since claimed the sky as a chorus of heavy footsteps trampled rotting planks. Wind swept harshly through Jacob’s hair and sent it sprawling in all directions, but in his haste he made no effort to tame it. His arms ached too, and his back screamed for relief. He wanted to put this load down. He wanted this night to be over. He wanted to have a drink and go to sleep. Instead he continued the walk, eyes fixed steadily on what was in front of him. Behind him and to his side he could hear the panting of the crew; could feel the heat that their bodies radiated upon his skin. They were sweaty, worn out and tired, but beneath all of that they were smug. Every time the muffled voice of their prize called out he sensed them crack smiles and saw them nudge one another. Occasionally Jacob would receive one of those nudges, but he didn't have the energy to respond.

"Nearly there, princess."

Jacob looked up to see Smith gently caressing the fabric over her head, then leaning in and giving it a kiss. Beneath that fabric the head of a young woman shook violently in an attempt to avoid the affection. Jacob heard her scream again, this time louder. Her limbs struggled to break free from the crew’s grip but her desperate attempts at freedom were cut short by a foot in the side. She whimpered. Jacob’s mouth opened as if he was going to say something, but he though better. Arguing with this crew was not wise. They were his friends, yes, but where a young woman was involved they were also known to be savage.

They reached the deck without hearing another scream. One by one crew members began to let the limbs in their hands fall to the floor with a dull thud. Jacob let the wrist that he held fall too, grimacing at the sobbing of the woman it belonged to. His hands reached out and found the railing behind him so he took it in his grasp and leant against it for a while. The deck itself was pitch black, illuminated only by the orange light of the city behind them. Faces were unidentifiable in the darkness, so no one spoke. They simply worked. Her arms were tied first and this was done without protest, then her legs. There was faint laughter as she was hauled off the ground and Jacob followed alongside the men who dragged her below decks.

"Don't worry princess, you'll be just fine." One of the crew said, laughing and slapping the woman’s arse.

It was impossible to tell who it was. The hallway that they walked down was lit - albeit dimly- yet the men faced away from Jacob. He was sure it was Smith. As they walked around a corner Jacob tried to get a better view with no luck. What did it matter? It wasn't long before they reached an open door and, without hesitation, threw the woman inside and slammed the door behind her, laughing all the while. Her head was still shrouded in cloth; her arms and legs still bound. The fall would have been painful, but once the door was locked the crew seemed to lose interest and pushed past Jacob, firmly clapping him on the shoulder and merrily bellowing his name. It took a minute before their voices dissipated, leaving only the sound of waves gently rocking the hull. With a sigh Jacob moved towards the door and leant against the wall opposite, staring at the polished wood and wondering what lay beyond. During the kidnapping he had not seen her face, not even a mere glimpse. Maybe she was pretty.

Blood is Thicker Than Water

THIS IS NOT MEANT TO BE IN OOC


Darkness had long since claimed the sky as a chorus of heavy footsteps trampled rotting planks. Wind swept harshly through Jacob’s hair and sent it sprawling in all directions, but in his haste he made no effort to tame it. His arms ached too, and his back screamed for relief. He wanted to put this load down. He wanted this night to be over. He wanted to have a drink and go to sleep. Instead he continued the walk, eyes fixed steadily on what was in front of him. Behind him and to his side he could hear the panting of the crew; could feel the heat that their bodies radiated upon his skin. They were sweaty, worn out and tired, but beneath all of that they were smug. Every time the muffled voice of their prize called out he sensed them crack smiles and saw them nudge one another. Occasionally Jacob would receive one of those nudges, but he didn't have the energy to respond.

"Nearly there, princess."

Jacob looked up to see Smith gently caressing the fabric over her head, then leaning in and giving it a kiss. Beneath that fabric the head of a young woman shook violently in an attempt to avoid the affection. Jacob heard her scream again, this time louder. Her limbs struggled to break free from the crew’s grip but her desperate attempts at freedom were cut short by a foot in the side. She whimpered. Jacob’s mouth opened as if he was going to say something, but he though better. Arguing with this crew was not wise. They were his friends, yes, but where a young woman was involved they were also known to be savage.

They reached the deck without hearing another scream. One by one crew members began to let the limbs in their hands fall to the floor with a dull thud. Jacob let the wrist that he held fall too, grimacing at the sobbing of the woman it belonged to. His hands reached out and found the railing behind him so he took it in his grasp and leant against it for a while. The deck itself was pitch black, illuminated only by the orange light of the city behind them. Faces were unidentifiable in the darkness, so no one spoke. They simply worked. Her arms were tied first and this was done without protest, then her legs. There was faint laughter as she was hauled off the ground and Jacob followed alongside the men who dragged her below decks.

"Don't worry princess, you'll be just fine." One of the crew said, laughing and slapping the woman’s arse.

It was impossible to tell who it was. The hallway that they walked down was lit - albeit dimly- yet the men faced away from Jacob. He was sure it was Smith. As they walked around a corner Jacob tried to get a better view with no luck. What did it matter? It wasn't long before they reached an open door and, without hesitation, threw the woman inside and slammed the door behind her, laughing all the while. Her head was still shrouded in cloth; her arms and legs still bound. The fall would have been painful, but once the door was locked the crew seemed to lose interest and pushed past Jacob, firmly clapping him on the shoulder and merrily bellowing his name. It took a minute before their voices dissipated, leaving only the sound of waves gently rocking the hull. With a sigh Jacob moved towards the door and leant against the wall opposite, staring at the polished wood and wondering what lay beyond. During the kidnapping he had not seen her face, not even a mere glimpse. Maybe she was pretty.

[Original title] ~ I guess hello will do...

Well good luck :) I'm just managing to get a few RP's set up. I can see myself spending a lot of time on here.