|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Fri Oct 26, 2007 2:34 am
 Far Side of the World: (..and they said it was flat. Pfft.)- The Vanstring & Daithes Adventures -
Having been blown far off course in the most recent of a series of storms hosting high galeforce winds, the two man crew of the 'Rescue' had found themselves - well, in a blunt sense of the term - utterly & royally ******** in all canvas and striking anything not nailed to the deck into the sloops hold - this included the mast itself - the two men having secured the rudder in place, took refuge within their cabins and hoped to the high heavens that their little bath-toy of a ship survived the elements that roared about them. Looking out of the porthole in his quarters, Myere watched as they escaped one trauf, rolled and rocked violently up the next wave, crested and pitched headlog into the next trauf that trapped them between multitudes of 98ft. waves. It was what riding a firework would be like, he thought. A seemingly endless spiral that came to an abrupt halt.
Then one night, as they rested in their bunks - Myere's Halt finally came. With a jolt that threw Vanstring from warm sheets, to the ceiling and back towards the cold water-soaked floors, the sloop was capsized and all went dark. No lantern burned, no sounds were heard, they dared not breathe. The idea of death surrounded them both. All was black and for a time, they swam with the fishes of Davy Jones Locker as the waters rose and the 'Rescue' sank.
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-
All at once, life came back in brilliant technicolor. It was day now, and Myere awoke to a mouthful of saltwater and seascum. He was lying upon a sandy beach - the perfect kind you only hear about in folklore. Sitting up, he made out the wreck of the Zephyr Sloop. The 'Rescue' lay about a mile down the beach, wreckage drifting up along the way.. as if guiding him back to his boat. Getting to his feet, Vanstring strolled wearily down the beach. Stroll became walk, walk became a hasty jog, jog became run and the run became a full out sprint. Had Vincent survived? He had to find him.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Oct 26, 2007 11:55 am
Vincent, in his madness, had attempted to overcome mother nature and tried to steer the ship clear of the storm. He had been thrown clear of the vessel as it had been smashed to pieces upon a reef and sunk. He had been sent adrift for two days, both of which where in a state of unconsciousness and deathly dreams.
He arrived sometime on solid ground in the pitch dark. He had lost all hope in himself. It was only the sight of his chest washing upon the shore that allowed him to regain assurance that he would survive.
He could've sworn he saw Morgan sitting on it.
---
He was in the midst of toying with the knobs of his 'Diaro' that he caught sight of Myere. While doubting his sight, as he almost always did nowadays, he called out.
"VAAAAAAAANSTRING? HAS THE DOC'S GHOST SAVED YOU, TOO?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Oct 30, 2007 8:06 pm
Hearing the bellowing water logged man down the beach, Myere began to run towards him... or at least stumble towards Vincent. As he drew closer towards Daithes, his foot became tangled in some wreckage. Falling head over heels, he lands beside Daithes and looks over at him with a stupid grin on his face.
"So... this is Hell. Not bad compared to what I'd expected. We are dead aren't we?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Oct 31, 2007 12:02 pm
He glared at Myere, and then chuckled.
"No, I don't think so. However we are marooned upon this Isle until we find a means of water transportation, or settlement. Morgans' boat is gone, and my Diaro isn't getting any signals. Perhaps we should set-up shelter, or should we just sit it out?"
Vincent continued to tinker with the radio. Nothing. In his desperation, he even hit a few times. No luck. It looked like the two were going to be spending a decent amount of time surviving this tropical hell.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Nov 13, 2007 9:09 pm
"Aye, sir. Building a means of protection from this blasted sun would be in our best interests at this point. As for a means of transportation... from what I'm seeing of the wreckage that has come ashore - with teamwork and a little spit and polish, we might be able to build a small craft out of the debris.
Yes, thinking over it now... we might be able to salvage some nails from the deck beams that drift ashore. All we really need to do is find a deep stream that we can build the hull in. When we're finished, we can re-float the rechristened craft and have a means of scooting about these waters - wherever we are...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Nov 15, 2007 5:48 pm
"Yes, good point there. It seems some barrels have run aground; we could use them to make the vessel float. We best be using rocks for hammers. Any arms we have on our persons will be dedicated to kill our food. I'll see if I can find a few coconut trees, we will need to braid ourselves some rope..."
Vincent starred out into the horizon; the sun beating down on their backs. It would be awhile before they made any advancement into their journey.
---
Three months pass...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
