In the Pale Moonlight...
It was the sound of footsteps over uneven, pathless terrain that had been the first thing the Captain’s fog clouded mind focused upon. Though, he knew that could not be right. The snap of a twig, the crunch of leaves, the tumbling of debris before each step. None of this equated to the hold of his ship. “The ship..” A mental echo confirmed this as if it were truth. The place where he belonged. Yet, as other senses came into “focus”, he knew he was not surrounded by the refined timber of the Leviathan’s hold, but the natural splendor of a forest, though not the sort he traveled so often. As a shipwright, timber was the backbone of building. This was not the sturdy pine he knew, this forest held wood of more arid soils. Acacia and the tell tale bark of white cedar only further sought to add to the confusion of the situation. “I’m moving..” The stark realization came as a spot he had focused upon grew near, then passed. “How is this..?” Though he willed for his lips to part and call for Lok or Vorrtar, his jaw would not drop, his tongue would not shape words. His body had betrayed him, and no voice would come, just as surely as his steps would not cease this undead like trudge through the unfamiliar landscape. His head would not even drop to confirm what he knew to be the strangest fact of all. Though his extremities were numb to the elements and what lay under foot, he knew enough to tell his body had been stripped of clothing. It was an odd sensation to be so exposed, yet not be able to cover his bare state. Panic had begun to set in. This foreign surge of emotion had been one the captain trained his entire life to suppress, yet he had never been so out of his control and so entirely sure this was not some fever dream. There was no way to be sure of this, of course, but his mind knew it to be fact. It was the voice that called out from the beyond that eased that flood of fear and anxiety from his body. A melodious, wordless song like that of a fabled siren that caused his eyelids to droop unbidden, and for his steps to hasten that much more in the direction it seemed to be come from. It was female, and to him it said “It is okay. I will protect you” even if he was unsure why he took it as such. The full moon cast down his path continually, giving him just enough light to make out his path, yet as cloud cover came in and blocked out the light, the scenario changed. It seemed whatever was tugging his body along knew the way without the advantage of sight, but it was the red sets of eyes that nearly made the fear return. Amongst the trees, and unnoticed before lied dozens upon dozens of sets of red, burning eyes that held no insight to what was behind them. They did not move, and no sound overpowered that of the song, yet he felt they followed his every step. The song grew ever louder, drawing his steps that much faster. The steady red orbs became streaked with the illusion of speed, only for a striking pair of blues to break the black and give him a moment of mental pause. A name was called out mentally, yet his lips would not form the words to call out to his trusted friend to save him from this march, and for a moment, he felt the steps slowing, and his dull senses begin to sharpen. Control was returning, and for a moment he might of broken the strings that tugged him along. Yet, it was as the clouds parted, and light returned that the origin of the song was called into view. The surge was lost, and subjugation took full effect. A vision of feminine perfection stood in the middle of the clearing, slowly curling her arms in a gesture of “come hither” towards the body of the captain, all the while her lips parted in the most beautiful music he had ever heard. Flee was no longer a thought, only obedience, to which he had no say in anyway. Those traitorous legs marched him further until he could make out the dark of the woman's eyes before him. Though he knew her to be beautiful somehow, the features of her were distorted. He could not make out the ridge of her nose, or the wonder of her lips. It was as if he was taking the proclamation of unfathomable beauty as fact without question. He loved her, yet he did not know her from a stranger on the street. “I knew someone would come to listen to me sing..” Somehow she spoke without the song ever ceasing. It had faded into the background, but even as he lips formed words unnatural of the melody, it was ever present. An almost ethereal hand reached out towards him with the grace of a dancer, finger drawing in a spot around the right side of his collar bone. “Would you be my champion, Drahmin Maune? Would you serve, so that I may free you from all of your sins? Let me wash away your pain, my love. Let me give you the means to forget those that hurt you..and strengthen your resolve so that it may never, happen again..” That single digit moved up towards his lips, tracing them in a slow, thoughtful pattern as she moved near. After one pass, the lips moved for the first time. Though he could not hear himself say it, he knew he had agreed to her wishes. It was the first time mind and body had been in concert. Though he knew this to be unnatural, he did not care. Whatever she was selling, he was buying, and as she smiled, he felt he had made the right decision. It was then that she leaned in, first pressing her lips softly against his own. A mixture of joy and arousal coursed through his veins, pumping life into limbs he had thought limp. Though they would not move to embrace her as he wished, feeling was now there. It was an electrical sense, unlike anything he had felt in his life prior. She pulled away, tilting her chin down, then pressing her lips to a spot at his collar bone she had first made contact at. Drahmin had expected much of the same as the first. This time however, he was wrong. There was no rush of warmth, only the icy chill of the grave, followed by much, much worse. The pain was not something spoken words could not describe. It was the embodiment of agony. A searing sort that felt as if the very spot she had kissed the second time was flame, yet as fire would eventually sear nerves, there was no such relief for him here. Drahmin wanted to fall to his knees, to scream, yet nothing would happen still. Instead, the head tilted back and looked towards the moon. The song was gone now. Even amidst the pain, he found himself longing to hear it again. “Go forth, my champion..my love. Do as you will…” With every word, a feeling of strength surged through the fibers of his muscle. It was agony still, yet in a beautiful sort. Through the fire, he felt a purpose rise from his depths. Clouds moved to cover the moon again, bringing with them the song of his mistress. The eye of this maelstrom passed over, and in this he felt solace like he had never known. “Go forth..” The moons rays vanished into darkness once more and with it, his consciousness faded to the whisper one final time. “Go forth..” ------ Drahmin did not awake with a startle or a cry. Instead, eyes fluttered open to reveal the warm light of his cabin. “CaPtaIN! CApTAin! CoVORTiNG iS a FoOT! ComE! coME!” He could hear the heavy steps of his orcish brother as he stomped down the plank of the ship in a rush to see the marvels of the “spinny spinny” as he called it. Blankets fell as the captain arose into a sitting position. For a moment, he figured he had been alone, but one glance to the side revealed the small figure of Lok, sitting in a chair, knitting. Many things struck Drahmin at once. Lok never just was sitting in his room, and since when did armor take up such a hobby as knitting. If he had to guess, it was a blanket. “What are you doing in here, Lok?” To which, the ever evasive armor baby called back “The same thing you are..” The damnable ethereal was born of snark, to which the Captain rolled his eyes. A dull ache pulsed from his collar bone, which the Captain raised his hand to. “I must of fell, did we take a second attack?” Lok said nothing, just continued his knitting with blue orbs down cast. “Master Vorrtar says it’s time to witness the excellent breasts. We must be going!” Drahmin raised his hand to stop the creature, but it was no use. The blanket was stuffed into his coat, and the armor moved up the stairs and out of the cabin. “Fuckin’ oddball. How do I always end up with the odd balls..” The captain turned and plopped back on the bed, arms moving to rest over his forehead. “It was just a dream..” Yet even as he said this aloud, something inside told him “no, it was not.” He felt different, something had happened, and while it could've been a bump to his head, he knew deep down it was so much more than that. Drahmin closed his eyes and took a deep breath, allowing control to once again wash over him. When the blankets were tossed off, Drahmin stood and looked himself over in the mirror. All seemed to be in order. His left hand brushed over the ache in his chest, finding nothing to be visually different about it. “Just a dream..” As he readied himself to rise, a tune whistled past his lips. A familiar tune that for some reason..he just couldn’t place.