Beach

Alastor eventually washed up, along with the dresser, on a beach of white sand. Surprisingly, the clothes inside the dresser were still dry, so he swapped clothes, put on his jacket, holstered his weapons, grabbed a messenger bag he brought, took what was left, and walked away from the beach, pulling the dresser away from the water.

Away from the beach, and heading inland towards some high yellowed grass and towards the direction of the inland jungle; Alastor would spot a wooden cross was staked in the ground. Past the cross-intangled in fields of grass were the overgrown remains of a straw hut that hadn't seen use in decades. The cross had words written on it-but most of them were faded away. It read: "May you res your h ad u on e shores of the Spirit Realm." And under it was simply: " i a N jiki a". The Cross was tied together by a worn out black leather strap with a button on it with a rusty cross upon it too.

To the right of the small wooden cross on the beach was a path that lead to the jungle-a plume of smoke was lifted above the tree tops...

Looking toward the smoke, he said "Hmm, that looks sorta ominous, but I'm probably gonna check it out anyway, so I better get going." and walked down the path

A pooling black puddle oozed up from behind Alastor. "Glarba Glarba Glarba!" it gurgled, swinging it's pudgy oily arms out at Alastor, knocking him forward.

(was bored, would you like a random battle person following you? )

Alastor glared at the beast, his eyes turning black, and an aura of anger radiated from him. "I'm in a REALLY bad mood now, and if you value your life, you'll leave. NOW." He said in a deep, graveley voice.

"That's better." Alastor said, as he continued forward.

The small raft took some time to paddle over, but thankfully the current was on her side as soon as she got in range of the island. She could see shark-like fish circling in the surf, but they were small and didn't seem interested in her or her dead ''friend'' at the moment. While the waves began to pick up, she could feel the raft drag against the sandy bottom as she hit the shore. She quickly got off the floating debris, untied the dead man and placed him onto the raft before pulling the raft onto the white sandy beach by the rope she had attached to it.

As soon as her floating survival gear was safely secured upon the beach, she dropped onto her back and closed her eyes. She breathed laboured, wheezy breaths, the only other sounds came from the crashing of waves and gulls that were flying in the sky or scavenging what they could from the beach. She inhales a bout of crisp salty air before reopening her eyes. The skies were an amazing blue, but she felt so sure she had never seen such a brilliant blue sky before. "Am I in Hell? Or Paradise?" she says aloud, placing an arm around her eyes. She was wet, tired, hungry and thirsty, especially after puking her lungs out earlier. She removes her arm and tilts her head to her left when she notices the dresser.

Alastor wrote:...pulling the dresser away from the water.

It was such an odd sight. To see a random and beautifully hand carved dresser just sitting in the open beach as if it were normal. Upon closer inspection, she could see drag marks in the sand leading from the surf. The thought of others being on this island made Anne jump to her feet and call out. Whether they be enemy or not, she would be at least grateful that someone was struggling along with her. "Bonjour?! Is anyone around?! I have been shipwrecked! Bonjour..?" She called out, her voice drooping when she saw the bodies. Three more bodies of Imperial Templar troops; one officer and two deck hands; one female the other two male were laying on the beach, drifting with the surf. Anne closed her eyes and stopped calling out. She doubt if anyone would have dragged the dresser and not pull their comrades from the water. Even the Dreadnaught Revenge's crew would have done something with the bodies. She walked up to the dresser, and noticed then the drag marks were not recent.

It is then she notices the cross in the sand, glancing over the top of the dresser and towards the high grass... Anne begins to approach it.

Mina Majikina wrote:Away from the beach, and heading inland towards some high yellowed grass and towards the direction of the inland jungle; ...a wooden cross was staked in the ground. Past the cross-entangled in fields of grass were the overgrown remains of a straw hut that hadn't seen use in decades. The cross had words written on it-but most of them were faded away. It read: "May you res your h ad u on   e shores of the Spirit Realm." And under it was simply: " i a N jiki a". The Cross was tied together by a worn out black leather strap with a button on it with a rusty cross upon it too.

To the right of the small wooden cross on the beach was a path that lead to the jungle-a plume of smoke was lifted above the tree tops...

Noting the cross, the faded letters and the unused straw hut she surmised that this grave was quite old. She traced her hands upon the faded carved markings and felt a wave of sorrow hit her. "This place was sacred for you... but I hope you won't mind some company." Anne says to the grave, closing her eyes and making a soft prayer to the Divine. She stood up opening her eyes and looked away. "Please, forgive me. But I must make use of your hut." she says before walking towards it. Inside it was rather plain and she didn't want to overstay her welcome. Alexandrite's didn't spend the night in the house of someone who was dead that was a complete stranger to them. That was taboo and some believed that the spirit may come back to possess the trespasser; so Anne didn't want to be here longer than she had to be.

After a quick look around, keeping most of the interior intact, she found a shovel and headed back out onto the beach. It took her about an hour to dig four holes deep into the earthy sand beside the grave. She had also dragged the bodies of the four Baratis Empire goons and lays them before the openings. Before she would put them to rest however, she did make sure to strip them of items she could use to aid her in her survival. The Two officers, the man she reeled in from the sea and the woman with her blonde hair down to her back and a great crack that was set deep into her head which must have been what killed her were carrying ammunition and a piece of flint which she took gratefully. The deckhand had a large Whaling Knife which she could use to her advantage; it's surgical sharp blade would allow her to cut foliage and other materials down without having to worry about wearing down the blade of her prized cutlass. The other deckhand had both a hammer and a Musketoon strapped around his shoulder. A useful weapon that was the same calibre as her pistols. She takes the weapon from his body and sets it beside the knife. She pockets the tools, and then searches the pockets of the dead. She found a couple of personal effects, but did not look at them and returned them to their respective owners.

After she was finished, she placed them into the ground and buried them over with the sand she had dug up. After which, she took some of the planks and nails them into crosses with the hammer and stabs them over the tombs of the four dead officers. She made a soft prayer before returning to her gear. She surmised since the grave was buried as far as it was up the beach, that high tide on this island was truly high. Being about 40 feet from the shoreline, she wondered how bad this island must be during the stormy months. She knew right there she couldn't rely on this place forever then. But still, she needed temporary shelter, and that was why she was pulling her raft 40 feet from the water. She combed back her hair with her hands, her bangs still covering over her right eye though despite it all. She realized it would be dark soon, so she had to hurry and build her shelter.

Using the ''raft'' as a makeshift platform to sleep on, she drew most of the sail over as a tent. She untied the barrels and rolled them onto the sand. She had no idea what could be inside them, but two of them were heavy with something inside them. The third definitely contained a liquid of some sort, and starting with that one first she stabbed the whaling knife into the side cork and pulled it off. Oil rushed from the barrel and onto the sand. Quickly, Anne rotated the barrel and corked it back up. "Well now, I guess that's how I'll be burning my fire tonight." she says to herself before checking the other two. When she stabbed into them, she found one barrel to be Fracenian Wine, while the other was a barrel of Rum likely from Baratis it self. She began laughing at the sight of plundering alcohol from the Empire's ships, because neither of these barrels were on her ship, they would have already been used up knowing how her crew drank, let alone herself. But she supposed she would ration what she had, but before that... As the wine flowed out in an arch she brought her lips to the hole and swallowed a couple gulps. It was definitely from the Gildashire province! This thought made her quite happy, for the time being at least.

She corked up the alcohol barrels and started work on the fire. She really needed to dry out her guns and her clothes, or they wouldn't work properly or she'd catch hypothermia. Placing planks inside a stone circle she took some oil from the barrel onto a small cloth and rubbed the planks with it before taking out the flint and the whaling knife. She brought it down to the fire pit and struck the flint against the knife. Sparks flew, and after a few more strikes the fire was lit. She strung some of the rope between two planks Anne embedded deep into the sand and began taking off her clothes. Her boots she placed on the other side of the fire, two things she couldn't stand was squelching boots and wet feet. She then took off her gloves and bracelets, placing them beside her boots as well. As for her dress, she felt a tad flushed removing the item. She was surely hoping to be alone, only left in her silken briefs. She held her bare torso after hanging her dress on the line, just safely so it wouldn't catch fire but still get dry.

She bit her lower lip. She didn't like the idea of roaming the island topless and in her undergarments. She looked to the sail and took the whaling knife and tore through the cloth. Soon she was able to produce a tube top like garment which she wrapped around her bodice and tied tightly for support and with no chances of slippage. She also made a sarong which she tied around her hips and took strips of sail as well as leather from the officer's pouches to make makeshift half socks around her feet to protect the arch of her feet as she would progress into the jungle. She took her sword, placed the leather belt which held it and her scabbard so that she could draw the cutlass from her back and took the leather sheath from the whaling knife and attached it to the belt that now looped around her shoulders and across her abdomen. "I feel better now that my charms are intact and that I don't have the salty wind beating down upon me." she blushed, scowling slightly. That would have been something Patrick would have said. That damned Ulster bastard... she sometimes missed Bonnie's lover, the former Master Gunner of the Dreadnaught's Revenge. He had a crude sense of humour at times, but he was a good man. He also had saved her from dying... still... she would never tell Bonnie about Patrick's advances towards her...nor how Anne had returned his advances one night when they were in Chitagou Port...

She shook her head, and coughed. It has been nearly three years since that happened. She didn't need to bring it up, nor did she have a reason to bring up old scars. Bonnie and Patrick weren't well... married. Anne was also young, and drunk so it all kind of happened anyhow. Still, she wouldn't bring up old scars. Bonnie didn't need to know. To have told her it would've been adding a low blow along with Patrick's death. He did die only shortly after their affair... this was something Anne would have to bear with her for the rest of her life.

She stabbed the butt of the musketoon into the sand. "Tais-toi! Ça suffit! That is enough! Patrick is dead. Bonnie could be dead, and I'm on an isolated island! Just focus on the task at hand Anne!" she screamed at herself, closing her eyes. She puffed and wheezed, her cleavage rising and falling behind her tube top made of sail. She clasped a hand around her bare abdomen, feeling the tracing marks of Greyson's simultaneous stab and gunshot wound. She has survived worse. She can get through this, she won't let a little guilt and regret kill her now. What was in the past is past and she had to look out for her future now. "Right, time to get to this." she says, lifting the musketoon again. She begins to make her way to the jungle, ready to explore it's dangers and resources. She would need to find palm fronds and wood to keep the fire burning; then food. Though she could live off of Wine and Rum for about a month, she really needed something blood rich and meaty.

It was time to see what the island had in store for her.

She took the musketoon and