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 Posted: Wed Feb 24, 2010 6:42 pm
INTRODUCTION
WELCOME TO PANYMIUM! Welcome to Panymium, folks! You wouldn't want to be akin to an illegal immigrant, now, would you? Step inside and be sure to write your name and information, nice and thorough. We wouldn't want to trouble the mortuary with an unidentifiable corpse.
The official Citizens Roster is here so you can record your character after they have been accepted into The Plague Doctor. It is not required for Grimms to post here, however. Once you get the message of approval, please post up the basic information about your character so we can keep a good account on you!LIST
OFFICIAL CITIZENS ROSTER. Kazu-Chan | Zia Black
OrionDeltaOmega | Ysandre Eaves
saedusk | Andie Gray
killaminjaro | Moby d**k
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Posted: Wed Feb 24, 2010 8:49 pm
Name : Zia Black
x x xFormerly : Zia Ansari
Age : 26
Region :
x x xBorn : Eastern Continent
x x xCurrently Roaming : Imisus - traveling northwest
Appearance :
x x xHeight : 5’6”
x x xWeight : 168lbs
x x xHair : He has long black hair that reaches down to between his shoulder blades. He usually keeps it tied back in a thick braid.
x x xEyes : He has dark eyes, bordering on black.
x x xSkin Tone : His skin is tan.
x x xBuild : Slender with lean muscles.
x x xDistinguishing Marks : He has some scratch marks on his forearms.
x x xClothing : He wears clothing in this style.
x x xAccessories : A small, rectangular charm carved out of wood that hangs on a leather cord. The design includes a wolf with flowers in the background. He made it to give to his brother when he returned home.
Personality : Zia is a bit of a loner, spending most of his time on the road, traveling between towns while looking for work. Since he tends to move around a lot, he doesn't spend much time trying to make friends, which leads people to see him as one of those strong and silent types. But those that know him well will say he can be quite chatty given the right situation. As a child, he was very outgoing, always playing games and pulling jokes on people with his brother. But when around women, Zia can get awfully tongue-tied. He's never been able to really talk a woman. He gets flustered and sputters out nonsense before silencing himself and wishing to flee the situation.
History : Zia is the second born child to Hamid and Karima Ansari. He has an older sister Jamila and a younger brother Mazin. When they were younger, he and Mazin were always skirting their chores to go off and play. They also liked to pull jokes on other people, especially their sister who would go into a rage and chase after them, which often got all of them in trouble with their parents. His early years consisted of attending classes at the nearby, small town school and working chores on his family's estate (when not goofing off instead).
When he was eighteen, Hamid arranged for him to marry the daughter of a neighboring estate. But Zia didn't wish to marry her. It wasn't that he disliked her. He had never even met her! But his lack of ability to speak to women (outside his family) made him feel less willing to marry the stranger. He also didn't feel ready to make that type of commitment with anyone. He was still young and wanted to explore the world. Hamid, of course, refused to allow his son to go off adventuring when he needed Zia to remain on their estate and help out with all the work that needed to be done. But Zia wouldn't be cowed by his father's words. He packed up some of his things and left in the dead of the night, telling only his brother goodbye. Karima and Jamila would have tried to convince him to stay. But Mazin, though he couldn't understand his brother's reasons, would support his decision. Mazin had always been Zia's confidant for matters that he couldn't discuss with the rest of the family. Zia knew that his departure meant that Hamid would be force to marry Mazin off in Zia's place. He regretted this, even though Mazin told him not to worry about it.
After leaving his home, Zia spent the first few months traveling about the Eastern Continent. Then he met a man named Rasim who took him on as his apprentice. Under Rasim's guidance, Zia learned the art in architechure and wood carving. They didn't spend a huge amount of time living in one specific spot, as Rasim had clients all about the country side. Between towns, they would camp out and hunt for their dinner. The first time Zia caught Rasim sewing new clothes, he laughed, not understanding why he was bothering with so-called women work. But during long travels between towns, Zia realized the necessity in knowing how to make and mend clothes. Not only did they need new clothes from time to time, but they could sell extra clothes at towns they visited for extra money between their real jobs.
Zia spent two and half years with Rasim. When they arrived in the town near his family's estate, he heard rumors of his brother's death. He thanked Rasim for taking him under his wing then hurried home. Hamid was enraged to see his eldest son return home and would not let him into their home. But Karima met with him off the grounds of their estate. She told him the story of what had happened. Mazin had married their neighbor's daughter Sakina. They were happy together, but four months ago, both had contracted the Black Plague. Sakina died within a month while Mazin had held on until only a week ago. Zia was greatly saddened by this news. He had hoped during the visit to this town to make amends with his family.
Feeling responsible for his brother's death, Zia abandoned his family name Ansari and adopted the surname Black, reflecting his tarnished name. He left the Eastern Continent and arrived in Imisus. From there, he looked for work building homes or making small wood carvings or clothes to sell for a bit of money.
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Posted: Tue Oct 05, 2010 6:25 pm
KEEPER
Name: Ysandre Eaves
Age: 32
Region:
+ + + Born and raised in the country of Ardenth, she lived there until she was 25. She then immigrated to Panymium, making her home in the western region of the continent, Mishkan.
Personality:
+ + + Upon first sight, most would view Ysandre as someone who’s socially talented, with an intense focus and strong drive, not to mention of sound self-control. What most wouldn’t gather is how strong that self-control is. Burning just underneath the façade she shows to her peers is a snide, angry woman with a tight grip on her emotions who very rarely lets the pretense slip. A failed experiment, blatant disrespect, and broken trust are just a few things that can cause her control to slip, resulting in a myriad of results. Those that have experienced her anger have related it to that of a dormant volcano, or a shark circling its prey.
+ + + In contrast to such a fiery personality, Ysandre treats everyone around her with as much respect as she can possibly afford them. Do not take her respect as a sign that she is friends with you – she’s not. She has a choice few who she confides in, and trusts, and those she claims as “hers”, such as her staff, confidants, and the few she finds herself caring for. Messing with them is another surefire way to piss her off, as she is a very protective woman.
History:
+ + + Born of lower nobility within Ardenth, and specializing in elemental magic, Ysandre became fascinated with magical technology at a young age, forming a diverse and wide range of interest in the different fields of its production. Pouring over texts and receiving instruction in its development and dispersal, Ysandre began immersing herself further and further within her interest, turning her simple fascination, and hobby, into her career.
+ + + After years of inventing, social networking, and estate building Ysandre made a bold choice. Having lived her whole life within the borders of Ardenth, she decided it was time to expand her horizons by venturing outside of the country lines and see the world, both for a chance to achieve inspiration in her work, and form even more connections within the world to generate even more financial wealth then she already possessed.
+ + + Hearing of Panymium’s financial distress and technological shortcomings, along with the whispers of a fatal disease sweeping the nation, Ysandre made her move. Within a week she had the contents of her estate she’d wished to bring with her packed, her staff split into two groups (one to leave behind, and one to come with her), and a boat chartered to take her to her destination. With Panymium’s economic issues, and a sickness that could threaten their stability, there was no better time to launch a campaign. There would be minimal competition, and if she could so happen to find a cure to this “Black Plague”, they would be indebted to her for the rest of their lives. What would she have to fear from this disease? Nothing. It was some festering sore accosting those that were unhealthy and unclean. Not to mention poor. She was neither of these, so why should she shy away from the borders that could ultimately make her richer, more powerful, then anyone in the history of mankind.
+ + + Six and a half years later, the borders of Panymium had been locked down, with her inside. The reality of their situation was stronger then what it had been when she was living back in Ardenth. Her view of the Plague was still the same, and proved true in that it had not affected her. But it had taken members of her household, something that she was not comfortable with. The disease was, as cliche as it sounded, too close to home. Ysandre still networked, still developed and sold her goods, and still sought a cure for the disease that was taking the nation. It was hard work, a lot harder then what she had first led herself to believe. But her resolve was steadfast, she would do this. Of that, there was no question. A living Plague, something she had only seen once from a far, was now what her calculating mind required. They held the answers she sought, she was sure of it.
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Posted: Tue Oct 05, 2010 7:20 pm
Name: Andie Gray
Age: 18
Region: Born on the Southern tip of Auvinus, lived some years in West Auvinus, and currently resides in Roserock, Mishkan.
Personality: Simple might be the first word that comes to one's mind. Andie is a work-oriented teenager, not quite no-nonsense, but serious when she puts her mind to things. There is a deep determination within her to do well and prosper with what she is given, though a large majority of that comes from the feeling that if she stops working and doing her best, she'll let someone down and someone in her family may fall ill again, a superstition from childhood.
On the inside, she still loves the things children like, such as games and puzzles. If it has to do with roughhousing, she might even skip out on a few hours of work to join in. A physically fit individual, Andie loves to flex her muscle via play (or work, if we're talking something constructive).
One of the biggest challenges for her is accepting the fact that she can't do everything and anything. She has a complex about her, believing that most things can be done better by her, and she will work herself past sunset to prove it. During times like this, the feeling that usually drives her, wanting to do well by her family, is replaced by something selfish and needy. Besides this, Andie also hates to be wrong. Though normally leaning towards the obedient type, she will turn right around and ignore an order if she thinks it's not worth her while or is something that goes against what she believes in.
With a soft spot for both children and water, swimming specifically, there were times back in the village when she would dig out a decent pit before it rained, wanting to introduce the few children to the fun of water. Most of the time the ground absorbed her plans into submission, but she never has been the type to give up without a fight.
Appearance: Andie is short in stature, but lean and muscled from many years in the field. Likewise, her skin is tanned by the sun, though it is naturally olive-toned. Her hair is a shoulder length, medium brown, and usually tied back in a haphazard ponytail that doesn't do much to keep it out of her gray-green eyes. Due to her personality and the type of work her family used to do in Auvinus, she is almost always wearing comfortable clothing, pants included.
History:
• Born and Raised, the Origin Story •
Andie was born April 23, 1393 to lower-middle class family in a port city on the Southern tip of Auvinus. Her father, a crate stacker at the harbor, brought home enough to keep the family in modest comfort, with bread and gravy and sometimes a nice meat on Sunday. While few of the children she played with had much in the way of toys, almost all of them could make up a decent game, and Andie spent many days running and laughing and being scolded away from the edge of the water.
With all the exercise, she grew fit even as a young child. However, it wasn't until the unfortunate drowning of a small city boy half her age that her father took her to the docks one weekend and taught her to swim. Some of the other dockhands even went as far as to tutor other city children on how to swim and though she tried to help, in the end she usually found herself playing rather than working.
At the age of ten, Andie's mother fell ill with fever and it was around that time that the daughter learned that running and playing weren't always an option. Though her father was worried, he was the only provider and had to continue working. In his and her mother's stead, Andie cleaned and sometimes even cooked if there were vegetables available. Many times she cut and burned herself, but she kept working. When her mother had first taken to her bed, her father had warned her that if she didn't do as she was told, her mother would die. While harsh, it motivated the young girl to a life of responsibility.
Eventually, her mother regained her health and though the scare was gone, she did her best not to falter back into a frivolous lifestyle. There was a thought, always at the back of her mind, that if she did so, her mother may fall ill once more.
Years later, when Andie was twelve, a decree shut down almost all of the ports, including the one where her father worked. The city, though one of the more significant ones in the area, took a heavy blow. Even the travel of merchant ships dwindled and the economy slowed to something almost unlivable for anyone not of the upper-middle class. Understanding this, Andie's father one day had the family pack as much as they could and the next day he moved them along with a group of travelers bound for what they believed would be a better life in Mishkan.
The trip was a difficult one, littered with barren planes and sometimes without signs of civilization for days. On the second leg of the journey, having finally come across a place to replenish supplies, nearly half of the group chose to stay behind, tired of the perils and insecurity of lonely travel with little money and fewer assurances that they would even reach their final destination.
Andie's family was one of the ones that chose to stay in the farming village. While remote and small--tiny, one could say--the villagers were friendly and the land was readily available. The travelers from Southern Auvinus worked together with the natives of the area to build small shacks resembling the ones already in existence. Some of the nearby farmers, including a family who lived next door, provided animals to fix and till the land.
With what little currency they had remaining, her family built up a steady enough farm over the years, a place that Andie herself began to work with and care for.
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• Ravaged by Plague, the Move from Auvinus to Mishkan •
So very small and isolated, Andie's current residence--a village probably not even on the map, mind you--was always slow to receive news. In fact, it was nearly a week after two of the village women had taken to bed with a cough that the a sheet of paper stuck on the public bulletin board warned of the Plague spreading through the nearest town, a two day walk, at least. In the beginning, the people thought nothing of it, but when the two women turned to four and three men, chatter began to spread amongst the close-knit community about curses and misfortune.
After three weeks, none of the victims had risen from their beds and at least one had a family who now hadn't been heard from, either. The villagers, once caring, began to spend less and less time together for fear of catching what their neighbor most certainly had. Better safe than sorry in a place where disease could spread even faster than gossip. The tiny market was nearly empty unless one couldn't last another day without a loaf of bread. Even the fields, the lifeblood of the place, were left mostly untended and weary.
However, the little village could never understand the severity of the situation until one day, unannounced, strangers appeared in the area. Their faces were covered and they spoke to no one, hardly acknowledging the curious glances of the people as they finally left their homes in an attempt to discover just what was happening. In their wake, these strangers left nearly seven small shacks marred with unusual symbols. Even the shack right next door to Andie's home, full with a friendly family that she had known all too well, was marked and trailed down three dots, two for the couple, and one for their two-year-old son.
Andie swore up and down that some of the villagers had even gone missing after the strangers finally packed up and disappeared, but her parents hardly batted an eyelash at her foolhardy claims. It was nearly impossible to tell regardless, now that the excitement of strange people had passed, most of the everyday folk had holed themselves back up again.
With each passing day, the amount of supplies the family had begun to dwindle to near dangerous levels. It couldn't be said they had much to begin with, though. No one in the area had much in the way of money to pay for extra stores and frivolities. Though she offered to begin to make the normal trips to the market and begin to care for their dying crops once more, Andie's parents only shook their heads. At this point, the village's economy had been spooked into a standstill. There was no one to sell vegetables to and no one to buy bread from.
Undaunted, the daughter slipped out one night to survey the damage to the fields by lantern light. It was apparent that many of the plants had withered to nothing by husks in the drying sun. Only a few looked even halfway good enough to taste. At first, she seemed willing to return to her home and quit, but as she turned back in the proper direction, the fence on the far side of the property caught her attention.
While Andie had a great respect for the family that lived next door, she knew that they hadn't been out of their home for days, even weeks. She wasn't completely sure why, only barely understanding the bright mark on their door from her parents' vague explanation. But she decided right then and there that if they hadn't been out, then they surely didn't need their crops, and so it wouldn't hurt to take a peek and see if they had anything edible.
Climbing over the fence and taking a quick look around, it appeared that the plants here had gone in the direction of her own family's, poor or dead. There was nothing edible here. Clenching a fist, she kicked at a withered, browning pumpkin with pent up agitation. What else could she do? She turned on her heels and trudged home.
As the months passed, the Plague continued to ravage the small village, leaving its population so heavily decimated that the economy no longer stood a chance of recovery. There simply weren't enough people to produce, let alone buy, a product and the scare had kept everyone inside for so long that livelihoods had collapsed into dust. There were rumors floating around the streets, despite there being no one outside to pass them, that some people were even dying in their homes of starvation. Andie's father was not the most educated of men, but he was no fool. He knew that if they were to survive, they would have to pick up and leave again. When he proposed it to the family, there were looks of worry and unwillingness, but no argument good enough to counter it.
Within the week the family had packed their meager belongings and gathered as many rations and barrels of water as they could hope to carry. The animals meant to pull the cart where obviously already tired before the journey began. They could only pray that the border of Mishkan come soon. It had been their destination years ago after work in Southern Auvinus had dried up and it was their destination once more.
A few weeks after Andie's eighteenth birthday, the family reached Roserock and their new life. Her father was able to find work in manual labor, but the small family's recovery was slow nonetheless. Their life in this new city was certainly no better than the humble, but comfortable life farming the plains had provided them, Andie thought.
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Posted: Thu Sep 01, 2011 4:57 pm
Username: killaminjaro
Name: Moby d**k
Age: around 23 give or take a few months
Region: Originally from the Auvinus area, traveled to Mishkan in hopes of finding some work
Appearance: ref
Personality: In a sense he is the average human being with fears, likes, dislikes, personality disorders and a heightened sense of survival. There are some people in the world who are willing to lay their life down, or even take their own life, due to some important reason they might have conjured up in their minds. But for Moby, conscious or subconscious, he has one priority over everything else-- survival, to live as long as possible, even if living is hard. Rather than wanting to live, however, it is more that Moby has a fear of death. Or perhaps he is just too stubborn to die.
Whichever the case may be, beyond that characteristic, Moby is coarse, with a bit too much bite to his words; unmannerly, due to his peasant upbringing; and perhaps at worst selfish. Rarely does he share anything, ranging from food, possessions, space even and if someone were to mess with him, they will most certainly pay in physical wellbeing. Now, that doesn't mean he doesn't like sharing things that aren't his. Like perhaps that wallet fat with money, or your bowl of food while you're not looking. He is what one might call the shameless moocher.
Having met many trials and life experience in the seedy parts of town, Moby has grown to become a man who cannot trust anyone but himself. Once upon a time, when life was filled with golden fields and happy faces, he was a different person. A little bit sappy with a hint of a motherly quality, and an honest chap--but as they say, his childish heart was torn to pieces in the real world. Nowadays, he's none of those things. All that remains of his life as a sap is his attachment to romance. He would never tell anyone this, but his dream is to love someone so much his breath is taken away. Shush, you didn't hear that from me. Also his motherly attributes have all but ceased since he has no one to take care of but himself, and his honesty, well... he's still straightforward as ever-- never knew how to beat around the bush.
Perhaps, the one good thing that grew from all of these terrible events, is his intelligence. His mother used to joke that if he didn't have his brute strength, he would be nothing since he's an idiot in everything else. An idiot he may have been, but for good reason-- he is dyslexic. No matter how much learning he did, letters never seemed to sit right with him. To him, b's looked like d's, s's looked like f's, i's sometimes could pass off as l's. It's all pretty confusing business to him, but if he doesn't have to write or read, life is good. Well, maybe he's a little dumber than most people, but what can you say, he did get bit on the head at a young age.
Under all the terrible characteristics however, he is still, in a sense, a good kid. He doesn't especially want to be a thief or a ruffian, but he has his way of rationalizing things and desperate times call for desperate measures. For example, he does not in any way want to take the life of someone else, but if it comes to his or theirs, he'll obviously choose his own life at the cost of anything else. He doesn't mess with drugs or alcohol, mostly because he can't afford it, but also because he does not believe that it will help him in anyway, therefore they are useless.
History: It wasn't a quiet morning when Moby Richards was born. He came a tad too early, antsy to be born into the world. The midwife even claimed that his eyes might have been open the moment he left the womb. But that's probably just the old woman's delusional mind playing tricks on her. For a very long time it was just Darwin, Manilow, and little Moby with Mr. and Mrs. Richards. They were a happy little family, the boys always out playing somewhere or another.
It was on one of these adventurous days when Moby ran off by himself, no more than 5 years old, when he met his first adversary. It was a big dog, with a big slobbery mouth, and big large teeth. Looking for a playmate, Moby attacked the dog with his youthful innocents, and somehow managed to irked the canine enough for it to snap its jaw around Moby's head. Struggling when the pain kicked in, he screamed and screamed until one of his brothers came and scared off the dog. They hurried Moby back home, his head bleeding and his parents wondered if the child would survive. They cleaned him up and put some bandages around his head since they didn't have enough money to get a doctor. He was good as new before anyone even knew it, except for the ring of scars that runs around his head. He likes to tell people he got it from a shark. Sometimes they believe him.
Then when Moby turned 12, the family grew two more members. A pair of cute little twin girls, Levi and Luci. He loved his new little sisters. He thought they were the most wonderful things in the world. Then came Pence, four years later. By that time, Mrs. Richards was too busy taking care of things on the farm with Mr. Richards, Darwin and Manilow that the responsibility of raising the twins and the newborn fell on him. And it's safe to say that when baby Lilli was born, he also took her under his care too. In essence, he became almost a second mom.
Life was good and merry for a little while when tragedy began. Their father had left to go into town to sell some crops, but then never came back. They didn't know the details, but they knew he had somehow died. Now left with no profit (since Mr. Richards took most of the harvest with him), food and money became scarce. There were just too many mouths to feed. So Moby decided since both Darwin and Manilow were helping in the fields with Mother, and the rest of the kids were too young, he would take the responsibility of leaving.
leaving the nest "Bye Ma, I'll be back soon! Bye, Luci, Levi, take good care of Lilli and Pence! Bye Darwin, Manilow, work hard and find good women! I'll send letters as often as I can!" Gray haired but tough by virtue of either her stout body structure or her commanding bull-like presence, Mrs. Richards snapped, "As if you could even write, you sappy oaf." Although her words were gruff with indifference, the sad twinkle in her eyes and the way her shoulders sagged slightly gave her away. Any mother would be sad to see any of their children go, or a mother she might as well not be. Guilty as charged, the sappy Moby, stood frozen for a moment, just looking at his family before breaking out in a loud sob, "I'll miss you guys... so much!" He choked out between cries and snorting up snot. Brothers, sisters and the mother piled up in an amorphous blob of tears and sentimental values. After all, it was only the second time anyone had left, and the first one to go had gone to a place from which he could never return. Mr. Richards' absence was a concrete fact, but Moby's journey was not, therefore there were hopeful tears to send him off by. For if anything, Moby loved his family and surely one day he would return, right?
He left home on his way to Mishkan where he heard there were many jobs due to being a trading hub. Along the way, he changed his name from Moby Richards to Moby d**k, simply because he didn't know how to spell Richards, there were way too many letters.
When he arrived at the ports, he had no money, was starving and had no idea what he was doing. Thankfully there was a board of sorts on which there were many temp job fliers to work as deckhands on merchant boats.
Interview with merchant ship secretary "So, Mr... Moby d**k? Your name is such?" The secretary's eyes cut across the short distance between the wooden desk and the squeaky seat in which he was stiffly sitting, icy blue peering condescendingly over the rims of fancy glasses at him. He gulped, attempting to shove the nauseous feelings he had back down into his throat and out of his mind. "Yes sir." As he spoke, his voice cracked slightly and his index finger twitched, a cold sweat developing across his broad forehead. Did the man figure out his dirty secret? Does he know he's actually from Auvinus? Can he tell that his name is a phony? Was it too obvious? Paranoia nipped and snapped at his ears, gnawing away at his composure. Yet, with little difference in his stony expression, the interviewer continued, obviously bored with the whole ordeal of having to find someone who is decent enough to do work on a merchant ship. "Well, regardless, why do you intend to work here?" He drawled, leaning back in his own creaky plush arm chair, taking a dainty little sip from the cigar he balanced between his index and middle fingers. "Uhm, I need the money to send back to my family." Not quite a reason of intention, but eloquent speak was lost on a poor country chap like himself. At least he was bluntly honest. "Harumph. Noble, aren't we?" Taking another puff of his cigar, the man blew a long cloud of smoke into Moby's face. Moby coughed, his eyes stinging from the smoke, almost enough to coax a tear. "Welcome aboard sonny. They leave in on Thursday, be at the dock by then." The pale spidery hand reached into his desk and pulled out a little pouch. Even as he tossed the small sum of coins, his dull unamused expression never changed. "A little gift for your dear family."
For a while, it was okay living as he was, just getting random jobs here and there on ships, but he often found himself just barely skimming the surface to survive. Many times, due to his naivety he was paid half the normal rates because he was so young. Other times, pick pockets or thieves got a hold of his money. And of course there was always the hovering doom of the Black Plague. He was lucky so far.
All these circumstances changed him. He quickly forgot about his family, worried more for his own survival. He quickly learned how to pick pocket, con, and steal. He did anything just to survive. He became distrustful of everyone around him.
It was one day he heard of a ship Rosa with the blessings of the Emperor himself, that was heading to Ardenth. Seeing it as an opportunity to get out of Panymium, he illegally gained access onto the ship, and stowed himself away in the galleys. And there he stayed when someone chanced upon him.
cover blown "Stay back!" He held a small dagger in his hands, quivering from fear. Fear that he would be taken upon deck and sent off the plank, or handed over to the Captain who might gut him. But mostly, fear that he actually might need to use the dagger and take the life of someone else. Bright eyed even in the dim light of just a lantern, the young man held up his hands in surrender. "Oi! Don't swing that around so recklessly, you might hurt someone." Despite being in the face of potential danger, he had a laid back grin smeared across his face, sincere and goofy. The ship lurched to the side, throwing Moby off balance. To catch himself, he abandoned the dagger, letting it fall away from him somewhere in the darkness of the galleys, in order to grab a hold of the barrels behind him. The stranger stepped forward, "Oi, you alright?" Moby warily held up his hands, cowering against the barrels, now vulnerable and exposed. "Don't come any closer!" He hissed, his vision blurring as a mild headache rose up. He felt terrible. He probably had scurvy, or some form of disease, or maybe he was just terribly hungry. He'd been taking bits and pieces of the food supply, but nothing too obvious in case someone noticed. Though thinking back on it, perhaps he should have. He felt he was about to hurl when a gentle hand held his shoulder, "Oi, you don't look too good, what are you even doing down here?" Startled, but unable to escape the grasp, he was trapped. If he told the truth, he would be outed, if he didn't tell the truth, what could he possibly say. Eyes shifting side to side, anxious of any other surprise visits, when he simply replied, "I'm a stowaway."
The young man turned out to be a cook on board the ship, and they somehow ended up becoming close friends after the cook gained Moby's trust by sneaking him meals. For the first time in a very long time, Moby was able to open up again. Through the cook, he heard what was happening on the ship, how the albatross fell from the sky and was thrown overboard by order of the Captain.
Then he began to notice how his young friend seemed listless and tired, his bright eyes dull and the smile he usually wore a distant memory. And that was when hell began.
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