Timestamp: 15th of Fall 511AV
The sky was green. Odd. The water that lapped at the sides of the large ship she stood on was tinged with all the colors of the rainbow, from reds to yellows to violets and blues. It shimmered towards the horizon in a dazzling display, but she doubted it tasted as good as it looked. Her ebony eyes glanced all around her. There was a vacancy that should have been disturbing, but Naama didn't particularly seem bothered at all. There as no land in sight, no bodies aboard the ship save herself and the creaking of the deck and the swaying of the hull.
She stood out among the rim until the rumble in her belly urged her to go scouring through the lower decks for any signs of rum or ale.
"It has to be here somewhere. It's a ship. Ships always have ale." She spoke, but no one stood to listen. Naama rummaged through barrels and empty sacks, until she found a tankard conveniently placed on one of the wooden tables, but as she tipped it upside down only sand fell and scattered across the ground.
"That's a cruel cruel trick to play," She exclaimed to no one in particular. She looked for more, but every barrel that should have contained liquor held only sand.
"That's just my luck. No rum and no one to complain to about no rum." Something moved out of the corner of her eye, a shadow of a child amongst the overturned tables and barrels. Naama groped behind her, but found no swords where they should have been. Instead she was garbed in the attire of her mother; all dried pelts, bones and crude jewelry. She was tattoo-less, as well, almost as if her entire appearance had altered itself to a time when she was not the pirate slattern she was today.
"Come back here you little rum filcher," Naama growled, chasing the shadow all throughout the ship to no avail. Too quick, and her, surprisingly sluggish.
The sky was green. Odd. The water that lapped at the sides of the large ship she stood on was tinged with all the colors of the rainbow, from reds to yellows to violets and blues. It shimmered towards the horizon in a dazzling display, but she doubted it tasted as good as it looked. Her ebony eyes glanced all around her. There was a vacancy that should have been disturbing, but Naama didn't particularly seem bothered at all. There as no land in sight, no bodies aboard the ship save herself and the creaking of the deck and the swaying of the hull.
She stood out among the rim until the rumble in her belly urged her to go scouring through the lower decks for any signs of rum or ale.
"It has to be here somewhere. It's a ship. Ships always have ale." She spoke, but no one stood to listen. Naama rummaged through barrels and empty sacks, until she found a tankard conveniently placed on one of the wooden tables, but as she tipped it upside down only sand fell and scattered across the ground.
"That's a cruel cruel trick to play," She exclaimed to no one in particular. She looked for more, but every barrel that should have contained liquor held only sand.
"That's just my luck. No rum and no one to complain to about no rum." Something moved out of the corner of her eye, a shadow of a child amongst the overturned tables and barrels. Naama groped behind her, but found no swords where they should have been. Instead she was garbed in the attire of her mother; all dried pelts, bones and crude jewelry. She was tattoo-less, as well, almost as if her entire appearance had altered itself to a time when she was not the pirate slattern she was today.
"Come back here you little rum filcher," Naama growled, chasing the shadow all throughout the ship to no avail. Too quick, and her, surprisingly sluggish.