Snippet #2507699

Putrid smell and a spinning blur of the cargo hold welcomed Rahiq back to the world of the living. Her first breath tasted like vomit and salt, and the cold was stifling her throat. Each and every passing day since boarding the ship had been harder for the woman, today was no exception. Rahiq pulled her flimsy cloak tightly around her, it was inadequate protection from Gar's bleak weather, but the only one she had.

Slowly regaining control of her vision and balance, Rahiq used the crates she hid between to stand. They had been all she had seen since she had fled Dhara and had been a blessing to her in each and every sense of the word. For Rahiq was a stowaway, who had in desperation to survive, had sneaked into the first ship with nothing but a waterskin to suckle on. The ship was a small merchant vessel carrying (to Gar) exotic fruits and wines, which for Rahiq served as a means of survival and reminder of her homeland. If the ship had carried anything else, it would have been likely she had died within the hull.

Rahiq picked a handful of prickly pears from the top crate, one by one and carefully removed the spines and outer skin before eating them. They were disgustingly sweet for a seasick person, but between the risk of throwing up again and starvation, Rahiq bore the taste. She had survived another day, but Rahiq certainly hoped the ship would roll into the docks of wherever it was going soon.

Rahiq's wish soon came true. Although late at night, there were still a few men at dock when the ship arrived in Davonport. It was her first time on a ship, and so she did not notice until Rahiq heard footsteps coming down the stairs. She ducked into her hiding place between the crates, but getting out of sight alone was not enough to save her.

“By the gods, what is that blasted stench?” Rahiq heard a man shout. “Ronald! Ronald we got one again.”

Rahiq riled up in fright; soon there would be two men after her and she was in no condition to fight or run. Her hand went for her knives and the other clamped around her forehead, trying to think clearly. She had to act before this Ronald came down. Rahiq looked around for anything to use... She found a prickly pear she'd not yet eaten on the ground next to her. She picked it up and lobbed it over the crates to the outer corner of the shiphold and quietly listened what the man would do next.

She was in luck, the man followed the bait. “Ronald, I found the bastard!” The man yelled, as Rahiq used his voice as a cover to get up without either hearing them. She listened to another set of footsteps; a short, quick pace. One that all too quickly passed by her hiding spot as well. Using this opportunity, Rahiq slipped between the boxes and made a break for the door. If she could get to it and lock it... She could escape.

However, the two men caught onto her quickly. “There he is, don't let him get away!” One yelled, only catching sight of the back of Rahiq's cloak. Both followed in pursuit, but Rahiq's balance was even worse than she'd anticipated. The running made her head spin, and she fell to the ground. She bit her lip in frustration, but also knowing that was her only way of escape. The blood was a sacrifice to the spirit inhabiting a mask she possessed, a bleak white skeleton mask that she'd strapped to her thigh. She put it on her face; the same moment she felt two callus-ridden hands pin her down.

“I got 'im, pops!” She heard a second voice, one she guessed could only belong to Ronald. Rahiq knew she had only one chance at this, as she lacked the physical strength to struggle out of Ronald's grip and so she squirmed a leg from underneath the cloak. Please work, Rahiq thought, please let fortune shift it's course in her favour for just this once...

“It's black! His skin, it's black!” Ronald cried aloud.

“It is ash, as I will turn yours to lest you unhand me!” An inhuman voice sounded from Rahiq's throat. The mask's magic twisted hers into a demonic growl, echoing within itself and haunting the hearts of common men.

“D-demon!” Ronald panicked, as Rahiq counted her blessings and slipped from the man's grip and got back on her feet. As long as she was wearing her cloak, they could not see her physique, and that and her morphed voice were the only cards Rahiq had to play. She managed to get up, but in her walk swayed like a drunken sailor; desperately reaching for anything solid to not fall over.

“Follow me and I will burn you to the bone.” The mask's voice threatened the two men, as Rahiq did her best to climb the stairs as quickly as possible. Most merchants knew little of cursed and magical artefact's, beside that they were worth good money. Rahiq should know, she had robbed enough of them. Even this little should invoke enough fear into the men for her to escape.

With the ample time she had bought, Rahiq managed to get above deck. The cold struck even harder in the open air; with no shelter from the wind. Unable to hold proper footing she stumbled and crawled her way across deck of the ship. She made it to the railing, before the late-night workers noticed her; her mantle's magic must had ran out. “Who are you!” One demanded, as he put down the cargo and walked up to Rahiq.

“I am-” Rahiq murmured, but noticed her mask's magic had quickly ran out. She threw a quick look at the man; who was easily two heads taller and buff to boot. She drew a knife and stuck it out threateningly. “Don't come closer.” She forced the words out of her throat, but she sounded weak and hoarse. The worker however, did not flinch at the sight of the weapon. In fact, he only came closer. Rahiq was driven into a corner... She considered running past the man, charging with her knife out; but her condition wouldn't allow either. There was no time to think and the muscle-head was only getting closer and she was inching back... Until she hit the railing off the boat.

“You're a stowaway, aren't you?” The man asked rhetorically. He reached out his arm to grab Rahiq's arm, but the Dharan woman would rather die than being captured now she'd made it across the seas. Using the last of her strength, she threw herself over the railing off the ship; expecting to hit the cold, hard ground within a split second. Instead; she found her fall broken by something soft but freezing cold; and her eyes staring into those of a young man sporting a lute and a pair of hazel eyes...