Post by Tlilecuahtli on Apr 3, 2018 2:31:05 GMT -5
The days were counted on stretches of marks laid bare and imprinted into cobbled wood and stone. The time of the day on a makeshift sundial more a rock with a shadow than any form of true register of time. And where they lived, they were more like rats in the skies than birds on the ground. In trees they need, small cobbled wood plied and pulled together in a poor series of craftsmanships, the thing had fallen apart a dozen times and for each time it fell it claimed another life, but even this rickety thing proved safer than on the ground and they had set it up near the beach, the lapping of waves might bring some straggler abroad, and if that means was to bring their doom so be it. They simply hoped they were going to be a saviour, another demihuman to whisk them away right and proper.
So few survivors of the Sky High Marauders were left, so many had died on those dawning days on Daijuu Island, where some were eaten, some simply died for lack of eats and those lucky few that died on the crash were considered legends. But men were fearful things and the Shandian commonfolk were no different. Atop the canopy they sat, six men and, all Shandian and the captain as ten more were on the ground, scavenging and hunting what tiny game they could. It was believed that of the ten that left, only seven were to return to this horrid island.
Aguila sat at the top of the deck, a rope in hand as scavenging birds hovered overhead, their squawk the songs of death sirens as he tossed the rope up and down in a failed series of catching their damnable taunters. In each others eye, they were both prey and Aguila was determined to be the Hunter as he tossed the string of rope back up, latching around a wing as it was pulled down, the rest of the crew was distracted elsewhere, a poorly crafted table that laid bent and busted sat between the six as they tossed cards, measly grubs and berries on a platter as they gambled for food. There wasn't even enough for one full stomach but they all knew that if they split it between them they were all to die.
As the bird came down, a mess of squawk's and horrors as it descended, violently flapping with a single wing as Aguila jumped for it, hands clutching around its neck as he pulled it down into his cold embrace, a single sharp snap resounding as he sat down, tears streamed, he was a vagabond and was forced to kill for sustenance. He wasn't ready for this life, Piracy was one thing but this? This was a nightmare laid bare in reality as he placed the vulture's carcass to his side, untying the rope and pulling himself up. They always said it got easier, but this was his first and as much as he hated it, it was not to be his last.
So few survivors of the Sky High Marauders were left, so many had died on those dawning days on Daijuu Island, where some were eaten, some simply died for lack of eats and those lucky few that died on the crash were considered legends. But men were fearful things and the Shandian commonfolk were no different. Atop the canopy they sat, six men and, all Shandian and the captain as ten more were on the ground, scavenging and hunting what tiny game they could. It was believed that of the ten that left, only seven were to return to this horrid island.
Aguila sat at the top of the deck, a rope in hand as scavenging birds hovered overhead, their squawk the songs of death sirens as he tossed the rope up and down in a failed series of catching their damnable taunters. In each others eye, they were both prey and Aguila was determined to be the Hunter as he tossed the string of rope back up, latching around a wing as it was pulled down, the rest of the crew was distracted elsewhere, a poorly crafted table that laid bent and busted sat between the six as they tossed cards, measly grubs and berries on a platter as they gambled for food. There wasn't even enough for one full stomach but they all knew that if they split it between them they were all to die.
As the bird came down, a mess of squawk's and horrors as it descended, violently flapping with a single wing as Aguila jumped for it, hands clutching around its neck as he pulled it down into his cold embrace, a single sharp snap resounding as he sat down, tears streamed, he was a vagabond and was forced to kill for sustenance. He wasn't ready for this life, Piracy was one thing but this? This was a nightmare laid bare in reality as he placed the vulture's carcass to his side, untying the rope and pulling himself up. They always said it got easier, but this was his first and as much as he hated it, it was not to be his last.