Lords of RPG

A LITTLE SOLITUDE

It was the smallest of the private ones,  but at least he could get some time alone. He was glad he had his own cabin.  Using the large clam shell to scrape off the excess salt that was sticking to his skin, he reviewed the events of the last week in his mind's eye.

Famke was wanted and on the run...probably dead already. Torvi didn't go with them when they faced the demon. Her strength was missed, but her views on magic were a concern. Sympos was the rock that held them together...or the shit that held them together. Timm chuckled for a second...at least he could still laugh. The chuckle ended.

Gabe, the chef had finally participated in a fight. Perhaps he wasn't as worthless as I had thought...and perhaps this new experience would be the inspiration for a new dish. Titus was helpful, but for some reason, Timm felt he wouldn't be around consistently. Shade was going to be a problem...or problems...but maybe he had potential...I certainly wouldn't have thought Sympos was as integral as he is...what to do about the shit.

What to do about his new master...without the deal he had made, he would be dead, or worse...sure, Sympos is a fan of death...and he does have a point, we all end up dead...at least for a while...before something evil, something wrong, something abhorrent raises you, or changes you...the thought raised old memories.

He hadn't thought about his mom since he had changed...since he made the bargain...she had changed. He didn't have to watch it...she had insured that...Argast McSweeny had been a good friend to her...and perhaps to his father...she had mentioned that was how she knew him...his father, only a face and stories from his mom. 

Captain Argast McSweeny had died a few months after Timm joined the crew...every Captain he had sailed under had died, tragically...Had the others died because of him...was everyone near him cursed. He always survived...those around him...not so much.

He liked the carnival...it was the first time he felt not so alone in a long time...a shiver crawled up his spine...did the tattoo on his chest just move...was he every truly alone? 

RETREIVE THE ARM

The command was like sound of thunder over an ocean storm. Timm woke in Merique's bed...he had been here a lot lately...was she even charging him anymore...it didn't matter...he knew what the deep wanted and he knew where he had 'discarded' it. 

Timm slipped out of her bed and headed towards the window...scaling down the side took seconds and getting to the bay only took minutes...the fog was thick and not many were out...easy to slip though the mist and get to the Belle Femme. 
Not bothering to board, Timm dove into the water betweeen the hull of the ship and the dock...two moons lit the sky above...but did not penetrate the water more than a few feet. 

RETREIVE THE ARM...THE BRACELET

Timm dove into the darkness...grasping along the bottom...searching blindly for a severed arm with a silver bracelet adorned with three large emeralds...why did it want it...why did it matter...if he didn't...would his friends die?

He searched for hours...refusing to give up as the sun rose again...he would be late...he wasn't integral to the show...keep searching...finally a glimmer...an odd glimmer...heading towards it he saw the hand...only three fingers left...flesh trailing off from the fish that had been feeding on it...the bracelet shimmered...like the statue had...but it wasn't dead.

BRING ME THE BRACELET

Timm grabbed the arm...blackness

...awake on the bottom of the sea...the pressure was crushing...something took it from him...there was a long pause...perhaps days. Timm awoke still in the deep...not as crushing...not as dark.

Swimming upwards towards the daylight...something is wrong...breaching the surface...moonlight...two moons...no sun...still dark...why did the dark seem so bright...bright but with no color...raising his arm to swim...severed arm still in his grasp...bracelet no longer there. Startled, Timm  dropped the arm, ducked under the water and emerged a few docks over among the fishing vessels.

RUKIN'S SIGIL

No one seemed to notice Timm's absence for a day. Perhaps they thought he was drunk, or whoring or who knows what. Perhaps they just had their own things to think about and didn't care. Regardless, Timm had an idea...probably a bad one.

"Does Rukin have a symbol or sygil...other than shit or worms, or bugs? A tombstone or something?" Timm expressed with frustration as Sympos tried to get away...uncomfortable with the conversation and perhaps who was asking.
"He does." Sympos described it in his normal deadpan voice and then quickly ducked behind a large horse in a small stall. 

ANOTHER TATTOO
"Zekial, put this on my back...I want it on my spine...leave space for more...dead or not, I may need to call on the gods." Timm handed Zekial the sketch of Rukin's sigil, took a large swig of the rye whiskey he had found at the tavern and then lay on the table. This was going to take a while...and it was going to hurt. 

It's a good idea to have a backup plan...even a bad one...and covering his back in the sigils and symbols of every god he could find or think of, dead or not, was the only one he had.