Countless dreams and thoughts flinging through head, Elreal was yet motivated to remain this way -- down the wooden floor and buried beneath reality -- the depths of his dreams...had not all of a sudden the thick roar surged rigorously through being, bringing a strange uneasiness.
With a wince, Elreal peeled gradually his eyes open. The morning ray catching face, he struggled to assemble and get on feet, though his sight still remained blurred.
It was indeed morning.
With a shake and stretch he felt his head become clearer, and then he began his pace out the cabin. He suddenly noticed the mate who had been companion with him during the tempest was not in the room anymore.
He was perturbed for strange reasons. Swayed suddenly by his unsettled eyes, he halted now and considered an object tossed an edge the room. He hobbled down to the silver coated piece. A compass.
It must have belonged to the dead captain.
The thought of the Captain flushed back with the ills and grief of the previous nights struggle. Too many mariners had paid damn price. Captain Helsher, Sir Grog, and the other sailors he couldn't really tell of.
He picked up the palm filling object taking quick appraisal.
It was an expensive piece.
Alas, suddenly the bitter roar that once bellowed and had in fact yanked him out from sleep, filled the entirety of the vessel again. Its sour torrent this time was hard in ears and yet banishing Elreals intentions.
Such cold roar, and yet it appeared Elreal already knew to whom it belonged.
It was very well alike to that of the man called Goor.
In the pains bore from struggles the previous night, he yet managed in a limp out the room. It was even more frustrating descending down the staircase. His legs and ribs hurt bitterly. Two broken ribs, he suspected.
With every step he took he felt the fresh stab of pain. The sour torment pounded even more upon his descent down.
He eventually arrived down only to behold that in fact everyone on board had been assembled out.
Elreals eyes drove anxiously to the man making speech...verily Goor!
He moved now closer to them -- the assembly, pushing way through, for he sought understanding to what was truly ensuing.
In the moments of his struggle, the coarsely looking man took him to gaze.
His eyes first flashed on him with a glint of uneasiness, howbeit the satisfaction took over, as the smirk snuck to face.
With a smile the big man affirmed Elreals presence moving up to him too.
"My voyager!" He said goofy with arms spread apart. His grin suddenly crept in revealing set of brown dentation.
"What is going on?" Elreal asked seeming truly confused.
"Our ship has yawed. It has left course. We shall turn around the ship and continue our sail." He told. But the clamour of protest and curse had pursued his words.
Elreal knew the claims to be falsehood. He very well knew that they were on course, for he had in fact checked with the compass in possession only few moments before he dropped down the Wheelhouse while he took examination of the piece.
But why Goor was upholding falsehood remained nothing but mystery and ludicrousness to Elreal.
What was the man's true intentions now?
"But we are on course, why are we sailing back?" With disdain a fellow crew mate protested.
"Are we not on course?" Elreal asked Goor now. His countenance was bitter, although he did well to mask it up.
He knew the true answer to his question. But he was seeking to know this strange mans demeanor when met with his scrutiny.
"The ship was blown off course while we were struggling to run from the storm." He answered. It was a terrible lie.
"What proof do you have to do this? What if you are wrong? We cannot be wandering on the waters with no course." A man opposed angrily.
The passengers words had it's bitter effect on the dictator. Elreal could feel Goor's rage rise to its pinnacle, and it was almost instantly that he drew out a pistol. He wasn't hesitant. In a blink he shot. Bullet perforating through head the victim fell without a sound.
The action had been completed in a sniff. The thunder of the firearm still echoing in Elreal's ears, he suddenly found himself confused -- too perplexed to believe the absurdity. He cast gaze on the dead man. The man's eyes remained open in the puddle of his blood -- fear, shock, uncertainty!
The assembly of people had been incited to more turmoil.
"So who else seeks to object?" The mad man growled sternly now.
In sight the maniacal act, everyone had drawn back, now fully aware of the lunatic they dealt with.
The crew mate had been split in two long. Of those who would support, and those who objected the maniacs cause. But Goor had the more men, and the others understood it to be futile trying to go against him.
"Now listen everyone!" With coldness as a chill -- an iceberg, the lunatic addressed the entirety of the Ghost.
"This ship may be on course, but right now, our course has changed. We are no more sailing to Phylidia." Goor declared, and the murmur and mumbling had yet been ignited.
"The food is getting exhausted, how much long would we last on the water before we starve to death. " Cried a man in disprove.
"Believe me my friend, we would survive," Goor smirked ridiculously. "Except you wouldn't see it." His kooky tone followed. Instantaneously pointing pistol to the speaker -- the cruel thunder rumbled first...and then came the fall.
A sudden uproar of terror broke from the insanity they had witnessed again.
This man Goor was truly a mad man!
While they considered the lunatic and thought of his terror, Elreal was readying to tackle him, and even so considering the possibilities and odds therein.
What was the resistance force; mere handful of mariners, feeble men, women and children...against a number of shipmen -- toughened through tides and storms.
Elreal knew; he may be able to tackle Goor in a blink regardless of his firearm, but many people would yet suffer from his ill choice.
He couldn't make such cold sacrifice.
"Listen carefully everyone," the maniacs voice tore in. "I do not wish to kill anyone. But if am provoked to, I would not hesitate."
In his voice, was the viciousness -- the evil intent, ill prospect and contempt.
"I have a cause, and I have need for this ship. We shall sail back, dock ya all at a close harbour, and then continue our sail. From then on ya all are on your own. But until then ya all have to be cooperative. Aye, I wouldn't like to use this cruel piece anymore." He grinned mischievously, fluttering the piece with an ominous swagger.
The mad man made those obnoxious words his concluding speech, while dismissing everyone at once, allowing his men guild them on.
"You lost your chance to be a Co-captain mate. I don't have need for someone who asks too many questions." Goor turned to Elreal.
He frowned, then smirked before declaring coldly.
"Step back and join the others...voyager."
Elreal grimaced, though he wasn't expecting any less. Yet once he'd heard those words in reality, he felt bitterly stung by the feeling of betrayal.It was he who only moments ago appeared the hero voyager to all the shipmates, and now he was casted out by the very man who should credit him most.
Goors orders were savage and true, proclaiming his intent with his pistol rightly pointing to the young voyager. Elreal did as he was ordered not purposing to end life foolishly.
In the time they were been restrained back, he saw Goor's men step down from the Captain's cabin with series of large black chest.
Even Dierl and Jerther were in company of these men. The savage men forced open the strongbox, revealing a fine stack of arms. Without hesitant, the short bald man, Kalafor -- Elreal remembered...went unto dutiful service, sharing pistols and rifles, amongst ally shipmen.
But who truly were these men, and what was their mission?
Elreal could hardly contain his thoughts now.
Could it be their ship had been hijacked by thieves or perhaps pirates? But they were not seeking to take property, so what truly did they want?
What was mother fate brewing this time!