Note: This story does not really take place at any specific time, though it is meant to be separate from all the current storylines. This thread is made for any who might want to rp outside of the current storylines going on. Feel free to jump in and perhaps let your characters meet some one they have never met before.

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The first thing Verial recognized was the sound of the ocean, of waves crashing and dancing against each other. However, when he finally was coaxed into waking by the sound of the sea, he had no idea how he had came to be on the ship. He found himself lying on a bunk in the bottom of the ship's cabin; although a bit cramped in his resting spot, he seemed perfectly fine and unharmed.

Verial pushed himself up careful not to hit his head on the upper bunk and braced his stomach for the sudden rocking motion of the ship. It was only on standing that he realized how unsteady the terrain really was as the ocean pushed the ship like some play thing back and forth gently. One of Verial's hands felt for the side of the bunk as he moved through a narrow hallway in the ship. His short journey brought him to a flight of wooden steps leading to the upper deck of the ship.

As he climbed the stairs, Verial let his elvish hearing go to work; he was not quite sure if he had been taken against his will for some reason, or if he was here for a purpose that might be beneficial. He only knew that he did not plan a trip at sea recently and this was not the last place he had fallen asleep.

Meeting the top of the deck at last, Verial was faced with the realization that he seemed to be utterly alone. There was no crew to be seen manning the ship let alone a single seagull in the sky. Verial lifted a hand to the tops of his eyebrows and looked out to the horizon; the fog was thick around him he could not see any outline of land dotted along the coast. He was out in the middle of the ocean on a ship without no rhyme or reason that he could recall.

It was the middle of the night and the fog continued to creep across the black water and the deck of the ship. Verial turned his head to gaze at the helm of the ship where no captain commanded this huge vessel and wondered by what means had the ship made it out to the middle of nowhere with seemingly no crew at all? Would he be left to somehow steer the ship on its way home? But more importantly, which way was home...?

Feeling this situation might be some sort of trap, Verial reached for his weapons. To his disappointment, he was missing both his sword (a bitter memory as the King of Oneiro) and a pair of dagger (a gift from his mother) which he usually kept tucked safely against his hips. Verial closed his odd colored eyes and sighed, smelling the breath of the salty air. There was a certain sort of serenity being out at sea alone, but without any notion to his solitude or weapons to defend himself, he could only imagine the trouble ahead of him.

With a strong, but cautious voice he called out, "Hello?"

Verial waited for the silence to clear and for some one else to reply.

It was a Damned Ship, governed by the tides of perception that held it a drift and beyond that...the Will of the Abyss.

Verial's questioning 'Hello' would not be answered for a while. At least as long as it took her to decide to approach him as she studied the winged male creature.

Her complexion was as ghostly pale as the heavy fog itself that seemed to embrace the ship, as if she were an embodiment of it. Her hair was long and cascading like a pristine waterfall and pure as a full moon on a crystal clear night. Her eyes, if she possessed any at all, were bound behind tattered white grave bandages wrapped around her head like a blindfold.

She was not a ghost...
She was not truly dead...but once was.

"Welcome aboard the Arc (Ark) Meridian" greeted the woman as she faded into Verial's view.

"We wondered when you would finally stir. Sometimes people fall into a numb, complacent slumber in life that they cannot rouse from. Though, I do wonder why you find yourself here...and not....elsewhere. We know why we are here, but you do not. Yes?"

Her voice was quietly reticent against the constant slapping of waves upon the ship. The lean lines of her limbs moved in lithe ivory grace. Her form left no such imagination of her beauty or gender as it was wrapped in a sheer, shroud-like gown, which held no respect to any prescribed social modesty.

There was no prescribed social modesty here.

There were few rules.

But numberless were the sands of the shores just beyond, the days of lonely torment, and the endless nights of salty tears upon the vast sea.

The voice that roused Verial from his period of waiting was not one he recognized. Verial turned towards the rather misty sounding voice and spotted a woman robed entirely in white with nearly any of her flesh showing. When she had parted the mists and revealed herself to the son of the Dreamer, Verial thought the enigmatic lady rather resembled a spirit more than anything.

Though she could have been easily mistaken for a specter, the ghost-like woman spoke in riddles to answer Verial's questioning gaze. Part of his being was impatient; as a child he had preferred solutions rather than additional riddles adding onto his problems. He tried to keep a tight grasp on reality, which was quite a challenge to those in his bloodline as the Dreamers were always teetering on the edge of reality versus the subconscious. Though Verial was very much like his mother Sorvynia, he had an understanding that at this point in their lives, she was partial to floating about the Abyss while he was always trying to keep his feet on the ground.

The only thing Verial was able to grasp from the woman's introduction was that the ship did have a name - the Arc Meridian - but its purpose and his being on it was still unexplained. At the moment the only thing he gathered was the ship was sailing along for no real reason, with no destination in mind, and that he was possibly the only physical entity onboard.

Verial was somewhat content with the idea that this was not a dream, as the woman had mentioned he had awoken from a slumber recently. However, the feeling of the sea voyage left him doubtful if he was really awake or asleep still. With no other options at the moment, he let the slowly rocking ship take him and his spirit companion through the foggy waters.

Finally Verial answered as he rose his head back up towards the woman. "I do not know why I am here or who has brought me onto this ship," he started, "but I would like to know why you are here."

Post originally by Character_Prophet

He ignored them.

Both of them.

Emerging from the lower depths of the ship he wore nothing but a pair of overals, fastened over the shoulder with brass buckles that would snap into place. Upon his head was a straw hat that remained plastered onto his dark haired head despite the breath of the ocean wind that seemed to whip through the fog...yet did not stir the clouds.

His gaze looked neither to one or the other as he climbed the mast with the strength and agility only a older boy / young man could possess. Jumping onto the netting and climbing until he got to the mast's very top he would climb onto the crows nest. Then...he would look.

North.

South.

East.

West.

He then hopped down, sliding down the mast and walking past them back towards the lower hold.

"Fuck."

She saw the process of reason whirling behind his eyes, into the argument of his mind that was trying to make sense of where he was and why. The young winged man had a vibe about him, an aura, of a seeker. When Verial answered, she would turn herself in his direction and approach him with all the coordination of a seeing person despite the swaths of cloth tied about her head.

She didn't say he had awakened from a slumber, she only said that he had stirred. And the feeling of doubt he had was perhaps a small spark of a greater flame inside him.

"This is a ship of the Damned..." she coldly declared as a hand drifted from its rest at her side to gesture. It was a fair and generalized answer, for it was a known fact that many people are self absorbed and extend their care for others only so far.

"You will not understand the reason why and where you are by drawing a conclusion from mine, if that is why you ask."

She would seem to 'watch' Prophet as he appeared and then exited the deck back to the lower hold leaving the ignored two with that exclamation, for which she chose to ignore just the same as she returned her blind-like attention back to Verial.

Before the cloth-wrapped woman could answer Verial, a new face emerged on the deck of the ship. The stranger's presence was short lived, but in the time Prophet had stepped onto the scene, Verial gathered he was some sort of navigator on this Ship of the Damned (as the woman so casually described to him). Prophet appeared less mystifying then the woman Verial was speaking with; he wore overalls and a straw hat and appeared as if the man had stumbled out of a wheat field he was farming in and somehow ended up on a ship. Nevertheless, Prophet soon proved his skills to Verial's doubt as he expertly scaled his way up to the top of the crow's nest and squinted his eyes, looking at all directions possible.

For a moment, Verial thought speaking to Prophet would have been useful; after all, the man seemed to be searching for something up on the crow's nest and perhaps knew the ship's current destination. But when Prophet slid down from his high-up perch, he paid neither Verial nor the woman any mind. He muttered something (Verial heard the single word "Fuck") and then headed back towards the lower hold from whence he came. Verial barely had the chance to get a single word out to stop Prophet in his tracks.

Talking to the mysterious woman brought him no satisfaction either, as when she finally answered Verial, she gave him no more hints as to why he was on the ship or where he was going. It would appear that Verial would just have to go along for now and be the passenger this foreign ship wanted him to be.

Becoming slightly bored with trying to gain an answer from the woman, Verial turned to the horizon again. The mist covered thickly and he did not see anything beyond the veil of fog - at least not from where he was standing. However, Prophet had seen something. Verial looked towards the crow's nest sizing its height and headed towards it. Without any chance to have the woman stop him from his climb, Verial began to head up the crow's nest almost as well as Prophet, though he had to use his dark feathered wings a few times to balance himself with the rocking of the ship.

At the top of the crow's nest, Verial could see much more clearly. He followed Prophet's lead, letting his blue and green colored eyes turn in all directions - North, South, East, West. And then he found it. Dotting up along the coastline to the west was an island, colored with green palms and gray mountains. Though it was a good distance off still, they were sure to come in contact with it soon. Verial could not tell if the place was inhabited or not, but it did make him wonder why Prophet had exclaimed "Fuck" upon seeing the island. Was this good or bad?

Descending from the crow's nest, Verial walked back towards the ghost-like woman and pointed westward. He was not sure if she could see beyond the fog or not. Hell, he wasn't even sure if she'd give him any sort of answer that would help, but he asked anyway.

"What is that place out there?"

"The environment beyond the Ark is not as important as the space you are occupying right now. Imagine yourself, a vessel. Like this ship. Your vessel houses your soul. For most, a soul will sail the seas of dreams in their rest. But you, and others like you, move your vessel's freely between the realms of consciousness.

Sometimes your vessel can become moored within reef-riddled places. Stationary.

The land you see beyond is only there because you need it to be there. Despite not knowing what will meet you there in that destination it gives you a false sense of hope. Getting there becomes a distraction to the most important thing. Why you are here to begin with.

Your nature has always been as it is now. Your soul has always been troubled and restless, before it ever came to be born into the strange vessel that you are. Long ago, before you were born as a child of the Dreamer, I knew you.

The Arc (Ark) Meridian, is one point of many that connects all things between the waking and the dreams. It is an Ark serving as a purpose for those who've been marked damned.

You see this place as a Ship, while others might see it as house or temple, your perception sees it as this. Because you are...an adventurer. It is here that you might begin your journey to find out who and what you truly are without fear of consequence. Without being restricted by what you've been taught that is right and wrong. You may simply...be. And explore.

Go...speak with that...man" she smiled as she turned her face in the direction that Prophet exited.

Life was funny. Death was HILARIOUS. Ok, "hilarious" might have been an overstatement, but he thought it was close enough. Apparently the saying "you live by the sword, you die by the sword" was true. Incomplete, but true. The entire quote should be "You live by the sword, you die by the sword, you get you reward by the sword, and you get your punishment by the sword." Of course that was a bit more of a mouthful. So Dravvin understood why it'd been shortened.

The elemental had died using his powers over water and wind to flash freeze terminally ill civilians, in a war that the "gods" started in another world. He'd also used that power in a number of other ways that weren't quite as humanitarian. He'd killed with his power, healed with it, and used it to his and his family's advantage whenever it suited him.

Before he died Dravvin had merged with several alternate reality versions of himself. Most were more or less the same, but one or two of them had been bastards through and through. He wasn't sure what that would do to his "soul" as he died, but he was positive that it wouldn't be good.

All these thoughts flashed before him as he was realizing that he appeared to be on a small piece of ice, floating in a large body of water. He barely got turned around in time to see the large ship his "float" was about to hit. As fender benders went this one was nothing. He hit the ship and barely made a sound. The ice he'd been floating on cracked, but seemed stable enough for now.

Above him he could hear talking. It sounded like two people, but he didn't recognize either voice.

"This is a ship of the Damned..." one voice stated calmly.

That answered his question about his soul. There wasn't much he could do about it now he supposed. Kirk closed his eyes and focus his energy, and will. His powers lay waiting to be used, but it seemed as if they'd been laying too long and gotten overweight. They didn't come rushing in like they used to. It was more like they slowly got off the couch and took their time getting the bag of potato chips out of the kitchen.

The power was there, it'd become lazy. He'd have to exorcise them to get them back into shape. First a simple, propel. He positioned his hands, palm side down, to his sides. Slowly the winds around him picked up and before too long, his feet were five inches off the surface of the water. He put more power into the act and began rising up the side of the ship.

With all his focus going into his actions he missed any other parts of the conversation above him. Which was just as well, he didn't want to be rude and listen in on someone's conversation. That was just poor manners. He was almost to the deck, and his brow was beaded with sweat. He'd have to draw up a plan to get his power back where it needed to be. This just wasn't going to work out for him the way it was.

Not as quietly as he'd like, Dravvin finally landed on the deck of the ship.

"So, don't you think 'ship of the damned' is a bit dramatic?" he asked, dusting off his jacket and looking up towards the voices.

Verial slumped down for a moment, against the railing of the ship and nearly let his forehead touch the wood. There was no doubt that he had listened to the woman's words, but every "answer" seemed to lead into another question. Evidently, there was no real way around it. Verial was stuck on this ship until either he woke up or came to the place he was seeking (which he had no idea where that was).

Perhaps it was best for him to just let the ship take him where it would and abandon all responsibility of finding a solution to the mysterious setting he was a part of. After all, the ship in essence was an escape - a place where Verial could truly find who he was without the interruptions of his other earthly life. Here he was lost in a sea of the damned with seemingly no one who know him, except –

"You have met me before?" Verial said pushing himself away from the railing of the ship and turning back towards the woman. "Or some other part of me..." His hands lifted to his heart and crossed over it where he shared the soul of a silent and sleeping dragon.

Any further conversation the woman could have provided was interrupted by a thud on the deck. Something had fallen against the ship and Verial turned to look over at the sound, the bitter wind lightly lifting his raven hair for a moment. A man was sprawled across the ship, having landed from somewhere and was making an attempt to get up. Verial had not seen the man get on the ship or in the passenger hold below, so for all he knew this newcomer may have well just came from the sky.

Turning away from the woman, Verial went to help the man up by offering a hand. Merely by looking at the person and by listening to him, Verial knew that there was a definite chance now this was simply not just a dream. After all, Verial rarely enjoyed sharing his subconscious with others and he was sure his mind was not capable of thinking up such a comedic relief. Verial half smiled at the man's comment, but any amusement he might have expressed at the joke was stalled by the ghostly woman.

Verial could not fathom why she had wanted him to speak with Prophet - after all, the man seemed rather indifferent to the company he kept on the ship. Why should Prophet care to speak with Verial? And if this was Verial's time to explore, why should she be directing him what to do? Verial let out a soft sigh for a moment and shook his head.

"Don't go anywhere," Verial said motioning with his hands toward Dravvin. "I need to know there is someone else who is real here."

Without another a chance for Dravvin to reply, Verial descended into the lower hold. Prophet was not difficult to find as he was a few feet away from the entrance. Verial looked up at him, wondering what the correct thing to say was or why he was even down here. What point did that woman want to make by asking him to speak with Prophet? Asking where the ship was going or what the island ahead was had proved useless earlier, so Verial sought a new question that might take him elsewhere.

"Are you the captain of the Arc (Ark) Meridian?"