Posted on Mon Nov 5th, 2012 @ 12:56am by Master Caroline Summers
Chapter 6: Desperate Times
Location: Steamhawke Deck
A pulsing ache spread slowly throughout Carol’s head as she gradually regained consciousness from the stupor she’d found herself in. Her prone form lay sprawled across the dark wooden deck of the ship; a dozen empty bottles lay scattered around her. She reached out her hand to grab the nearby railing, knocking several glass containers into the ocean below. After a bit a fumbling she finally managed to regain her footing.
Carol rubbed her forehead slightly as she scanned the litter around her. It seemed she had found a limit to her ability to hold her liquor at last. It had to happen eventually, she supposed. Carol found herself scowling angrily at the thought, as well as the pounding in her skull. Perhaps what she needed was some sleep in a proper bed instead of on a damn wood floor. Slowly she began to shuffle towards the hold, kicking a bottle along with her.
Suddenly a sharp, agonizing feeling shot through her being. Nothing like mere pain, the horrible feeling went down to her very core. Carol grabbed the sides of her head with her hands and gritted her teeth hard as her eye gradually began to flare crimson. “Grr... Not now...” she painfully muttered to herself.
The woman slammed her foot down onto the bottle she’d been kicking. The weight of her foot began pressing down heavily on the glass object. Slowly cracks began to form across its surface before finally succumbing and shattering beneath her heel with a crash. With a sudden motion Carol had her sword firmly in hand and had begun hacking away at the wooden railing of the ship.
“Damnit! Damnit! Damnit!” the crazed woman shouted, louder with each swing. It wasn’t long before the section of the ship she’d been attacking had been reduced to little more than wood scraps. Still Carol keep whacking down onto the bits, reducing them to finer and finer chunks. Finally her swings began to slow, with each one holding less force. Within moments they stopped altogether, as swiftly as they had come in the first place. Carol’s breath was heavy as she dropped the heavy weapon to the deck with a clang.
Carol dropped to her knees and punched the deck with her fists, cracking the wood slightly. A small splatter of blood erupted from her knuckles, flecking the woman’s face and leaving a splatter on the wood. Despite this, Carol remained motionless for what seemed like minutes. Her breathing gradually returned to normal, and the red tint to her eye began to fade.
Finally Carol returned to her feet, grabbing her sword as she did. Quickly it was returned to its place, and just as swiftly Carol resolved not to drink nearly as much in the future.