Information

Ragar_527
Legacy Name: Ragar_527

The Bloodred Lasirus
Owner: Whovian_986

Age: 15 years, 2 months, 2 weeks

Born: February 18th, 2009

Adopted: 15 years, 2 months, 2 weeks ago (Legacy)

Adopted: February 18th, 2009 (Legacy)

Nominate Pet for Spotlight

Statistics

• Level: 10
   
• Strength: 20
   
• Defense: 20
   
• Speed: 18
   
• Health: 25
   
• HP: 25/25
   
• Intelligence: 0
   
• Books Read: 0
• Food Eaten: 0
• Job: Unemployed

Ragar gazed down at the open chest of gold at his feet. He kicked it angrily, ignoring the coins that spilled over the edge like excess water. It wasn't worth the pain it had caused.

He left his captain's quarters and descended the stairs to the deck. There were less than half of the men in the riggings than there were supposed to be. Those that remained were running about frantically, trying to do the work of two men. He was about to go below deck when one of the men--Scruffy--called, "Cap'n, what're you doing? You might catch it!"

"I know," he replied in a low voice. He didn't know if Scruffy had heard him, but the crew mate didn't make any more objections. Ragar's ears flattened against his head as he reached the floor below, and a piteous sound came to him: a mixture of groans, cries, coughs, and ragged breathing. He couldn't let his men suffer like this.

The sickness had started with his best friend and first mate, Bjorn, who had been bitten by the monster they'd fought to get to the treasure. Two days after they sailed away with the loot, Bjorn fell sick. As he slowly got worse, someone else--Gruff--caught the same sickness. By the time five days had gone by, three other men were sick, and Bjorn was dead. Now, over half the crew was sick. Ragar had no idea what it was, and as far as he knew, there was no cure.

He walked into the sleeping quarters, where the hideous noise was coming from. In the beds were about twenty pirates, some shifting, some shaking with coughs, some not moving at all. The nearest, Shorty, tried to push himself up. His tiny frame looked even smaller from the illness. "What are you doing down here, Captain? You might catch it," he said hoarsely.

Ragar didn't answer. He walked up to the man until he was only a foot away. "I'm sorry," he said in a low voice, reaching for his pistol. There was a bang, and Shorty fell back into the bed. He would suffer no more.

The captain walked up to each occupied bed, murmured his apology, and pulled the trigger. He left the ones that were already dead. When the business was finished, he walked back up into the sunlight, praying that one day he could be forgiven for what he'd done.

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