Macri the Mystical Leafy Sea Dragon
Legacy Name: Malicity
The Hydrus Demi
Age: 13 years, 2 months, 2 weeks
Born: September 9th, 2008
Adopted: 13 years, 2 months, 2 weeks ago (Legacy)
Adopted: September 9th, 2008 (Legacy)
- Level: 111
- Strength: 16
- Defense: 14
- Speed: 14
- Health: 28
- HP: 0/28
- Intelligence: 40
- Books Read: 0
- Food Eaten: 0
- Job: Unemployed
Malicity VancherThe Castaway (Completed)
"This will be the best, last, and most relaxing vacation of your life"
Huh. Whoever worded this could stand some classes on proper word placement.
And this toothy greeter ushering people did not help me think this is a good idea. In fact, this joker makes me feel even more apprehensive about stepping paw onto the ship.
He was a Montre, Common, in a white tuxedo jacket, dark eyes looking around the crowd. I walked up to him.
"Excuse me. Sir?"
Those eyes flashed back to me
"You take these, right?" I waved the ticket in front of him, "Or do I just hop on this ship?
He just stared at me; I felt my temper beginning to rise. All this fool has to do is take the tickets! Is it fate's job to hire incompetent people to get in my way?--
"Oh! Yessir." He took my ticket, and gave me a once-over, "Go on, sir, my 'pologies, just go right on."
I sighed. "Thank You!" I reply, and head up the walkway. I turned around and see Corsa and Brillata, waving to me. I hitched on a smile and waved back. After a while, I had to end the charade and head further inside. Do something you're not used to doing, and your muscles don't know how to act.
7/16; Early Afternoon
I met a acquaintance today--okay, I made a friend. Saw him sliding along the deck, looked more fun than the 'Guess Who I Am!' in the dining hall. (Literally. Last time I checked, I think someone was acting out a constipated bingo player.)
The Cream Chelon turned his head around "Wanna join me, man?" He shouted as he went on by.
I jumped down on all fours and slid on the slippery deck. I hear a "With some spirit, man!". I took this to mean that I should run faster before going into a slide. Or that I should slide on my belly like him, but I wasn't going to go there.
Pounding the deck, I launched around a waiter, janitor, and a nuclear family just to fly into the life jacket storage bin.
The Chelon was beside me, guffawing, "Not bad, man, for a furred one! Here, let ole Swingle show ya how its done!"
We slid on the deck the entire afternoon, getting more than one other guest and employee to join us. There were some awed comments about Swingle's gems; Unlike the usual, powdery blue on most of his color and species, he had a motley arrangement. Teal, Cornflower, Dodger, Royal--all the blues you're never taught in primary school. The biggest one, in the middle, was a beautiful Midnight Blue. When I pointed out the admiring (and jealous) stares he was getting, all Swingle did was smile, shrug, and kept sliding.
He never failed to stand in sunlight, where his gems would shine and glean, though.
The pamphlet promised an 'exquisite array of edible delicacies', but, of course, it lied again. When me and Swingle went to the dining room that evening, we found only a basket of wheat rolls.
"We're doing something slightly different today, gentlemen." He drawled, "We will call folks up, one at a time, to go into the kitchen for a meal consultation. Your dining experience must be as perfect as possible!" He bowed, and I caught a glimpse of the mysterious object.
"Did you see that? On the tray?" I whispered. Swingle looked at me oddly.
"Naw, pal. What was it?"
"A knife! About this long!" I gestured the size with my paw, about a foot apart from each other. "They can't bring us food but they can walk around with knives?"
I realized that the area around me was quiet; My hysterical monologue had attracted the attention of a family, a couple, and someone who previously had his nose in a book. I quickly grabbed the bread basket and pretend to rummage around it. I felt their stares leave, and could imagine their conversations; "Huh. Some people. Mind, I think you should stay away from that Demi, he not wrapped too tight..."
Swingle shook his head at me, "Mal, you're worryin' too much. This cruise is just a little different, that's all."
He's right. This cruise is supposed to calm me down. I walked on irritable and was on my way to leaving in a hysterical mess. After that, we talked about our lives back home, me as a newspaper editor, Swingle as a professional undersea diver.
"That reminds me." I said, "I meant to find some seashells for my niece, but I've no idea if we're going to stop somewhere..."
To my utmost surprise, Swingle rolls something across the table. A small, light blue gem. "Keep it." He said with a wink, "They fall out, but they always grow back. I think she'll like that more than some run-of-the-mill shell you could find."
Before I could thank him profusely, the waiter returned. "Your turn, sir." He said, bowing to Swingle. He turned to me, "I'll come and fetch you shortly. Come along, sir..."
He waved a flipper at me, and was led into the kitchen. Eventually, more and more people were called into the back and I was left alone in the dining hall. I felt uneasy. I grabbed the roll basket, looked around and headed back to my room.
The sea was rough; Even though a storm was coming, the sun still shone brightly on it, blinding me every time I glanced at it.
I decided to cast my gaze along the deck, looking for Swingle. Strange, but it seems that I don't recognize anyone on board now. Of course, I wouldn't know their names, but there was always a Anyu lounging on a deck chair, a Mallarchy diving in the pool...now they're replaced with a Feli brushing her fur, and a Paralix writing in a book.
Userlookup by Saxon
Overlay by She
After an hour or so, I walked to the dining hall; Maybe he was still in there, though for what reason, I can't fathom. It was empty. The sound of clanging, swearing and...heavy machinery came from the back. I held Swingle's gem in one paw--it had a pretty sharp edge--and opened the door a crack.
I did not look into a kitchen. I looked into some sort of--of--
A little Donadak was led in, blindfolded. She heard the screams, like I did, and began to struggle. A cloth was placed over her mouth and nose and she went limp.
I rushed to a window so I could follow the unfortunate's 'progress'.
They tied her down on a table; Her Spectrum spots stood out, and I had a bad feeling that those blotches would cost her.
Every one who surrounded her were in white jackets and masks. A long rusty knife was extracted. The wielder began to skin her, but only at certain points. After a while, she regained consciousness and began to scream and kick. The knife took a brief respite from skinning to slit her throat.
I nearly screamed then and there, but I reminded myself to keep quiet and write it down.
The multicolored jewels were pulled from her head and neck and placed on a area attached to a large machine. Buttons were pressed, and a large weight fell on the gems, crushing them.
But not so. Wait a minute...
Upon being drawn up, the weight revealed a little plastic bottle shaped like a rainbow. Different colors splashed around merrily. It was a Spectrum Potion.
"Nice." I recognized the voice as the one belonging to the ticket Montre (Or should I call him taxidermist Montre now?). Ship it t'the Token Shop. Some little fool will pay a lot for that..."
Someone siphoned the skinned spots into a little jar. Probably for a fake or toy Spectrum. The body was lifted and tossed to one side. The Montre came back, hitting the tosser.
"In the rubbish pile, dolt." The lackey shrugged and lifts it again.
Cutting through my panic, I noticed that the remains lie beside a door. Albeit it's a fairly large door, I convinced myself to rescue what was left of my friend through it.
I actually had to go back outside the dining hall and around the corner to reach the aforementioned door. A gate was placed around it, and of course, the gate was locked. With no other plan in mind, I absentmindedly hit at the lock with them gem; The latch snapped apart and fell.
"Too easy." I mumbled, looking around and sliding inside. The boat was rocking dangerously now; The door might bang against the wall and alert everyone to my rescue attempt. Oh well...
I opened the door to the machine room a crack. I stuck in a paw and quickly felt around a pile. When I felt something hard, I quickly pulled it out...
Finally, my paw wrapped around the edge of a shell, and I pull it out. Suddenly, pain shot up my arm. The door was thrown open, hitting me in the face. "Arrrggh--!"
I was pulled in by the Montre, and I got the lovely view of his sharp, filed teeth. "Sneaking around..." He mumbled "...gets you ground...up!"
"What'll he be?" Asked a hulking Mortiking. I would have rather be his dinner than anything this nutjob factory is churning out.
"Just a Sun Potion, unless you can think of somethin' else. Ain't much colorfill pets can be, besides a mousepad or plushie."
I have but one weapon left to me, and I swiped Swingle's gem across my tormentors' face. I hit the ground running, not seeing what's happening in my wake. I knocked over a vat of liquid for a good distraction. (Of course, it turned out to be blood.) I grabbed the shell as I ran out, of course--I nearly got killed for it, it was going to come with me!
I ran out onto the deck, into a storm. Lightning is flashing, thunder rolling, and the boat rocking. I'd consider it an amazing setting for an adventure novel if my life wasn't in jeopardy; Thus, I had no time to do so.
Workers in white jumpsuits blocked the right, so I head off left, sliding through puddles, until I reach the front. Near the case of life jackets.
Even more asylum-worker wannabes came from the left, tazers and stun guns now evident. How big of a threat was I?
With Swingle's shell, gem, this journal, pen, and a life jacket, I rolled my eyes and threw myself overboard.
Something kept hitting me. I thought I heard someone call "Slide!", in the fainted depths of my conscious, but, looking back, it was probably just my subconscious.
After a while, I came to. I was on a beach; It's the waves that kept slapping my face. I got to my paws, rather shakily, and looked around. It seems pleasant enough. There are palm trees further inland, the forerunner to a jungle. The sky is a bright blue, dotted with clouds. The beach is littered with shells, ironically enough. Seaweed is tangled in my mane.
"Someone will come looking for me," I say, "But for now, I have to look after myself."
But all I feel like doing is looking for shells. So I do, casting glances behind me to make sure everything is still there. I did drag it further inland, though. I look at the sea, and see (haha) all sorts of little fish, sea worms, and stuff I couldn't even begin to identify.
When I grabbed Swingle's shell to try and fish some out, I was suddenly reminded of a song from one of Brillata's infernal kid shows;
Story by Clockworthy
Bottled Ocean Water
Enchanted Bottle of Sea
Feathered Purple Sea Worm
Feathered Green Sea Worm
Feathered Pink Sea Worm
Yellow Leafed Sea Dragon
Apprehensive Sea Horse
Coconut Fruit Salad
Seashell Wind Chime
Cream Chelon Gem