<<Disclaimer: Choppy and long, but informative if you know anything about this plot. Goes in with JB's post under the same title. Mild language, PG-13>> It was wrong. It was all wrong. The plan had been simple enough really, and Christof thought from the get go that he could handle it. He was wrong. He was way wrong. He was doing a favor (the granddaddy of all favors mind you) for a friend, but first he needed to find his friends 'owner' who had documents Chris needed to free said friend. Finding the smuggler/pirate known as Direlette had been easy enough, a simple stop into the Dragon Myst Inn gave that start. Then like a yearbook from hell, a couple of old faces popped into the inn as well, one guy named Ethan whom Chris had met through Shyne... didn't like him then, and seeing him talk to Dire, he didn't like him now. Chris played the wallflower bit, trying to listen in when, voila, enter face number two, Shyne Blake Kurakolis. Christof hadn't seen Shyne more than once since they'd broken up, and it had been nice to see her again almost... just a little confusing. This time... not so much. They started off nice enough and Chris had let a barb about her father slip out, which lit a powder keg. It had been like old times, the two screaming at one another in a tavern, people staring at them. Too much like old times. After storming out after the black leather clad pirate, Direlette, Christof had set up an impromptu meeting with her, playing the casual shark, trying to get under her employ. Again, it all seemed to go well at first, despite him being tense from the encounter with Shyne. Then somewhere in there, the pirate stuck him in the shoulder with an obvious narcotic, sending him into a nice deep sleep with nothing but a kiss goodnight for his troubles. When he awoke he was being tugged off to the ship he had wanted to infiltrate from the beginning, and perhaps this botched plan could be salvaged after all? <Of *course* not, dear reader, this is Chris' life... you think his luck is truly that good?> Sephyr Bridges, the one man Chris had informed about his trip to the isle, had made a lovely little game of turning the ship into a bomb. Words were spoken, and Chris bluffed about having his evident 'ally' burn the ship in a little sea cookout. Of course, something was terribly wrong, and only when things were getting fun (blades swinging, pirates rushing, etc.) did Chris realize this. Seph's normally clear blue eyes, had a red glow... which really only meant one thing to the young 'bard.' Theros was back. Theros was a demon that had once inhabited Sephyr, and months ago Chris had thought the demon was vanquished. Evidentially, such was not the case. So now, a half demon as his ally, a crazed leather clad hottie rushing them, what happens? Sephyr- or Theros, or whoever the hells was in there, light the fuse and teleported them away. One simple word describes what happened next: Kaboom. The ship most definitely sank after they'd beat feet, and that meant one thing... Dire's crew of 43 men were likely burnt, blown up, or drown. And though Seph had lit the fuse, it was all Chris' fault. Had he just kept his head in the first place... been more aware, not let Dire get the drop on him... those men may have had a chance to live. They were dead. It was hours passed now, Chris having left his current place of stay, out in the night streets of Drache. Sweat drenched his face, despite the icy chill in the air, and several times on the way to the Black Dragon Inn he'd been forced to stop, dry heaving in due to his own horror. 43 dead. And it was all his fault. ~~~~~ Chris
