A variety of circumstances have led me to believe that I have the right to shove Etherium's plot right up to the point where I can play again. If you disagree (or are just curious what they are) you can find it here. * * *
Even though I'm playing with myself, this IS an open post. I don't WANT to RPsturbate, you know! ;)
Shin-sin-fa had lookout duty for the next few weeks. He had a sneaking suspicion Tag was deliberately avoiding contact with him, and he was grateful. He could just imagine himself slipping and saying "Heut" in front of Pendragon. Sometimes he was a little put out, feeling his skills could be better put to use on more of the rigging than simply the tops'ls and peering out into the etherium, but usually he enjoyed the fact that he was out of the reach of anyone he could possibly piss off.
Besides, he got to play the head-squishing game.
The crew had fallen into a steady routine, and he could practically feel the drama emanating from Iden Truax. People all seemed to react to him strongly, negatively or postively--but usually negatively. Shin-sin-fa had avoided him from the very beginning, with the very wise decision that anyone who was as fussy as Tag was likely to piss him off to no end. After all, there was a limit to luck, especially the feline lad's, and getting along with two fussy men was absolutely impossible. He spent most of his time sitting at his post, wondering why Jamie was so obsessed with the rich lout and wishing he had more wrestling time because he could practically feel his muscles disintegrating as he languished in his wooden cup, high above the decks.
He had actually just finished Tag's 127th head-squish since the ship disembarked from Oberon-V when he saw the planet come into view. At first, no bigger than a shriveled, rusty-colored raisin, he paid it little attention. But when it got close enough for him to realize it was a very tiny planet, he paid it slightly more attention. And when they were close enough for him to read the words printed on the side of it, he was absolutely enthralled.
"Come get me, goddammit, I'm bored as hell" was written in shaky, uneven white lettering across the reddish-orange flatland.
The slender feline alien almost said nothing, because his immediate reaction was to denounce it as a trap. In fact, as he thought on it more and realized what he had to do, and more precisely, what would happen next, he felt his stomach knot up. But there was really nothing for it. Shin-sin-fa was the lookout, not the captain, and ultimatel, he was to report anything of interest to Tag or Flint and let the officers make the decisions, even if they were foolhardy and born of softheartedness.
At least there was Tag to caution Flint--but he had an idea of what the outcome would be anyway. His head brimming with imagined scenes of slaughter and butchery aboard the Etherium and on the soil of the small planet, he slipped down the mast reluctantly and made his way over to the first mate to report his findings.
Tag thanked him with curt formality and sent him back up to the crow's nest before stalking off to notify the captain, who was whistling merrily on the poop deck.
As predicted, Pendragon would not leave some poor soul marooned on such a small and remote planet. Shin-sin-fa found himself hoping the words had been written long, long ago, and that the maker would be nothing but bones. Even better, bones over the top of a chest of unimaginable booty.
I can dream, can't I? he grumbled to himself. It'd be better than getting our throats slit.
The RLS Etherium landed on the very edge of the dusty desert where the words had been written. The planet was so tiny it was almost unbelievable that it supported its own ecosystem, but there it was: a lush, dense rainforest stretching along north to south just a few hundred yards from the resting spaceship.
Captain Flint arranged teams of people to go and people to stay, but Shin-sin-fa had slipped off of the ship within the first few seconds post-landing. He was going on a reconaissance mission, and nothing and no one was going to interfere. He knew it was wrong, but what he knew even more was that it was foolish for him to remain where he might be captured or killed. If he were free, with all his knowledge of pirate tricks and conventions, as well as his feline stealth and strengths, he was much more likely to be able to save the others were they to land in trouble. He wasn't sure what Pendragon would do to him when he got caught, but he flattened his ears and took a deep breath and convinced himself that if he wasn't being whipped it couldn't be so bad...and besides, maybe by some stroke of good fortune, Flint would understand or approve.
Or maybe I'm going to grow a tail like Anthony, he thought wryly, and slunk off into the bushes to devour terrain at the most cautious pace he could afford while locating and exposing all the secrets the planet had to offer.