“MAN, O’ER BOARD!” came the call from up above and as the crew of The Icerunner peered into the grey sea they saw a body, face down and bloody. The sailors give the sign of the Lord with their hands, lowered their head and returned to their duties.
“What are you men doing?” said a voice gilded by authority “Save that man.” The sailors paused with looks of a father who must put down an injured animal.
“Sir…” one of the sailor’s spoke up, “that man is dead, there’s nothing we can do.”
Disgusted, the well-spoken man said, “Surely he deserves a proper burial?” but the sailor just shook his head and returned to checking the ship. He had turned his attention back to his duty for less than a minute when there was a loud “SPLASH.”
“MAN, O’ER BOARD” cried the lookout again and the sailors all rushed to help their fallen comrade. It was the articulate gentleman, he swam towards the body of the dead man as the freezing sea tried to paralyse him. The sailors gave panicked shouts from above and raced across the deck looking for safety lines. A group jumped into a lifeboat and plunged to the rescue of their passenger. Reaching the dead man, the gentleman grabbed onto his piece of flotsam and tried to kick his way back to the ship. But nothing moved. His legs were paralysed by the sheer cold. He felt more tired than he had ever felt in all his life and strangest of all, he felt warm. A numb warm that soothed him, a warm that said “just close your eyes and sleep” like a mother to a child. He felt a sharp tug, and all went dark.
Categories: Hellheart Archive