Whatever Garret had to say was thoroughly ignored by the crew. Between sobs he walked, hands and feet firmly tied with rope, breaking the once proud and confident gait of the now broken man. His heart had died with his lover, in truth, yet his vengeance had not died with Marco. Rage remained inside him, for even after butchering the murderer, Garret had found no comfort. As he stood on the edge of the wooden plank, his body fought to maintain its balance as if the waters could be avoided. He said nothing to the crew, the witnesses of his execution, for instead his words were whispered to Famula, sending prayers and messages both to the Goddess and his former lover. Meanwhile, whilst the crew stared, they too were overwhelmed with fear, even if their lives were, apparently, safe from now on. That fear originated from the unnatural fact that Garret had accepted his fate, and thus accepted death, for instead of a cutlass or a stick threatening to toss him overboard, it was his own will what sent him into the endless waters.
As the man was lost in the depths, and the infamous plank was retrieved for posteriority, the crew slowly began to disperse - be it by their own will or by the many yells that, of course, now demanded the crew to return to their posts. Everyone worked harder that day, for work healed the heart and mind, and sweat drowned bad memories like fire burnt scars. The day was cloudy and its winds were harsh, as if the melancholy of it all had seeped into the atmosphere as well. Those same puffy clouds, once gazed from far enough, truly resembled padded walls appropriate to the madness lived within the lonely vessel.
Kovic found himself at work in the kitchen once again, preparing yet another oversized soup for supper. It was an easy task for any humanoid, yet not for a creature of hunger like himself. The thoughts of biting on the ingredients, of swallowing them whole, were very present throughout his shift, yet his well-fed mind managed to resist. It was a true lesson in discipline for himself, and were able to feel pride, he most certainly would’ve these instants. Whenever his cravings grew too big, a simple lick of the meat or bones later tossed into the soup was enough; detail which the crew were most certainly unaware of. That hint of taste could last him for breaks sometimes, especially if his tongue relished on a strong taste. From there, his mind worked with him, creating illusions of entire plates prepared for him, served in clean plates whilst he lived comfortably somewhere. Every plate was filled with vegetables, fruits and sweet delights whilst meat was completely discarded from his diet.
No matter the appetite felt, his mind was sane again. PErhaps the most positive feature of these two last days were the four less individuals that required fodder, plus the two officers punished by the captain. A smile broke his bearded features as he recalled the lady navigator. A lovely creature with a sharp mind. She had not only managed to survive him, but also to imprison him behind some barrels. Then, she had negotiated her way out of his stomach. She deserved respect from those around her, and she certainly got a part of Kovics’, who now fantasized about the female. It was not her curves what he craved like every other man, for his interest in the sexual was minimal. Instead, he pondered about her mind, about her psychology. Where did she come from? How did she grow up? What had she become? Perhaps he should ask her one day.
Once the chef left the kitchen, heading for the latrine that claimed much of his time, Kovic was left alone to take care of the soup. Whenever he was alone in such situations, the Mortalborn couldn’t help but to be somewhat naughty. His choices were many. Kovic could eat from the soup as much as he wanted, and later add water to water it down and hide the diminished levels of it all. Drinking it all and then spilling the rest whilst offering excuses to the chew would also be viable. Anything was valid, in truth, for his ability to trick humanoids was innate and powerful. Many were the fantasies that invaded his mind, not only exclusive to this particular occasion, but instead being recurrent to whenever the chew was away. Sometimes, they were too appealing.
The soup was safe, but the ingredients were not, for the Mortalborn had opened the pantry, and his hands shoved everything they could find within his mouth. Meat and fish, bread mixed with fat, dried fruits and even legumes, hard or not, all shoved within his maws. Once his immediate craving had been sated, he’d tidy up after him, close the pantry, and return to his post.
It wasn’t only his Aura of Famine what terrorized the crew and drove them into madness. It was the cooking assistant’s insatiable gluttony and utmost selfishness the reason for misery, hunger, and death.
As the man was lost in the depths, and the infamous plank was retrieved for posteriority, the crew slowly began to disperse - be it by their own will or by the many yells that, of course, now demanded the crew to return to their posts. Everyone worked harder that day, for work healed the heart and mind, and sweat drowned bad memories like fire burnt scars. The day was cloudy and its winds were harsh, as if the melancholy of it all had seeped into the atmosphere as well. Those same puffy clouds, once gazed from far enough, truly resembled padded walls appropriate to the madness lived within the lonely vessel.
Kovic found himself at work in the kitchen once again, preparing yet another oversized soup for supper. It was an easy task for any humanoid, yet not for a creature of hunger like himself. The thoughts of biting on the ingredients, of swallowing them whole, were very present throughout his shift, yet his well-fed mind managed to resist. It was a true lesson in discipline for himself, and were able to feel pride, he most certainly would’ve these instants. Whenever his cravings grew too big, a simple lick of the meat or bones later tossed into the soup was enough; detail which the crew were most certainly unaware of. That hint of taste could last him for breaks sometimes, especially if his tongue relished on a strong taste. From there, his mind worked with him, creating illusions of entire plates prepared for him, served in clean plates whilst he lived comfortably somewhere. Every plate was filled with vegetables, fruits and sweet delights whilst meat was completely discarded from his diet.
No matter the appetite felt, his mind was sane again. PErhaps the most positive feature of these two last days were the four less individuals that required fodder, plus the two officers punished by the captain. A smile broke his bearded features as he recalled the lady navigator. A lovely creature with a sharp mind. She had not only managed to survive him, but also to imprison him behind some barrels. Then, she had negotiated her way out of his stomach. She deserved respect from those around her, and she certainly got a part of Kovics’, who now fantasized about the female. It was not her curves what he craved like every other man, for his interest in the sexual was minimal. Instead, he pondered about her mind, about her psychology. Where did she come from? How did she grow up? What had she become? Perhaps he should ask her one day.
Once the chef left the kitchen, heading for the latrine that claimed much of his time, Kovic was left alone to take care of the soup. Whenever he was alone in such situations, the Mortalborn couldn’t help but to be somewhat naughty. His choices were many. Kovic could eat from the soup as much as he wanted, and later add water to water it down and hide the diminished levels of it all. Drinking it all and then spilling the rest whilst offering excuses to the chew would also be viable. Anything was valid, in truth, for his ability to trick humanoids was innate and powerful. Many were the fantasies that invaded his mind, not only exclusive to this particular occasion, but instead being recurrent to whenever the chew was away. Sometimes, they were too appealing.
The soup was safe, but the ingredients were not, for the Mortalborn had opened the pantry, and his hands shoved everything they could find within his mouth. Meat and fish, bread mixed with fat, dried fruits and even legumes, hard or not, all shoved within his maws. Once his immediate craving had been sated, he’d tidy up after him, close the pantry, and return to his post.
It wasn’t only his Aura of Famine what terrorized the crew and drove them into madness. It was the cooking assistant’s insatiable gluttony and utmost selfishness the reason for misery, hunger, and death.
So much possible negative fame.... Kovic is too good at hiding he's responsible, lol)