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CASTAWAYS

Intro for Flight 219

You woke up mid flight, both to the feeling in your stomach, and the noise. A crack, a low hum, a shudder, and the plane began to drop.

You looked around. The passengers screamed. Many of them were crying. They held each other.

You looked outside. The engines screamed. Both of them were burning. They fell apart.

"BRACE, BRACE, BRACE! HEADS DOWN, STAY DOWN! BRACE, BRACE, BRACE! HEADS DOWN, STAY DOWN!" They chanted in English. How many people here spoke English?

People, and empty cups, floated in the air like balloons.

The plane fell, like the rain around it. Like the petal of a Magnolia.

Pain. Confusion. Terror. Final moments of love. A sci-fi horror, a drama, set in a broken metal tube, hurtling through the sky.

You could see a forest lit suddenly by landing lights, impossibly green and bright. You hear a tremendous crash, impossibly loud and fast.

It all cut to black. But then you saw a light fade into view...

Intro to the MSC Troubadour

Captain's Log for the MSC Troubadour, written by Captain John Maersk†.
4.11.17 1403 hours, Sangria Harbor outside Farbanti

And we're off. These long-haul shipments going to Allouxia are a cash cow, even if they are a bit shady. At least we're not shipping weapons everywhere, like those madmen in the west. The ship's condition is pretty good, although it could use a little touching up. We're in perfectly fine condition to cross the Great Ocean, anyways.

The weather's starting to turn, but we should make it across just fine. Worst case scenario, we just have to steer out of the storm. We have plenty of fuel to do that if we need to, so there's no reason to be rash. Or maybe I can just get Sergeant Kriya, or Blade as we call her, to glare at the clouds until they get scared off. She's scary, but I certainly feel safer knowing she's on board. With her and the backing of the ECA, pirates won't even try and mess with us.

Time to get going. Allouxia, here we come!
4.15.17, 0200 hours, Great Ocean (en route to Hanse Bay, Allouxia)

The crew's been hearing strange noises in the cargo hold recently. I've asked our girl Blade to take a look to see if there are any rats or, god forbid, refugees. She hasn't found anything yet. Maybe it's just some loose cargo, which we still should get taken care of. That kind of thing sinks ships, when people get careless. Not to mention these instruments are fragile.

The weather is taking a turn for the worse. It's supposed to be the worst storm in decades, according to the bilge that Carlos has been spewing straight from the satTV. I've talked to a few of the officers and we've decided to adjust our course by a few degrees to the north, just in case. Better safe than sorry.
4.16.17, 2349 hours, Great Ocean (en route to Hanse Bay, Allouxia)

Blade found her. A Feminamian savage was hiding in one of the cargo bins, living off of vending machine snacks and whatever leftovers she could steal from the fridge near the mess at night. She's some kind of criminal, apparently, according to our security guard. The tattoos give her away. We locked her in the brig. Neither the Navy nor the Coast Guard is willing to send out a helicopter or ship to arrest her on account of the hurricane, so it looks like we'll have to deal with her until we reach Allouxian waters. Brilliant. At least she isn't raising a ruckus, like that one runaway did back in '14. I can finally catch some shut-eye with peace of mind.
4.18.17, 1030 hours, Great Ocean (en route to Hanse Bay, Allouxia)

The weather is getting much, much worse than even the meteorologists thought. To make bad news ugly, it's starting to turn north and follow our course. Maybe if we time it just right, we'll be able to dodge the worst of it. It's still going to be a rough ride, either way.

Blade says she's getting suspicious of Carlos. I told her that she's nuts. Carlos is a good man, if a bit on the duller side. I've worked with him a few times now and none of my officers have never caught him acting up, aside from the occasional bouts of laziness that seem to strike most seamen from time to time. Besides, she can deal with anyone on this ship if they become a danger. And yet I also trust Blade's tuition. I'll keep an eye on Carlos when he's around, I suppose. No reason to get all worked up.
4.21.17 2100 hrs great ocean in transit to Hans [sic]

Something happened to the ship. The damn storm has finally come and fucked us. We're taking on water, and the power is starting to fail. I've opened the brig and given the order to abandon ship, even though I doubt we'll ever make it through this shit.

This is the last message I'm sending off before the storm. The Troubadour has been sunk. I have stayed behind to make sure everyone has gotten off. There's one lifesaver left behind for me, and I intend on taking it.

Maggie, I love you. I loved you and I'm sorry I ever left you and our baby behind. If I don't survive this, please forgive me.

God, save our souls

-Captain Maersk

With the sunrise goes the storm. You wake up, stranded in a tropical island paradise. The surviving lifeboats from the Troubadour are scattered across the islands many beaches, although it looks like a few of them were broken up on a rocky cliff to the east. Flight 219 broke in two when it slammed into the side of a volcanic mountain near the center of the island: the front end and wings stayed on a edge just near the treeline, while the tail end slid off into the jungle, spreading a trail of luggage and debris behind it. Now is your time to wake up and meet the other survivors. Only through teamwork will you have any chance of survival.

The first day has begun.

Kriya groaned, pushing herself up from the sand. First thing she noticed was her armor was gone, besides her helm.
"Why the hell?" She asked herself out loud, then remembered the swim as the ship had begun to sink. "Oh yeah, forgot how heavy our plates are." She commented to herself. Then, in a panic, she checked around for her weapons. She eventually found what was left of her rifle and pistol, both pummeled and cracked beyond usability. She cursed in mando'a under her breath. Checking her person, she breathed a major sigh of relieve when she found her machete still stuck to her side. Adjusting her helmet, and fully realizing that the devices within were useless, she began walking towards other bodies, all the while lightly wringing out her clothing. It was at that moment that she noticed the marks in the volcano. It looked like something had smashed into the side of it, something with a bit more velocity than a ship, but what, she could not tell.

Ieyasi'alaevl felt like she just got hit with a club. Her head was killing her, and her whole body was wracked with pain. She carefully got up, not yet registering the sandy beach as the salt water made her wounds too present to care. She looked down and noticed her black foreign suit was ripped in some areas, and her leather jacket was hanging on by only one arm.
(Thank the Moerso that I sprung for this fancy stuff. Thought it'd just be nice as a fashion statement, but I might've gotten torn up even more if I wasn't wearing this thing...)
She staggered across the beach and propped herself against a tree, clutching her forehead as her eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight. Once her vision cleared, she saw others stumbling about, looking just as ragged as she did. The realization hit her, then.
(Gahhhhh, crap, I didn't make it, did I?)
She cursed. She cursed at the ocean, the earth, the sky, and at her stupidity. She could only manage a few more angry Feminamian words before her tongue felt very dry, a feeling that soon spread to her throat.
She hated that she had to work with random people just to survive, but it was the only chance she had. She walked up to the small crowd of people, some still unconscious along the shoreline. She spoke in Thalasi, guessing that nobody would know Feminamian on this foreign cruiser.
"Hey. I got no water. Anyone got a flask or something? We should prolly go lookin' for a stream or somethin'."

When Carlos woke up, he thought he was back in Thalasus. The tropical beach clashed with the clutter of debris washing ashore much like the industrial waste back home. He quickly realized his mistake, though, as he heard two women yelling at their gods for their awful luck. One a Feminamian, and the other from Yaim Rusuria or whatever other despotic totalitarian hellhole Farbanti was in bed with today. Moving closer, he saw that her weapons had been destroyed. He wasn't sure whether that was good or bad. After all, even if the weapons aboard the ship hadn't rusted to shit, they still wouldn't work. ARTEMIS had made sure of that. The glare that was returned by the Rusurian from Carlos' thousand yard stare snapped him out of his deep thought as he resolved to try and help the other survivors. In the back of his mind, however, persisted the question of whether they would live, and even if they did, whether he would be found out. No doubt the results of SALTEDEARTH were starting to show themselves by now...

snip-

Kriya groaned, pushing herself up from the sand. First thing she noticed was her armor was gone, besides her helm.
"Why the hell?" She asked herself out loud, then remembered the swim as the ship had begun to sink. "Oh yeah, forgot how heavy our plates are." She commented to herself. Then, in a panic, she checked around for her weapons. She eventually found what was left of her rifle and pistol, both pummeled and cracked beyond usability. She cursed in mando'a under her breath. Checking her person, she breathed a major sigh of relieve when she found her machete still stuck to her side. Adjusting her helmet, and fully realizing that the devices within were useless, she began walking towards other bodies, all the while lightly wringing out her clothing. It was at that moment that she noticed the marks in the volcano. It looked like something had smashed into the side of it, something with a bit more velocity than a ship, but what, she could not tell.

"You're awake!"

On the beach closest to her were three crewmen. Shinji, the Troubadour's halfway decent cook, Jake, the ship's youngest deckhand, and Varos, an elderly navigation officer. They all seemed to be in good health, and they quickly dropped whatever they were doing and gathered around Blade.
"Thank god you're alright," sighed Varos. "I was starting to get worried."
"Welcome to the land of the living, Blade!" said Jake with a chuckle. "Seriously though, are you okay?"
"Great, one more mouth to feed..." Muttered Shinji. He then shrugged. "At least it's a useful one. I'm glad you made it, Blade."

Morale was high, thanks to the discovery of Blade. However, it was dropping as they analyzed their dire situation.

"Damn... look at all of that," said Varos as he looked over the life boats and corpses scattered over the island. "Let's go meet up with the other survivors. If we made it, others must have too..."

-snip-

Ieyasi'alaevl felt like she just got hit with a club. Her head was killing her, and her whole body was wracked with pain. She carefully got up, not yet registering the sandy beach as the salt water made her wounds too present to care. She looked down and noticed her black foreign suit was ripped in some areas, and her leather jacket was hanging on by only one arm.
(Thank the Moerso that I sprung for this fancy stuff. Thought it'd just be nice as a fashion statement, but I might've gotten torn up even more if I wasn't wearing this thing...)
She staggered across the beach and propped herself against a tree, clutching her forehead as her eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight. Once her vision cleared, she saw others stumbling about, looking just as ragged as she did. The realization hit her, then.
(Gahhhhh, crap, I didn't make it, did I?)
She cursed. She cursed at the ocean, the earth, the sky, and at her stupidity. She could only manage a few more angry Feminamian words before her tongue felt very dry, a feeling that soon spread to her throat.
She hated that she had to work with random people just to survive, but it was the only chance she had. She walked up to the small crowd of people, some still unconscious along the shoreline. She spoke in Thalasi, guessing that nobody would know Feminamian on this foreign cruiser.
"Hey. I got no water. Anyone got a flask or something? We should prolly go lookin' for a stream or somethin'."

Two crewmen, named Vincent and Tim, were stumbling around with Ieyasi'alaevl. They didn't notice her until she spoke. Tim seemed to be wounded, but he was the first to speak.
"Aw, shit. The savage is awake."
Vincent stumbled around on the sand as he turned and grabbed a piece of debris as a weapon. "W-what do I do?"
"Put that damn thing down, you idiot. She may be a stowaway, but we're not in a position for fights about authority and admiralty law."
Vincent did as Tim said, but stared at the Feminamian warily. "T-There should be a canteen of fresh water in that boat over there. You can walk, right?"

-snip-

When Carlos woke up, he thought he was back in Thalasus. The tropical beach clashed with the clutter of debris washing ashore much like the industrial waste back home. He quickly realized his mistake, though, as he heard two women yelling at their gods for their awful luck. One a Feminamian, and the other from Yaim Rusuria or whatever other despotic totalitarian hellhole Farbanti was in bed with today. Moving closer, he saw that her weapons had been destroyed. He wasn't sure whether that was good or bad. After all, even if the weapons aboard the ship hadn't rusted to shit, they still wouldn't work. ARTEMIS had made sure of that. The glare that was returned by the Rusurian from Carlos' thousand yard stare snapped him out of his deep thought as he resolved to try and help the other survivors. In the back of his mind, however, persisted the question of whether they would live, and even if they did, whether he would be found out. No doubt the results of SALTEDEARTH were starting to show themselves by now...

Carlos was alone, but eventually the group of survivors from the Troubadour coalesced. There were eight on that beach total, but there were probably more scattered across the shores of the island.
"Alright," said Varos, taking command of things as always. "Looks like everyone who's alive is here. So, we can do one of two things." He pointed toward the green jungle to the north. There was a thick black column of smoke rising up from it in the distance. "Shinji here thinks that the smoke over there might be a village, which is possible, but I can tell that the mountain over there is volcanic, and we could just be walking into a lava plain."
"And the other thing?" Asked Jake, casting a concerned glance at Tim.
"Well, we can stay here to see if we can find some food and water. If that smoke turns out to be nothing, we might be here for a while, and I would wager most of you haven't eaten in a while. So, what do you all want to do?"
Troubadour group morale: C-
Flight 219 group morale: N/A
No important relationships or feelings.
No special events.

-snip-

Ieyasi'alaevl felt like she just got hit with a club. Her head was killing her, and her whole body was wracked with pain. She carefully got up, not yet registering the sandy beach as the salt water made her wounds too present to care. She looked down and noticed her black foreign suit was ripped in some areas, and her leather jacket was hanging on by only one arm.
(Thank the Moerso that I sprung for this fancy stuff. Thought it'd just be nice as a fashion statement, but I might've gotten torn up even more if I wasn't wearing this thing...)
She staggered across the beach and propped herself against a tree, clutching her forehead as her eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight. Once her vision cleared, she saw others stumbling about, looking just as ragged as she did. The realization hit her, then.
(Gahhhhh, crap, I didn't make it, did I?)
She cursed. She cursed at the ocean, the earth, the sky, and at her stupidity. She could only manage a few more angry Feminamian words before her tongue felt very dry, a feeling that soon spread to her throat.
She hated that she had to work with random people just to survive, but it was the only chance she had. She walked up to the small crowd of people, some still unconscious along the shoreline. She spoke in Thalasi, guessing that nobody would know Feminamian on this foreign cruiser.
"Hey. I got no water. Anyone got a flask or something? We should prolly go lookin' for a stream or somethin'."

-snip-

Two crewmen, named Vincent and Tim, were stumbling around with Ieyasi'alaevl. They didn't notice her until she spoke. Tim seemed to be wounded, but he was the first to speak.
"Aw, shit. The savage is awake."
Vincent stumbled around on the sand as he turned and grabbed a piece of debris as a weapon. "W-what do I do?"
"Put that damn thing down, you idiot. She may be a stowaway, but we're not in a position for fights about authority and admiralty law."
Vincent did as Tim said, but stared at the Feminamian warily. "T-There should be a canteen of fresh water in that boat over there. You can walk, right?"
Troubadour group morale: C-
Flight 219 group morale: N/A
No important relationships or feelings.
No special events.

"Of course I can walk. And call me a savage again, see what good it does ya. Still haven't forgotten what you said about Servl, jackasses."
Ieyasi'alaevl stalked over to the small, dented boat and bent over, checking its contents. Strewn about the bottom were now empty containers including a mostly empty toolbox, some small plastic containers, and what looked to be a canteen. She fished out the canteen and pulled the boat further ashore, struggling slightly due to her light wounds. She noticed the rest of the group pulling themselves together and slinked into the conversation.
"Hey, not to be that girl but how far are we from the mainland? You boys sent out a call for help or somethin', yeah? Also, 's probably a lava plain, that mountain don't look extinct, which means we prolly got some bad stuff here. Benefits of bein' an island person- 'scuse me, island savage."

Blade appreciated the trust of her crew members, but didn't let it show too much. Her helmet acting like sunglasses to a modern man, she glared at the stowaway and Carlos. She turned back to the crew. "First thing we should do is see if we can get food on this beach. There should be fish or crabs on a beach front such as this. After we can eat, then we should have the strength to investigate that smoke. From what I remember in school lava plains don't give off smoke, unless they are actively burning the forest. In that case no matter what we do we are screwed." She turned to the lifeboat and other debris. Getting an idea, she exclaimed. "If we can find some more small metal pieces we could craft some spears for fishing. Someone find me some wood and I can make some handles!"

"...Huh. Guess Feminamian plains are just special, then..."
Ieyasi'alaevl waved her comment away and turned to the jungle.
"I'll get some wood. Shouldn't be too hard. Though, you've got a knife, Ms. Large and In Charge, so why don'tcha come help me out? Should make it go a whole lot faster."
Ieyasi shed her suit jacket and business skirt for freedom of movement. Her blouse was somewhat dirty, but it looked serviceable.
"I think it'd be a pretty good idea to pull some-a those boats on shore to use as shelter for a bit."

Blade simply nodded and motioned to the other crew members to start pulling up the boats. She then walked toward the tattooed woman, motioning her forward.

Crash Site of Magnolia Flight 219

Logan woke up. He had a splitting headache as he opened his eyes and noticed blood on the seatback in front of him.

What happened? Where am I?

He was in his seat on the plane with his seatbelt fastened. The blood on the seatback was from his forehead, which had stopped bleeding but was still tender to the touch. He looked out the window to his right and saw a thick tropical forest.

What the...

He then quickly looked to his left and saw his best friend Ethan slouched over.

"Ethan," he said as he nudged him. Ethan didn't move.

"Ethan," he said louder, nudging him harder. Again, nothing.

"Ethan!" he yelled as he shook his lifeless friend.

Just then, he looked past Ethan and noticed that his other two friends, Aiden and Mason, were missing. His fingers shaking, he struggled to get his seatbelt off. Finally, he was free, and he jumped up, banging his head on the overhead compartment.

"FUCK!" he yelled out as he held the top of his head.

He looked around. The entire back half of the plane was missing. A huge gash in the ground bordered by broken and uprooted trees went into the distance as it showed the path the front half of the plane took to end here. Inside the plane, several people were still strapped in their seats, though many were obviously missing from before. Luggage was strewn all over as the doors to many of the overhead compartments laid open.

He looked back down. Goddammit, Ethan.

He then climbed over the dead body of his best friend and headed further towards the front of the plane, still clutching his head. The door to the cockpit was ajar, so he opened it fully and went inside. Both pilots sat slumped over. He looked out the windshield and saw nothing but sky where he expected more trees.

What is happening? Am I dreaming?

He rushed out of the cockpit to the door leading to the exterior of the airplane, yanked the lever, and pushed the door open. The trees just stopped at a sharp cliff. Looking down, the cockpit was hanging over a very far drop. He fell back, still somewhat dizzy and not wanting to fall out. Standing back up, he looked at rest of the passengers.

"Is anyone still alive?!" he yelled at the them.

Carlos was a scout in his youth, but he could barely remember anything he learned, as he left early on. His advancement had always been stunted by his heritage, after all.

Still, he figured it wouldn't hurt to at least try to contribute. Walking along the beach gathering materials for the others, he spotted a small lizard on the beach.

Dinner, Carlos thought.

A quick jab with a pointed twig did the job, and he walked back to camp with materials and a reptilian shish kebab in tow.

-snip-

Blade appreciated the trust of her crew members, but didn't let it show too much. Her helmet acting like sunglasses to a modern man, she glared at the stowaway and Carlos. She turned back to the crew. "First thing we should do is see if we can get food on this beach. There should be fish or crabs on a beach front such as this. After we can eat, then we should have the strength to investigate that smoke. From what I remember in school lava plains don't give off smoke, unless they are actively burning the forest. In that case no matter what we do we are screwed." She turned to the lifeboat and other debris. Getting an idea, she exclaimed. "If we can find some more small metal pieces we could craft some spears for fishing. Someone find me some wood and I can make some handles!"

Varos nodded. "We got some fishing line in one of these survival kits. Lemme see if I can't put a rod together..." He disappeared into a life boat and began rummaging around inside.
Shinji licked his lips. "I could go for some nice roasted crab... I'll keep an eye out."

"...Huh. Guess Feminamian plains are just special, then..."
Ieyasi'alaevl waved her comment away and turned to the jungle.
"I'll get some wood. Shouldn't be too hard. Though, you've got a knife, Ms. Large and In Charge, so why don'tcha come help me out? Should make it go a whole lot faster."
Ieyasi shed her suit jacket and business skirt for freedom of movement. Her blouse was somewhat dirty, but it looked serviceable.
"I think it'd be a pretty good idea to pull some-a those boats on shore to use as shelter for a bit."

Blade simply nodded and motioned to the other crew members to start pulling up the boats. She then walked toward the tattooed woman, motioning her forward.

The crew said nothing, distracted by other happenings, but the idle Tim watched Ieyasi'alaevl with suspicion as he sat bleeding into the white sand.
"Be careful, Blade," he shouted, not caring that the Feminamian could hear him. "Don't let your guard down around here. And certainly don't give her that knife."

Carlos was a scout in his youth, but he could barely remember anything he learned, as he left early on. His advancement had always been stunted by his heritage, after all.

Still, he figured it wouldn't hurt to at least try to contribute. Walking along the beach gathering materials for the others, he spotted a small lizard on the beach.

Dinner, Carlos thought.

A quick jab with a pointed twig did the job, and he walked back to camp with materials and a reptilian shish kebab in tow.

The lizard released a little squeal as the stick pierced it's skin. Suddenly, there was a rustling in some nearby shrub. Thousands of small lizards, squealing and skittering, ran out from the bushes in a group, performing a sort of Chinese fire drill around Carlos in a very stupid attempt to escape from him. Shinji and Jake, who had finished pulling up the boats, ran over to watch.
"Haha, wow! Look at that! Never had lizard before, but this looks like a feast!"
"Hold on a second," said Shinji, kneeling down to inspect the flood of reptiles. "You see how some of them are weirdly colored?"
Jake squinted. Most of the lizards were a dull grey or brown, but some were bright green and pink. A hot pink lizard hung from Carlos' makeshift spear.
"I don't think we should eat those lizards. Isn't color a sign of poison in some reptiles?"
"I dunno," said Jake. "Tropical animals have all sorts of weird colors. I think it'll be fine, if we cook them."
"What do you think, Carlos?" asked Shinji.

-snip-

Crash Site of Magnolia Flight 219

Logan woke up. He had a splitting headache as he opened his eyes and noticed blood on the seatback in front of him.

What happened? Where am I?

He was in his seat on the plane with his seatbelt fastened. The blood on the seatback was from his forehead, which had stopped bleeding but was still tender to the touch. He looked out the window to his right and saw a thick tropical forest.

What the...

He then quickly looked to his left and saw his best friend Ethan slouched over.

"Ethan," he said as he nudged him. Ethan didn't move.

"Ethan," he said louder, nudging him harder. Again, nothing.

"Ethan!" he yelled as he shook his lifeless friend.

Just then, he looked past Ethan and noticed that his other two friends, Aiden and Mason, were missing. His fingers shaking, he struggled to get his seatbelt off. Finally, he was free, and he jumped up, banging his head on the overhead compartment.

"FUCK!" he yelled out as he held the top of his head.

He looked around. The entire back half of the plane was missing. A huge gash in the ground bordered by broken and uprooted trees went into the distance as it showed the path the front half of the plane took to end here. Inside the plane, several people were still strapped in their seats, though many were obviously missing from before. Luggage was strewn all over as the doors to many of the overhead compartments laid open.

He looked back down. Goddammit, Ethan.

He then climbed over the dead body of his best friend and headed further towards the front of the plane, still clutching his head. The door to the cockpit was ajar, so he opened it fully and went inside. Both pilots sat slumped over. He looked out the windshield and saw nothing but sky where he expected more trees.

What is happening? Am I dreaming?

He rushed out of the cockpit to the door leading to the exterior of the airplane, yanked the lever, and pushed the door open. The trees just stopped at a sharp cliff. Looking down, the cockpit was hanging over a very far drop. He fell back, still somewhat dizzy and not wanting to fall out. Standing back up, he looked at rest of the passengers.

"Is anyone still alive?!" he yelled at the them.

A group of survivors, about forty in total, were gathered on the outside of the plane. A pile of corpses were lined up and covered in tarps cut from the emergency rafts. The battered survivors looked at Logan as he yelled.
"Barely," one man responded sarcastically. The uniformed copilot stepped forward.
"Glad to see someone else made it." He looked at the tarp-covered pile of corpses. "If you're looking for someone, I would check that pile first. We don't know where the other half of the plane is yet."
"We should get them buried as fast as possible, with respect," a middle-aged woman clutching a rosary said frantically. "It's only the right thing. It's what God would want."
"Not so fast," the copilot responded coolly. "We have an obligation to the living first. Let's keep looking for survivors first, maybe find some food and water, then we can bury them. I don't think God would be mad at us for trying to keep each other alive."
A diverse group of children stood by the tarps. Some of them were crying, but most just stared with wide eyes at the pile. The other adults quietly milled about, nursing their wounds and inspecting the wreckage and corpses away from the pile. Aiden and Mason were still nowhere to be found.
Troubadour group morale: C+, increasing.
Flight 219 group morale: D-, decreasing.
No important relationships or feelings.
Special Events:
+Lizard frenzy!

"Well," Carlos said, "I can't really be sure, but better to be safe than sorry. There's a lot of em, so I think we can be picky for now."

Blade chuckled at Tim's comment. "Whether or not we are on the ship, or on this island, I am ALWAYS on guard." She said while drawing her machete from its sheath. "And if you think anyone will be using my knife, you are vastly mistaken" Sheathing it once more she turned to him. "Thanks for the concern though, keep up the good work here." She glanced at Carlos helping to catch lizards, a temporary food fix, but a good one until they can make real spears for fishing. "At least he is being helpful" Blade thought to herself, turning back to the tattooed woman.

Ieyasi'alaevl was already making her way through the flora, feeling around for suitable wood.
"Hm... Can't say I'm much'uva treefeller, I left that to the rest of the family. Could really use Sister Vurivo right about now... Ah, this should be good. Hey, uh... What was your name again? Blaaae-di?
 Blaedi, c'mon over, this looks strong enough. Let's cut it down."
Ieyasi motioned to a sturdy, firm tree that was just thick enough for one to wrap their arms around. She felt in in a few areas, remembering what she could from the family and pallalul nutjobs...
"Yeah, pretty sure we got a winner with this one. Lend me your knife?"