The Key: Sails and Tide

Chapter 3: The Man Goor

Countless dreams and thoughts flinging through head, Elreal was yet motivated to remain this way -- down the wooden floor and buried beneath reality -- the depths of his dreams...had not all of a sudden the thick roar surged rigorously through being, bringing a strange uneasiness.

With a wince, Elreal peeled gradually his eyes open. The morning ray catching face, he struggled to assemble and get on feet, though his sight still remained blurred.
It was indeed morning.

With a shake and stretch he felt his head become clearer, and then he began his pace out the cabin. He suddenly noticed the mate who had been companion with him during the tempest was not in the room anymore.

He was perturbed for strange reasons. Swayed suddenly by his unsettled eyes, he halted now and considered an object tossed an edge the room. He hobbled down to the silver coated piece. A compass.
It must have belonged to the dead captain.

The thought of the Captain flushed back with the ills and grief of the previous nights struggle. Too many mariners had paid damn price. Captain Helsher, Sir Grog, and the other sailors he couldn't really tell of.

He picked up the palm filling object taking quick appraisal.
It was an expensive piece.

Alas, suddenly the bitter roar that once bellowed and had in fact yanked him out from sleep, filled the entirety of the vessel again. Its sour torrent this time was hard in ears and yet banishing Elreals intentions.

Such cold roar, and yet it appeared Elreal already knew to whom it belonged.
It was very well alike to that of the man called Goor.

In the pains bore from struggles the previous night, he yet managed in a limp out the room. It was even more frustrating descending down the staircase. His legs and ribs hurt bitterly. Two broken ribs, he suspected.

With every step he took he felt the fresh stab of pain. The sour torment pounded even more upon his descent down.

He eventually arrived down only to behold that in fact everyone on board had been assembled out.

 Elreals eyes drove anxiously to the man making speech...verily Goor!

He moved now closer to them -- the assembly, pushing way through, for he sought understanding to what was truly ensuing.

In the moments of his struggle, the coarsely looking man took him to gaze.
His eyes first flashed on him with a glint of uneasiness, howbeit the satisfaction took over, as the smirk snuck to face.
   With a smile the big man affirmed Elreals presence moving up to him too.

"My voyager!" He said goofy with arms spread apart. His grin suddenly crept in revealing set of brown dentation.

"What is going on?" Elreal asked seeming truly confused.

"Our ship has yawed. It has left course. We shall turn around the ship and continue our sail." He told. But the clamour of protest and curse had pursued his words.

Elreal knew the claims to be falsehood. He very well knew that they were on course, for he had in fact checked with the compass in possession only few moments before he dropped down the Wheelhouse while he took examination of the piece.

But why Goor was upholding falsehood remained nothing but mystery and ludicrousness to Elreal.
What was the man's true intentions now?

"But we are on course, why are we sailing back?" With disdain a fellow crew mate protested.

"Are we not on course?" Elreal asked Goor now. His countenance was bitter, although he did well to mask it up.
He knew the true answer to his question. But he was seeking to know this strange mans demeanor when met with his scrutiny.