(OOC: S'okay, no big. Life happens, after all.)
At first the container refused to give, the metal groaning and protesting under Vahn's efforts... then, all at once, a hinge broke under the strain and the metal hatch slumped off, crashing to the deck with a three-hundred-pound
THUD.
What awaited inside was probably not a sight Vahn was quite prepared for. Soot and scorch marks covered the first half of the interior, whereas the back was packed with damaged and torn open cardboard boxes. The remnants of food wrappers could be seen amid the mess, and slumped against the very back of the giant metal crate... was a desiccated corpse.
☠ M U S I C A L ~ S H I F T ☠Ghost Shipsby
Brandon & Derek Fiechter Closer inspection would reveal a number of very odd details. For one, the corpse had a flamethrower with a bayonet still clutched in its bony hands. The weapon looked operable, though a quick inspection of the fuel tank would reveal it to be barely one third full -- not enough for extended use, likely to get maybe one or two significant gouts of flame out before running dry. Its frame was etched with rough tally marks in two rows, one marked by what looked like a Beowolf face and the other, with a much larger count, by a human skull. Not, to be sure, the sort of weapon that would have been carried by any crew members. The body itself, or what remained of it, held further points of interest. The clothing looked like it had been ragged and well-worn long before the salty sea air had caused it to start unraveling, covered in patches and rough stitch-work. The man -- though it was hard to be certain -- who'd died wearing it didn't look particularly civilized: missing teeth, long scars, and an array of tattoos going down what remained of the skin on his left arm. One of those tattoos stood out more prominently than the others: two laughing skulls turned outward, daggers jutting blade-out through their maws. It was a sinister symbol.
All signs suggested the deceased had holed up in the cargo box, fending off inquisitive Grimm with occasional bursts from his weapon... only to eventually die of hunger, thirst, or possibly wounds. It was just as out of place on this ship as the Grimm themselves, that much was for certain.