Niall was born the second son of Daniel and Mary MacNeil. By all means he was a normal boy. He attended a public school and graduated high school. During the summer, he would volunteer time doing a summer job at a boat yard. At first, he was simply cleaning the boats, trimming them and preparing them for closure on the off season. Nothing much made him very different from an average normal guy, up until Niall was into his young adulthood, It was then that he learned to sail. He was quite good at it. With his newfound talent, he moved on to larger and more sophisticated sail boats. Before he knew it, he had taken a charter course to allow him to skipper his own vessels and and offer services such as ferrying for even more money.
As it so happened, he found himself a companion around that time. She was a pretty red headed girl name Sorscha. She refused to give her last name or much any other info, but Niall fell hard. She too was a skipper at the time. The young woman was a fisherman’s daughter, however and was taking courses to pick up her father’s business with a similar vessel to his own so they could double their pick-up power. She would disappear for months at a time, but when she would return, their incessant love making and binge drinking never ceased until she again had to return to the sea. They often joked that Niall was the sailor's wife, waiting by the lighthouse for his love to return. At any rate, the love interest spanned on for years and years. Eventually she would give up her name and true intentions. It took Niall by surprise but she admitted she loved him.
Within the next five years, Niall “Mac” MacNeil made himself a ubiquitous name associated with the best private charters in Scotland and the surrounding areas of the EU. With this, he had a need to upgrade his vessel from a large schooner to a small yacht. This drew in business from larger clients, willing to pay good money for a private tour of the waters off the coast of the EU. Eventually, the demand required larger decks and accommodations for different forms of entertainment within the yacht. Clients began hiring private entertainment and bringing them along. Within time, Niall found himself quite busy hosting tours from the EU to the Middle East and all over Eurasia. From day trips to week long cruises and adventurous routes.
A wealthy client of his, returning yet again, set out a contract for a week long excursion from Istanbul, Turkey up the straight into the Black Sea and across to Batumi, Georgia. They would dock and explore for one day, then return to the ship and make their voyage home. At this point, Niall was captaining a vessel that did not belong to him. It was a friend’s and it was much larger than Niall was used to. However, he was confident in his skills and set aside time to practice maneuvering the eighty foot yacht in and out of harbor.
Before week’s end, he was well versed in the ship and it’s handling. He set about getting ready to depart. As he did so, he thought of Sorscha. How he missed her and her fiery hair.
That night, they set sail. Not long after the party starts, Niall begins his usual drinking and sets the yacht at a leisurely crawl across the Black sea. While many danced, drank and enjoyed the night, Niall sat in his control room, watching the radars, and listening to comms nearby. As he swigged from his flask of whiskey, there was an outburst of screaming. As he stood to leer over the panel through the glass, and down to the decks, he spotted many people running. Some covered in blood and others taking up weapons. A few were pouncing on others as if they were feral creatures. They’d tear apart their prey and before they could settle, they were off again.
He watched as a few people jumped from the boat to save themselves from being torn apart and met the horrid fate of colliding with the massive rotation blades that propelled the yacht. Instead of dying immediately, their death would have been a slow and painful as they drowned, tangled in the rotors. The ship seized up and stopped it’s course as all still alive made their vital decision; Fight or Flight.
Niall himself panicked at first. He’d have reached for a small side-arm he had stashed in the control room incase some patrons of his boat got frisky and tried to take the boat for a spin. Either way, it came in handy now as he opened the door and made his way down to the decks below. As he came to eye level with some of these… beings, he realized they weren’t normal people. They’d gone rabid or something. He lifted his gun and aimed it at a man running at him. “Ye’ best stop right there.” He warned. The man continued to charge, growling, spitting blood as he sprinted. Niall fired and hit the man in the shoulder. He stumbled a bit but otherwise wasn’t bothered by the wound. He continued his charge.
The beast of a man forced his entire weight into tackling the slightly smaller sea captain. They hit the ground with a loud thud and slid slightly as the man gnashed his teeth, spitting blood over Niall’s face. In a knee-jerk reaction, he’d fire another shot. This one went straight up and through his jaw and the top of his head. There was a quick gurgle and the man went limp. His brain matter and blood pouring over Niall’s upper body. “Fuck me, mate…”
Niall pushed hard on the man’s stilled corpse. He was able to push him off just as a few others ran by, chasing a lively young couple who previously in the night had been fucking publically on the rear deck. Niall’s feet made what could only be described as compulsory movements and propelled him to sprint for the lower engine room doors. He’d slam the door behind him and descend. It was rather dark, lit only by blue emergency lights. While in the frantic state of adrenaline fueled sprinting through the thin corridors, he’d not clear the low hanging door frame in front of him. He’d knock himself clean unconscious.
When he woke, he found himself with an overwhelming need to vomit. After his stomach was emptied and he could see straight, he’d stand and re-orientate himself as the door opened behind him. “Anyone alive down here?” They shouted. “Aye, stop yer shoutin’, lad.” He’d warn the young man. “You’ll draw more people.” The man laughed. “We killed ‘em,” he replied. “How long have you been down here?”
Niall honestly had no clue. “Depends. What day is it?” The young man shrugged. “Eh… Monday, i think…” Niall walked toward the boy, who was covered in dried blood and stunk like death and decay. It was likely over a day later. He then realized he too stunk and was caked in dried bodily matter. He’d try to push some of it off of his skin and clothing. It wouldn’t budge. He’d enter the harsh morning light covering his eyes and squinting to fight off the sun and major headache. As he emerged, he found the deck was rather cleared. No bodies to be found. Instead it was a group of survivors. Each of them armed with a makeshift weapon and bringing others to the center deck where they would begin to make a plan… How would they get home? What were those things that attacked them? How could they get help? They’d have to work together… for now, anyway.