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Post by Plot Device on Oct 31, 2018 12:04:28 GMT -6
Floating amidst the small breaking waves that meekly met the ships docked in Badon's port, was the colossal trade vessel, Sultan's Fist. At the upper most raised section of the stern side dock, a tan skinned male adorned in luxurious golden fabric stood vigil. Looking to the large number of crewmen, and hired hands boarding. A brief pivot tore his gaze from his prized vessel to the city itself. So very...different, from the bustling crowned jewel of a city he called home at Nabata's coast. Yet still it housed some standing to be home to almost every famous mariner to have sailed between Lycia and Nabata, even if it was frequented by less savory individuals. Yet those very individuals might be the ticket he needed to a safe passage home.
-- A banner had been posted. Jobs dispersed and offered. Until the entire city knew of his requests. He would accept no less than total acknowledgement of this endeavor. Of late, tales had taken the lips of sailor and merchant alike. Monsters upon the sea. As fierce as any pirate yet without the appeal of "survivors," and the ocean was becoming a dangerous place. However, progress could not be halted, and profit could not be ceased, because of petty fear. Most merchant ships housed but a meager escort. He would not be most merchants. So he had spread the word. Every Mercanary, pirate, or person sensible enough to wield a blade for coin that could be paid, would be given decent bounty to station upon his ship. If other vessels could not sail safely, he would simply find a way. If other vessels could not sail safely, he would also find great wealth. Less competition, no matter the cause, was a welcome turn of affairs. Once they set sail, they would see for themselves, what these "monsters" really were. If they weren't just some up-jumped pirates trying to change their own trade.
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Post by Vincent on Oct 31, 2018 14:59:25 GMT -6
One fight after another Vincent was suffering wounds and pain. He pushed himself until he broke and couldn't fight any longer. After taking time to recuperate he was ready to take on jobs again, he was focused at last. His goals were always vague: to help others, to become the strongest, to be a hero the world could rely upon. These vague and foolish notions lead him to those injuries. His pride nearly cost him the use of his arms. Now, Vincent's desires were simple: to help Phoenix Heart become whole, and to return to a simple life on his farm. The former was the core of his journey, but to achieve the latter, he needed a home to go back to, and the monsters were the only thing that stood in his way.
The more he fought the monsters the stronger he got, and the stronger he got the more people looked to him as some sort of beacon or authority of the battlefield, but he was ill equipped to be a leader, an organizer maybe, but he did not know how to give commands. To this end Vincent had concluded that all he needed to do was keep killing monsters, and teach others to do the same. He had begun writing 'Vincent Clark's Guide to Monster Hunting.' He had yet to send any entries off to Mila, the woman he trusted most to review knowledge about monsters but it was a start.
When a call went out for protection on the high seas from monsters Vincent jumped at the opportunity. If it was nothing then that was important knowledge, but if there were seaborn monsters then that is just one more threat needing to be expunged, and a potential new entry into his guide. Vincent clenched his fists as he made his way down to the port. His strength was back and he was ready for this, come what may.
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Post by Gar on Oct 31, 2018 22:08:56 GMT -6
Gar scratched his scruff nervously. He had no tangible information to go off. Just fog, thuds and a feeling. How can a person plan against the unknown?
The berserker was seated at a round table in a Badon bar. In front of him was a piece of parchment with a quill and ink. It was a sign up sheet for mercenaries, sailors and soldiers. Anyone who was willing to help investigate, perhaps fight against this ominous fog concealed presence. Gar had sent some recruitment flyers to the surrounding areas.
Gar had a mug of grog next to him. He took a sip and thought to himself. When did I become the crazy captain with a ghost story? Of course no one is going to sign up to sail into some creepy fog.
“Oi are you workin’ with dat rich merchant?” A sailor came up to Gar’s table. Gar met his eyes. He grumbled a response.
“Merchant? Sorry mate, I don’t know anyone rich.”
“Ya sure? It seems they’re doing a recruitment call jus like you.”
“Is that so? Hmm. What else can you tell me?” Gar kicked a chair out from his table and invited the man to sit down. ____ The next day.
“Sultan’s Fist eh? ” Gar scanned the trading vessel. It was a ship that would fetch some good coin if he had come across it on the high seas. But this was a different encounter. Gar’s eyes fell upon a man who seemed to be working the ship.
“Ahoy! I hear you’re looking for an escort.”
This was good. Just what he needed. This provided him with an opportunity to encounter those concealed in the fog up close. Then, if things went belly up, he would have his crew sailing behind him on a separate vessel to haul him out of danger. Of course, that was a worst-case scenario. Only if they encountered something he couldn't handle.
“I’d like to offer my services. Hahar.”
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Post by Edgewind on Nov 1, 2018 3:24:47 GMT -6
The rumors of late in Badon had been dark and foreboding. For Shane it had started with tales of fishermen bringing in hauls of rotten fish from the seas, but now open talk filled the taverns with tales of the dead sailing the seas and claiming the lives of the living. Really bad for business, as a considerable portion of his work consisted of smuggling goods inland from the ships that docked in the ports. In fact, his pool of prospects had already effectively dried up. Gods, he needed to find something. Anything! Now that he was taking care of ‘the girl’ as he mentally called her, he couldn’t afford a sudden drought of employment. Violet had settled in nicely enough and thankfully found a job in one of the less dangerous inns, but coin was still bleeding out faster than it was trickling in.
Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, a wealthy Nabatan merchant seemed to be hiring on any and every able-bodied soldier of fortune willing to sign on. That very fact alone should have been a monumental red flag that something was seriously off, but at this point Shane had to choose simply between being paid and not being paid, and that is how he found himself signing his services to this foreign merchant. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all. He wasn’t being paid to like it.
“Sooooo...... how did it go?” the teenage brunette asked as Shane entered the small building he called home. She was stretched out across a threadbare sofa and quickly sat up as the rogue passed by.
“Same as usual. Fearmongering everywhere you turn.” he answered in disgust, his brow twisting inward in frustration.
“Sailors are a superstitious lot for sure. Never heard this kinda stuff outta the bandits back around Caelin. If ya hadn’t gone ‘n pissed ‘em all off we--” Violet explained, throwing in a bit of her snark before being cut off.
“..Then you’d be there and I’d be here!” Shane fired back, the pent up frustration boiling over into outright anger. “That is the last thing I need on my mind right now!”
“I don’t understand why ya even brought me here in the first place!” the teen shouted back and indignantly stood to confront him, not liking the situation anymore than he did.
“That’s… not important. I saved your life by getting you out of there, that is all you need to know.” The rogue lowered his voice, and walked back to Violet and put his hands on her shoulders. “Look, something bad is going down around here and I’m leaving on a dangerous job. The whole thing stinks and I don’t know when..,” he cleared his throat, shifting to a serious tone, “or if.. I’ll be coming back.”
“What are you talkin’ ‘bout? Tell me ya din’t sign on with that nutjob merchant tryin’ to take on whatever the hell’s out there in the sea..” Violet flinched from how grim Shane’s voice had become, but instead of an answer all she received from him was a long pause of silence.
“I don’t know what is really going on out there, but if anything happens here I want you to take Whiskey and ride as far away from Badon as you can. You hear me? As far away as you can. Promise me.” Shane stared hard into Violet’s eyes, his expression quelling any doubt of how serious he was about this.
“But I..--”
“Promise me!” he interjected, his expression intensifying.
“O-okay.. I promise...,” she whimpered. “Before you go, though.. Will you at least tell me who you really are? I know your name isn’t Edward.”
Shane took a deep breath and cast his gaze downward. “..If I make it through this, when we meet again I’ll tell you everything. You have my word.”
Violet threw her arms around him and hugged him tight, the rogue in turn slowly putting his arms around her as well. Solemnly, he stared thoughtfully past her.
What was he getting himself into?
“Goodbye Violet, take care of yourself.”
“No, don’t say it like that. Don’t say goodbye. Say ‘see you later’ instead.” the girl shook her head, refusing to accept his farewell.
“Okay. See you later.” Shane offered a halfhearted chuckle to which Violet reciprocated with a bittersweet smile.
With that out of the way, Shane left the home and made his way through the city toward the docks not really knowing what was to happen next.
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Post by Duma on Nov 3, 2018 11:18:34 GMT -6
After the events in the Tomb with Vincent, the swordsman decided to take some time off for himself. He headed north wards in order to return to Sacae and return to his 'roots'. He passed through Bern. And took simple jobs to help sustain himself. He visited various healers through out his travels in order to insure his body was healing properly. The swordsman had the regal blade he pulled from the Entombed's body purified and refurbished. He secured the talents of a good blacksmith in Bern and the blade was remolded to look like a Sacean Blade. Upon his return to Sacae he was ambushed by highway men. The green clad swordsman fought through the ambush and won but he came to the horrible realization that his body was not what it used to be. At first he dismissed it as simply being rusty from resting.
But as he continued to spar with various Sacean warriors he realized he had lost a fair bit of his former strength. The damage done by the entombed had sapped at least 10% of his overall abilities. He kept himself occupied simply living off the land and learning among the locals. Until, a desire to return to continue wandering had him come back to civilization. He decided to return back to Lycia. And in the process the swordsman redoubled his typical training. An act that ultimately brought him back to about 95% capacity. An ad in Badon for able bodied guards caught his attention. The swordsman hadn't visited Nabata in years, and he felt that it was finally time to put the past behind him. Plus, he needed the gold. A job protecting a proclaimed merchant prince was bound to pay well. At least enough to get him a new blade or at the very least enough to pay for his voyage back to Lycia.
His Intel on this new job was sketchy. The merchant prince was real. But, the enemies on the sea were questionable. He knew people liked to exaggerate the things they encountered out on the high seas. But, this sort of story was unsettling. A strange fog. Ruined boats. Entire crews lost. To him it sounded like crafty pirates. But, after the entombed, any sort of monster was possible. He bought a small batch of supplies and made his way towards the docks. As he made his way down to the docks, he came to a simple realization. He hadn't set sail on a ship in years. Wonder how my sea-legs will hold up. Wonder how that will affect my sword arm.
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Post by Drei on Nov 7, 2018 12:42:34 GMT -6
Well, it seemed no matter what part of Lycia he was in they all seemed to smell the same.
As the ashen haired shaman quietly walked up one of the lengthy widened planks that a small crowd of individuals were standing around or ascending themselves, he couldn't help but dwell on that fact. Each town in Lycia simply seemed to..smell similar. Badon at-least could cover it up somewhat with the ocean's tide. He was almost eager to be out at sea. At-least if rumors of undead monsters were true, he could dispose of that which produced any offensive odors. If he tried to do that here, he was fairly certain his dreams and goals for the future would come crushing to an abrupt end. That or he'd become the next dark lord of Elibe. Had..there even been a first?
He wasn't sure he wanted to follow that thought any sooner, but luckily his thoughts were halted abruptly when a loud, booming chime from a bell rang out clear as day, echoing through the port. He stopped almost instantly after the slight hop onto the deck from the risen upwards plank, looking as a somewhat large man rocked his arm back and forth, ringing the bell at a higher section of the deck. The large golden hued mass of metal was exceptionally loud, enough so to cause all the commotion to slow. A moment later the portly crewman cupped his hands to his mouth as the ringing faded and shouted out in the brief dull in quiet as everyone looked to the source of the ringing. "LAST CALL IF YOUR BOARDIN', RAISIN ANCHOR ANY MINUTE NOW!"
Drei turned to his left after a moment and lowered his gaze from the upper deck. His right hand was quietly nestled within his robe, fingers pressing to the spine of his father's tome even as he quietly tapped it for a moment before speaking to the snowy haired woman at his side. "Well...at-least this time if we get attacked, it's expected..and I feel alot more confidant repelling people from a boat then...getting ambushed in the forest." He tried to exude a more relaxed image. As relaxed as he could be, in a teeming crowd of sellwords, crewman, a fair few drunkards, and what he was absolutely positive were pirates(some of which included the drunkards) all of whom were stumbling, shuffling and strutting aboard the ship. No doubt there were many here for the prospective pay that was being offered, but he imagined there were a few like him. More or less just boarding for free passage to Nabata. Though he'd seen enough monsters to know the threats were probably real, he'd endured one oceanic battle. What was another?
Though it was barely noticeable, along the inside of his slightly parted outer coat was a rustle of movement. A tiny shadowy spider scurrying idly, its red eyes glancing at the female before it scurried back to its masters hand. The faint wisp of The Nether trailing after it.
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Post by Althea on Nov 8, 2018 5:42:44 GMT -6
It was fortunate that Drei hadn't thrown her off the nearest wharf after the twentieth or so 'OH MY GOD A BOAT!' to have come out of her, but this WAS the first time she had ever been able to actually ride one, at least technically speaking. It was perfectly natural to be excited! Humming quietly to herself, the picture of almost girlish glee, Ereshkigal's head bobbed back and forth to the swaying of the waves as she watched the water flow beneath them. Having been rather... thoroughly disabused of the notion that it would be NICE water, due to the filth and waste humanity seemed intent on pouring off the port, she was unlikely to hop in. But it was fun nonetheless!
Pirouetting in place so she could rest her back and elbows against the rail, still beside Drei but inverse of his facing, she swept the gaze with her eyes, enjoying the scurrying mass of rats teeming across the ship; humans young and youngish, large and still kinda large, smelly and... smelly... okay honestly that metaphor (or was it a simile? Althea would know the difference) wasn't the best she had ever done, but there sure seemed to be a lot of rough and tumble types around these parts. The kinda guys who either were badasses or tried real hard to look like one, she thought. Nowhere near as cool as her old bodyguard, OBVIOUSLY, but... they were definitely tougher than Althea, and she was stuck in Queen No Fun Allowed's body, so that made them... tough than her? No, obviously not, she was the coolest no matter what, but... bulkier, yeah, sure, she was willing to let that dead horse, uh, die.
...Why are you the way that you are?
Althea's tired voice wafted through her thoughts, the dour dark mage still awake unfortunately but not in control of their shared body for the time being.
I'm bad, and that's good, I will never be goo- Stop talking, you're giving me a migraine. What? Screw you that was an awesome quote! I don't care. Just don't do anything... weird. Why Althea, I am appalled that even now you won't trust me with- The last time I left you alone with a god damn potato you ANIMATED the thing! They were cleaning spuds out of- I- I just wanted to see if I could do Drei's spider thingy... WHO LINKS THE GOD DAMN NETHER TO A BLOODY POTATO? Jeeze, don't have a cow. ASDFGHAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
As the highly irate magus's screams of pure unadulterated frustration sunk into the recesses of her mind, Ereshkigal inclined her head a bit towards Drei, on top of the world and at least for the time being, given free reign to do what she pleased. ...More or less, and listened to his words with a small smile before responding quietly. Her usually bright tones slightly somber, thoughtful, but the words themselves a mixture of Althea's strict diction and Ereshkigal's more careless manner of speaking.
"You know... that fight is probably what awakened me. I don't remember much before that, but bits and pieces of it. When Althea called on me without realizing it. That was the angriest she had ever been since she became my host, and I think... that was probably what woke me up. Sort of. ...Maybe," she finished off lamely, not quite as sure as Althea probably would have been but not overly concerned about it either. Did it matter? She was who, and what, she was. She couldn't magically change that. All she could do was be herself. At least as much of herself as she could remember. "You guys fought some pirates, right? If there are more, maybe this time I can actually help. ...As more than just a prana source."
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Post by Plot Device on Nov 12, 2018 19:15:14 GMT -6
The first day of sailing had been a fairly easy venture. Clear skies. A fair wind. The immense vessel's wooden exterior groaned occasionally at the slight increase in winds propelling it further through the gently rocking tides. Though faint, in the distance two other ships could be seen. A duo of ships that had left ahead of Sultan's Fist. The Autumn, and Crucible, were both blazing ahead. The favorable winds might just see them through the "troubled" sea's before any trouble had a chance to brew. As the crew tended the ship, and the guards both hired or voluntary idled or busied themselves at their own digression aboard the vessel, its voyage continued.
--
Night had come. Lanterns lit and dangling from the ship offered globes of light that pushed out the shadows enough to see rigging and sections of the ship within an immediate distance. Even when the flames danced within those glass confines, flickering for brief seconds, it returned to post and continued to cast its glow. Standing atop the quarter deck, to the right of the wheel was the same tan skinned merchant prince who had birthed the very venture as a notion. Hands gripping tightly to the front trailing as he gazed ahead. Lit only by the light of the stars, and the moon, in the distance he could see the bulbous clouds. Though, not within the sky. They were nestled atop the churning currents. An immense fog. A blanket that was slowly creeping closer even as they sailed along course. The lights of the ship Cruicible had just vanished, swallowed by the fog that expanded slowly. The Autumn had already vanished within.
Unease crept steadily closer to the core of his chest. There was a slight chime of expensive jewels all of which dangled upon chains of gold and sterling around his neck as the Nabatan turned to one of the two men at his side. A taller, pale skinned man draped in robes that so clearly painted the picture of his upbringing. Those of a scholar. A magus, and the tapestry so clearly woven with Etrurian silks, the colors and design still designed in the same manner as most within Etrurian Academia. The tan skinned youth kept his tone calm, despite the looming tension creeping closer.
"I guess nature likes to feed superstition. Find Narzim, will you? When we reach the mist, I will put this rumor to rest."
Perhaps rumors could find challenge in such.
An explosion shattered the silence. An immense rumbling in the distance. Like thunder. Though the fog had tightly veiled the distance between the two ships, a brilliant orange light ignited that flashed bright enough to stain the pale curtain of mist. It dyed down seconds later with an initial silence. The young male gripped the railing tighter in shock, before a second eruption of light and the rolling tremor of thunderous sound once more rocked from another portion of the fogs expanse. Closer. Louder. At that point, though distant it could be heard in the hanging silence between breaks of the tide. Like a great crowd shouted. Not unlike a mob voicing unrest. Or the chaos of a battlefield. The wealthy prince turned to the Etrurian male with a stern look, reaffirming his order before he shouted out. "Sound the alarm! I want all hands ready! NOW !"
The same bell who's toll had echoed through the port of Badon now rang loud. Repeatedly. A constant chime as it was hammered at furiously, the cry able to echo with clarity down to even the lowest deck. At which, the anthill stirred. Bodies teeming as sailor and sellsword alike moved to stream aboard. All the while, that fog crept closer. A third explosive thundering roar echoed from the fog. Another flash of light from within. Even when the ghostly wisps of mist began to trace the surface of the currents they sailed, they'd get to reach the mass of fog. It was so easily heard now though. The tune of violence. Voices carried upon the wind both in battle and death. A choking scent reached the nose as wind brought with it that scorching ashen trail of cinders. Something was burning. The Nabatan merchant prince stepped back from the railing with one hand clutching the tome at his waist and extracting it from the fine threads that kept it nestled beneath the cloak around his shoulders. Fingers extending as wind began to quietly swirl around his palm. Shouting loudly as more hired hands streamed to the upper deck.
"Ready yourselves. Fools that would consider us easy prey are about to learn their folly!"
The Sultans Fist crested into the mist. The sound of combat grew closer. Now it was much more visible. The two orange lights. Fading in and out from varying intensity of the fog obscuring vision, but it started in a wide base and crested upwards. Still, the fog spread and the sounds of chaos grew louder. The Etrurian had reached the quarter deck. A second Nabatan with him. At this point though, further than a few feet left naught but a silhouette. It wasn't until the second Nabatan male, though taller than the younger male, much like the pale skinned mage, clapped a hand to his shoulder. The Prince's hand lifted the tome higher and the three began to channel magic, almost as one. Between them, a great wind began to swell. Slowly spreading outwards. Just enough, in the immediate, to keep the fog clear of the ships deck. At-least the crewmen could see one another without having to be mere feet away. The prince gazed ahead as they prepared to expunge the veil of fog entirely. Then, they would expose these crafty pirates for their true selves. See the lies dispelled. The rumors undone.
Rumors indeed.
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Dietrich Landrik
Mercenary
GAZE AT MEIN ROLLED SLEEVES, NOOBKOPF
Posts: 81
Sacae Fame: -1
Western Isles Fame: 1
Profession: Mercenary Marine
Affinity: Thunder
Profile: Profile - Journal
OoC Alias: Synkkis
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Post by Dietrich Landrik on Nov 13, 2018 14:59:49 GMT -6
Starved for work, these four mercenary marines found themselves unable to resist the job that offered itself in Badon port. Perhaps Pirates - if so, then a chance at settling the score with whatever band did the rest of this company in. If the rumors of monsters on the seas were about, then an opportunity at vanquishing the evil he went face-to-face against near the City of Heroes in Sacae. Mankind had much to worry about and keeping the seas open and free was paramount to any chance of future peace.
As the lightning crashed and smoke mixed with fog, Landrik could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight with that old familiar feeling. Battle approaches. However, unlike a fair fight on land, he was much more in his element being on this ship other than he knew he couldn't trust the other sellswords to keep his flanks guarded. These were poor fighters or inexperienced ones looking for an easy voyage. There were a handful who looked like they knew what they were doing, but if the rumors of convoys disappearing completely were true, it'd take more than a squad of swabbies with sharp sticks to take on a pirate fleet or even worse.
Landrik looked around and gripped his hilt tightly to relieve the stress of fate once again testing his skills. He saw the confident eyes of Berg, Fuchs, and Keppler. Then others who looked on with excitement. This put him at ease somewhat. He would be fine or he would be dead. No use worrying about it too much. "Let's form a line here! A shield wall. Pikemen behind, then archers and spellcasters. CAPTAIN! Order us! Portside or Starboard!?" The helmeted swordsman shouted out to the tanned Nabatan who had hired them. He didn't look much of a tactician, but if he was able to afford all of them, he knew how to do something right. As they got closer, he unsheathed his sword and organized the line in preparation to cut down any boarding party.
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Post by Vincent on Nov 13, 2018 22:09:21 GMT -6
Vincent leaned over the rails on the port side of the ship. The salty sea air and the cold spray of foam on the wind arose quite a few memories in the young hero. The travel was going well, and it was all for the best. He had not yet mastered himself enough to quiet the excitement he found himself feeling at the prospect of battle with some new threat but he also enjoyed the peace. In the quiet moments it was like being a kid again, the world could feel simple and warm.
'You should visit your village some time. It's been years since you last went there you know. And... well, that trip didn't go particularly well, now did it?' Phoenix Heart suggested he go home.
'I wonder if my ma would forgive me after that last fiasco...'
'If she loves you half as much as your memories of her indicate, then you'll be just fine. I think it'd be good for the both of you... seeing your father wasn't exactly... the best of times.'
'Maybe not, but it all worked out.' Vincent grinned and rolled so his back was to the ocean and his arms rested in a stretch. His gaze could only pierce the darkness so well but he watched the captain and his companions in the distance.
Deciding he should get sleep Vincent pushed off the railing and began to make his way to the hatches below but something stopped him when the fog began to roll in. Crakoom! That first explosion stunned Vincent in his tracks as all of the possibilities ran through his mind. A sudden storm? An explosion? An attack? In what felt like a world gone still he began to try and get a better view when a second explosion rang out with a flash of light. He couldn't see the ships through the fog but a sickened feeling wretched in his gut. Could the other ships have been destroyed?
The bells rang out and the shouts of command followed. It seemed that someone else was missed in the dark, a mercenary and his companions were already trying to find the best formation for combat. Vincent was no stranger to fighting on a ship, but the difference between them was clear. If the mysterious attackers were pirates then Vincent was going to be sure to make them regret their actions that brought them together, but if the darker rumors of monsters were true... then he would do all he could to obliterate that ship.
"And where would you like me?!" Vincent drew Phoenix Heart letting its power shine with a soft pulse that passed harmlessly through those nearest to him. 'We take no chances,' "Second Seal!" and with those words the blade erupted in light. The fog would still prove a nuisance but the extra light should help in some small manner, or at least he hopped it would.
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Post by Gar on Nov 14, 2018 14:05:03 GMT -6
Gar was accustomed to being the one who barked the orders on a ship before departure. He couldn’t remember the last time he didn’t have to do anything while preparing to set sail. It was making him a little antsy. He dealt with this as best he could, by double checking some of the crew’s ropework and by taking note of the people who boarded the ship.
First, he saw Vincent. His presence alone helped to calm Gar’s nerves a bit. Gar had sailed with Vincent out of Badon once before, and they made it out in one piece. More recently, Gar saw the whitehaired hero fight in Bern’s arena festival. Vin’s fight against that dark blade swordsman was logged in Gar’s memory as one of the best fights he had seen.
Then, Gar noted another arena combatant, the green haired swordsman. The same one that he had fought in the finals of the Bernese tournament. Gar had seen first-hand that the swordsman would be good to have around in a fight. Aside from that, he knew quite little about the peoples on the ship. That wasn’t to say he wasn’t curious about them though.
Even with these past connections and rising inquiries, Gar kept to himself. Mainly because he was nervous of what was on the sea. For whatever it was out there to gain such a reputation, so quickly, they must be formidable. Gar hoped it was simply pirates. That was the best-case scenario at this point. In reality it was likely something worse.
Gar learned over a banister and peered toward the rear of the ship, to see if his own vessel was following in tow. He had mentioned that his crew should follow behind, but not enter the fog immediately. He wanted them to be the main voyage’s escape route. If anyone made it out of the fog then his crew was instructed to pick them up and quickly get out of the area. That was if anyone made it out.
The berserker turned his head to the sky, scanning the moon and the stars of the season. The stars had guided countless mariners over the years. Hopefully, they could guide this expedition as well. Just as the thought passed through Gar’s mind, fog rolled in, thick. The moisture wet Gar’s skin and gave him a bit of a chill.
An explosion tore through the night. That meant magic, maybe one of those flash pouch things. Another explosion, one for each ship that breached the fog before them. He could only assume a third would follow. The prospect of mages ruthlessly tearing apart ships with their ranged magic gave Gar a terrible flashback. The berserker gritted his teeth and stayed in the present moment. A breeze blew past Gar, forcing the bottom of his coat to twist and turn with the air currents. Wind swept the fog from the deck of the ship. Giving the crew some visibility, at least in the immediate vicinity. It would seem that their crew had some control over the magics as well.
Then came some commands, Gar largely ignored them. He understood that he wasn’t the captain here, but he also wasn’t in any mood to be told what to do. With a furrowed brow, Gar reached to his back, unlatching his legendary weapon. He allowed the weapon’s power to boost his strength, only slightly for now. He could draw on more of the strength later, or perhaps utilize the hardlight creations if and when he needed. His eyes scanned the edge of the fog, searching for some type of enemy to reveal themselves. He even checked upwards a couple times, just in case of an aerial attack. If he didn’t know where they were coming from, he didn’t know where to position himself. Gar did take note of a group forming up, awaiting instruction. He also saw Vincent wielding his sword imbued with light magic.
Gar would rather bring the fight to the deck of the enemy ship, just to start the fight off on the right foot. Due to the fog concealing the foe’s location however, the berserker had no choice but to wait. So he stood, steady and ready.
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Post by Edgewind on Nov 15, 2018 8:46:51 GMT -6
It had been an uneasy time for the rogue. Shane had never been much for sea travel, though in his line of work he had set foot on many a vessel. Anchored ships docked in the port that is. It didn’t fully translate to the experience of actually sailing. For what it was worth, everything was well enough to start. Much of the hired help kept quiet and to themselves, Shane included. No one desired to speak of the terrors rumored to roam the open seas. Superstition or not, the threat loomed wordlessly. As if the mere mention of it would cause it to appear, as old proverbs often suggested.
Spoken or not, the issue weighed heavily on the rogue’s mind. It could easily be a well-informed band of pirates, but damned efficient at covering their tracks if that were to be the case. Lycia was rather known for the abominations that lurked its lands but for them to stake claim of the seas as well.. Shane loathed the thought, but the rumors.. the rumors filled him with a dread that he couldn’t simply shake. He paced the deck, staring out across the expansive blue. Nothing. Nothing but a seemingly endless horizon, the cerulean waters stretching to the sky itself. The fresh ocean air helped. The breeze was pleasant, a contradiction to the fell stench and heavy fog the rumors bespoke. No sign of death and decay.
As evening faded into the twilight, Shane had settled into cramped quarters below deck. It was just him there for the moment though there were several bunks for other sellswords present. The room wasn’t particularly to his liking but it was better than most alternatives that came to mind for the scenario. There was little to do. Considering his job here, that was the best case scenario. What this voyage would truly hold was subject to speculation. The mixture of imagination, superstition, and copious amounts of alcohol could spin the direst rumors and the three frequently overlapped in Badon. With that thought in mind, Shane poured himself a shot of rum from a dusty bottle. Raising his cup to the theoretical bunkmates that weren’t present, he wordlessly proposed a toast and downed the liquid in one gulp. He drew a deep breath, pondering what the truth might be.
Shane wasn’t sure how long he’d been alone with his thoughts when it happened. A distant rumble echoed out, drawing the rogue’s attention. The sound of calm footsteps soon became clamor and the alarm bell sounded. Shouting voices barked orders from above deck. It was time for Shane to earn his pay. With a double-check of his equipment, he slipped out of the room, slamming the door behind him. As he arrived on deck the heavy atmosphere hit him all at once before he even caught sight of the fog ahead. Pushing his way through the crowd, Shane made his way to the fore, stopping once he caught the glow of the flames in the distance.
Something was out there, but what? This fog felt unnatural, for sure. The work of some blasted pirate mage, or something far more sinister? As Shane stared out into the distance, he could only play at conjecture until he saw something concrete with his own eyes.
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Post by Duma on Nov 16, 2018 13:01:57 GMT -6
It was weird being back on a boat after an indeterminate amount of time. It took him a solid half day to regain what remained of his sea legs. He learned the names and faces of his employer and some of the crew that were on board. The swordsman was happy to see that he personally knew at least two of the other guards. Vincent whom he was happy to see that wasn't permanently marred by the encounter with the Entombed. Well, at least not physically marred. Mentally. Duma wasn't 100% sure. The next person that he recognized among the group was Drei.
Duma was surprised to see him on board. Surprised to see how he's grown both in magical ability and in body. Duma didn't note anything too different about the young shaman. Save for the young woman, Althea, that seemed to follow him at every turn. Marveling at the boat and all things boat related. He smirked at that. From what he remembered Drei was one of the 'quiet' types. Perhaps that was what drew the rather energetic woman to him. Duma made a mental note to keep an eye out for the rouge on board.
The other man was a ship captain. Duma learned this after inquiring about the ship that was following the them. Duma could sense that the captain was a seasoned fighter, and his axe was peculiar. He later learned that the axe was a sort of magic axe. And Duma was curious to see what sort of magic it was. And if it was similar to Vincent's Phoenix Heart.
The other man on board with them came with an entourage. At first he mistook them for being regular members of Narzim's crew. They were fairly experienced in sailing. And seemed to blend right in with the rest of the sailors. He could only remember the name of one of the group at the moment. The blonde one Dietrich. Why does that name seem familiar. He shook his head. I'll figure it out later. --
Duma was up on the deck when attack happened. He was busy sharpening his blades. He only had his magic silencing sword for a few months and he kinda babied it a bit. The blacksmith assured him the blade was nigh unbreakable. But, Duma wasn't too sure about that. The green clad swordsman liked to sharpen his weapons up on the deck. He was able to see what he was doing thanks to the light of the torches and of the sky light. He was in the middle of wiping one down with a rag when the crash happened. He quickly packed up his things and readied himself. He peered over the side of the ship and noted the two other ships that traveled with the merchant had been swallowed up by the fog.
He felt the little hairs on his neck stand up on end. Something about all of the stories and superstition filled him with a quiet sense of dread. If this had been regular pirates he wouldn't have felt so bad. But, the eeriness of the fog, matched the description of the stories. And he really hoped it wasn't monsters. He had enough of the undead menace back in the tombs with Vincent. But, their group seemed, capable of handling whatever came their way. Him, Gar, Edgewind, Drei, Althea, Vincent, Dietrich's group, and their employer Narzim, and his two mage associates. Really should learn their names. He took a position on the right side of the ship. And waited to hear if Narzim ordered him to go elsewhere.
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Post by Drei on Nov 19, 2018 17:35:04 GMT -6
Unlike the last boat he'd traveled upon, the one where he'd met Althea, who now slumbered while Ereshkigal held the reigns, was far less.."cozy,". If such a word could be used to describe a ship. Though the vessel was still as musty as any boat, loud as one too with the break of the tide against the hull, and it did that constant jutting lurch every time a strong gust caught the ships sales. However it was more spacious. For many of to have small sectioned quarters opposed to the cramp bunk like establishment of most vessels meant it allowed him a modicum of privacy if he'd need it. It also narrowed the number of potential interactions he might have to worry about. The ashen haired shaman was quietly below deck when that faint tremor caught his notice. His eyes snapped upwards to find a hanging lantern idly dangling from the wooden roof above. It hadn't been loud enough for them to have suffered any kind of attack. Probably thunder, right? Still, he'd glanced quietly to Ereshkigal who stuck out almost as much as him with her snowy hair. "If the worst we have to worry about is a storm, I'll be content in free passage."
A second thunderous echo. It was distinct enough for him to tell it..wasn't thunder. Then came the bells. He'd always hated bells. A death. A city under siege. A wedding. Bells never rang for anything good. Drei complained internally as he looked to Eresh and quietly rested his right hand on his father's tome at his hip. Gesturing to her with a quiet shrug before turning to head above deck as the growing ruckus of sailor and sellsword alike moved either above deck or to stations below. "If it is just pirates...I suppose we at-least have some semblance of a game plan. Judging by last times experience and all..."
He nearly stumbled back down the steps to the deck below from the faint burst of wind catching him off guard. His vision filled briefly with the haze of dispersing fog as he blinked and glanced reaffirmed his grasp on the railings before throwing himself some-what up onto deck before affirming his footing. It was like a wall of fog, or a curtain, had embraced the ship in a cocoon. Drei felt the hairs on his neck rise as he quietly glanced at all the fighters. Some taking up formations. Others standing with hands at their hip or on their weapons. The feeling of magic rippling through the air. It wasn't hard for him to feel that all-too-familiar sense. When he looked to the deck, the Nabatan Prince, and two other mages seemed to be channeling. No doubt they'd been the source of the gust that nearly knocked him off his feet in shock. He quietly turned to Ereshkigal, nodding quietly as his hands silently parted from his tome and his side. His mind quietly connecting to that sprawling entity of eldritch proportions known as the void. If they were going to fight, he was at-least going to be able to start casting.
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Post by Althea on Nov 25, 2018 15:37:54 GMT -6
Ereshkigal had already been aboveboard when the fog appeared and had taken very little notice of it initially - brushing it off as something that probably happened on the sea a lot. She had never been on a boat after all; this was all very new and exciting. And this 'sea sickness' thing Althea had warned her about didn't even happen! She was almost disappointed. What a story that would have made for. Though it would have been harder to appreciate the emerald-blue ocean surrounding them, a seemingly infinite distance in all directions. To be afloat, adrift in the middle of nowhere, without even landmarks to guide them. It was a strange and slightly uncomfortable sensation, but intriguingly new nonetheless.
That said, she was not entirely an idiot, and even as others noted the rising fog and soon the sounds of combat, she was more focused on something else. The scent of magic hung on the wind. An ugly, cloying stench of something dark, something old; older than anyone here. Maybe older than her. Though there was little accuracy to her observations, merely the result of her extreme attunement to the Nether. But even those whispering willows of weirdness flitting about the corners of her senses was enough to wipe some of the confidence off her face.
-And she couldn't even fight properly with everyone here. Ereshkigal was... aware that she neither the best strategist nor tactician, but even an idiot could tell that using large scale magic that was liable to destroy the only thing keeping you off the ocean's floor was... less than wise. And she was no idiot. At least she thought so; Althea might disagree.
I do, just so you know. Yeah well you can eat my ass. Me and Drei got this!
Wishing, not for the first time, that she actually knew more of these people, she was at least happy to see Drei come aboveboard, and while she didn't know EXACTLY what he was feeling it seemed like he could tell something was off magically, even before the two magi near the lord king guy(?) started casting something. She was a little fuzzy on all these human terms for royalty, nobility, and... NOT royalty who still got called princes anyways.
"...There's something dark out there, Drei," she said with little of her usual vivacious temperament, more subdued and concerned in equal parts than anything else. Unfortunately she was not a proper Archon much less a Knight, so she didn't have much better insight to it than that dumb looking guy with the axe, actually, a lot of these people looked dumb.
Pot, meet kettle. I cordially invite you to- Shut up and pay attention or I'm driving the body. ...Yes ma'am.
Everyone seemed to be trying to coax as many metal-ey noises and cool poses out of their weapons as possible, so Ereshkigal felt a little left out, but she really REALLY didn't want to accidentally blow anyone up, much less anything, so she mostly just stood there trying to look fierce and failing utterly as she awaited revelations of the nature of what was going on.
It didn't even occur to her to follow anyone else's orders; she didn't intentionally ignore them, just assumed they were for lesser people.
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