[Guest ST] Troubled Waters

[Aoren]

20th of Spring, 514 AV
20th Bell

For days now a cloud of unsettling fear had clung to the atmosphere around Zeltiva. The fiasco at the Scholar’s Asylum had the citizens of the coastal city on edge. The havoc and destruction the mages had caused in just a few short days was disastrous. Portions of the University had been left in ruins. The mad mages had spread through the city like wildfire, some of them calling down flames with a flick of their wrists. The five days that it took to round up or kill most of the deranged wizards were some of the longest that many citizens had endured. Nowhere had been truly safe.

What was a stone bunker to a wizard who manipulate stone with a thought? What were swords to men and women who could turn those blades upon their users with the sound of their voice? What good were walls when there were mages who could pass through them entirely? It was a troubling time for Zeltiva as men and women constantly glanced over their shoulders, jumping at shadows or blaming magic for every abnormal occurrence in everyday life.

Throughout these trying times the Wave Guard had stood as resolute defenders of the common people. However, they were stretched thin. The militia of five-hundred, while well trained, couldn’t possibly hope to be everywhere in a city of roughly twenty-thousand. The defenders of Zeltiva were tired. Some of them would never awaken to see another day. For those heroes that remained however…

..the worst had yet to come.

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The Maiden’s Voyage.

A stalwart Mizaharan. One of the pride of the Zeltivan fleet. It had few equals in all of the world with only other Zeltivan ships to rival or surpass it. The ship had recently docked from a merchant voyage that had taken the crew from the safety of the Zeltivan harbor to the ports of Riverfall and back. The journey had been a long one with stops at the other coastal cities along the way. As a reward for the successful venture out into the waters of Laviku’s domain, the majority of the crew had been given leave to enjoy a few days in the city. What remained was a skeleton crew just large enough to keep the vessel tidy and keep an eye on the cargo as it was unloaded to the Zeltivan port authorities.

Second Mate Arthur Gainsley was the officer left in charge of the ship while the other officers were ashore. He stood upon the deck leaning on the rail near the boarding ramp looking out over the city. From the solace of the Maiden’s Voyage it didn’t seem like chaos had visited the streets of Zeltiva. With the soft Spring breeze that danced over the deck and rustled the scruff on his face to keep him company, everything seemed quite peaceful.

“Sir?” Arthur turned to regard one of the sailors manning the skeleton crew. He gave him a slight raising of his brow prompting the man to speak further.

“We’ve got just about two dozen more crates that need to be unloaded in the morning. All of the equipment is accounted for. The evening’s watch has been posted and the cook will be serving dinner in the galley here shortly.” Arthur nodded with a half-chuckle.

“Aye. Sounds good lad. I could use a distraction from the nothings going on up here. Mr. Eakin’s cooking should make for a nice one because by Laviku I’m bored!” The sailor and he shared a small bout of laughter.

“Perhaps I could help ease your boredom, gentlemen?” Arthur’s laughter was cut short. He snapped his head in the direction of the gangplank. There he found a woman casually leaning against the railing. The sight of her made Arthur do a bit of a double take. She was quite pleasing to behold. Her hair was a startling fiery orange, the silk strands of it reflecting Leth’s light magnificently. Her eyes were a vivid green and her form was quite easily viewed given her attire. She wore a commoner’s dress the top of which hung loosely off of one shoulder and did nothing to hide the curves of her body. Arthur immediately removed his cap clearing his throat.

“Evening, Miss. Sorry to say that I can’t be taking in the pleasure of your company tonight.” His comrade choked back a small chortle. Arthur cast him a glare which shut him up nicely. Arthur Gainsley may have been a sailor but he was of the more responsible variety. At least in his on-duty hours.

The woman adopted a pouty look to her face sliding off of the railing and gliding over to Arthur. She rest a hand on his chest leaning up on her tip-toes staring into his eyes.

“Well, aren’t you precious. Such an upstanding gentleman. A proper sailor manning his post. You’re not tempted by me?” Arthur swallowed hard.

“Well, I…” She trailed a hand along his beard scratching beneath his chin.

“All flustered? I can help with that too. Come on. Did all those days out at sea strip of all sense of fun?” The sailor standing next to Arthur snickered speaking under his breath.

“I can think of a couple of things that could be stripped right now.” Arthur tossed him a glare. He was not helping the situation.

“Miss, I’m going to have to ask you to leave the ship.” He reached up resting both hands upon the woman’s shoulders. She looked up into his eyes then sighed shaking her head.

“You had to make this difficult didn’t you?” Arthur blinked at the woman. He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off as suddenly she was kissing him. Her lips pressed against his own it wasn’t a sensual kiss and caught him by surprise. He moved to push her away from him when he felt something slick and oily passing into his mouth. Arthur shoved her away from his body.

“What the—?” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand but that oily sensation still remained. The woman danced away from him twirling on her toes performing a pirouette in an artful display of grace. She came to a stop then smirked. Blowing Arthur a kiss…it would be the last one he ever received.

Fire, searing hot and unforgiving burst into life from within the pit of Arthur’s stomach. He screamed but even that was short lived as more flames sparked into being in his throat and in his mouth. Within seconds his whole torso was alight in devilish heat. The man flailed about helplessly as he was consumed by the wicked flames.

The sailor beside Arthur jumped back, his eyes going wide. At the sound of twisted, cruel laughter he turned his attention to the woman. What he saw would be the nightmare that ushered him into the next life. Where a beautiful seductress had been before now stood a twisted nightmare that must have been wrought by Rhysol’s hands. The woman remained but her hair was now a dancing wreathe of fire. Her eyes held in them the malice of a hundred madmen and she was bearing down upon the sailor with an evil grin.

“Come now, boy. Give us a kiss.” She stepped forward and had the sailor racing for the alarm bell. He scrambled over the deck tripping over his own two feet in a desperate dash to raise the alarm. As he reached it, grabbing hold of the rope ringing the bell fervently he heard the hiss and pop of burning wood behind him. With shaking hands he turned to face the nightmarish woman as she stepped into view once more. She raised a hand waving a finger back and forth making tutting noises.

“Tsk, tsk. Now why did you have to go and do that?” With a final scream, the sailor met his end as the woman opened her mouth and spewed forth a steam of searing fire. As his corpse burned the woman laughed delighted at her handiwork. A sharp wind picked up extinguishing the burning body prompting her to look up. There stood two men. One with his hand outstretched and a frown on his face. The other with his hands clasped behind his back exuding a calm exterior. It was the frowning man who spoke.

“Try not to burn the ship to cinders, Addison. We do need this vessel.” She glared at the man.

“Well, I can’t help it if they didn’t fall for the ruse. What was I supposed to do,Thurman?” Addison, the woman, glared at the frowning man. His skin was a pale white. His lips were the blue of death and the beating heart in his chest may as well have been a block of ice.

“You could have been a bit more subtle about it.” Thurman’s frown increased. Addison’s burning hair flared as anger darted across her eyes.

“Oh? And how would you have done that?” The pale man opened his mouth to speak when both of them were cut off by the third.

“Quiet. Both of you.” Thurman and Addison bowed their heads as the third man, an elder gentleman with steel grey hair and a straight back walked up to stare down at the body of the dead sailor.

“Thurman, why don’t you go make sure the rest of the crew won’t be a problem. Addison my dear?” The woman with the burning hair perked up at being addressed by this man.

“Yes, master?” She almost hummed as the elder gentleman raised her chin to meet his gaze.

“We’re expecting company. Why don’t you give them a warm welcome?” Addison’s smile was positively malicious.

“With pleasure!”

As bells rang across the docks rousing the Guards to action the elder gentleman made his way to the helm of the ship. With his hands clasped loosely behind his back he stared out into Matthew’s Bay, a pillar of calm amid the growing chaos.

PermissionThread approved by Eldritch, DS of Zeltiva.

NoteWelcome Pulren and Ricky to your Guest Moderated Thread! I hope this proves to be a thrilling adventure for all of us. If you have comments, questions or concerns, message me at your earliest convenience!

[Ricky Maze]

For what it was worth the bastards that escaped out the asylum were proving to be a thorn in Ricky's own ass, if not the rear side of Zetliva herself, and it was just as well too considering the timing of the event that took place. The day had already looked calmer than the past few nights, but of course it was to be expected that another act of rebellious mages would flare up once again since things had started to go too well. For Ricky alone this meant that the job was never done when it came to the Wave Guard, and indeed it was something that seemed to never end as he had to stay at the Wave Guard headquarters each night with worry... worry for the family that waited back at home. Not that sleep did come much with the fear and paranoia for his loved ones, but all the same Ricky did everything he could to be a stalwart companion among his brethren that turned the tide.

The endeavor though had only just started it seems, for the bells tolled high in an effort to warn the denizens of the city. Zeltiva was under attack once more, this time within the range of the docks or so the word was spread. As the order of the guard within the building started to round up Ricky found himself already jumping off the mattress of the bed, the comfort poor in comparison to the more securely soft frame at home that likely held his beloved. Could Telion find sleep in all this racket? Or did she too find little rest over the worry of her personal guardian? Either way he hadn't much time to go on, as the bells already felt like they molded into one never ending time, a day of chaos that just wouldn't come to an end by the looks of it. "Let's move it men! Everyone is to report around the docks immediately and secure the perimeter!" The Lieutenants barked as everyone else shuffled to grab their gear, though not many needed to worry about getting dressed in the same azure uniform... as all had hardly the time nor care to remove it when they rested.

Thus Ricky, covered in a cold sweat, immediately moved to the foot of his bed and procured his equipment first hand. The elaborately crafted longsword first as he tied the scabbard to his belt, with the shield his fellow guard to follow as he equipped the large round hunk of metal to his left arm. The shield arm as they would call it, the more defensive part of his capabilities. Today was all about tactics to reduce as many losses as possible, for Ricky that meant leading his units carefully as they would deal with whatever posed threat towards them. If only Oi 'ad time fer shieldin'... He had to admit to use the shields would very well provide advantage in some cases, yet even if they were easily invisible to the naked eye it still posed a danger in it's own, Ricky's exhaustion as well as the giving of a secret were the two important factors to consider.

"Roi den," He rallied himself as he tried to sound encouraging, "Best t' git started now." Were this another day in paradise then surely Ricky could've picked a better place to live, but then again it always seemed as though trouble somehow followed him. Often at times he would wonder why he couldn't just have a normal, simple life to settle down in, but then again to question it now was to likely result in a fate much worse than a live as eventful as his. Finished and ready to face his opponents the Sergeant started off like the rest of his fellow guards, whatever his charge was it would all serve in the coming scene soon. Secure the perimeter and then move it to stop the insane freaks, hopefully mercy could play her part in this so no blood would have to be spilled today.

[Pulren Marsh]

Pulren couldn't sleep. His body was tired, his mental faculties dwindled, but anger kept a candle burning in his heart. His trident stood against the bunk on his right, the shield on his left, the young man rubbing the bridge of his nose and eyes as if to rub out the memories of the war. And it was war. Every bit of the last few days and the siege of the Mad Wizards could be described as nothing else to those who had never faced a battle. The barracks were mostly quiet as it had seemed as if there was a reprieve from the constant onslaughts.

When it had began, every Guardsman was full of vigor to fight. Now, with some gone, many injured and all weary, the barracks remained as still as the grave. Pulren rolled his head around on his neck, the slow burn of anger popping and crackling inside of his gut like embers in a fire. He just couldn't shake the growing fury from the casualties that these misguided magicians had caused, all in a search for power.

When word came of the act of terrorism, Pulren was actually relieved. His hatred had found purchase and perhaps he could find retribution for the lives lost. More importantly, no more lives would be lost if he had anything to say about it. Rising with a creak, his arms ached with the recently regular weight of the shield and trident. He looked for Sergeant Maze and kept him in sight, knowing where he went, Pulren would follow.

A thought occurred to him as he rose, his eye following a line between his backpack and his footlocker. Placing his weapon and shield on his bunk, Pulren quickly squatted and emptied the contents of his pack into his footlocker, only pausing to arrange things so that they would fit. It could be arranged neatly on the next period of sitting and waiting. For now, it was a dash to stow his fins, breath bag and goggles into the pack before gathering his belongings. thinking twice, he opted to fold and slide his straight razor into the pack as well. One could never tell. Slinging the pack over his shoulder, he grabbed his shield and trident and caught up with the others.

The group settled into rank and file, moving out of the barracks and out into the Spring air. Looking around, he could see that the others were equally spent. "Come on guys, put on your work face. We have to let the citizens know we are always ready. We survived the past few days, we are going to survive today as well. Let's make sure no more lives are lost!" There was a general rousing as the Guard picked up its step. Pulren wouldn't mention it out loud, but he hoped that a few lives would be lost; those who would threaten his city once more.

[Aoren]

The scene that awaited them at the docks was that of Guardsmen completely bunkered down behind makeshift barricades. Portions of the docks were ablaze and would no doubt burn away falling off into the sea if left to smolder. As Sergeant Maze and his compatriots made their way up to the militiamen pinned down behind their barricades they were treated to the sight of one brave soul darting out from behind his barricade rushing the docks.

“For Zeltiva!” He shouted at the top of his lungs bolting for the gangway of The Maiden’s Voyage. He was not cascaded with bolts of fire. He was not blasted with torrential waters. Running up the wooden plank he made it to the top grasping the railway. Drawing his cutlass he crouched down breathing heavily as he scanned the deck for the insane wizard who had rained fire down upon him and his allies. Tentatively he signaled for more of his fellow Guardsmen to board the ship. Three more soldiers jumped out from behind their barricade darting forward to board The Maiden’s Voyage. For a moment it looked as if they might have actually made headway in the course to board the ship.

At least for a moment.

As the soldier atop the gangway turned around he was suddenly face to face with a creature that could only be described as nightmarish. A grotesque husk of a man stood in front of him. The eyes were gone from his eye sockets leaving only bleeding scabs that festered with infectious pus. The flesh was partially rotted away from his hands and skull making for a garish display of horror. The soldier screamed falling back in terrified shock. Fire burned in its eyes as maniacal laughter bubbled out of its throat. As it’s jaw opened the creature spewed forth a gout of flame dousing the soldier in fire. He screamed at the top of his lungs as the fires raged across his flesh. Rolling away from the monstrosity he flailed his arms before tripping on the gangplank falling into the waters of the docks.

The hideous monster turned its attention to the Guardsmen making their way toward the ship. Witnessing the fiery death of their comrade hadn’t slowed them but there was definitely fear in their eyes. The creature let out a high pitched scream before raising its hands conjuring a molten ball of lava. The ghoul then hurled the lava down at the soldiers on the docks completely demolishing a portion of the woodwork as streams of lava splattered in all directions. The Guardsmen scattered. One of them dove into the water. The other two ran back for their barricade. Sweat rolling over their brows and fear clear in their eyes.

Those two would prove to have been the wiser in their retreat.
The soldier who dove into the waters surfaced taking in a large gulp of air. As he gasped for breath tendrils of water rose up from the depths plunging down into his throat. He let out a garbled scream only for the force of the water to push him back beneath the surface. Unable to draw breath and with his vision fading his final thoughts were of the woman he loved and the hope that she would find happiness without him.

Back on the pier just before the woodwork of the Zeltivan docks, the other units of Wave Guardsmen were either trying to shoot the creature lurking on the deck of the ship or they were collecting themselves from the horrors they’d just seen. There looked to be no officer in charge. A careful inspection of one of the four flaming carcasses half melted or burned to a crisp would reveal the Sergeant in charge of this team had already met his end.
The highest ranking Guardsman? A shaking Corporal with a bad burn on his shoulder. As soon as he laid eyes upon Ricky, Pulren and those who followed them a look of relief washed over his features. He quickly signaled for the new arrivals to get low and join the assembled behind the barricades.

“S-s-sergeant, we can’t get any closer. The Lieutenant he…he got half of his body melted off. The sergeant just got torched. They’re monsters. They aren’t wizards. They’re hideous evil creatures pulled from the depths of a wicked nightmare.” He looked between Ricky and Pulren.

“What do we do?”

[Ricky Maze]

There was no doubt about it, the air was heavy with death and battle, the sounds of cries and despair filled the air above the docks as though they were sirens of the sea... yet their call wasn't as charming as men would wish. Even so to ignore the call was to ignore their duties to the city, and it was folly to think of avoiding the inevitable when one was driven to such madness. Sure enough their arrival was met with that which they could hear, as the gruesome sight of horrid flames and dying men were all before them when they finally reached the scene where the dark ominous clouds of smoke rose high, as the flames engulfed the docks to keep the guard from further reaching the boat. With the sight before him Ricky literally felt his inner nerves tremor as he tried to keep from shivering violently, the fear and worry grew greater as he came to be addressed by the Corporal that reported to him.

The unit he was with lost both Sergeant and Lieutenant, and of course many more men had become a victim to the scorching flame and horrid sea below. The waters of Zeltiva's shores weren't entirely their ally anymore, as these monsters had the ability to control them now. Wizards. Damn them! Damn them all for being so... so... There wasn't even a way to finish the sentence, as Ricky would most certainly define himself a hypocrite for thinking so. He too was a mage after all, and he too would have to show it. There was little options in this, especially if he wanted to see no more death on his part. The bodies of his fellow guards floated about in the waters below, while the docks were brilliantly ablaze as liquid fire managed to eat away the wooden planks. Madness. Despair. All of this was something that nearly settled within Ricky's mind as he tried to figure out something, yet nothing came to mind as he literally found conflict after conflict with the situation. Flaw upon flaw, his ideas were wearing thin already. What to do? It was his call, and the men were faltering fast.

His brothers in arms... They needed a leader, someone who could perform the task diligently. He was by far not even close to be worthy of the role, yet even so he was the highest ranking member here at the moment, at least for those around him who were present. They needed guidance... they needed a leader... Shyke, shyke, shyke! What the petch was he suppose to do?! Ricky couldn't help but wildly glance between his brothers and then the gruesome scene before him, the precious moment in the ticks whittled away as he tried to desperately fight the despair within himself. He couldn't let it win, he had to do something. They needed somebody here to lead them, and it fell upon his shoulders to do the job. Clear yer mind Rick, clear yer petchin' mind. He repeated in his head over and over, yet the only solution he found was to let the fear take over. So he did. He allowed all that fear, all that despair, to sink in but only for a short while. He counted. One. Two. T'ree. Four... Each tick felt heavier as the impending terror only grew, his heart practically heavier as the sight further settled into his mind. Five. That was it. He purged all fear and all worry from his mind, he flipped a switch to turn himself into the man he needed to be, to play the part of the leader they needed while he composed himself with courage. He flushed all despair out, clearing his thoughts of all doubt as he sought a better sense of clarity.

But what clarity would be found here? He needn't dwell on that, for he now had the courage to make a stand. Whereas before he shook out of pure anxiety, he now held a clenched fist as he took a step forward. "Hold fast and stay strong mates! Gather roun' an' form two parallel lines behind me, yer shields 're yer allies in dis endeavor!" He rallied as he ordered for the men to stick behind him, he wasn't intending to lead them down to hell just yet though. Here things got tricky. Where he was used to only formulating a single and double party combat paradigm, he literally had more units to command and therefore had to consider formations instead. This was indeed a battle that felt like war, and he intended to keep as many alive as possible in his endeavor to led them to victory. "Listen up brot'ers in arms, Oi've never t'ought t' resort t' such measures... but now Oi can't allow me own abilities t' 'old me back! Oi'm goin' t' clear us a patch t' move forward wit', all o' ya 're t' form roun' me an' be me shield. Defend me from incomin' projectiles while we move forward, work t'gether as a whole to shrug off every damn fireball wit' yer shields. Dem bastards won't get t' better o' us!" He ordered as several of the guards stood next to him, what he did next was something he could only hope he wouldn't later regret.

The fisherman took a deep breath and tapped deeply into his reserves of Djed, grasped at a decent amount that would serve purpose for his tactic, and willed for it to respond to his desire as he pulled from within him Res. Royal blue liquid ooze would slowly formulate above his palm as he continued to gesture for it to grow, the size alone greater than he would originally ever dare to generate. As he did this he could literally feel the subjective whims of power course throughout his entire body, and seduce his mind to give into the greater temptations these monsters surrendered themselves into. He would not though. It was against his nature to give into things so easily, that and when the lives of his allies was in peril he had to remain the stronger one. "By my honor as a Wave Guard, I'll make sure not one o' ya suffer at de 'ands o' dese bastards. Oi'll see t' it dey be put down rat'er t'an lose me fellow brothers." He vowed to hopefully encourage and reassure his fellow guards that he intended to use his own magic for good.

The size of the ball of Res was only about a human head in mass, which was probably nothing compared to what other wizards would draw out, but for Ricky that was definitely stepping over his own boundaries. He never felt comfortable making such sizes out of his Res, but then again he never thought to try either. He was too afraid really, therefore never found the extent of his limits. Yet even after he had pulled all this Djed out of himself and converted it to Res, he hadn't felt any changes within himself in terms of Overgiving. No signs were present other than the alluring sensation that called to create more, yet even that wasn't the first sign that he'd reached his limit, as that was always the first thing a mage felt they created Res. Still the size was enough to serve purpose and that's what mattered, now it was time to create a path for them to walk before the docks were completely burned away. "Get ready men, Oi'm gonna put out de fires and get us t' dem ships! We can't let de bastards escape!" He ordered as he started the march, in turn Ricky would turn his hand to where the sphere was directed away from him, his clenched fingers loosened as the glob of ooze floated over the side of the docks.

oocStopping here to avoid overflowing details seeing as how writing magic is a never ending method for me. I'll pick up on the march and use of attraction in my next post since that'll be the filler pretty much. Ricky's tactic, if not obvious by now, is to use attraction of water to douse the docks and hopefully keep their path from being burned away, so in turn he's hoping the guards around him will use their shields to block incoming projectiles while they move. Patient probing is what the idea is, the guards shield from attacks while Ricky alone tries to clear the path. Its not effective combat wise but for what he's doing should, HOPEFULLY, limit the numbers in terms of injuries and deaths while they move.

Not sure why I felt the need to explain that as well. >.> I guess it's because large combat threads like this always seem to hold higher pressure in them, either way if I've embellished too much into the post or led anyone to be confused pm me please. I'd rather clear any confusion or the like up to keep this awesome plot moving along nicely.

[Pulren Marsh]

Pulren had many dreams of what battle and duty would be when he would find himself daydreaming with a fishing rod in his hand. None of those were the sight he beheld. Death and the stench of fear wafted through the docks. Flames and screams mixed in with the ceaseless tides, the waters dark with pitch and blood. The scene was very chaotic and he couldn't help but catch the fever of fear as it raced through the frightened militia.

However, as his chest rose and fell, he could feel the links of chain which he had worked so hard for and the weight of the round shield in his offhand. His trident's density and cool shaft hung in his right hand and it was clear that the day would be one that would be told around the fires and bars for days, perhaps weeks to come. he could not stomach the idea of the city believing their protectors were cowards.Sweat ran down Pulren's neck and back, the shiver of fear replaced with slow, stoking embers of anger. Looking to his left and right, he could see injured and cowards alike. He could see those with bows and crossbows taking potshots at the smoking ruin of a thing on the ship. He watched his Sergeant's back as the squad found themselves now in the vanguard.

The two Guards ran by him as the eruption of liquid flame came as a gout and his heart tried to sink as he watched the fate of the man who went into the water. His bright idea in his backpack became very heavy with doubt and resentment. In his mind, his only rationale was to take every one of those emotions and scoop them together, drop them all into the bubbling cauldron of rage that grew in Pulren's belly. Sure, later he could cry and piss down his leg. Zeltiva was watching now. He looked over at Rick's back, finding relief at orders being given. He and the others formed the lines, though Pulren chose the line closest to land. This was not an act of cowardice on his part, but to make sure that those in front did not break ranks and run. He would push them forward if he had to.

Looking over at the archers on either side, he called out to them in the space between directives. "Archers, fire on that thing! And when you run out of arrows, throw rocks. Keep it busy and kill it if you can. Leave this path behind us clear in case of retreat." Do that much, you shivering waifs..., Pulren thought to himself. If Laviku chose for him to die that day and sacrifice himself for the city, he would. But it would only be his God or Pulren that would allow that to happen not some freak who was......

Sergeant Rick.

Pulren blinked slowly as he heard words coming from his friend and superior, though the words seemed to lack purchase to anything deeper than his ears. When he saw the energies forming in Rick's hand, his teeth grinded and his grip tightened on his weapons. He knew that Rick used the stuff, but to use it in front of these crazies could give them fuel. Marsh didn't know the exact workings of the craft but still, buckets had to work as well as more of the same shyke. he was already on the smoldering wood of the dock now, so no turning back. His shield came up and his trident at the ready, he pushed forward in the name of duty.

[Aoren]

Addison glared at the assembly of Wave Guards that marched slowly forward toward the fires blazing on the docks. She brought up a hand, her face gaining an impish grin as she prepared to conjure another fireball to hurl their way. What did she care the consequences of using so much magic? The sweet music lulling her into the bliss of conjuring more of her beautiful flames called to her. With a hysteric laugh she reached for her djed prepared to set the entire host of Guardsmen ablaze.

“That’s enough, Addison, my dear.” A gentle hand touched her wrist. She turned her gaze to the one who dared touch her and interfere with her casting. It was the only man who would risk such a thing. She frowned but did as she was bidden. Staring into the warm eyes of The Master she gave a slight bow and as she did the horrific visage that covered her body fell away. Like wisps of silk the veil giving her the appearance of being a monstrosity blew away with the sea breeze. Though the woman that lay beneath the façade was perhaps no less frightening. Her eternally burning hair whipped about her in the wind matched only by the spark of madness that burned in her eyes.

“But they’re just begging to become dust in the wind, Master. Can you not hear the song? It sings for them to be ash.” The grey haired man ran a hand up the length of Addison’s spine eliciting a shiver from the crazed reimancer.

“I can hear it, dear one. I can. The song will be sung to its conclusion...but not yet.”

“Shall I drown them, Master?” A stale monotone voice interjected the otherwise seemingly intimate moment. From the shadows stepped the pale man with the blue lips. His flat eyes observed The Master and Addison with as much warmth as the frigid tundra of the northern wastes.

“No, Thurman. No. It seems what was left of the fair crew is a bit more resilient to my charms than I had anticipated. We need sailors to man this ship and they must be…” The man clasped his hands behind his back making his way toward the nearby railing of the ship. “….persuaded to do it for us.”

As he walked he stepped over the corpses of several men. Each one had their throats slit. The deck of The Maiden’s Voyage was soaked with the blood of roughly a dozen men. The bodies and pools of blood didn’t seem to faze the three gathered at the railing on the ship. Once the elder gentleman reached the railing he rest his hands lightly upon the polished wood staring out at the Guardsmen cautiously marching toward The Maiden’s Voyage. His sharp eyes settled on a single man. There was a slight arching of an eyebrow as he leaned forward slightly to get a better picture of what was transpiring.

“Thurman, it seems there is a friend among the Guardsmen. Make him comfortable, won’t you?” Thurman, the pale blue lipped man, gave The Master a sweeping bow before taking a few steps back then darting forward leaping over the side of the ship and into the waters.

“Addison, shall I tell you a story?” The elder gentleman calmly turned away from the railing ushering the woman toward the helm of the ship. Her eyes brightened at the offer of a story. Like a child eager for a treat from her father’s hand. She nodded vigorously. The elder gentleman chuckled.

“Very well, dear one. This is the story of a strong and kind warrior who sought to bring hope and joy to his people and the villainous wizard who summoned an army to stop him…”

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Ricky would find that the waters of Matthew’s Bay were anything but cooperative. The task of pulling waves forward up onto the docks to extinguish the fires by force of attraction with Res was far beyond the abilities of a Novice. The strain of such a weight would quickly take its tolls upon the mediocre reimancer’s Djed. His efforts were not entirely in vain as small tongues of water splashed periodically up onto the wooden planks of the docks. Not enough put out all of the fires but enough to diminish some of them.

Suddenly the winds picked up and a forceful blast of wind swept across the docks leading up to The Maiden’s Voyage blanketing the fires. Within seconds the fires were doused by the powerful winds. Several guardsmen stumbled as they were caught off guard by the sudden gust. They were forced to catch themselves or fall into the water where awaited them an unknown fate.

“You shouldn’t play at being a wizard.” Standing behind the advancing Guardsmen at the beginning of the docks where wood met stone was the pale man. His dark hair only brought out the sickly pallor of his skin and the blue of his lips. He wasted no more time with words. Raising both of his hands he stared at the assembled with a dispassionate gaze.

“A lesson for you all.” Bringing his hands down another gust of wind swept over the docks catching the already stumbling Guardsmen once more. Several were knocked off of their feet. A few found themselves blown into the waters of the Matthew’s Bay. The gust lasted no more than a few seconds but it was relentless in its ferocity. As quickly as it was over another blast of wind came from the direction of the ship, this one hitting the remaining Guardsmen from the side. The unprepared were sent careening into the water, knocked from the docks by the strong currents of air smashing into them. Some tried to stab their swords into the wooden planks but were unable to get them embedded fast enough.

Ricky and Pulren were saved the worst of it though as they were centered at the formation. Those men around them were tossed off the docks as easily as plucking stones from the beach. When the gusts of wind ceased from both directions the pale man lowered his hands. He gave a slight bow to the ship where stood a shadowy figure. When the pale man straightened he gestured to the gangplank.

“The Master awaits. It is advised you do not keeping him waiting long.” Ricky and Pulren didn’t have much of a choice. They were the only two Guardsmen left on the planks of the docks and barely standing at that. There was splashing in the water as those Guardsmen still conscious fought to stay above the current and make it back to the docks. The sergeant and his charge were all that was left with the ability to perhaps still put up an immediate fight.

NoteI am so sorry for the delay! Enjoy your post! I think it will be interesting to see how the two of you handle yourselves without the support of your fellow Guardsmen for the time being.

[Ricky Maze]

What transpired today by his actions would surely affect him later on and that Ricky knew for a fact, yet he couldn't let the fear of being discovered control him anymore now that they were stretched so very thin. Ricky had to reveal this secret one way or another, and if he didn't do a good enough job when they were first counteracting the insane wizards when the break out first happened, then by Gods he was sure going to give what he could a try now in an effort to help his fellow man. The grasp that once loosened regained the firm clench it held once more as he focused, the surface of the water below harsh in it's resistance to be pulled around his Res.

He hadn't expected it to be this difficult but as it turns out the sea itself felt as though it had a will of its own, even if Ricky needed to only borrow small doses of it for his effort to clear a path. Finally what felt like the impossible became what some would describe as the improbable for one such as he, for Ricky was still by far the novice that hardly knew enough to use magic so skillfully. At best some of the chaotic surface rippled and pulsated as waves would lap, until at last those waves themselves found a pull strong enough to bring them up towards the royal blue core that floated just above the surface. Water soon enveloped and veiled the entire sphere as it would splash and churn about, enough to make a couple of large splashes against the fire, rather than tosses with what small waves he'd thought to try and conjure before. Such a task was far beyond his ability, and sure enough he could already feel himself wearing rapidly thin by the sheer effort put into this gambit. No... he just needed a bit more. He couldn't though, he couldn't let himself fall into the same set of mind as the bastards that started this.

Convinced with himself he pulled what water he'd attracted and threw his arm out from his right to his left, the sphere of liquid mimicked his movement and slung over the docks, in turn releasing most of the attracted element onto the flames that blocked their path. Nothing worthy of noting, sure a small part of their path had cleared for them to advance, but there was still far too much to handle for Ricky. He'd never make it if he were to continue this, but the men they... they needed to advance. He still had a small portion of water left, enough to clear just a little bit more. Instead of throwing it over another section of flame though, he had to play it smart while at the same time ignoring what he could only think was the beginning of silent but luring whispers as he started to taste metal within his mouth. Last call. He motioned as he brought the medium sized sphere of water before the men, he held his hand forward with fingers still clutched only for a moment. With a sharp focus hellbent to do what little he could he released the hold and opened his hand whole, the fingers straightened as he pushed for the ball to fly forth and douse what flames it could.

Still no good. He covered a better portion sure but the flames they still licked from the docks, their path was still blocked and Ricky had exercised himself just enough to nearly reach his limit. If he were to cast further he would surely be asking for trouble, depending on the gravity of his magic of course. Damn, a petchin' waste! He beat himself up inwardly as they continued their march, though a sudden gust that picked up over the docks removed what remains of their blockage lived, in turn sending a few of the guards back as their balance was shifted. "Son o' a- Hold fast mates!!" He ordered as he could only expect more to come, of course there wasn't even the chance to prepare. More gusts came after a pale man barked at them, providing with his words a lesson Ricky very well might take to heart as he literally felt the strong defenses of his fellow guards shake and falter. There was screams and shouts as fear quickly sunk within, the men all falling into the waters of the bay one by one.

Shyke shyke shyke shyke!!! His mind roared as he literally felt his equilibrium be tossed left and right, his heart raced ever so quickly as he could still hear faint traces of whispers within the harsh gusts that beat the guards off the docks. He messed up. He messed up big time and it would surely reflect on him later on, now his men were all swimming for their lives in fear at what would come next... and Ricky would fail in his effort to make sure they all made it through alive. Oi've already failed dem, Oi- He opened his eyes as he realized he still remained on the docks, a hand clutched to the wooden plank he stood on as he realized he had desperately struggled to remain where he was. He and Pulren were the only ones left there, the rest had been shaken off to swim to safety while the two of them were... extended an invitation. De petch?! What's he- Ricky looked to the galleon that the pale figure motioned for, the sight of a shadowy figure discovered in what traces of smoke remained.

Dis ain't good. Not good at all. He looked over his shoulder to Pulren, who in turn looked to be shaken up from the turn out of events. It was only the two of them, two of them against a group of petching mages! Ricky's legs felt like jelly, his free hand literally shook as though a fissure took place in his spine, the nerves numb to all but the gripping fear at the realization of what had occurred. Just what the hell was he to do? How was he suppose to compare against the skill of these... these monsters? They were certainly no longer human, as they've transcended that and found themselves a form Ricky himself could only describe as supernatural. Now... now they were to meet the leader, the brains of this operation that started all of this. While this served as both good and bad in Rick's case, that meant he also had to watch out for the one that was with him. Pulren. Yes, Ricky had to keep an eye on Pulren and see to it he remained safe. See to it he lived through all of this, to carry the torch that lived on in the next generation. It was odd but Ricky somehow felt he needn't worry about himself, because deep down thanks to the lesson Pulren learned he would be fine. Of course... he feared for Pulren all the more because he was the one to give such a lesson.

They were brethren by right of arms, code of honor as they served in the same service. Now they faced incredible odds and had to endeavor, and it was in that moment Ricky's dulled mind found itself on the verge of sharpening once more. He had to think quickly and cut out the rest, focus on only getting through this and seeing both he and Pulren lived to tell the story another day. They had little choice. Ricky stood up and when he did it was easy to tell he'd been shaken real well, the sudden defeat in his tactic led him to feel even less confident in his skills as a leader. He already felt as though he didn't deserve the rank of Sergeant, but that was only going to hold him back if he held onto that doubt. The focus was Pulren now, Pulren and perseverance through this troublesome time. "Let's go den..." He managed to find his own voice once more, although deep down he truly sounded like a lost soul. He held a hand out to help Pulren up in the event the Guardsmen needed it, and at the same time murmured only loud enough for his fellow comrade to hear. "We'll git t'rough dis together, Oi won't let anyt'in 'appen t' ya. Not on me watch."

He promised Pulren that but it was more or less a reassurance to himself, a profound way of regaining what little confidence he could before the big confrontation. "Oi'll be yer shield, yew be me sword." Hopefully that would make sense to Pul, given the fact that was a fixed quote from the lesson he'd learned about teamwork. If anything Ricky could do would help then sure enough he could see about using what remained of his Djed, and shield the guardsman so he wouldn't suffer any damage. There wouldn't be enough time though, not now anyway, so Ricky had to think of a way to make more time somehow. Would his shields be enough? Doubtful to even think so, all the same he had to try and think of ways to get through this. Shielding was an idea but something he had to hold off for now, at best the only thing left to do was see what this bastard had to say.

And so Ricky led onward, though a little hesitantly, towards the ship they'd procured. They had little choice right? They were out-manned, overpowered, and heavily outmatched. The only thing to do was play along for the moment, until the time to act came, and in turn they would spit in the face of fate and defy the odds to their limits.

[Pulren Marsh]

Pulren had been pretty confident as a Guard until the moment he had to step on to the singed dock. His fantasies about fighting criminals and Wizards were burned away much as his compatriots had been. Now there was just his breathing and the sounds of his footsteps. They marched in time with the squad which surrounded him and the Sergeant flanking him, the sounds of carnage and horror pleasantly muted somewhat by his mindset.

His grip on his trident and shield was ferocious, as if it might somehow make up for the impotency that the Guards faced against these overgiven casters. it was crystalline that the mages were toying with them, fueling the anger in Pulren's gut. He wanted badly to just run up and stab them all in their throats, their lifeblood spraying all over the wet wood of the deck. Of course, he suspected that it would be sheer suicide to do anything like that. Maybe even murder, considering the other Guardsmen surrounding him. The shock of the situation was nauseating enough that even Rick's vulgar display of magic had lost its sting.

Pulren knew that his life was worth saving and rash, angry displays were not the road to survival in this case. His thoughts gave way to a rising wind, brought to his ears by the ruffling sound of his own uniform and that of the sails of the Voyage. The sweat which poured freely over his body was cooled by the wind, which was pleasant, but only for a moment. Soon the breezes became gales and the forces forced Pulren down to his haunches. Bracing himself with his trident on his right and his shield on the left, he pressed the edge of the shield and the shaft of the trident together above his head as he knelt. This provided enough cover and stability to remain in his footing.

it wasn't so lucky for the others of the squad around him, who blew off the dock and into the waters like so much paper. He watched them splash into the waters surrounding them and longed to aid them, but he didn't dare move from his spot. Fear and anger kept washing over him like separate tides from the same dark sea. Once those winds died down, the stark sounds of the wounded and the dying came to his ears. it was a sharp sound which pulled the tide back into the reds of rage. Daring to raise his head, he could see that it was now only himself and the Sergeant remaining on the dock. He could see the hand offered and hear the words of summon from his superior, foregoing the help to rise on his own.

When he heard the vow of Sergeant Maze, he looked over at him and nodded, hoping to convey a similar feeling of camaraderie. He had no words for the position they were in, though the sickly yellow tide of fear began to rush back in to his gut. He could feel the color leaving his face, but he used the trident for a crutch until his legs regained their strength. How could Wizards overpower steel and guts? he would mark this in his mind as a reminder of why he should never give in. He hated the idea of surrender, but if they were to survive, it would at the least have to be the show that they put on.

He refused to make eye contact with his captors, nor put his weapons down. He would go where he was told for now, but should a breath of wind, a spark of flame or a drop of water unnatural come at him, he would bury his tines in the first Wizard he could. So deep that they would have to bury the lout with it.

[Aoren]

The deathly pale wizard, Thurman dropped his hands to his sides following along behind the two hesitant Wave Guards. He remained a good five feet behind them. For the most part he remained silent as they made their way along the docks. His silence was unnerving to say the least. He moved somewhat stiffly. His blank expression gave away none of the thoughts that wove through his fractured mind. Whatever they were, as far as Ricky and Pulren knew they were malicious and murderous in their intent. As the two guardsmen made their way up the gangplank and onto the deck of The Maiden’s Voyage they were treated to a positively grim sight.

While the deck was not littered with corpses there were at least five or six bodies of the ship’s former crew strewn about the wooden surface. With the exception of two that were burnt, charred messes, the other bodies looked almost as if they were sleeping. Upon closer inspection though the blue tint of death was quite visible on their lips. Those guardsmen who were tossed into the Bay were splashing about in the water. Either the wizard accompanying them had forgotten about them or he simply didn’t care. For the most part it sounded as if the others had simply been knocked off their feet with minimal casualties. Hope was still on the horizon! The men could regroup and storm the ship!

Within short order both Ricky and Pulren had been brought to the helm of the ship. A girlish giggle emanated from the men’s left. Seated on the railing of the ship was the woman with the burning hair. The unabashed malice that burned in her eyes as she stared both guardsmen down was the polar opposite of her emotionally defunct counterpart. She gave Pulren a smile, the tongues of fire that flowed about her face giving the gesture a sinister undertone. There was a hunger in her eyes that was echoed by the way she leaned forward and slowly licked her lips.

“Oh the things I could do to you. The fun we could have…” Addison hopped down from the railing sauntering up to Pulren. Delicately she reached up grasping one of the tines of his trident leaning forward pressing her face to the shaft. She locked eyes with the young guardsman, her honeyed voice slithering over him like a malignant ooze.

“Have you ever heard the sound a man makes when his insides are awash with fire?” She slid the hand grasping the tines of his trident down slowly, cutting one of her fingers. Stepping nearer she nearly brushed him with the tendrils of fire that radiated from her skull. Instead she stepped around him bringing the wounded finger to her lips smearing the blood on her tongue before giving him a lascivious smile. She leaned in to whisper near his ear, the fire framing her face receding for a brief moment.

“Have you ever felt the pleasure boiling another’s blood until there’s naught but ash?” She caressed his face before stepping away, embers trailing in her wake. As she moved away from him she smiled.

“It’s to die for.” With a twirl she returned to the railing. Either she hadn’t felt the least bit threatened by the fact that she had wandered so near two trained, armed guardsmen, she was terribly powerful or she was well and truly insane.

“Addison, Thurman, we have lingered here long enough.” From the shadows engulfing the forward section of the ship there came a smooth and cultured voice. Addison giggled casting Pulren a longing stare that would be enough to make a seasoned veteran shiver before skipping off and away from the helm. There was a dull hum of acknowledgement from the deathly pale man who name could be inferred as Thurman. As the two wizards departed, a third figure stepped out the shadow of the helm.

He was an elder gentleman. Those were the perfect words to describe him. He was dressed in a simple black robe with the hood down which was perhaps the reason he blended into the darkness so well. His hair was peppered with iron grey strands but was otherwise as dark as the night sky. Slim with a cultured look about him he could have passed for a man of great wealth. There was a charismatic, almost compassionate look about him.

“Good evening gentlemen.” He gave them both a nod of his head. As he did there was a very loud snapping sound and the ship rocked slightly. The gentleman neither swayed nor lost his footing. Indeed, he moved with the ship with the grace of a learned sailor. He raised a hand as if to stop whatever words might have come out of their mouths.

“Before you consider rushing me with your weapons and overpowering me you should know, they will serve you no better than they already have.” He dropped his hand clasping it behind his back. There was another loud snap and the ship swayed again.

“With that in mind, do put them down and let us converse like civilized men. For I am so fond of civilized conversation.” He gave them both a charming smile. It was hard to envision this man as touched by madness. It was difficult to believe there was anything insane about him at all.

Which begged the question, if he wasn’t insane…was he truly just that evil?

“Allow me to introduce myself, I am Master Gaius Sivet. To whom do I owe the pleasure of speaking to?” The way he intoned the word master made one wonder, master of what?