Ill at Ease [Issima, Denen, Luke]

[Issima]

Issima had no trouble sleeping. The motion of the ship was lulling, and the tiny space she had been afforded was cozy, private. She'd formed a makeshift bed on the floor of what was most likely a storage closet of some sort, but happened to be only a few doors down from where Denen and Sam slept. It was more than sufficient. As it were, she was awakened from a bad dream by Denen's screams. It took more than a moment before she realized it had been real, and it was mostly the pounding of Sam's feet in the hall that fully roused her from her sleep. She scrambled out of the blankets she had snuggled into and, throwing the door wide, beat a path after him in bare feet. "Denen?" she called out as she emerged into salty sea air. Her eyes were still sleepy, still adjusting, so she had to focus to make sense of what she saw. "Sam?"

[Luke Lammergeier]

Luke had tossed and turned all night. Actually he shifted and groaned. Excessive height and width wasn't a good thing out at sea. When the biggest cabin for commoners was room enough for a bed. And Luke was nothing if not excessive. He was too tall, too broad, too loud and far too aggressive. But It helped with getting to know the crew. His raunchy attitude seemed to fit right in. By now he knew a decent amount of the sailors. Lost a few coin betting on their games. Learned about families they where leaving or going to. Any girls they planned to meet along the way. It was a lot to cover in a couple days, but he preferred it that way. If you travel with others, it pays to know them. Become their friend, gain their trust. He also tried getting friendlier with Issima and Denen. In fact he offered to share his bed with Issima, for her protection of course. Denen and Sama'el shared quarters? But when he pointed this out offhandedly, he might not of been subtle enough. And spent the night alone and cramped. Head smashed against the door, as he slept on the ground. Not wanting to spend the extra money for a room with a bed. And because of this. He jolted awake, when Sam came pounding through the hallway. Heart racing he reached for his longsword. Running out of his room. He started shouting. First instinct was to warn everyone on board. And if the crew where trying to kill em. They'd be up anyways. The night air stung his bare skin, as he came on deck. Issima was already with Sam. "What the petch is going on!?" He shouted to no one in particular.

[Lariat]

Shadows flew across the deck on the edges of Sama'el's vision as three large figures carried a smaller one between them, disappearing off the side of the boat as soon as Sam's eyes caught the chance glimpse of the masked ones. For some reason the deck was quiet, even with the deck's figures trampling about, but these were padded steps and trained in the art of stealth unlike the three that pounded up from their quarters to investigate the screams of their missing companion. Before Sam could take even a step forward or any of the others for that matter, a figure leapt from the stern's railing behind them to flip silently in the air and land against the deck with a loud creak of the hardened wood. The figure was facing them, his shortswords gleaming in their sheaths in the brilliant moonlight, but his face was masked revealing only his pale blue eyes that seemed to stare at each of them unblinkingly.

In the next bat of an eye his swords were in his hands, but he didn't immediately try for them, the shade simply content to stand there waiting for them to make the first move. From behind the small party they could hear the crew stirring awake, and belting out rousing shouts for the rest of the men and women to wake and do so quickly. The ships design had put their quarter's oddly at the end of the ship, barring them from the rest of the crew that slept at the tip of the ship, mainly because the rooms the companions stayed in once not long before hadn't really been rooms at all but storage areas for the sailor's equipment. Eager to keep good quarters for his men and earn some mizas in the process for the accommodations he supposedly made, he found a way by sending the travelers to spend their nights in the storage rooms instead of with the rowdy crew that was well accepted he believed because it was best for the lady that way. However in this instance it prevented them from glancing at the large iron bar fixed across it's surface, keeping the sailors from coming to the groups aid anytime soon. The shouts of confusion, and surprise just below their feet would be the only telling clue to where the rest crew was presently. Across the deck just behind the man, was a fourth of the crew, bloody dismembered parts spread all across it, a macabre spectacle for the companions to view as the towering figure topping just a seven feet, loomed before the group, his stance revealing a trace of eagerness.

* * * * *

Off the side Denen went to slam on the deck of a much smaller boat knees first. Down came next the three men behind him, one pressing the healer fast first against the wood while the other's took up two large oars and immediately started powerfully stroking to propel the boat quickly and silently through the water. One mentioned something about the drykas's cries, and promptly the one holding him down raised him up only to smack his head against the hardwood deck, brining him into the comforting darkness of unconsciousness.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Being the first to reach the deck, he saw the shadows pulling his friend overboard, and he was able to note the distinct lack of a night lookout, perhaps nobody in the crow's nest, which was a terrible thing for a ship sailing up the estuary to the Suvan Sea at night, he thought. Thankfully the adrenaline seemed to be staving off any seasickness, but there was a towering figure with swords and the only appropriate thing to do seemed to be to draw his scimitar from its scabbard, the which he dropped to the ground and slid purposefully out of the way with his bare foot so he could hold the hilt of his blade with two hands. That Denen was being kidnapped and this one remained behind seemed to be a delaying tactic, and the threat of danger was keying him to think fast and strategically. There was no time to waste with diplomacy. These pirates needed to be dealt with so Denen would be safe. He charged forward, his blade held low and to the side so as not to trip him up. As he approached, he brought the blade up in a diagonal slash, shouting a Drykas battlecry and hoping Luke would be there soon to back him up.

[Issima]

The night was too dark, had been too peaceful for all of this madness. Issima's wide eyes were instantly drawn to the larger than life figure who clearly meant only menace. The glimmer of light on a sword reflected off of bloody carnage behind him, however, and soon she found herself staring at the unpleasant death of a portion of the crew. Mangled, chopped bodies that were still oozing blood, dark enough to look black in the night. She felt Luke behind her before she heard him, that booming voice that so closely matched his personality. As if the trip hadn't been insane enough so far. Her fair skin was still healing from bruises she'd garnered in Riverfall. She carried no weapon. She had absolutely nothing of value to contribute to the unfortunate scenario. Where was Denen? Bare feet edged backwards, even as Sama'el let out a yell that stole her attentions and made her heart constrict. What if he died? Her first response to that notion was emotive; she'd be far more disappointed than she might have imagined. She'd only known him a short while, but already he meant something to her. Something special. The secondary trauma of that notion, however, was the idea of being left alone, and alive, to whatever this danger was. Making herself scarce seemed like the best thing she could do, to become a less visible target. Hadn't he tried to keep her safe in that way in Riverfall? The last thing she needed to do was become a damsel in distress. After all, he was busy saving Denen right now, wasn't he? All of this thinking took place in the span of several breaths, and the Drykas girl edged back towards the way she'd emerged, all thoughts of sleep long gone. She should run, she thought, but worry for Sam made her feet feel like lead.

[Luke Lammergeier]

Carnage was the scariest thing for Luke. Cutting people down was always in the moment. You didn't have a choice in the matter. But afterwards, when the adrenaline slowed and the bodies cooled. The shame started to bubble up. Threatening to choke you, if you let it. Blood started to become more apparent. It was caked onto every inch of your body. And no matter how you washed. It wouldn't go away. He froze, looking at the dismembered corpses of the crew. Some of them he recognized. A head or two where familiar. He would of stared longer if it hadn't been for Sam's screaming. It was a terrible sound when you weren't ready for it. But it pulled him out of his terrors, long enough to see the man. Wrapped from head to toe. Twin blades held out, ready for a challenge. Luke ran after sam. Holding his blade low and away from his partner. Keeping his distance, he planned to strike parallel of the Drykas. Whoever this man was. He couldn't hold off both of them at the same time. Not from different directions. Kain had always stressed the importance of team work in their training. To fight in pairs to take down larger opponents. He never thought he would have to put it into practice though. He threw his blade up and cut down diagonally. Countering the upward motion Sama'el started. Giving the enemy no chance for respite.

[Lariat]

Light form the lone lantern danced wildly across the deck casting maddening malformed shadows across the short breadth it could reach in the darkness that was. As the drykas charged and the human not far behind him, a laugh bubbled up from his lips as he stepped backwards into the center of one of the long shadows wavering across the deck and simply disappeared leaving the men's blades to slip into nothingness.

A quietness reigned over the deck once more, but it was not to last as the tall assailant stepped out from the long shadows of the ajar oak portal, and with blades still naked the figure wavered there for a moment, his eyes glinting slightly as he stepped into the torchlight. Shaking his head, his blades now turned themselves towards the woman, both poised to cut her down or at least cripple her should she try to make a break for it. His eyes were not on her though and instead very much focused on Sam and Luke, never wavering in their intensity. The man's voice came out deep, and low rumbling light the waves crashing upon the rocks, and came out in sharp accented common.

"Disarm yourselves or find the woman with my blades between her ribs"

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

"Fuck," he muttered to himself. Not so very far from the Sea of Grass where the Drykas reigned supreme, and he had been flanked, his friend kidnapped and now another threatened. They had found the weakest links, at least so far as battle was concerned, and hit him there. Only Luke had picked up a weapon to aid him. He was outmatched apparently, and he had the brief thought that he was glad Ronan wasn't there to see him fail, who had been so impressed by his skill before. He set down his scimitar carefully, wishing he had his daggers in reserve, but half-dressed, they remained belowdecks. Clad only in his pants, he shivered at a sudden gust of wind, or perhaps it was Dira's fingertips running across his shoulders in chilly promise. He had no idea why this was happening, what pirates would attack a ship running shallow for lack of true freight, but it was happening and that was all there was to it. His connection to the Web was tenuous now, and he felt blind in the darkness without Syna. "Luke," he said quietly, a request that he comply. He could not lose Issima too. Not in the same night. His fists squeezed shut, and he began to create hidden reserves of res within them, perhaps to fight violence with god-gifted Fire if given the right opportunity. "What do you want with us?"

[Issima]

For all of the sensibility of her plan, it was cut short when she was the chosen target. Wide eyes swiveled towards Sam, the white hot heat of dread and regret filling her as she realized that not only was she stuck, but her very presence had inadvertently been the downfall of his counterattack. She watched with great dread and no small measure of relief as Sam complied, lowering his weapon to the deck. She'd never imagined a situation where she could want something so badly, and yet despise it at the same time. She did not want to test the resolve of the speaker, to see if he really would destroy her for any attempt to escape, for Sam's lack of compliance. Neither, though, did she want to be the cause of his submission. "Sam," she breathed, barely more than a whisper. She hadn't been terribly close to Denen, but she felt his absence painfully in this moment, when everything was so uncertain and felt so dangerous. In the tension of the unknown, the Drykas turned her eyes towards Luke. Would he disarm himself, too?

[Luke Lammergeier]

Luke stumbled forward as the man disappeared. He looked around franticly. Men didn't just vanish. He knew it was some sort of magic. He hated Cyphrus and the Sea of Grass. Disliked the Drykas and their horses. But he loathed how common magic was here. Before he came to Cyphrus, he had never seen magic. Let alone a man disappearing. But now he was fighting with a mage and against one. The feeling of being outmatched crept into his chest. Mixing in with the rage and animosity. The next few seconds where a blur. The masked man appeared behind Issima. Using her as leverage for them to lower their blades. He knew how this went. Luke had been that man once. A long time ago, before he was hanged in Zelvita. They would lower their weapons. Kicking them away for a promise to let her go. It would end with all three of them dead. "Luke," Sama'el said calmly. But he knew there was desperation in his tone. Their always was in these situations. Women where all men's weakness. You just had to find the right one to threaten and men wouldn't hesitate to surrender. Luke held onto his blade. coldly staring into her eyes. She wasn't his lover or a close friend. And it was most likely a bluff. If this man killed Issima. Sam and Luke would cut him down despite his fancy tricks. And the petcher knew it. But she was a companion, and he could never leave someone behind, not like this. "That's why you stay below deck." He threw down his blade with contempt.