[Intro, closed] I think, therefore I kill

[Tarot]

Timestamp: around the 70th day of Summer, 509 AV
Location: on board the Kova III, a merchant ship off the southern shores of Sahova

The rocky cliffs of Sahova were a less than welcoming sight - it was a miser land that offered little, and it could only be enjoyed by those who needed nothing at all. The one reason that drove anyone else near Sahova was greed - greed for magic, greed for money, it didn't matter. In this case, it was arguably the latter. Captain D'Ardenne, a true Zeltivan seaman if there ever was one, was in it for the money, of which there was a sizeable amount at stake.

The news had begun to spread some twenty days prior, first in Zeltiva and then, carried by caravans and traders, the rest of Sylira. Sahova was up to something, and they had requested external help, thus breaking decades of obstinate, self-sufficient independence. Basically, someone very rich had commissioned them a golem a couple years earlier. That the making had taken them two years spoke volumes of the sophistication that had gone into this machine. The "million Miza" creature, as people had taken to calling the thing, was now complete and ready to be delivered to the Syliran mainland. For all their power, the isolated Sahovan undead knew little about the geography of post-Valterrian Mizahar, though. And so, they were calling for volunteers to escort the precious golem to its destination. Pay was good, the job was simple... quite a few "freelancers" had decided to give it a shot.

"Remember, lads. No-one's to disembark before the golems say we can. We don't want no Djed beams up our arses, right?" the Captain made sure everyone knew the basics of survival on Sahova. Always do what the golems say. This was his tenth voyage to Sahova, so he had become a bit of a veteran. Maybe the Sahovans would actually find the old seaman trustworthy, with his curious gait and the balding head.

The docks came into view, bleak greyish buildings that they were. Devoid of any life, they were just warehouses lined up for efficiency. Well kept and looked after, they appeared to be too... square and angular to be something maintained by a real person. The Kova III would be docking shortly, with no-one to bear witness.

[Ialari Pythone]

The journey from Sultros had been a long and difficult one. Never had Ialari traveled further than some of the kingdom's outlying trading posts much less across the entire continent. It was a lonely trek with only her thoughts to keep her company. Of course there had been the random civilized traveler here and there yet she was too distrusting of most to associate with anyone. There was also the constant threat of barbarians whom she went out of her way to avoid. Only through the information and maps she had attained from merchants at one of the Isurian trading posts was she able to even partially navigate her way eastward. Much of her savings had been spent paying for transportation through merchant caravans and trading vessels across the Suvan Sea. What she had left was used to purchase supplies which left her with a small amount remaining.

The whole goal of the fantastically long journey was the acquisition of knowledge; sparked by fragments of information she found in a long forgotten, pre-Valterrian text located deep within the vaults of the Silver Tower of the Pitrius Citadel in the Kingdom of Sultros. From what little she could gather, there had once been an island far to the east where unspoken secrets of Djed and other forbidden arts were practiced. Already a student of an art often considered to be forbidden, criminal and sometimes even evil, she could not help but be intrigued by the idea of such a place.

When she caught word in a borderland trading post of the confirmed existence of the island, Sahova and the fact that they were seeking outside aid for something very big and very important, she went into prayer for almost an entire day, thanking Izurdin for rewarding her great journey with such an opportunity. She then gathered what information she could on exactly what it was that volunteers were be called for and she almost cried. Even in the Silver Tower, with all its ties to Djed and the various disciplines of magic, she never had the chance to see, much less have any real contact with a golem. There was pay involved in the mission to escort the golem to its destination but Ilaria would have done it just to be able to touch the thing.

She was fortunate enough to catch up with a ship captain out of Zeltiva and convince him to let her join the voyage to the island and take part in the escort duty. Having made her way to Isurian ranking of an apprentice, Ilaria was aware of the dangers posed by Djed and couldn't help but silently think of the captain as a ignorant dolt. She had to admit however that he did know what he was doing when it came to seamanship and decided to herself that he should stick to that.

For an Isur, travel on the water was an experience unlike many others. She had spent quite a bit of time aboard a vessel while traveling across the Suvan Sea yet traveling by boat never grew old for her. Ilaria leaned against the railing of the ship and gazed out over the ocean. Such beauty, danger and mystery could keep one busy pondering for lifetimes. She marveled at the diversity of animal life around and on the surface of the water and could only imagine what lie beneath. She could almost taste the poisons she could craft from all that the ocean held within its grasp. That of course was for another time. For now, she allowed her thoughts to drift and enjoyed the sea air while waiting for the ship to near the island and the mission to begin.

[Akuaysun]

Syna, goddess of the sun, had a certain way of reflecting off the waves of the sea. She made the water glow and sparkle in her light and added color and beauty to all that her rays touched. Akuaysun stood near one of the rails watching the ocean, thinking about how he now understood why Leth loved her so, his Myrian eyes scanning the rippling waves for signs of life. It was then that the captain called to them, explaining the procedure for docking. Behind him the angular buildings were coming into view and with it the long wooden platforms for unloading and reloading the supplied for the island.

The series of events to this point were quite interesting, the people he had met and now standing aboard the ship with these other adventurous folk, it all seemed so surreal to the fallen Ethaefal. Whilst traveling away from Ravok he had spoken with a few merchants who told him of an island of undead magi. As he pulled closer to it he heard of ships taking it supplies for their odd experiments from Zeltiva. Then as he at last had arrived on the outskirts of the city he was told of recruitment for a particular voyage, a chance to see their work up close and for himself, a chance to decide if these magi would in fact be the best at what they did.

It hadn’t taken much convincing of the captain to sign up on his part, after all in the daylight hours he was Myrian, a race known for their bonds and blood thirst. Any merchant that had gone west of the Suvan Sea knew of their fierce tales and how they were brutally effective fighters. Just the kinds of help you wanted for an escort. So hoe in hand and horse and gear along for the voyage the lost soul set out to see the Million Miza Golem.

Thus far they had been to sea for a few days; Akuaysun made it a point to retire to his quarters before his shift took place and generally stayed there, only occasionally moving to the deck late at night, carefully hidden beneath his cloak. The man had no idea how any of them would react, or even if they knew he was Ethaefal, but he preferred to keep things as simple as possible for people often feared that which they did not know. So he spoke little and kept away from the groups that had formed amongst the sailors.

Overall the task wasn’t hard. He often walked the decks with determined looks or sat near the railing, out of the way, deep in meditation. Already he had forgone his shirt and simply paced about in his black pants neatly tucked into his boots, leather belt and dagger holding them in place as the sun’s light reflected off his dark bronze flesh. When he couldn’t offer anyone assistance with the deck he practiced his hoe skills, swinging it about and trying to become more familiar with the bladed weapon. Most looked at him with casual glances and soft shakes of their head but none dared to tell the man he was flinging about a farm implement, tool of the land or deadly weapon the Myrian swung it with such force that it would easily cleave limbs if put to the test.

Now however, as they approached the shore he stood at attention, listening to each word the seasoned merchant had to say. It was obvious the captain had made this run before, and in an area that Aku knew nothing about, he was not about to question the knowledge of a veteran.

[Chaelnomyl]

The past few days aboard the ship en route to Sahova had been less than entertaining for Chaelnomyl, though it did afford her quite a few sights to commit to memory in her ever unquenchable thirst to see the world and consequently draw it. Having recently united with her brother, his insatiable drive to learn more about magic likely had given some influence to their decision to join the excursion to see the Million Miza Golem, and get paid to escort it back... not that Chaelnomyl knew exactly how helpful she was going to be. Violence, of course, was below her, and golems... well... she'd never really encountered one in her existence thus far. Probably another factor in her drive to willingly board the ship.

Most of the voyage had been slightly uneventful and Chaelnomyl had taken to watching the way the horizon came and fell, observing the birds and fish that occasionally showed up on the surface of the water or on the bow of the vessel. She could often be found sitting near the edge of the railing, tail splayed out unceremoniously behind her, hands palm down on the boat's deck as she peered over at the water... sometimes even down on her elbows. Always with the tools of the art in hand, sometimes flicking up at the actual scene as if to trace it, other times below her as she looked between the ground and the land they'd left behind.

The way the water glimmered always caught her attention and given her natural inclinations to swim in it instead of stare at it, Chaelnomyl found it difficult not to actually dive over the edge several times. However, given the vague knowledge about Sahova they were allotted - in truth, Chaelnomyl hadn't known much about it and was mostly tagging along with Dranquay's sake - it'd been over twenty years since she'd seen her brother!... anyway, it took little convincing for them to sign up. Holding no official jobs, the Akvatari had to gather Mizas in whatever way they could. Not that Chaelnomyl was the mercenary escort type, but well... if push came to shove maybe she could manipulate her tail to be more like a bone edge and slap someone around with her flippers. Or something. Probably a good stern talking to about how stupid they were being. Yes, that would be the most likely case from her. She was also just as likely to hide if things started getting violent.

The half-seal half-human winged... creature found it particularly odd that a rather tanned individual who had all the build of a warrior was using a gardening tool as his chosen weapon. Not that Chaelnomyl knew much about its practical uses - why would an Akvatari lower themselves to such heights as farming? ... Still, anyone could see that it was not exactly a weapon and was more a tool. Perhaps the lesser races on that vessel were infinitely less intelligent, moreso than she had originally suspected.

Auburn hair often pulled back as the heat of Syna's rays beat down on the deck and pale skin being shaded by whatever structures she could afford it, the blue-winged spotted-furred Akvatari was relatively reclusive for most of the journey, sticking to Dranquay's company as often as she did to her own for quiet observation of the scene and the surroundings. It would be something to write and paint about later - if nothing more than to create the tale of Dranquay and Chaelnomyl in their quest for ... something. Magic. Knowledge about where they came from, more likely. It needed a literal name, but that was brainstorming for another time.

Though assisting on the deck was not her expertise, Chaelnomyl was well enough to offer assistance if she could help out in any way, despite how surprised the other sea-farers might have regarded the reclusive and slightly distant creature and her brother. It was also for that sort of reaction she didn't bother being a social butterfly, irregardless of how against her nature that would have been.

As their journey neared the end though, Chaelnomyl fluttered up towards the crowd of waiting volunteers, though kept herself towards the back as to not make anyone uncomfortable and avoid the smashing of her flippers unintentionally, paying close attention to what the Captain of the vessel was saying. Taking orders form a golem. Why, those things weren't even real! A look of mild irritation crossed her features before Chaelnomyl stared off into the distance and decided that despite the absurdity of the idea of taking orders from something that was little more than an Akvatari work of sculptural art, the Captain sounded like he'd done this before and could be listened to. This rule fell into one of the few times that Chaelnomyl would follow the world's social stigmas in order to preserve her own life. Oftentimes, rules were unnecessary - in this case, the implications that golems would not appreciate her moving without their explicit permission... well, that fell into unfortunate necessity.

A soft sigh from the arguably oddest creature aboard the Kova III was all that Chaelnomyl managed, keeping an eye on the Myrian and the Isur, while sticking close to Dranquay for familiarity... if nothing else, considering her gaze was anywhere but with the crowd of volunteers or even the captain. Blue eyes focused briefly on the unnatural docks and wandered up the shoreline, curiously observing in complete silence.

[Javen Vyta]

Javen sat in his cot, in the hold, trying to fight down the growing revulsion. The travel aboard the Kova III had been unsettling to his stomach since the first ropes had been thrown off. Guile was anxious as well, and the mouse's brief trips away from the cot had been unwaveringly short. The crew didn't take kindly to the mouse roaming about and of the rodent was thin at best.

The Captain believed that Javen was a simple priest in service to Kihala by the name of Martus Gaulpe, and that charade Javen had managed easily enough for the first few days. Accordingly, he came up to the deckside each day just after sunrise and prayed silently. No one had questioned him since the first day, and his presence alone seemed to be appreciated. Truly, it had gone better then he had expected, so far. But his luck was not all good tidings, because while his small stock of medicines had been keeping him appearing well, he knew it was only a matter of time now. If they didn't get off of the ship soon, crew members would start showing the first signs of the affliction. Or worse, he would finally succumb to one of his own fits and his ailment would be revealed, and most likely, his duplicity with it.

Normally, it would take more then a couple days for the plague to set in. Cramped quarters, a shared barrel of water, and lack of cleanliness here though made this ship ripe for the plague. Too ripe, and he prayed to Vayt that the Blight hold back long enough for him to get out.

Most of the men seemed pretty common, and as such, as long he kept up his fascade he would see no trouble from them. The Isur and the Akvatari women seemed docile enough, albeit a couple odd sights for sure, but the Myrian gave him cause for alarm. The last thing he needed was that savage inspecting him a little too closely.

He was hopeful that whatever it was that he was meant to do in Sahova would become apparent. His 'urges' from Vayt often came at the end of pitchforks or torches. As such, receiving this calling from a dream while he slept in the alleys of Zaltiva was a welcome change of pace. The dream was devoid of any real details, vayt never worked that way, and solving the riddle of his duty at Sahova occupied his attention fully.

How he longed for the day that he earned Vayt's favor - and with itpeace from his withering death.

He heard the captain shouting orders to the men topside and, restraining his sickness, he gingerly left his cot, pulling his cowl over his head, and made his way to the deck. They said Sahova was a place of wondrous magical creations. And they said it was a place of evil, also - saturated in the undead. Despite all of this, he ventured further and watched the dizzying bustle of the crew with an attentive gaze. The riddle was still before him - what is it that Vayt would have me do here?

The sickness finally overcame him as the ship lurched momentarily, and he ran to railing, expelling what little food he had eaten on this trip overboard. Hopefully, the crew wouldn't question this much. He wasn't sure he would get far if he had to jump overboard and try to swim free of the crew's wrath.

[Dranquay]

Humans and mortals were fascinating and terrible creatures in equal measure. This the combined wisdom Dranquay had accumulated over many many years of studying them and now the news that they had commissioned a group of what Davan had told him were undead Wizards to create a special type of Golem. Now golems were not something he knew a terrible lot about or took a vast interest in. The idea that these Wizards would be paying people to make sure it got where it was going served Dranquay well enough as he could, always, do with a few more Miza… plus he’d hoped to maybe be able to speak to one of these Wizards regarding the Velterrian.

So as Syna beat down on him, and his sister had spent most of the journey peering over the edge of the ship’s side seeking inspiration, Dranquay had often been nearby; elbows on the railing, peering into a Void.

The Void probably having been part of the reason he had been allowed to join this venture – travelling Wizards were not exactly prone to doing things like this for a whim and could always come in useful in his experience – Dranquay none the less knew he presented a very odd visage as the hand-sized blackened hole floated in front of him and he extended out his Djed in an attempt to keep it moving with the flow of the boat using Projection. Every now and then he’d even hold up a broken nail he’d found on the deck and let the pull take it, sea-green eyes watching intently as the nail sailed forward until he either closed the Void or caught it on the edge of entry and retrieved it using the same method he was using to move the Void itself, one arm limp at his side as he executed an insignificantly powerful but technically dexterous exchange of Void-to-nail-to-Void in order to retrieve the nail and keep the Void from vanishing half way down the side of the ship before it closed itself.

Whether some on the ship would think such use of the Djed as cavalier and arrogant did not really occur to the Akvatari, to him the Void was a fascinating message in Philosophy to be understood and pondered. Why for example did it possible have pull and what caused this? He longed to advance in his craft enough to be able to place an Anchor as the theory behind such a thing beggared many questions about the contradiction of the Void being infinite and yet having enough position that it could in fact have items placed within it that could be located. In short it was a tangible, material thing he could investigate as a salve for his inability to find anything about the history of his own people of meaning.

When not peering into the void though he could be found lying on the deck next to his sister, tail splayed out through the railing on one elbow, a slim black stick of slate between fore and middle finger, balanced by his thumb. Two books would be open before him, one covered in slate-scribbles, the other inked in an old, arcane hand. This latter he guarded jealously and always politely but firmly closed and slipped back into his satchel if anyone ventured close and expressed interest, its cover battered but distinctly arcaic.

As to what the aloof, scholarly, sometimes arrogantly dismissive Akvatari thought of the rest of the motley group assembled on the Kova III? He shared his sister’s view of the strange human with a gardening implement as potentially somewhat unhinged, especially having been up at night upon occasion to sit and practice Voiding without having to do so off the edge of the deck, spending long hours peering into darkness and trying to avoid incredulity as the hoe-wielding human spun like some kind of earnestly misguided dervish.

The Isur meanwhile? Well, there was something odd in Dranquay’s appraisal of Ialari, every so often he would look at her with a gaze that suggested he was on the verge of floating around the ship or across the deck to speak with her, but always held himself back. Part of it was a respect for her seeming introspection, whilst a part he would admit only to himself was fear of her reaction to him. Isur in his experience were aloof and the one or two he had met had been positively unhelpful with his inquiries regarding BV history and his own people, too consumed in their own minds and regarding anything that lacked their history as inferior. They could of course not know that this stung Dranquay doubly as much as it would sting most of his people, so instead he busied himself in the study of the Diary he had acquired and occasionally cast speculative glances in her direction as if wondering what went on in such a mind.

As the journey drew to a close though Dranquay approached the rest of the group, satchel over his left shoulder and clasped by a hand, his right on his sister’s shoulder, instinctively protective, glancing only aside as one of the individuals he hadn’t seen much of lent over a rail and retched; Dranquay thinking little of this as he turned his attention back on the Captain.

[Tarot]

The Kova III docked in the early afternoon of a very normal summer day; it would be many hours before Akuaysun would be forced to shift into his celestial form. Sahova was a miser land, but if nothing else it had good weather to share with the adventurers. Summer days here were warm but not unbearably hot, and a light breeze helped dispel the heat that might otherwise have plagued the middle of the day. Sahova was a place of undead, and it had been specifically chosen, over five centuries prior, as an optimal place for the undead to exist in, with their bodies prone to decay. This was also why they were rarely seen around the docks - the salty air did not do their tissues any good.

Port Silence, that's what the sailors called it. The gathered adventurers had heard the name plenty of times throughout the journey, whether they paid attention to it or not. There was not much to do on the Kova III, truth told. When people were not sleeping, eating, or minding the occasional menial tasks, there was little distraction or entertainment to be had except maybe studying everyone else on board. There were people from all walks of life. An Isur, a Myrian, two Akvatari, and of course most of them were Humans. Some spoke with a heavy Zeltivan accent, others carried the more refined tones of Syliras and a few were unmistakeably mercenaries from the horseclans of Cyphrus. These were pretty much disliked by everyone else, called "barbarians" by some of the crew and avoided as much as someone could be on the deck of a small ship. They were probably to be used as meat shields in the event of an attack.

True to their name, the docks were silent, just two lines of bleak grey warehouses. It did not take long for the place to slowly populate with presences that, while not alive, were at least moving. Some of the adventurers were looking forward to seeing golems in action - well, they were quite different from what the stories told. Making a bipedal golem was expensive. Very expensive, in terms of materials, crafting and instructing. Animators had long since realized that they need not be humanoid at all, and so these low-level grunts were little more than assembled scraps with a purpose.

There was the one idly looking at Dranquay from below for some hidden reason. It was a tiny one, no larger than a cat; basically four wooden wheels with some iron mounted on them, and two lenses obviously serving as eyes of sorts. It was watching the Akvatari, maybe because it had seen him practice magic a while back, when they were still far from the port. The wizard could instinctively feel this one could do nothing but watch, but its sight was incredible. Its glass eyes were not leaving Dranquay, though they occasionally shifted over to Chaelnomyl and Akuaysun - no, not really... more like his hoe.

Two sailors stood ready to place the gangplank, waiting for a golem to give the order. Indeed, a Communicator type golem showed up, this too on wheels; a more or less cylindrical body with just two joints on its shoulders, and a metallic head that was nothing more than a mantlepiece, so people had something to look at when they interacted with it. This golem screamed 'expendable' just like the first one.

"Welcome to Sahova," the golem spoke from the docks. Its metallic voice did not come from the head, but from somewhere inside the body. No emotion had been programmed into this one - what good would that do to a golem made for trade and assessment of goods? "You may disembark now. One of the Masters has come to greet you personally."

This was highly unusual, for the golems existed just so the wizards did not have to bother coming this far. The crew hastily put down the gangplank while a figure appeared from behind the corner of the warehouses. The crew did not even notice him at first, because his demeanor was much like a golem's. It was difficult to decide if the golems had learned from the undead, or the other way around.

The wizard took his time approaching the Kova III and its disembarking crew. He was a Nuit, a bona fide undead. He was tall, with thin limbs that suggested some elaborate embalming for better preservation of the tissues. He was bald, deathly pale, had no eyebrows and barely any lips. Dark rings made his grey eyes look empty and grotesque. There was something stoic and disdainful to the way he carried himself, no unnecessary movements, decked out in red, loose-fitting wizard's robes. All robes were loose-fitting on Sahova; partly to conceal the actual state of decay of the undead's bodies, and partly because some experimented on their own bodies, with results that were not always pleasing to the eye.

"I am Lector Qiao," he announced in a raspy voice, hand clenched in a fist behind his back, "the Archwizard's right hand man."

"Aye, I'm..." Captain D'Ardenne, who had been the first to get off the ship, began somewhat nervously as he closed in on the undead. For all his experience with Sahova, this was the first time he actually saw one of its masters. He was going to learn the hard way.

"Silence." Qiao's empty eyes met the Captain's for but a split second, and the man collapsed, convulsing and frothing at the mouth. It was not clear what he just experienced, but the warm pool oozing from his crotch suggested that it could not have been anything good. "Life is weakness," he commented casually. "You shall not come within three paces of me for any reason."

He gazed idly upon the assembled crowd. "Too many," he judged. "Five come with me. The rest shall wait here." This man never, ever blinked. "Half dead," he pointed at Javen - maybe he found the sickly build intriguing. It reminded him of the undead. "Hoe man," his finger indicated Aquaysun. "Muscle woman," his gaze transfixed Ialari. And finally, he pointed two fingers at Chael and Dranquay. "Whatever you are."

"Any objections?" he asked, as if wishing to redefine the meaning of 'rhetorical question'.

[Javen Vyta]

Nothing ever goes as planned. The plan, to slither off of this ship in the jostling mass of the departing sailors, conveniently camoflauged by their numbers was lost. He was already noticed and there was no going back. Even if he could refuse this Nuit commander, he dared not defy his master. To make matters worse was what Qaio had said.

Javen grimaced inwardly at the title, half dead.

Do not dwell on it. Do not bring it up, just ignore and maybe the others will, also. He thought to himself in measured desperation. His immediate consideration of the crew was an unexpectedly good one. They were captivated by the presence of the Nuit and his golems. The artifact minions sent a certain shiver up Javen's spine as well, but no less then the Nuit's words.

He stepped forward, perhaps a little too anxiously, ready to follow this Lector Qiao obediently. A quick check of his things, a few small bags, his healer's kit, the small coin purse that his Mouse, Guile, resided in, where all on his person.

The heat of the sun was taxing on him. He was weak already and sweating profusely. This small handful of possessions already felt heavy - made heavier by the awkward position he was in now.

He nodded at the Captain and Lector in turn, daring not to speak unless told to.

[Ialari Pythone]

Ialari watched intently as the ship pulled up to the docks. The silence surrounding the docks and the warehouses was somewhat unsettling for a woman who was used to the noise and action that was her mountain kingdom. The oddities that slowly began to make themselves known were to Ialari, roughly comparable to the two strange, butterfly-winged creatures that shared the journey from the mainland with her. From her training in the Silver Tower, she was pretty certain that the two "things" were golems of some sort although they were quite different than what she had studied back home. Of course what she knew came mainly from texts as she had not progressed far enough in her training to study golems in person. She imagined something more developed with time and effort showing in their forms; these were definitely not like that.

The golem with the metallic head was quite peculiar looking and when it spoke, Ialari felt a tinge of the feeling she rarely felt when dealing with outsiders, respect. Whatever had created this thrown-together looking pile of junk had skill enough with Djed to grant it the ability of speech. Then the mention of being greeted personally by one of the "Masters"? That was the type of greeting worthy of an Isur, Ialari thought as she watched the crew prepare to make their way onto the island.

During the journey from the mainland, Ialari learned more of Sahova from members of the crew as well as other "volunteers" who had sought to gain a few mizas from the extra work. She found out that the inhabitants of the mysterious isle were supposed to no longer be members of the living; more like dark, immortal beings inhabiting rotting shells of flesh and bone. She felt a mixture of disdain and interest in such a concept. Any person who would willingly give up the beauty and power of the physical form in exchange for anything else was pathetic. However those with the power to prolong their existence far past death were of interest and perhaps even useful to some degree. The idea of serving the great Izurdin for ages to come was enticing but the cost would be too great.

As Ialari gathered herself and her gear for disembarking, she put on her alchemist's robe, gathered her backpack and gear, and made her way from the ship to the dock below. It was about this time that she and a few others caught sight of the red-robed figure approaching. As it came closer, Ialari was able to make out more detail. If not for the arcane robes that it wore and the fact that it was most certainly no longer a member of the living, she may have dismissed it as a frail creature without merit. Though she was Isur, egotistical at times and capable of easily dismissing non-Isur as inferiors, Ialari was not foolish and recognized this being as something to be respected if not feared; she chose to focus on the former.

Ialari jumped a bit at the captain falling over in choking spasms of obvious pain. Although she did not know exactly what had been done to the captain, she could only imagine a mastery of Djed unlike anything she herself had been exposed to. The masters at the Silver Tower in her clan citadel were powerful to say the least however none were able to do what she had just witnessed. Although she disagreed fully with the wizard's statement of life being weakness, she had to admit she was more than impressed with his control over Djed.

When the wizard began to call out for five individuals to come with him, Ialari looked around her as the Nuit pointed from one person to another. She looked to everyone that the wizard called to; wondering why each one was chosen over another. When she was called for, her gaze met that of the wizard and felt as though she could see the emptiness that surrounded whatever it was that spoke to her. It sickened her while at the same time intrigued her. With no further direction, Ialari continued past the captain; glancing down for an instant with a slight look of disgust. She remained well outside of the three-pace distance that the wizard decreed due not only to his warning but also because of the feeling of uneasiness that she had.

[Akuaysun]

Slowly the ships crew went about their preparations for the docking procedure. The captain informed them of when and where they should put their equipment and planks obviously still well versed in the procedures that were taking place. Aku took the moment for himself to inspect the items he had upon his person. One Hoe, his set of dice, his set of steel and flint and his backpack which carried his supply of Mizas and rope, it was hardly the list of equipment that an adventurer should have on their person but it would serve the purpose for now. The only reason he had the pack and Mizas was for a strange reason the man thought he might be able to purchase something from these Nuit. The simple fact of the matter was that Akuaysun did not know better. He was still new in this world and it was all an experience.

Moving to the railing near the dock Aku chose to straddle the wood watching the busy little machines go about their business. In his hands he used his reliable hoe like a stave and leaned into it as earth colored eyes of brown and green curiously perceived their actions. What interesting little creatures they were, like little people each with their own duty to perform. The tiny watcher that peered at him was perhaps the most curious, why would they need a golem to observe the crew. The larger one that went about talking was even more of an oddity, why something so big just to deliver messages? It all seemed strangely inefficient but having no actual skills in the craft Akuaysun felt it was not in his best interest to judge. Perhaps like him they were more then met the eye.

He peered up into the blue sky that lingered above them. It seemed that Syna was just past midday and hanging in the summer months… the ageless creature would have a bit of time before his transformation. Good perhaps they could have this business sorted and returned to the ship before evening. Now it was not so much a matter of his crewmates finding out who he was but rather the moments of vulnerability just past twilight. As it stood he did not care for the mechanical creatures, just as they seemed to care very little of who was delivering their supplies.

As they were preparing things about the docks, the speaking machine further informed that they would be meeting one of the masters of the island. Many would perhaps take this as an honor but Aku had other ideas. Often when one of power was bothered to meet those below him it was because they did not hold confidence in those tasked with a job. A suspicion further reinforced by the masters harsh demeanor and complete lack of social skills. He did not want to be performing the task any more then Aku wanted to reside in this plane of existence. In both cases, it was a necessary task that had to be completed it seemed.

Whilst the captain lay sprawled across the dock choking and gasping, his own urine seeping through the fabrics of his pants Aku could not help but chuckle. This was often the fate of fools who rushed in, once he had much the same approach but now he knew it was best to observe before striking. Had the captain adhered to such policy and waited for instruction then perhaps he wouldn’t be flopping about like a fish on the deck below. For this reason Aku was not disturbed, nor did he feel the slightest of sympathies for the overzealous man, his situation was a creation born of his own action.

Names were given, and called for in turn, and apparently completely at random. Whatever the task was the man seemed to be giving little thought to his decision as he chose not a single member of the crew. In fact, that very point sat very unwell with Aku for at this point there was not much to say that the group hadn’t been duped into becoming the next hosts of the nuits body or experimentations. Closing his eyes, and dipping his head a bit the Ethaefal gave a silent prayer to Leth for guidance and protection. His hand touched the crystal shaped into a crescent moon given by Matthis as the prayer concluded and wasted little time from there joining up with their guide.

Muscular hands flexed about the hoe as the Myrian stepped down the gangplank, and then slipped it carefully into the loops of his pack. It kept the stave handy but for now out of his way and leaving his hands free, without doubt the much more deadly set of tools he had. Falling into line directly behind Lector he carried an even pace with the man, if one could still call him a man, matching him step for step and neither gaining or distancing himself. It didn’t matter to Akuaysun what the others did at this point, he was here for a particular set of goals and they were not apart of it. Hopefully there wouldn’t be trouble, but asking for that was like an open invitation for problems, instead the follower of Leth decided on a different approach.

Waiting until they had cleared the docks and things seemed to be in order, Aku spoke calmly, his voice respectful yet firm as if sharing a conversation with a colleague or fellow follower of the moon god. “Respectfully Lector Qiao, I must disagree, I think what you mean to imply is that the frailties of the living body are weak, though with them come a unique set of strengths. For example while your flesh may not be living and ours is we do not have to rely on these golems who are overly inefficient to take care of such menial tasks, nor do we have to worry about rot and decay as you do. Conversely, judging by the state of this island and the lack of supplies brought with us, I doubt your bodies need the resources ours do to survive. However in the sense of life we are both very much alive and have free thought where as your automatons have no life and can only serve specific purposes. I think if they were in fact alive they would do just as both of us have and try to find ways to improve themselves of their own will to better perform the set of tasks before them. In that sense I say that lifelessness and lack of conciseness is weak.” It was all said rather casually, and not directed at the man as simply mused into the air. He wasn’t intending to be disrespectful but instead present his own view on the subject matter. In many ways it reminded him of his time in the celestial realm thought given to musings and then shared amongst like minded to be pondered and either argued or agreed with.