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 The Lawless seas (SO v LAW) 
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Post The Lawless seas (SO v LAW)
(OOC:
SANCTUM OFFICIUM (SO) 11 2,803,050 254,822
FREEMANS LAW (LAW) 14 3,334,946 238,210
I read the LAW charter and figured that this would most probably be a battle at sea, you being pirates and all so I hope this role-play works for you.
~Mal)



IC:


Silence was the key.

The gentle slopping of water against the side of the three rowing boats was the only sound that could be heard as they neared the galleon that was anchored just offshore. They had seen the boats hidden amongst the rocks on the eastern side of the beach and hoped that most of the galleon’s troops had been on those boats and were now having a good time in the tavern and whorehouse of the nearby coastal village.

Oars jutted out of the side of the galleon’s hull and the moonlight danced upon the water that rippled around where the end of the oars lay. They were close now, so close that they could hear the gentle murmur of lookouts passing the time with one another on yet another uneventful evening, most likely they were complaining that they were under orders to stay on the ship rather than join their comrades in the village and enjoy themselves. Maledict would soon ease their boredom though. In fact, he and the creatures in the three rowboats intended to ease the boredom of these unlucky pirates forever.

The square sail of the galleon ruffled noisily in the gentle sea breeze and covered the slight bang of wood against wood as the rowboats came up against the stern. Netting had been draped down the stern and the bow of the ship, an old trick designed to trap any would-be boarders and leave them ripe for the picking of archers. They hadn’t planned on demons and goblins climbing up though. The Torturer grabbed at the netting and proceeded to hoist himself up to the deck as did the thirty or so goblins that had been in the rowboats.

Maledict pulled himself up so that he could just see onto the deck and stood right there was a watchman. He was a thickset man with huge hairy forearms and he was totally unaware of the skirmish that would soon begin. The Torturer swung himself up and jumped onto the deck, his hands quickly wrapping around the watchman’s head and twisting it until he heard the satisfying crunch of bone breaking, but not before the watchman had managed to let loose a cry for help. The corpse slumped down to the deck of the ship and then all hell broke loose.

Dozens of sailors rushed up from the galley and with sabres held high they threw themselves into the battle for their own ship. The goblins chattered and skipped across the deck killing with impunity as they went, blood spattered across the ship’s white sail and glistened with black malevolence beneath the shards of moonlight. A head rolled across the blood-stained wood and stopped at the feet of The Torturer who grinned and leaned down, long fingers curled around the hair of the disembodied head and hoisted it high above his own head, thick gobbets of blood slopped down from the severed neck and sploshed noisily onto the rough wood of the deck. When the goblins saw him do this they danced and jumped wildly around the ship. Everyone was dead, the ship was theirs.

The Torturer then threw the disembodied head over the portside and pursed his lips to let out a long, keening whistle… this was the signal to the others of the Officium that had accompanied him. The pirate ship had been appropriated and now they would use it and other ships captured by other Officium leaders to go to war against the rest of LAW.

It was rare for the Officium to go to war on the seas, but not unheard of, and these pirates of freedom and equality had freed and equalised one too many Officium trade ships and it was time for the tunecaller to pay the piper.

_________________
The Torturer


Fri Mar 12, 2004 8:31 pm
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[OOC - Best luck to all for a good war!]

IC -

Flint smoked idly on a pipe as he pored over a map. Gemini Blue had provided this to him, with explicit instructions on what needed be done. The other ships of her little fleet were close by, but none so close that it seemed cramped.

A footfall outside of his cabin brought Flint's head up. He had given specific orders not to be disturbed at this particular time. He knew his crew and officers well, his order would be obeyed. The only thing that this could possilby mean was foul play. Flint's eyebrows creased.

Very quietly, knowing that his door was latched and locked shut, he moved over to a drawer beneath his bed. Inside, under the clothes, was an amulet of sorts that a magician had once given him. It gave him the power of invisibility, and was one of the most valuable posessions that Flint owned. It came with a price, however. The longer he wore it, the harder it was to remove it. It had its own power over him, and if he wore it for too long, he'd never be able to take it off, and would be trapped forever. This the magician warned him of.

Flint had used it a few times and knew how long he had before it started to burden him. He slipped it over his head, and not a moment too soon. Almost as fast as he could react, men burst into his cabin, all bearing swords, looking for him. Flint launched himself against them, swords drawn.

There were seven in total, and they'd come into the room in something less than a formation. Flint took advantage of this situation and flung himself at the two closest to the door. Neither knew what had hit them and were taken down before they could so much as take a step. Stepping lightly, Flint moved away before the others could figure out what had happened.

Raising his two swords over his head, Flint moved towards the three men furthest into the room, who had had their attention averted by the sudden demise of the two that had entered last. Ducking into almost a roll, Flint swing heavily at one's legs. They parted company with the man as easily as a hot knife through butter. Gunwallis Flint never kept his swords dull. Bringing his other arm in a high upswing, it crashed down upon the second, to his right. It sliced clean down to his abdomen, and the man fell with a wet thud to the deck. Finally, the third, with the fear of death upon his face, took two swords directly across his midsction, cutting him clean in two.

The last two men, almost screaming, left the cabin quicker than they'd entered.

I must inform Gemini, and the others! Flint immediately went to one of his wall panels. To all outward appearances, it was just another wall. But after tapping exactly the right place, a compartment fell open. Taking out the contents, Flint went to the window that was nearest the rest of the fleet. Uttering a few choice words, the packet in his hands flew straight into the air and burst into bright blue flames. It would continue to rise and burn for hours. This had been something Gemini had given him, in case there was trouble.

Good. The alarm has been given Flint spoke to nobody in particular. Carefully removing the amulet, he grabbed two more swords, strapped them both to his back, and ran out on deck, ready for whatever was out there.

_________________
Gunwallis Flint
Today I wander these lands, searching for the sea I called home.


Fri Mar 12, 2004 9:53 pm
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Alone on the beach a single figure stood, from a distance it might have been mistaken for a woman looking out to sea, waiting for her beloved to return to her. The figure seemed to move slightly as if caught in the grip of a storm even though there was only the faintest of breaths of wind to be felt. The horizon seemed to have the attention of the watcher, or more precisely the boats that were moored out in the distance. There were many romantic tales that featured such things, a lone woman upon a beach, the wind whipping her clothes and hair, her eyes fixed upon the distant horizon. Many a young woman had heard those tales and thought of the love that had to motivate that kind of devotion, they would sigh to themselves and long for it to one day happen to them. Perhaps they would have looked at the figure upon the sands and wished that they were there instead...only from a distance of course.

If they had been closer, if they had been able to look fully upon the figure on the sands...they would never wish for that. No one longed for that fate, no one in their right minds at least.

The figure moved, stepping slowly towards the sea, waves hungrily rushing up the beach as if to try and consume the land. There were none to watch the figure's movements, there were few enough that knew of the creature. Besides it was not as though Ivory needed another to go with it, it had proved more than capable of carrying out the orders of those that spoke for its Master, for the God that it served. Not to mention that Ivory was not hindered by barriers and obstacles as others were, it could move and take paths that no other could. In the past doors had been barred and windows locked in order to keep Ivory from achieving its orders, barricades had been constructed and walls patrolled. But none of it ever kept out the creature, none of it had ever seemed to even faze Ivory.

It closed the distance between itself and the sea, never slowing, never pausing as if to think again and reconsider its plans. The cold water stood between Ivory and its destination, but even the threat of the sea's chill grasp did not seem to concern the figure. It stepped into the water as if there was no difference between, walking first till it was up to its knees, then its waist, then shoulders. Finally all sign of the creature disappeared beneath the waves.

And on the sand of the beach there was no sign of footprints.

[center]------------[/center]

On the ship...

The young lad stood up and regarded the crates with dissatisfaction, he had spent the last hour looking for the right one but had found no trace of it. Well the captain would just have to do without it because he could find neither hide nor hair of the right crate. He couldn't understand why the captain insisted on bringing so many pointless things with him, it wasn't as if they were needed aboard the boat. They just took up space and cluttered things up, Mr. Cutershall was already running out of patience with the captain. The boy would have gladly bet all the money to his name that there was going to be a confrontation between the two before they next put into port. He wanted to see that when it happened, the boy grinned to himself at the thought, but from a safe distance of course.

He clasped his hands about himself, idly wondering how it had gotten so cold so suddenly. They were moored near to fairly warm climates, he'd even heard the older sailors talk of deserts further inland, strange red deserts where fanatical nomads would kill anyone who they caught. He wasn't sure how much he believed in that, seemed too much like one of the old tales that they were always trying to trip him up with. Yes they all found it so funny to try and wind him up, telling him about terrible monsters from the ocean depths or false 'traditions' of the sea designed to embarass him. It was almost enough to make him wish that he'd stayed back on land and taken up the apprenticeship with the blacksmith that his father had arranged.

Almost but not quite. Old Farnton the blacksmith would have been an easy master, but the boy had known that he didn't want a boring life like that. He'd wanted adventure, life as an apprentice blacksmith would have driven him mad, he'd have been cornered into one kind of life with no chance of ever escaping it. If he'd taken the apprenticeship, how long would it have been before people were introducing him to their 'single' young daughters? Nice enough girls but all looking only for a man to snare in marriage. Not the life he wanted...well not yet at least.

He figured that if he spent a few years on the ships he could work his way up, saving his cash, not spending it on alcohol and loose women like the others. Eventually he'd have enough that he could go back to the land, start up a trader's business with whatever he'd manage to save. Maybe it wouldn't be all silks and satins but it'd be a life and it'd be his, paid for by his own sweat and blood, owing nothing to-

What was that?

He thought...no he must have been mistaken, he couldn't have seen that, could he? A figure, almost feminine but somehow ethereal, not real, drifting up through the wooden boards of the ship. He rubbed his eyes, still wondering in the back of his mind why it was so cold in the bowels of the ship. Hello?, he'd never felt so foolish, if any of the others came down and heard him he'd never hear the end of it. Alright which of you is trying it on this time? I'm not afraid, not at all. He wanted to believe that it was one of the others but in his heart he already knew that it wasn't. Whatever he'd seen was...something else...heck he'd been able to see right through it and that just wasn't right.

A figure moved through the crates before him, his clothes, or at least the things that it appeared to be wearing were raggedy and worn. The features of its face did not stay still, shifting and restless as if they could not decide exactly what they were supposed to look like. One eye might look like that of an old woman, the other that on a young child, the lips were those of a maiden and the nose a woman of middling years. But as soon as the eye focused on any of the features they shifting, aging, growing younger, no pattern in their changes. Ivory is so cold, so very cold. Good boy? Good boy make Ivory warm, yes? Help it, please help it, not afraid of Ivory he says, not afraid at all, It's voice was strange, pleading in some ways, desperate for its needs to be satisfied, wheedling, begging, needing.

The spectre drifted closer to the boy, the temperature seeming to drop as it got closer, sucking the very warmth from his bones. He had heard the others talk of ghosts of the sea, of how they could help or hinder, kill or aid, depending on their whim. Could it be that this was one of them? Master wants Ivory to be warm, wants it to hold those on the ships so tightly, warm them up completely. He wants them to rest now, wants them to be cold, as cold as Ivory is. With terrified eyes the boy watched as the ghost came closer, its arms enfolding him in a frozen embrace. For one moment his heart was gripped by an icy chill and then all went dark, his mind slipping into darkness as his flesh passed into death.

As the boy's body slumped from the ghost's embrace a flicker of a faint smile, or several smiles of different ages, passed across the wraith's features. Though the heat from the boy's body disappeared as quickly as it had come into Ivory's possession there were many more on the ship. Many to hold, many to warm Ivory, yes, yes, yes, Master will be so plesed with it, so very pleased.

_________________
[center]SO
Sing a song of Darden
I'm playing all the right notes...
...Just not necessarily in the right order[/center]


Fri Mar 12, 2004 10:01 pm
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((OOC - Two for two - my first guilds war came an hour after I logged out too))

IC -

[center]"Oh cabin boy, where have..." [/center]

The gentle refrains of a drunken sailors shanty was cut off abruptly, and punctuated with a meaty CLUNK.

The last standing member of the intrepid crew of the Remorseless fell into a drunken stupor, slovely slumped over the battle scarred tavern table.

Sable Solomon, their fearless leader, was at this moment hanging from a fork in the support beams, fairly firmly wedged about the waist into the Y of the frame, he'd been singing something about 'Frigging in the Rigging' - his feet braced oneither arm of the Y, when he'd taken a particularly heroic swig of his latest pint of the many fanged Droben Spirits, and slipped, landing with his midsection caught, hanging either end of him out over the tavern below. The few slower members of his crew still standing had fallen shortly afterwards.

The main room of the tavern looked for all the world like a might battle had taken place, with dark magic reining destruction. In truth there'd been a few note worth brawls, but for the most part, what remained of the tavern was evidence and testament to what a pirate crew on its first night in port after 3 months at sea would call 'A right good time then lads'.

The gentle sounds of pillar rumbling snores and belches was only disturbed by occasional caw of seaguls untill the doors flew open with a mighty BANG.

"TO ARMS! TO ARMS! We're under attack!"

The sole watchmen left on duty when the rest of the crew had come for a drink surveyed the surrounding scene, and the complete failure of a single soul to stir at his shouts.

"Aww to hell with it - Somebody get me a bloody drink"

_________________
[center]You look familliar, have I threatened you before?

Pirates LAW. More what you'd call 'guidelines' then actual rules.[/center]


Fri Mar 12, 2004 10:15 pm
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The Officium would have said Darden was with her. They would have said it was a sign that they were meant to succeed. She tended to think she was just that lucky. Her and Darden weren't exactly on speaking terms, even if she did claim to follow him. In any case, despite many set-backs, many close-calls, and some actual moments where she was caught red-handed- the evidence of what she was doing glaringly obvious- somehow despite all this, the plan hadn't been exposed.

She had sent the information she'd gathered on to Maledict and their assault had proceeded. She couldn't see him. She hadn't gone with him to the smaller ship he had planned to take control of. She'd been sent elsewhere. Lying on her belly, in the bottom of the life-raft, she looked in the direction toward where her leader and lover would arrive. The gentle rising and dipping of the ship reminded her of a time years before- before she'd found those she now allied herself to- when she'd stowawayed on a ship, only to end up staying for a longer period of time than she'd planned on. She was grateful that her sealegs hadn't left her in the interim. It enabled her to focus, to listen through the silence. When the keening whistle broke the quiet, she slipped out of the lifeboat and began her work.

In the beginning it was easy. The night was quiet and many of the sailors were below deck resting or eating or entertaining themselves. She moved quietly to varying spots on the ship, laying her hands on riggings, crates, masts... anything that looked like it would cause much damage to the ships abilities if it were burned. She'd put her hands on the wood and focused. As she focused, the heat built in her body, emmanating from her skin until what she touched began to smolder and then burst into flames. By the time she'd begun the 4th fire, lighting up the mainsail, the smoke had found its way to the noses of the crew, and men began pouring out of the bowels of the ship, rushing to put out the flames that were now licking hungrily at wood.

It likely would have done them some good, if her ability to start fires, didn't also coexist with a tendency for her spells to mutate. The fire she created was not easily put out with water. By the time they realized such, the ship would be incapable of joining in battle. Smirking slightly, she slipped over the edge of the ship and into the water, beginning to steadily swim toward shore, so she could head to her next target.

If the information she'd gleaned was correct, the next ship burned would belong to a captain. Maybe even an admirable. She loved causing problems for authority figures.

_________________
It's not paranoia if they really are out to get you.
Desire is hunger is the fire I breathe...
...the night belongs to us.


Fri Mar 12, 2004 10:50 pm
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He'd been shadowing caravans for a few weeks now. Rumors had been spreading of a group of free traders, and possibly others of less respectable reputation, banding together to shake off the grip of the nobility. Given only the things he'd personally witnessed, the idea didn't seem particularly far fetched. Knowing of more than a few small villages that were required to send money and goods to a local lord, yet recieving almost nothing in return (in most cases, stronger guard was sent to escort the tax collection back, than the watch posted at those villages) he could only guess how much less regard was given to the merchants and travelers that helped supply those villages. There were even times when trading ships were commandered as troop transports, precisely because the trading vesel would be trusted in the target harbor. It was only a matter of time before they'd be abused enough to actually make a fight of things. Appearantly that time was now.

The elven ranger had been somewhat successful in his endeavors recently, one trade caravan turned out to be working with this rumored organization, hauling supplies to a harbor town for distribution among their fleet. That would have been enough, he'd have confirmed their existance, and located a city to start at if anyone wanted to find out something more substantial. He was still shadowing the caravan though, as they were now headed roughly in the direction he would need to return to anyways, and there was always the possibility of learning a little bit more. As luck would have it, he did learn more, but not quite so pleasant news. A messanger caught up to the caravan, it seemed the ship they'd delivered their cargo to only a couple days ago was now little more than flotsam, and few survivors from it. News was sketchy, but it was clear someone didn't like these free traders.

With news of this magnitude, Devlin decided he wasn't likely to learn anything of greater worth from this group, and abandon the caravan to return more swiftly to friends that might be interested in putting some fact to the rumors.


Fri Mar 12, 2004 11:56 pm
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[edit] (ooc)Sorry it might look like I'm entering your current war but I'm not. I've been a member of Law since before you started your hit. My character just hasn't been introduced to the Maxim world yet.[/edit]

I knew the time had come. Though I had not formally, or informally for that matter, spoken to those of the Law alliance about sending them my aid, I had heard of their gathering.

I knew the time had come. My mind kept coming back to this noble alliance and my spirit was troubled. Sighing to myself, I began to gather my supplies and load my small yacht, it wasn't anything special but it was the best vessel for a time like this, where time wasn't on my side.

I made a few stops and picked up some members of my old crew before I began to make our advance into the war.

We approached cautiously, analyzing the current position of the war and see if we couldn't "turn the tides" or so the pirates say.

_________________
In nature's infinite book of secrecy
A little I can read.


Sat Mar 13, 2004 12:56 am
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"Damn them!" The half-sylph slammed his hand down on the desk. His ship had been severely damaged, but he had managed to escape in tact.

"Damned fanatic freaks," turning his head, Charsis bellowed out the door for his first mate.

"Aye?" The squat pygmy spoke up, blood running down his forehead.

"Muster then men, and finish patching the ship. We're going to strike back." Charsis looked grim, clenching his fist so hard his nails dug into his palm.

Are ye blasted insane!? We just got our arses ripped up one side and down the other, and ye want to fuckin attack?!

Charsis turned his ice eyes on his first mate, and slammed his hand down. "What do you suggest? We sit around and wait for them to come get us? They've cut us off. We are going to make a strafing run, and head to the Island to support the rest of the Freemen."

The maate seemed to mull this over. Then slowly nodded. Alright then. I'll muster them. But they won't like it...

"They don't have to like it. They just have to do it."

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Sat Mar 13, 2004 2:27 am
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She hates boats. She hates the water. This was just not going to be her favorite war. Oh she can do what has been asked of her. She is competent enough to get the job done. It’s just that she is much more comfortable with solid ground beneath her feet. Where a person could stand, crouch, fight whatever became necessary in order to win the day. There was not much left to chance when one was upon land. It depended almost exclusively on one’s skills. Yes, there was some luck involved but still. Water was unpredictable. Rough seas and a high wind could screw up everything and in Elamshin’s experience rough seas and high winds were the norm and not the exception. It seemed every time she had ever been involved in anything involving boats it turned out bad for Elamshin. Only time would tell this time.

The water lapped quietly as her boat cut through the now calm water. Elamshin had instructed the men that while speed was of the essence, stealth was the order of the day. No oar slapping on the water! So far all had gone well. She couldn’t see the other boats that carried the rest of her men but she knew they would be there when the time came. They were a trustworthy group, mostly because they like their heads attached to their necks but it didn’t matter why they followed orders, just that they followed orders. A woman was in charge of each of the boats. Elamshin wouldn’t leave this task in the hands of an incompetent man. They could be unreliable if trusted to far. The ship that she had designated as her boats target was growing larger as they moved toward it.

She quiets her thoughts and begins to focus herself on the task at hand, concentrating all her energy on the looming boat. Searching for the best place to dock her boat and sneak on board. Finding the right spot she turns the rudder slightly bringing them to within an arms length of the ships hull. Motioning to the first few men on the port side she shows them where she wants to dock and then she motions for the rowing to stop. The boat glides gently for a few feet before she orders the rows into the water to stop their progress. The boat slows and then stops and the men in front quickly tie off the boat. Elamshin leaps deftly from her boat to the ships hull, using a rope there to climb to the top. Peaking over the edge and seeing no one she motions for her men to follow her. She can see a few fires already beginning to burn on a couple of the other ships and knows that she and her men must hurry or else they will be spotted.

She drops silently onto the deck hiding behind some barrels while waiting for the rest of her men. Her wait isn’t a long one and they are soon all assembled on the deck. Nodding her head as she moves away from the safety of her hiding spot she and her men are now working quickly. The fires are burning within a few minutes and she quickly makes her way back toward her boat. Most of her men have already made it into the boat and she waits patiently for the few stragglers. As the last few men climb down the ropes she drops from the deck into the boat. There is a definitive advantage to her slight size in this particular case, no wasted energy climbing down. As soon as the others have two feet in the boat she motions for the men to begin rowing. Silence no longer matters and so she whispers quietly to them.

Quickly now, put your backs into it.

As she speaks an alarm is raised and her boat is spotted. Some of the men look toward the great ship waiting to see if they will be retaliated against.

Don’t worry about them, they may have seen us but they have bigger problems to deal with. Indicating to the quickly spreading fires. She smiles, maybe this time the seas will be kind.

_________________
I'm not a violent person just angry.
Do you feel lucky today?

[shadow=#B8860B]Sanctum Officium's Official Peon[/shadow]
[shadow=#993300]Acolyte of Pain[/shadow]


Sat Mar 13, 2004 8:39 am
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It was his first experience of the open sea, and Melcahir wasn't enjoying it. Not at all, in fact. It wasn't helped by the raging winds and surging waves, but it was against his nature to be on something other than dry, solid land, he was thinking. But they were at war...and for war it was worth it. War was always worth the cost; it meant dead heathens. Yes, for that he would put up with far more than even the sea could confront him with.

The loud piercing whistle broke through his reverie; the signal from the demon Maledict. The signal that all had gone to plan, that victory in this particular battle, the first of this war, went to the true followers of Darden. As it should be, as it would again and again into the future. The new age of the Sanctum Officium had come.

He clambered unsteadily to the side of the small rowboat, waiting his turn to ascend the rope ladder that had been thrown down over the side of the pirate ship. He had seen the way that the demon had scrambled up the netting a short time before, but that way certainly wasn't for him. As it was, the rope ladder was shaky and to his mind, unsafe. He was more than happy to quickly find himself tumbling over the railings to the relative safety of the wooden deck.

Standing and futilely attempting to brush himself off, he looked around at the multitude of dead bodies. Such slaughter; it was good. Some goblins lay silent, but the pirates made up the vast majority of those slain. It was as it should be.

He moved to kneel beside one of the dead, apparently the captain or a high-ranking member of the crew judging by his clothing. The man was still alive, but not for long. Melcahir's knife was out in an instant, flashing across the throat of the dying man, his hand cupping some of the blood as it spewed from the wound. He dripped the red wetness slowly onto his tongue; so very good. Even the rolling of the sea couldn't dull his excitement at that taste, that sensation.

Still licking his fingers, with difficulty he forced himself to rise and move away from the body. The demon leader was facing forward at the front of the ship, and it was finally time to approach him. He made his way forward towards what he believed was known as the bow, hailing the one called Maledict as he did so.

I bring greetings from my master, Telseryn, to you, great leader of Darden. Heh heh. We are proud to serve beside you, oh yes. Anyone who causes so much death and destruction in the name of Darden is well deserving of our support, so you shall have it.
Tee hee. Have you tasted their blood, great one? There's something about the taste of a dead heathen's blood...

_________________
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[glow=black]1am GMT Saturday 27th March 2004[/glow]
[shadow=red]Always Remembered[/shadow]


Sat Mar 13, 2004 8:25 pm
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The cool dampness of the evening air felt refreshing across Flint's face. Scanning the area in front of him, he quickly ducked behind one of the crates that was stowed upon the deck. Normally, he did not carry cargo out in the open. Too easily was it tained or compromised there. But the change from the norm was certainly satisfactory, he had objects to hide behind.

And so did these intruders. Flint quickly corrected himself. The same advantage that was given to him was given to others as well. Up ahead on the deck, there wasn't much movement. The blue flare behind him shone clear through the dusk, illuminating the vague shadows that appeared this time of day. Flint's ears strained to hear any sound out of the ordinary. Rigging swayed slightly with the light swell.

Had that only been a small boarind party, intent only on killing him? Flint reminded himself that the other two men were around somewhere, unless they'd already escaped on whatever craft they'd arrived on. A shout from amidships brought his head around. Bright orange flames licked the sky dangerously close to the mainsail. Men were shouting to bring water. Flint glaced around himself once more to be sure there wasn't someone there, and ran as fast as his feet could carry him towards the fire.

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Gunwallis Flint
Today I wander these lands, searching for the sea I called home.


Sat Mar 13, 2004 10:55 pm
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The attacks on his kingdom had been swift and deadly. Many were killed, including women and children. Altrone had gathered his remaining troops, and had the three of them defend the north wall. It would take weeks to rebuild, and even longer to train new troops. He had not been at sea when the attacks occured, so he was able to help defend, as if it made a difference. Maybe revenge would come soon, maybe it would not. But it would come eventually.

Altrone LAW


Sat Mar 13, 2004 11:28 pm
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With the attacks easing off for now, Altrone retires to his room. He eats a meal in peace, and after a few ales he sits down in front of some scrolls, to make preperations for rebuilding. Already some new troops have been hired, but the friends and family that were slaughtered can not be replaced. He wanders what will become of him in this new land. He hopes he has not made a mistake, coming to live among these pirates, only time will tell. Soon he drifts off to sleep......

Altrone LAW


Sat Mar 13, 2004 11:33 pm
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The creature stepped uneasily along the deck, thoroughly disatisfied. Proximity to water made her nervous, which was exquisitly bad for someone who already ran on taut strings. She did not comprehend this behaviour, other than it's essence as a territorial dispute. Or a hunt, perhaps. Maybe a bit of both, and certainly she was taking advantage of it in that light.

It was bad enough that they had to be fighting in the last moments of daylight though, why did it have to be over water as well?

Miserable, frusterated and hungry, Lachaion picked her way between the crates and shadows. The lurching of the ship coupled with her hydrophobia left the vampire feeling somewhat less than stellar. Under normal, landlocked circumstances, she would have been a whirling blur of teeth and claws and killing. Right now she was trying hard not to look completely like a whipped dog.

She killed quickly and cautiously, sneaking about while trying not to attract any more attention than she absolutely had to. This tactic served her well right up until Gunwallis Flint raised his flameing alarm, and things started catching on the LAW ships.

Now Lachaion was having to contend with being on water, being surrounded, at twilight, with fire.

Now she was a whirling blur of teeth and claws, leaping out from the shadows to pursue the most obvious and convienient target. Sometimes, you just stopped being afraid and got angry. The odds probably weren't in her favor at this point, but she intended to at least rip one last body limb from limb before she died.

This intent was about to be a fairly pressing problem for Flint.
[center]~S~O~
10 out of 10 doctors and pharmacists die.
If it's good enough for the best medical proffesionals in the world,
Isn't it good enough for you?
Death: Reccomended by 100% of the medical community.
[/center]


Sat Mar 13, 2004 11:44 pm
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The damned floor - the goblins are calling it a "deck", apparently - won't stop moving.

Nariaki finds this somewhat disconcerting. The floor just will not stop moving under his feet. To make things worse, Kiyomori seems almost smugly unconcerned by this. Of course, the sept-leader has the rather unfair advantage of having been on one of these "boat" things before. Although the Torturer seems to call this a "ship". Apparently there is some difference between a "boat" and a "ship" that escapes the warpriest.

Kiyomori's sept had travelled on the water on their way to the Onyx Temple, so long ago. Well, not really all that long ago, but it felt as though so much had happened since the arrival of the Herald of Dawn, the Anub-Re's emergence into the Sunlit Lands, their meeting with the sorceress Lyssia and, ultimately, Elador's trek to the Onyx Temple to swear fealty to the Torturer, that it felt as though it should have been longer. Nariakia had half-believed that Kiyo had been pulling his leg. "It's a big thing that floats on water and is blown by the wind". Right. Riiight. Very amusing, Kiyomori, what will you think up next? "Wind" the war-priest could understand, sort of.

He certainly hadn't expected to wind up on one, and especially not in the context of using one of these things to go to war on. In.

The Sunlit Lands had many strange and unusual things in them. "Boats" are just one of them. Somewhere, there is a reason why the damn thing isn't sinking. Darden knows it's heavy enough. But it floats. It moves, too. The big sheets up on top of the poles - apparently they have a special name, too, as do those pole things sticking up out of the floor - seem to catch the wind and push the boat forward.

Not, apparently, fast enough to satisfy the Torturer, though.

Most of the Anub-Re are down inside the boat, pulling on the oars. Darden's Apostle had noticed the strength of the Anub-Re - considerably greater than the goblins the Torturer had brought with him - and requested that the Anub-Re man the oars.

Faced with a choice between climbing around all the ropes hanging off the poles, high off the deck, or getting to sit down, the Anub-Re had opted for the choice that didn't involve hanging from some ropes on a very small pole, high in the air.

Naraiki flails his arms in a desperate attempt to retain his balance as the ship lurches suddenly. Damned boats. On the up-side, they are made of wood, and rope and cloth, and mostly belong to the enemy. Shouldn't be too hard to do something about one or two of those, as and when they appear ...

Speaking of appearing ...

There is a sudden blue light in the sky. Evidently it is meant to signal to the other boats of the enemy, floating together ahead of the Sanctum's captured vessels.

The fact that it acts as a beacon to the Sanctum has obviously not occurred to them.

The Sanctum's boats draw closer, increasing in speed. Somone has clearly had words with the rowers. From the creaking noises, the Anub-Re are bending their backs with a will now. The ship seems to leap across the waves, crashing into the troughs and sending clouds of spray sheeting through the air.

A sudden feeling of dread clutches at Nariaki's already-unsettled stomach. The Torturer's path has the boat headed straight for the enemy. Maledict himself stands at the very front of the ship, just behind that long spear thing jutting out, coat flapping in the wind, brooding at the darkness surrounding them.

Surely he can't mean to crash into them? The goblins steering the ship - there is a big wheel sticking out of the deck that somehow controls the direction of the boat - had been on the recieving end of some fairly serious directions earlier. Considering how slowly the ship turns, if they don't start moving the wheel soon, the boat will ...

Nariaki looks around. The goblins are hanging on to the wheel for dear life. Most of the other goblins are readying weaponry.

So that's how you get people from one ship to another ship in a fight. Crash into them and jump over? Doesn't really bode well for the long-term use of the ship, does it?

The enemy ships loom large. There are sudden shouts of alarm. Clearly, someone has spotted the Torturer's ship approaching, and realised that the Sanctum's demon leader has no intention of stopping. The captured vessel will strike the Isonian ship right in the middle of one side....

And with a sudden rending crash, does so. There is a splintering sound as wooden hulls crumple, and a sudden shattering crack as one of the big sticks of the other ship uproots itself, falling across the deck in a tangle of ropes and fallen sails. The impact hurls the Isonian ship aside ... Amazing. I though we were going to get stuck in the side of that... and in the flickering blue light of the flare, Nariaki can see the gaping hole in the side. Another shattering crack heralds the fall of a second big stick ... and the weight seems to pull the ship over, the hole dropping towards the sea.

Apparently, boats don't keep floating when you smash a hole in the side and fill them with sea-water. Before Nariaki's startled eyes, the boat disappears under the water.

Maledict's captured boat moves forward again as the Anub-Re begin rowing once more. To Nariaki's relief, the ship seems to be trying to draw alongside an Isonian boat rather than crashing into it again. As they close, goblin sailors throw grappling hooks, lashing the two ships together, and leap across the narrowing gap.

Nariaki is almost trampled in the rush as the Anub-Re rowers come boiling out of the inside of the ship, clutching their weapons, eager to join in the impending battle.

Nariaki has other concerns. The Sanctum were only able to liberate so many ships, and their enemy have rather more of them. Time to do something about that.Closing his eyes, the war-priest of the Dark Below begins chanting a summons in a tongue none of W'Ikandor's goblins have ever heard.

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Sanctum Officium 0100 GMT Saturday 27th March 2004


Sun Mar 14, 2004 6:58 am
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The covered boat floated aimlessly across the rolling waves. The small contingent of warriors lay on their stomachs in the covered raft. Valor pulled the covering up every so much and looked in the direction. Nothing. He turned around and whispered to the rest.

There nothing in my direction, peek counter-clockwise. Go. Report back when you finished.

With that he tapped figure on his left and proceeded to more his head onto the floorboards, listening through the crashing of waves for an approaching ship. Silence was the key for this mission, waiting for a passing ship to disregard them as abandoned drifting debris. Time would only tell if it their hours of cramped closeness paid off. The peeking went around slowly, then one of them called out quietly that a ship was approaching. The ends of the covering were cut, now they just had to wait for the right time…

And it came, the ship brushed the seemingly abandoned boat, the covering flew off and nine figures through themselves against the hull, claws embedded into the wet wood. Valor himself didn’t have the luxury of claws and had to throw a grappling hook to the deck, the group made the way up the hull. The craft was boarded, it didn’t have any weapons and crates were scattered across the deck. Parting in two groups of five, one moved to the bow, the other to the stern. Valor’s group encountered the bridge; the captains had his legs up on a desk, with the steering column in front of him.

One of the assassins had killed the Captain before he knew there was anyone of onboard the vessel. The second group had taken out the unfortunate members that were in the galley, rowing.

Taking command of the ship, he headed for the wreckage he saw in the distance. The assassins were not only swift, but they were strong. The ship wasn’t small by any standards, but compared to a warship, it was mere wood and nails. Either way, the Valor was intent on joining the fray, it lived for the battle…and the death.

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[center][shadow=orange]Sanctum Officium[/shadow]
[shadow=darkred]1am GMT; 27/3/04[/shadow][/center]


Sun Mar 14, 2004 6:48 pm
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Now -

He lay slumped over a table, his midsection aching significantly, a legion of opulents boot scooting and line dancing inside his head, a week dead cat wrapped around his tongue and everybody insisted on bloody shouting, especially those goddamn cockroaches under the table, they wouldn't shut Up! owwww. damnation, where was that waitress with a big frothy pint mug of cure to this. And the smell of bloody smoke.

Earlier -

"Ow my head!"
"Sssh!"
"You Sssh with your Ssshing"
"Godess I need to throw up!"
"Well do it quietly!"
"Sssh!"
"Sssh!"
"Next person to talk gets gagged with his own bloody testicles!"

Silence ensued.

using complicated hand gestures, he waved them back, a motley assortment of the crew members who'd recoverd enough from last nights good time to come out and see the smoking ruin of their ship. They'd come to scout the enemy ships at dock, for a little revenge.

They were laying on their bellies, looking over a cliff edge on the enemy harbor and encampment, it was a wholely depressing site, they belly crawled back out of site before discussing.

'Their ripe pidgeons cap'n - if we still had a ship we could sail in, rake their position with broadsides, they'd never catch the resolute with sails raised. If they hadn't taken us when we were drunk and ashore at anchor!"
"Well we don't have a bloody ship do we, what do we bloody have left?"
"We've got those Pinaces left Captain" Billy the cabin boy piped up. "The ones from that caper down south?"
"Pinaces lad? What bloody good will they do?"
"Devil ships sir!"

The older crew exchanged looks, vicious, evil grins spreading at the thought, the wind and the tides were right for it too. Devil ships were small fast craft, loaded with combustibles, pitch, napatha, oil, anything that would bloody burn. Sail them into the outer harbor, light them and push them in, the flames would take the ships at anrchor and port alike.

The couldn't keep the burned out lands, they'd only take them back, they'd still be without a ship, but it was a bit of revenge at least.

Smirking, he turned to his first mate "Do it, and let the men know, Billy's now boatswain for the 3rd watch, get him his officers patch too, we'll start scouting for a new ship to setal when we get back."

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[center]You look familliar, have I threatened you before?

Pirates LAW. More what you'd call 'guidelines' then actual rules.[/center]


Sun Mar 14, 2004 7:58 pm
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I had barely made the short trip back to the centre of the town when threading through the crowds I glimpsed a face I recognised, or at least thought I recognised. As the young man came closer he spied me and waved his hand in an uncertain way. Perhaps not sure if this was the way to get his Mistress's attention.

I felt my heart drop into my stomach like a lead weight plummeting into the depths of the dark salty waters of the ocean. This could only mean one of two things. Behind me I could hear the rumble of a fast moving cart. I flattened myself against the wall of the building and watched as it sped past. The shrieks and curses of pedestrians hung heavily in its wake.

The building that I leant against was like many of the buildings in this part of town. The upper floor overhanging the lower by short distance, providing a sort of veranda. The young man hurried towards me oblivious of the sound of a window creaking its way open above me. I stepped back harder against the wall for even though I had been in this town a short time, I knew what was to come.

The timing couldn't have been more perfect if Isonia had orchestrated it herself. Just as the young man arrived under the window as liquid wastes were discarded carelessly into the street. I motioned to him to move against the wall as I tried not to laugh, but was also thinking he was fortunate that he had not been blessed with the night privy.

The laughter from my eyes faded as I recalled that he would only be here if things at home were not going well. What it is Gerrick? I asked.

He rubbed his hands dry on whatever dry parts of his clothes he could find before dipping into the satchel he carried and produced a small square ebony colour parchment.

I took it from him and broke the seal. It was as I had guess war had been declared. It seemed they had taken particular interest in my land based operations. Perhaps this was because they were land based I thought wryly. I sighed, this was most inopportune, I had not yet presented my petition to Gemini Blue nor had I located Trevosta.

I looked again at the report it was quite detailed in what resources we still had available to use.

Gerrick tell Master Salta that I will not be returning just yet and he is to do what he thinks is best after he has spoken to the head priest. I paused for a moment to allow what I had said to sink into the young mans memory. Did you get that Gerrick?

Yes Mistress, told me to report to Master Salta and tell him that after he has spoken to the priest he is to do what he thinks is best.

The head priest, I corrected.

Sorry Mistress, head priest, Masta Salta is to talk to the head priest.

Satisfied that he had understood and would repeat the instructions clearly I gave him a few copper coins, hire a fresh horse for your trip home, and tell Master Salta to give you the usual. I smiled at him. His hand closed round the coins and he tugged at his cap yes Mistress, thank you Mistress and hurried off in the direction he had come.

I too continued on my way I had a Lady to find.

_________________
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Keeper of scrolls, Callineb


Sun Mar 14, 2004 8:13 pm
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We burn.

The fires of the earth's blood blaze around us, filling the cavern with warmth, with light, with life. We dance in the life-giving flames, and we burn.

We are Darden's chosen, the children of Intop, the blazing, radiant glory that is Darden. We burn and our flames are a hymn of fiery praise to the Lord. That we are Darden's chosen is self-evident; for we burn like the sun with his blessing.

We dance in the flames, in the life-giving heat of the earth's blood. It is comfortable down here, deep below the earth. Down here, the rock flows like water and burns with life-giving flame. We dance in the flames of the earth's blood, a crackling celebration of the Lord.

There are others in this world. The others do not burn. The Lord Darden has not gifted them with Intop's blessing. The others call the Lord "Demon" and "Bringer of Sorrows". But we know the truth. The sorrow is theirs, for we are the ones who burn.

We come together, our energies merging into a towering inferno of flame that leaps from the cauldron of molten rock. We twist apart, the pillar of fire falling back into the cauldron below.

There is a sudden sense of calling, and we are elsewhere.

This place does not burn. It is cold, and it is surrounded by that which battles flame. It does not burn.

Yet that can be changed.

As one, we reach out, spreading Darden's blessing. The fragile platform that sits on that which battles flame begins to burn, an incendiary tribute to the Lord Darden. We share his blessing with those who do not burn as they run around their fragile platform.

The fire is Darden's blessing and we offer it to them, for we are Darden's chosen. And we burn.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The Isonian ship burns, a howling maelstrom of flame as the Salamanders dance. Orange tongues of fire lick up the rigging, dancing up the ratlines, taking hold amongst the canvas of the sails. Soon the masts burn, towering pillars of flame above the smouldering deck, crossed with lines of fire as the sails ignite.

Nariaki's summoning has reached to the Dark Below, to the sacred place the Anub-Re call the Cauldron of Flames, where the Salamanders dance.

The ship burns as those who know nothing but fire spread their deadly blessing


Mon Mar 15, 2004 5:05 am
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The sorceress stood on the deck of the ship, apparently not noticing the slightly bewildered looks upon the faces of those that had accompanied her. Bewildered and almost a little confused by the situation they found themselves in. The four tribes of Culaearien were fanatical in their belief that Darden wished them to purify the world of sinners, putting to death any who did not see the world as they did. In the past a few had tried to convince the tribes that they would convert, that they would accept the word of the Lord of Sorrows. They had lived no longer than their fellows who stuck to their own false faith, the tribes did not trust the words of those who would so gladly and so quickly lay aside their beliefs in order to save their own skins. Death was better, death was the only way that a heathen had a chance to redeem themselves. If the pain of their own endings opened their mind to the glory of Darden then it was all so much the better for the unfortunate souls when they came before the Lord for judgement.

Of course the tribes were far more used to doing all that on land.

Culaearien itself was a desert, dry and barren for the most part, a place where a visitor to the place might think that no life could possibly be sustained. Sand storms had a tendancy to blast across the acrid landscape, greedily taking away the life of any who were so foolish as to not seek shelter. Water was a rare and precious commodity there, protected more fiercely than gold or gems. After all what use were pretty stones and soft metal to the tribes? Oh they had their place, but it was water that they hoarded, that was protected night and day from any that might seek to pollute it or take more than their share. The sea was something that they could barely understand, so much water, reaching away to the horizon and yet none of it drinkable. They had heard tales of such places of course, those of the Voralphian tribe often brought back stories of what they had seen beyond the borders of the red desert. Some of the older warriors of the tribes even remembered the times of war with other sea-going heathens. But even those familiar with the sea found it an awe-inspiring sight, somewhere so completely different from their homeland. Nevaglar Morsiwë, they called it, in their tongue 'Place of Tears' for the water was so salty that they believed that it was there that the Lord gathered all the tears that had ever been wept.

Lyssia paid no attention to the tribesmen and their interest in the vast waters all about them. The Sidhe woman stood with her eyes closed, listening to the sound of the waves and remembering how that sound had once lulled her to sleep each night and woken her with each new day. She had never realised back then how much the sound of the water had relaxed her, how it had come to be an old friend, reassuring and always there. But all that was in the past, many long ages had passed since she had last lived in the city on the cliff-top. Still the sea was a soothing presence, calming and consistant, or at least it would be if the forces of the Officium hadn't descended upon it.

The Torturer had sent out the order to attack several days before in retaliation for lost trade ships. The tribes had been eager to ready themselves for battle even once they had learned that it would take place at sea. Procurring a ship had been troublesome, it wasn't as though the tribal warriors were familiar with sea-faring or the like. Obviously they had no ships of their own to sail in and the nearest coast had been many miles from the borders. The sorceress had taken a small force of the more agile fighters with her while Silus had taken the rest to the north. The beast's forces would seek out the docks and mooring points of their foes, dealing them a wicked blow where they could. No doubt Silus had already encountered the enemy, that would keep him busy and out of her way. The last thing she wanted was Silus turning up and causing problems, he knew even less about the sea than most of the tribes.

Taking her small force, mainly formed of Voralphain and Alcmenelian, to the east, they had managed to catch sight of a fair-sized Isonian ship just off the coast. Crude rafts had been constructed quickly and silently, little more than logs lashed together with rope. In small groups they had paddled towards the ship, the Voralphian first, slipping on board and almost seeming to melt into the shadows. Once all was ready those of the Alcmenelian had climbed up the side of the ship, their blades taking down the more obvious defenders of the ship. In silence the ship had been taken, though not by the usual slaughter that the tribes of Culaearien were known for. Lyssia had cautioned them to leave a bare number of the crew alive, just enough to actually sail the ship for them. After all there was not one man or women among the tribes who actually knew how to make it move let along steer it in the right direction.

And now they found themselves the owners of a ship that was moving at a fair speed, flying Isonian colours to disguise their true alliance. The ship seemed to almost skip over the waves, hurrying itself towards a huddle of small quick ships. The plan was in place, they would come alongside the true Isonian, hiding under their very own colours. Eskil, the priest that had insisted on seeing the sea for himself had scried the foe and claimed that they appeared to have little defense. Of course considering that Father Eskil knew little of ships or their defenses Lyssia had not been inclined to lend too much weight to his words. The tribes would swarm over the quicker ships, killing everyone they found and then sinking the boats. Though they had never learnt the skills necessary to sail them, the tribes had very quickly picked up on how to ensure that the ships would never sail again.

Keep your warriors out of sight till the last moment, she said to what had first glance seemed to be nothing more than a patch of shadow. But something withinthe darkness moved, possibly giving away the hint of limbs and two heads...perhaps two people lurking in the shadow. People who were more used to hiding than being in plain sight...the Voralphian. They must think us friend not foe, not until it is too late for them to use their ships's speed to escape us.

It will be as you wish.

They shall not realise.

Not until our blades are in their bellies.

Lyssia had always found it a rather diconcerting experience to speak with the Voralphian. Thre was no such thing as a single Voralphian, they always moved in pairs, seeming to be one person, one soul with two bodies. Oh they were as human as any other tribesmen, but they were never alone, living and dying as one. Two voices, speaking as though they were one, following the exact same train of thought. Dosconcerting indeed, but just the people to ensure that no one on the faster ships escaped.

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Mon Mar 15, 2004 8:22 am
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The ghost had drifted, almost aimlessly, throughout the ship, encountering surprised crew now and then. There had been no pattern or choice in the way that it had gone, no order to the victims that fell to its cold embrace. The ship's cook had died before the captain, the first mate before the quartermaster, Ivory had not chosen who would come within its embrace. To the wraith all were the same, they were all heathens, all creatures that its Master would be glad to see dead. Master would want it could have them, yes He would, He would want Ivory to touch them. It is so cold, so very cold but they can make it warm again, they can spare just a little can't they? Yes they can, so alive, so warm, so much and Ivory has so little, has none at all. They share with it, they give what they have to it, make it warm again, just for a little while, not for long at all. They sleep, sleep in the cold, sleep forever, never warm again, like Ivory. Cold as Ivory, cold, cold, cold, but they sleep, it doesn't, it can't, Master won't let it sleep, not yet. So it has to be warm, has to find warmth, take the warmth, let them sleep.

Who knew what the ghost had been in life? Possibly only Darden Himself, no living creature had ever even claimed any knowledge of the tormented spirit. Beyond what was obvious of course. Even those it served could not say who or what it had been, where it had met its death or how it had been dragged from its eternal rest to serve once more. Of course the majority of those it served did not care for such facts, it served Darden and that was enough for them. The Lord had given them a powerful weapon in Ivory, they would not question where the creature had come from, no they would just accept that it was there. It was a simple enough thing to dispatch the wraith and allow it to satisfy its own needs from a heathen populace. The spirit would enter, seeking out the living and ensuring that they never posed a problem to the Lord's will. Why did they need to know more than that?

Those that did care to know about the wraith had discovered little more about the creature. The air was cold in the ghost's presence, cold enough that it seemed to contantly threaten to turn the blood of those nearby to ice. Bones ached and skin hurt when Ivory was around, the spirit seeming to radiate a terrible cold. It spoke of the cold often, spoke of the terrible chill that afflicted it and ate away at what was left of its soul. It needed the warmth, the life, of the still living in order to try and drive off the cold for a moment. The life of another would give it respite from the cold of the dead for a fraction of a second, no more. A second, the briefest of moments, a single instant of relief, of no more suffering and then the cold slammed back into it, leaving it with nothing to show save for the cold corpse that it had stolen the life of. Every death made it hungrier for the warmth of the living, tempting it with a moment of release and then forcing the torture of the chill back upon it. Some had wondered if perhaps it wouldn't have been kinder to never let the wraith know the touch of relief, never let it know those brief moments of comfort. After all those that have never known plenty can never mourn what they do not possess.

It moved through the ship searching for any that might still live, for another source of warmth to drive back the cold. But all were already dead, laying where their bodies had fallen after they had been released from the grip of the ghost. Some lay upon the ground as if they had just fallen asleep and would wake at any moment, only the faintest tracing of icy tears revealing that they would never look upon the world again. Others had fallen in a tangled heap, a look of wide-eyed horror caught upon their faces, evidence that some at least had realised what their fate was before it had happened. In the galley the ship's cook lay next to the evening's meal, half prepared though it would never be eaten. In his cabin the captain lay slumped over his charts, the rum that he had been drinking no more than frozen and shattered shards upon the floor.

Nothing lived upon the ship, the only sounds were those of the ship, the sea and various odds and ends being moved by the motion. Occansionally Ivory would mutter or moan to itself, begging for the cold to leave it, begging for its Master to give it what it needed. It is so good, does just what the Master wants it to, just what He wants it to do. Would carry out the Mistress's orders too. If she woke up, if she told it what to do. Would do it, would do anything, anything at all, Ivory would be so good, so very, very good.

Suddenly the ghost stopped, its feet, or at least the bottom of the ghost's etheral robes an inch above the wooden floor. It watched in fascination as a tiny flicker of flame took hold of the ceiling above it, the wood catching quickly, the flames dancing and becoming stronger. Fire, it knew about fire, fire was the thing that the living used to keep warm, they said it gave off heat. Ivory drifted closer to the flames as they stretched out to take a hold of more of the ship. Red and gold, the flames moved with a life all of their own but Ivory felt no heat from them, or rather not the heat that it sought. Though the ghost often spoke of 'heat' and 'warmth', of desiring them more than anything else, it did not use the terms as others would. It craved the heat of life, the blazing warmth at the heart of every living soul, the very thing that it had lost.

The ghost threw itself into the flames, desperately seeking to warm itself within the 'heat' that it had heard the living speak of. But it gained no benefit, the cold of the wraith and the heat of the flames warred for control but Ivory felt nothing of it. The chill still gripped the ghost, almost seeming to mock the presence of the terrible devouring flames all around. Make it warm, it begged, the sorrow in its voice enough to draw pity from the stoniest of hearts, but none were left alive to paid it any attention.

With a shriek of despair the ghost almost seemed to throw itself at the hull of the boat, leaving the flames behind it. Ivory appeared outside the boat, standing again in mid-air, feet a good inch above the sea, not appearing to understand that it was doing what the living would consider impossible. It waltzed across the water, silent tears falling down its shifting features.

_________________
[center]SO
Sing a song of Darden
I'm playing all the right notes...
...Just not necessarily in the right order[/center]


Mon Mar 15, 2004 9:22 am
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The water was cold and felt delicious against her skin. She should have started the war this way, naked save for her two knives and rope looped around her torso. It was much easier to swim without sodden material clinging to your body. Besides which, she might have avoided burning her favorite pair of doe-skin breeches had she started the fires while not wearing them. An unfortunate side effect she hadn't quite figured out how to negate was the tendency for her body to get as hot as the item she was setting on fire. As a result most things touching her had a way of getting scorched if not outright turned to cinder.

She'd been luckier this time. The material had only turned a slightly darker shade of brown and had an odor that would make most people gag. Since she happened to like the smell of charred skin she could go on wearing them- when she didn't want to give her presence away at least.

She smiled to herself as she knifed through the water quickly, the water sluicing over and around her. It had been such a long time since she'd had anything to do with water she'd almost forgotten the feeling of freedom it provided. She almost hoped they didn't totally destroy the enemy, just so she would be able to keep fighting them in this glorious setting. But there would be time to think about swimming naked and wishing wars would last, later. She had reached her next target.

As she tread water and looked up at the ship, much larger than the boat she had burned previously, she contemplated her next move. Where was the best place to make her boarding? Someplace where there would be few people- since there was a war that place would probably be the captain or first mates cabin. Surely they would be on deck at this time, issuing orders. quietly she swam around to the back and looked up. There it was. A window into the quarters. She wasn't exactly sure whose quarters, but that was her way in. Now she just had to scale the side of the ship. Would she be able to do it without the rope and her knives, or would she need to use them?

Biting her lip she considered then decided. She wouldn't need the rope this time, she could likely get her fingers in between the boards in some places and if she couldn't, well her daggers would wedge between them easily enough. Carefully, but rapidly she began her ascent toward the window she planned to enter from.

It would have been easier to just burn the ship while she was in the water, but she'd never attempted to burn wet wood before and didn't know how long it would take. She also didn't know what would happen should her body heat the water around her. She didn't want to accidently boil herself while trying to kill the enemy after all. So, she would climb up into the ship and start the fires like before. Maybe she'd find some useful items to steal. Once this ship was taken care of, it would be time to steal one for herself so she could get further out into the seas more quickly. As much fun as it was to swim, she didn't relish the idea of having to swim for miles while looking for the other targets.

Slipping over the window sill and into the room, she dropped into a crouch, knives in both hands. She glanced around and once assured that she was the only one in the room, she began to rummage around looking for information or anything interesting to take. She frowned. Weren't pirates supposed to have all kinds of ill-gotten booty and treasures? Interesting things like rubies and skulls and weapons? She sighed. There was nothing like that here. Out of spite, she took a ring that lay on a piece of paper and slipped it onto her thumb. A seal. If she ever got any wax, she could have fun marking things with this at least.

Slowly, she moved to the door of the cabin and opened it an inch, peering out. Women were scurrying all around following orders and readying things to battle. There was not a man in sight. Had she managed to find herself an Amazon ship? Blinking, she fought back a giggle. So much for wowwing and distracting them with her body while she set them up to die. She'd have to move quickly since she doubted she'd be able to weedle any kind of sympathy or indecision in them. Sliding out of the cabin, she slinked her way along the wall, keeping to the shadows and hiding behind crates and whatever other items she could hide behind. When she saw the barrel, she decided it was time. Putting her hands on it, she began to concentrate, allowing heat to seap from her.

When the barrel's wood began to spark and smolder, she allowed herself another wide grin, her eyes flashing dangerously.

_________________
It's not paranoia if they really are out to get you.
Desire is hunger is the fire I breathe...
...the night belongs to us.


Wed Mar 17, 2004 9:53 am
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Stablehand
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Joined: Thu Dec 11, 2003 5:38 pm
Posts: 13
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(OOC: All combat actions were approved by Demetria before posting)

Gemini looked out over the still waters and pursed her lips in thought. Sanctum Officium had gotten the jump on Freeman's Law and efficiently damaged numerous resources. Her own fleet had been forced to scatter after the bastards had left her with very little intact. Atleast someone pays attention to our methods she had mused before giving the order to her ships to scatter until she called. Her own fleet was devastated, but it was beginning to come back together and regaining strength.

She drummed her fingers on the helm. When ever she was needing clarity, taking the wheel from her helmswoman always did the trick. There was a great deal to be done, and not much time to do it. Her singers skipped a beat as a shiver passed over her, causing her brows to furrow and her frown to grow. She was going to be late getting to port. She hated being late.

Aribat, go get my flask from my desk, it's getting a bit chill.

Aye Captain

Gemini eased the thoughts of causalities and losses from her mind deciding it was far more prudent to focus on getting to the Sanguine Quay and meeting up with the rest of the members of the Freeman's Law, many of whom she'd never actually met face to face. She removed her hands from the wheel long enough to rub her eyes and inhale deeply. The whiskey on it's way to her would be just what she needed. If it ever made it, Aribat was taking her sweet time. Gemini turned to the helmswoman, Traden and nodded her head to indicate it was time to take back over. The aging woman stepped forward and took control of the helm without a word, and began drumming on the wheel herself.

Gemini took a step forward, heading toward the stairs leading from down from the bridge when something stopped her. She smelled smoke. Gemini's eyes darted around, looking for any sign of fire but the deck was dark and quiet. The door to her cabin opened as Aribat emerged looking worried

Captain, someone's been going through your cabin, it's a wreck!

As the light of candles and phosphorous brews poured out of the door way, Gemini caught sight of a thin wisp of smoke dancing up into the night just below her. Leaning cautiously over the rail she saw a figure crouched, her hands pressed on the barrel just under the origin of the smoke. The figure's attention seemed locked on Aribat.

Not pausing to think, Gemini vaulted over the railing and landed on the figure, which turned out to be a completely naked woman.

Are you daft? Where the hell are your cloth-AGH! She shoved herself off the woman as her skin began to burn. It dawned on Gemini that the naked woman hadn't been holding anything to start a fire with and was likely a mage of some sort. Brilliant. Just bloody brilliant. She muttered, looking at her red skin where the other had burned her.

The intruder reached out and grasped both sides of Gemini's face, scalding her cheeks and jaw. Gemini ran her arms between the other woman's and shoved them outwards, breaking the grip. She followed with a quick right hook, catching the woman in the ear. The girl scrambled up into the light and Gemini recognized her description as a scout caught among her ships just before the war with Sanctum Officium, Demetria.

Gemini rushed the woman, spilling the more unstable crates and barrels behind her as she landed her shoulder in the woman's gut. Demetria again reached out, palming Gemini's left eye in her hand and willing the heat to flow. Gemini wrenched her face away and caught the extended arm, pinning it to the deck. With a yell, Demetria brought her right fist across Gemini's chest, using her leverage on the deck to throw Gemini to the left. Demetria rolled to the right, rising to her hands and knees, turning just in time to face a very angry Gemini's sword tip. Both women sneered as they panted for air, applying pressure to the places where the blows had hurt the most.

You're damn lucky I adhere to the rules of the newly brokered peace and don't kill you here and now. Gemini growled viciously. Get. Off. My. Ship.


By this time the crew had put out the smoldering barrel and gathered around, weapons drawn. Demetria glanced about and seemed to realize nothing more could be won. With a twisted grin she wiped the blood off her lip and stood, head held high as she made her way over to the bulward. Gemini stayed where she was, but kept her weapon trained on the other woman's chest.

Just before she leapt over the side of the ship. disappearing into the inky waters, Demetria turned to face Gemini one last time, waived her hand so that something on her thumb twinkled in the low light.

With that she dove over the edge, leaving Gemini standing on the deck, blinking in confusion. The Captain rubbed her chest and noticed something odd, her personal seal was burned into her flesh, just above where her heart lay.

Bunch of damn loonies. She muttered. Aribat! Where's that blasted flask?

_________________
[center]
Gemini Blue
Freeman's Law
Speaker of Law

Every normal man must be tempted, at times, to spit on his hands, hoist the black flag, and begin slitting throats.[/center]


Wed Mar 17, 2004 2:20 pm
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Lord of War
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Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
Posts: 55
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It had been an embarassing defeat. Steven walked through what was left of his land, searching for any valuables that were left behind. He cut through his dead troops littered across the ground. Nothing... Absolutely nothing, was left behind. Every single Elemental lay on the ground dead, their bodies stiff and cold. Except for one. He was still breathing, the steam from his blood was raising in the cold morning air. All he could mutter was I failed you... I failed you... Whispering, Steven said no you did not fail me. You are just weak. It is not your fault. It was mine for having faith in you. With that final message, Steven put the moore Salamander to rest with a quick slash. It was time to start fresh, perhaps he could live life on the rockey shores, rebuilding a Droben realm into a realm where people would want to attack.


Wed Mar 17, 2004 9:12 pm
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Stablehand
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Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
Posts: 23
Location: Seattle, WA
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Some month of Some Day

It had been a long journey, but I had finally made it to Steven's new home. There, many serfs were building what would be Steven's new fortress. One that would stand up to any anyone in battle. But would do an even better job at killing those individuals who did not follow Isonia. I finally brought the rest of what wasn't pillaged. I was able to bring a few million gold, troops, and raw materials in this caravan. As I approached Steven, he looked at me with a pecuiliar look. As if he had never seen one of my kind before. I nod my head and he nods his. He tells me I look weird, yet some how this insulted me. I had worked so hard, and isntead of inviting me to dine. He insults me and sends me on my way.

Days past, and my anger still held on strong. I order my thieves to go in and raid his lands. I steal millions of dollars, I kill his own thieves, and lay his land down to rest in the eyes of Isonia. I burn his temples down. Finally some what satisfied, I ordered my thieves to stop and rest. Perhaps I should delcare war...


Fri Mar 19, 2004 8:42 pm
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