Prosperos & New Kaustir (formerly Chersonese), Chapter 9

[Snowday]

Tem and Taggart trudged alongside Leo, the formal introduction all but forgotten. Both made an active effort to tag anything not resembling an exceptionally normal rock in hopes that if they did so, their dive would be ended sooner, but cooperation between the two was hindered. Tem found herself very much opposed to speaking to this Taggart. She knew his sort. Every urchin who ever urchined could smell a Pegulian scholar from a mile off. If you wanted money off of one of those guys, you took it by stealth or by force, never by channeling the goodness of their hearts. Tem and Taggart could hardly compete with one another in tagging the things they found, but there seemed to be a certain pressure for each one to stay ahead of the other. Tem sure didn't know why he would want to get ahead - she was the one who'd been diving, after all, and whatever lay ahead wasn't going to be alphabetized like Taggart's natural habitat. Admittedly, Tem was still terrified. Even though they were no longer in titan territory - probably? - there seemed to be a higher concentration of sea life here. When Tem reached into the nooks between rocks as instructed, small creatures would dart out in the wake of her hand - tiny fish and crabs and at one point an eel. If she wasn't careful where she stepped, some sort of stingray beneath the muck would move just the right distance to scare the daylights out of her. She had no idea what lay ahead, and consistently forgot what was behind her, so every step she took was just a new isolation. It was terrifying, but for pride's sake, she wouldn't show her fear. Not to Taggart. Ugh.

Then, directly in front of her, she heard Leo speak - at first to himself, perhaps to his Aux. Then, stopped before some sort of gate. Intrigued, Tem peered past him as he pushed open a bronze gate. There was darkness just past it, but something else, as well. They were dark, blocky shapes resembling buildings. A city? The thought was on all their minds, and it couldn't be right, but there it was.

"...Exactly what we're looking for." Leo's words were met by silence. For a moment, none of them moved, as if collectively considering their options.

Taggart's voice broke the silence. "We must be cautious."

In yet another show of pointless dominance, Tem passed them both by (but made sure that Taggart could feel the displaced water hit him as she passed), taking some wires from Taggart's bundle as she went. Distantly, she heard Taggart make a noise of frustration behind her, which she dutifully ignored. Walking at a brisk pace to keep ahead, she inspected her surroundings - a city, certainly, but she couldn't spare any interest. Her primary concern was tagging anything she could find as quickly as possible. Something glimmered on the beginnings of what seemed to be pavement, mere paces from the bronze gate. Tem made a beeline for it, scooping it up in her arms.

It was a bronze pot, an item worthy of tagging if she ever saw one. But for the sake of being thorough (and, okay, curiosity), she stuck her hand inside to feel for whatever it was the ancients kept in the things. She was expecting jewelry or bones or something morbid and identifiable. Instead, her hand grabbed at something markedly squishy. She retracted her hand and leaped back in terror as a much larger eel vacated the pot, fleeing into the void like a bat in the night.

For a moment, Tem was stunned. Then, a familiar face she really did not want to see at that moment was looming over her scornfully. "In case you didn't understand my initial statement; be careful."

And Tem could do nothing but scowl at Taggart's back as he skulked off after Leo. Already, they were both ahead of her. She got to her feet and followed at a considerable distance.

 

[Eternalfire61]

[fieldbox=The Return, grey, solid]

Returning to the sand was not a homecoming. The feeling of the sun on his back brought back pain and memories that only awoke a deeper darkness within Nassad. Slaver, turned smuggler, now retreating back home for safety. Those memories sang deep within him as his feet sank within the sand. He heard their names echoing within him. Gwendolyn... Tamaa... Nassad closed his eyes for a moment pushing back those memories as he had with many.
With boat behind him, and a slave in chain, he ventured forth. Avarath was shit. There had been a time when it was one of the capitals of trade, instead it withered away letting nature take the land. Nassad wished that his trek back would be easy, but he had forgotten that things were ever changing. He had forgotten the way nature waged war against civilization. His only goal now was to go back to the capital.

Damn that pirate bastard. It was not his fault remotely, but it was easy to put the blame on someone else. After delivering the letter, Nassad was met by many of his old friends. Friends was a loose term, mostly because they were his former slaves. He had damned himself everyday for his mistakes as an amateur slaver. Everything was taken from him. In an ironic way, they mirrored his style. Tying Nassad by the hands, gagging, hanging a noose from his neck then trying that to the rope that bound his hands. It was clever, but Nassad knew ways to escape them. Sadly,he could not escape five men so easily. Revik a leader of drug ring, Yhuem small time gangster, Banshild the pack rat for Revik, Aer the drug alchemist, and their leader Dassidan. They captured Nassad bringing him to their hideout to face torture and most certainly death.

In his younger days he dabbled in the drug trade, but only as a side to slaving. He had worked for Revik for some time until he was approached by a man who wanted them gone. Dassidan was a wealthy headhunter who had a bounty on Revik. The pompous headhunter asked Nassad to help him in exchange for half of the bounty. Nassad agreed, but he had other matters at hand. Before he completed Dassidan's contract, he had collected another contract by a much wealthier drug kingpin who wanted all of them off of his streets and was willing to pay a greater sum for all of them. In the end, Dassidan was double crossed, all of them bound in chains, and Nassad walked away a richer man.
Nassad was only able to escape due to their dimwitted decisions. They had held him for two weeks, beating him, spitting at him, and trying to break him but it was all for none when they decided that they wanted to end him. There was arguing back and forth until Nassad was able to break his chains unleashing his advent upon them. With them in chains Nassad executed each of them, leaving Dassidan to watch. The executioner stood in front of Dassidan with blade in hand. In one swift motion, he cut his captor's tongue from his mouth, not wanting to hear a word about making a deal to save his life. Dassidan would be his slave until they reached Zirako.

"Move." Nassad yanked the chain forward, keeping a firm grip. It had taken more than a month to get out of Viridos. It took bribery, theft, and cheating to get a boat out of that forsaken forest. He only had some coin left that he had taken from his captors, but it would only buy a camel. Nassad left his ship at the shore, buying a camel for his trip to the capital. By that point Nassad did not care if Dassidan died in the sand or by the drink of the Czar.
"You are going to die Dassidan. It may not be today, but it will be someday soon and I want you to look forward to that." Dassidan moaned in fear, unsure of Nassad's intentions.

The two made their travel in three days. Dassidan was dehydrated, exhausted, and looked of death by the time they reached Zirako. Nassad knew how to keep a pace at all costs. Nassad dragged Dassidan inside of Zirako, letting his muffled screams be heard by all. It gave Nassad a sick pleasure in a way, but in the end he wanted to put his slave down. The familiar smells of Zirako came back to Nassad like a headache. He remembered the Kresnik, smell of burnt cobra on a stick, and the yelling of the common folk. Coming back to Zirako was as if he was returning back to the womb, he felt the city's sickly warm embrace as he let himself enjoy his homecoming for just a moment.

Nassad made his way to the front gates of the Czar's palace feeling that his journey was well worth it. He would present the slave to the Czar and then begin where he had left off. The world was ever changing and it was now time for Nassad to start to change with it. Hell, maybe Kaustir's army would take over the Chersonese in the next couple weeks. The slaver was finally back in his rightful place, but he still had no notion of what was to come next.

"I need to speak with the Czar. We have much to talk about."

[/fieldbox]​

 

[Chexmix]

The ocean city was expansive, and once the trio was inside it only seemed to grow larger. From the gate the ground sloped downward and at some distant point the city could no longer be seen, as it was shrouded by a cloud of darkness. The city seemed to be brighter on the inside, as if the buildings were radiating a subtle aura, and things on the inside became just a bit more visible. The group only realized this once they saw the darkness in the distance.

"Keep up, little one." Leo called to Tem, who was pouting behind them. "We don't know what could be lurking around these walls." He stopped and waited for the girl, prompting Taggart to reluctantly do the same. They continued walking, looking right and left for any artifacts or other rarities. Every building they passed was the same- square, made of some smooth dark stone, and with no doors on any side. They were even spaced exactly the same, just barely wide enough apart for someone... or something, to squeeze through. The only difference was their varying heights, some were one story high, others upwards of seven. A road split the city in half, occasionally splitting off into smaller roads, but the group stayed on the center road for fear of losing their exit.

"It's very brave of you to be here." Leo put a metal hand on Tem's shoulder as they walked along, descending further into the city. Taggart scoffed at this remark. "You don't think so?"

"We didn't have a choice. We were forced down here."

"There's always another choice."

"Death, maybe."

"Some sailors might say death would be a better option then what you might find down here."

Taggart mumbled something about sailors under his breath that Leo paid no attention to. His attention was drawn to a shining light ahead, reflecting off a building- a very different building. This one sat at the end of the street and was sitting on a raised, white platform. White steps lead to the front past large white pillars, and the light was reflecting off its golden walls. Instead of the regular square shape, this building was rectangular, with a large white dome on top. The group stood at its base atop the stairs and saw two large blue doors.

"A door at last!" Leo called and made a beeline for it.

"It looks like some sort of temple..." Taggart was studying the architecture. There seemed to be enough gold in the walls to buy a small city. "If only we could tag the whole thing."

"'s awf'ly big." Tem gawked as they made their way to the door, where Leo pushed it open just barely enough to peer inside- what he saw was astounding. Inside was a large rectangular room, the walls covered with carvings and characters, drawings and words. None of them made any sense to Leo, but they all seemed to be coming together at a single point on the back wall. There, a picture of several massive creatures and men seemingly engaged in battle. The three hurried inside, stunned in wonder.

"A depiction of the God's at cataclysm..."

 

[Peregrine]

[fieldbox=Waste]

Old Kaustir​

There was nothing for them in Old Avarath. People and goods might still come through the city, but it was nothing but a husk, slowly shriveling up inside as it waited to fully die.


There was something wrong with it inside that could never be fixed. It was a lost cause, being dragged along by the desperate efforts of those who could not see the end had come.



When Nu said it was time to go, Chelena was more than glad to flee back to the desert. She didn't like Avarath. She didn't like it one bit.



The small bag at her hip was now alarmingly light. It had always felt light, like it was only one frail gust of breeze away from vanishing. But now it was light because it was almost empty. There had been no herbs in Avarath.



None that would allow a person to remain in this world, at any rate.



The time had been wasted. Several of the few leaves they had left had been wasted, spirited away by those who were supposed to have brought them more to buy. The whole city had been nothing but a waste.



Was there anything left but wasteland in this desert?

[/fieldbox]

 

[unanun]

[fieldbox= , brown, solid, 10][fieldbox= , lightyellow, dashed, 10]Humans are peculiar creatures. They are so quick to forget, and they do not anticipate either. The Nocturnes in contrast are notoriously miserly with their memory, carefully allocating it only to important events, shepherding their life's narrative so that it remains coherent. In this way, it preserves their identity as they stride across the decades. Humans forget so quickly. They are creatures firmly rooted in the present. Suffering is not a price for pleasure later, nor is indulgence a debt to be balanced. The now is the only thing that exists for them.

How quickly Kaustir forgot that their home was not just a desert, but scorched earth, a land so thoroughly bleached by the Cataclysm that nothing remained to hint of its former state. Soil, rock, plants, animals, and water - all became white sand under the old god's wars. The desert was deadly precisely because of its complete lack of anything. The absence was so strong that it tore at any living incursion on its surface, dispersing its essence microscopically over the entire volume of itself. If they weren't careful, they would dissolve.

Nu and Chelena stopped underneath the shadow of a sandstone bust that touched the scorching yellow sun. Indeed it was a head, but it said nothing about the desert. Was it carved by a cosmic hand and placed there? Or perhaps the fossilized remains of an old god? Perhaps some ancient inhabitants of the sands constructed a gigantic mold and poured sand into it, then waited a thousand years for it to solidify. The surface was worn smoother than the surface of water.

Nu had planted her hands deep. They were in webbed gloves, and prevented her from sinking into the sand, which was finer than water. She was vigorously kicking up a mound of sand. Next, she split a small fruit open. As she pulled it apart long strands of stubborn mucous clung to the separated halves. These she mixed with a small amount of water in a bowl, and carefully smeared it over the top of the mound. A little while later, as the sun lowered and bathed red-yellow, she tapped the hardened dome and cut a hole at the bottom for the sand to drain out.

It was warm inside.

"What are we going to do about water?" A cold infusion of Chelena's herbs was time consuming and required multiple concentrations, but carrying fire materials out into the desert was an impossible and ridiculous idea.

"We follow Water Below, wherever it goes."

"Below .."

"Yes, like snake." Nu placed her hands together and her fingers made undulating motions. "Sand here like water. Water is therefore in water. Flow anywhere."

"Sometime it come to surface. Then we drink."

"And other times, we will just go thirsty?"

"Is way of desert. Is way of .."

Nu froze. She was human, and her mind did not have much room except for her present. But without Lut Sar filling her daily thoughts, it turned to other, older ways to amuse itself.

"way ..." she searched.

"way ..." Chelena mimed.

"way of ..."

"my..." Chelena prodded.

"... people." Nu blinked, shocked by such a simple statement. She suddenly dove for her bag, frantically fumbling for a piece of metal string, attached to a wooden bar. She tensioned it between her toes and tested it, a strange warbling noise filling the sand-gloo.

Restive, she crawled outside, insistently pulling Chelena with her. Not like Lut Sar, who dropped others to pave his path.

"Song."

She rubbed the string, frantic, insistent.

"Song!!!"[/fieldbox][/fieldbox]

 

[AtomicItalian]

[fieldbox="The Prosperos Sea, red, solid"]
[BCOLOR=transparent]Naval brigs rarely surrender a peaceful night's sleep to those unfortunate enough to frequent them. [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]

[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]Perhaps it was a particularly calm sea, or perhaps Vazily Tamerlin — far more accustomed to feather beds and captain's quarters than damp piles of hay — was finally getting used to his new lot in life. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]For once, he slept well. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Until the shouting started. Followed by the cannons. And the muffled sound of steel crashing against steel on the deck above him. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Then, he woke. Then, he cursed. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Fighting wasn't an unusual sound to hear from his cramped cell deep in the belly of the ship. He was, after all, the captive of pirates on the Prosperos Sea. Fighting was a necessary aspect of their business. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]While combat was common, this was more than a routine boarding. Voices were frantic. The fighting was on the pirates' ship, not some poor merchant vessel or storm crippled military frigate.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Strange. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He rose from the scratchy pile of hay, running his fingers through his scraggly beard to remove any stowaway hay stalks or insects which may have taken shelter there during his rest. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]As ships aren't often designed with windows installed for the benefit of prisoners, Vaz was not treated to a proper view of the sea and thus had lost track of his time as prisoner. Weeks at the very least. More likely months. However, thanks to a small crack in the ship's hull slightly above his cell, Vaz was allowed to a narrow sliver of light during the day. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Tipping over his humble chamberpot — a splintered wooden bucket — and spilling its contents outside his cell, Vaz stepped up on the overturned bucket and peered out the little crack. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He could make out very little. Another ship was definitely there, though he couldn't see any flags denoting faction. It was not a military vessel, that much he could tell. This was disheartening. He had hoped that perhaps at some point the pirates would fall prey to some aramada that would board the ship and discover its captive. He sighed, knowing he would have no such luck. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Vaz sat down against the cold, iron bars of his cell, wondering how his ordeal would end. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Would the pirates eventually be sunk by some storm or unmarked sandbar in the Prosperos, leaving him to drown in a cage? [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He hoped they would attempt to sell him back to his family in Avarath. His uncle would pay the ransom, no doubt. He would pay quickly and he would pay well. The Tamerlins were one of the wealthier of the minor merchant families. The pirates knew this, yet still did not sail for the great city on the sea. They hadn't sold him and they hadn't killed him. He had nothing to offer as they took all his equipment and merchandise upon his capture. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Why? [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He shook the question out of his head. For too many hours Vaz sat sleepless in his cell pondering that question. He would not let it eat his mind again. He focused on the sounds of battle on the decks above, closing his eyes and once again drifting off to sl—[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]SLAM[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]The door to the brig flew open — as did Vaz's eyes — as a pirate crashed through, falling backwards down the stairs linking the brig to the higher deck. The body came to a hard and bloody rest at the foot of the stairs. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]The pirate's assailant, backlit by the daylight and as such cast in shadow, sheathed his sword, hurried down the wooden stairs and began rooting around in the pockets of the recently deceased sailor after dropping a burlap bag next to the body. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Vaz gently approached the bars of his cage, crouching and leaning on the iron as he called to the looter.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"You there, sir!" He croaked out. Vaz had spoken very little in the most recent stint of his captivity. There once was a sailor on the ship with whom he'd developed a friendship, but he eventually was lost to the sea. After that, Vaz mostly kept quiet. "Free me. I'm of Kaustir, of Avarath. My family is rich. I'll pay yo—" [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Shut up Vaz, I'll be there in a sec— ah! There it is!" The looter said, ripping a pair of keys the dead pirate's belt. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Hearing his name again after being called "rat" for so long, Vaz's speech hung in his throat. As the looter stepped closer, a familiar face emerged from the darkness.[/BCOLOR][/fieldbox]

 

[AtomicItalian]

[fieldbox="The Prosperos Sea, red, solid"]
[BCOLOR=transparent]"Corzo?" Vaz stood, sure he was hallucinating. "I thought you were washed over!" [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Corzo, a low born but skilled sailor from Hosia, had befriended the captive Vaz, smuggling the merchant rum and scraps from the crew's rations. The two had bonded over their shared experiences as merchants before circumstance had brought both to their current state in life. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Instead of the light colors Vaz was used to seeing Corzo in, the sailor wore loose, brown leather armor — in case he fell overboard and needed to swim — and sackcloth pants. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]This was no coincidental run-in. Corzo came prepared for battle. [/BCOLOR]

"Washed over?"[BCOLOR=transparent] The pirate said, the familiar under-class Hosian accent full of disdain.[/BCOLOR] "Cap'n heard me 'n somea the boys talkin' bout runnin our own crew. Says "ey you lot plannin a mutiny?" We says "ain't no such thing sir" but he wants none of it and sends us over with barrels strapped to our ankles. Sure I'd sink to the brine I was, but boy-o I got out, an' you wouldn' imagine how. Ya see I —"

[BCOLOR=transparent]"CORZO!" Vaz snapped, his eyes wide, a toothy snarl visible through his ragged beard. He drew a deep breath. "Tell me later, friend. First, please, let me out." [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Vaz forced a smile to his friend. [/BCOLOR]

"Right, right. Anyway, I didn't die an' I decided it was right time for a change of leadership on this damn boat. Most'a her crew agreed. Now, I'll free ya, but there's conditions, mate. We're friends, true as anythin', but I do expect some gold for this.[BCOLOR=transparent]" Corzo said, unlocking Vaz's cage. [/BCOLOR]"And a hand in dealin' with the rest'a these ruffs up top. Nasty bunch'a goons Cap'n Voit picked up since he tossed me off. Shouldn't be no problem for you though, says you was an accomplished swordsman. Time to back it up."

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Gold I can do, but I can't fight!" Vaz protested, following Corzo out of his cell and towards the stairs — towards the battle. "I've been rotting away in a cell for months! I'm half starved!" [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Half starved, sunburned an' windsick is about normal for a pirate. Quit yer moanin', I brought your effects. Figure'd a pampered gull like yerself wouldn't fight with general issue arms." Corzo tossed the burlap sack he'd brought into Vaz's arms. "Now, I'm goin' up deck. If I don't see you up there, sword in hand, I'll toss ya back in the cell meself." [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Corzo vaulted up the stairs and back to battle, cutlass in hand. Vaz stood at the bottom of the stairs, motionless, staring down at the burlap sack containing all he needed to earn his freedom. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]The thought of his freedom filled Vaz with just enough will to spur him on to open the sack, rather than collapse on the floor in a pile of depression. He rooted through the sack, fastening only what he needed for what transpired above. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Ipari forged scimitar in one hand and gleaming buckler in the other, a tinge of confidence returned to the broken man. He had survived so much violence with just these two items. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He could go one more round. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Alright. Enter the fray. We'll dodge if necessary and stay at the edges. No sense getting involved if I don't have to…" Vaz thought, slowly walking towards the sounds of battle above him. He stared into the light, letting his eyes adjust to sunlight he had been so depraved for so long. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]A a few moments passed, and Vaz stepped out. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Ok, head for the edg—" Vaz's thoughts were interrupted by the screams of one of Captain Voit's hired goons, currently rushing toward him. The pirate's boarding axe was held high, the edge clearly meant for Vaz's skull. So much for neutrality. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]The axeman swung, and with no intention Vaz's Ipari combat training took over. The merchant pivoted back on his heels, putting just enough space between himself and his assailant to allow the axe to cruise mere inches past his face.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]With a quick left jab, Vaz smashed his buckler into the pirate's face before the man could recover from the miss. Following through on the momentum, Vaz spun to his right, bringing his scimitar up in a diagonal slash against his opponent. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]The man screamed as he was torn gut to shoulder, falling to the deck as blood spurt from the massive wound. The red mist from the cut stained the filthy rags Vaz had worn during his incarceration. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]The merchant gave his scimitar a quick spin in his hand. It felt right. The air was thick with salt and cannon powders. The clang of steel and the thud of bolts and the battle cries and death howls of men filled his ears. This was who he was. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]The broken man Vaz had become was quickly dying. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He caught the murderous gaze of another pirate. This time, Vaz began the attack. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]*_*_*_*_*_*[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Don' know I'd call ya accomplished. Ya look more like'a dancer than'a swordsman." Corzo teased after a sip of rum. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]The night had fallen and the battle was won. Voit was hung from the mainsail, his lifeless body still dangling high above the day's victors. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Now, the muntineers and Corzo's men took to revelling, drinking and singing to their new ship and captain. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Corzo and Vaz sat near the bow of the ship, sipping Voit's private stock rum, quietly catching up while the pirates celebrated. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"I'd say the master who taught me would have some choice words for you, but he'd probably just tear your limbs off." Vaz joked, smiling to the friend he'd thought long dead. "The Ipari aren't very good at pissing contests." [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Aye, I'd suppose not." Corzo said after a guffaw. "So, ya gonna join me crew? Be a step up on the ladder of integrity for you." [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Vaz shot the new pirate captain an incredulous look. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"I was a merchant!" [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Exactly." [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]The men laughed, and Vaz nodded, knowing he'd walked right into the jest. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Very nice. But sadly no. I'll depart at your first mooring, unless you'd be willing to drop me off at Avarath. I can promise a handsome pay for you and your new crew. You'll need it, seeing as how you've now two ships to care for." [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]The mention of Avarath stopped Corzo mid drink, and the man slowly lowered his wooden cup, studying Vaz's face. Vaz noted the change in Corzo's demeanor and shot the pirate a concerned look. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Did none'a these bilge rats talk to ya once I left?" Corzo asked. Vaz shook his head. "Well, I hate to be the one sayin' it, but Avarath is empty. Kaustir's in full blown war in the Chersonese. Callin' it "New Kaustir". Everyone in Avarath either went to war, fled to the desert, or joined Prosperos." [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"The fled into the sea?" Vaz asked, now concerned for the fate of his family, friends and fortune. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Gods…" Corzo shook his head. "World's changed a lot since you was put in shackles. Look mate, I'd tell you about Prosperos, but I fear ya wouldn't trust my word. Truth is, I'm sailin' there meself. Come along. Maybe once we're there you can ask around for yer family." [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"But…" Vaz was confused bordering on frustrated. "Where is 'there'?" [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Just come along mate. You'll see."[/BCOLOR][/fieldbox]

 

[Silvir]

mmmm lizard

The stream of inhabitants started to thin out as the girl got further away from the main market streets. Now her nose could better discern the smells of food and spices instead. Curious she slowed down to look at what seemed to be lizard meat of some sort. With a dark sticky sauce poured over it as it grilled over the coal bed. Drawn in by the delicious smell Eydis used some of the meager allowance she was given by Tachor.

It was an interesting taste and a small glimmer of joy while walking towards the task at hand. Nibbling on the meat the fox took her sweet time looking at all the exotic things offered and strange things from the kaustir culture. The clothes where of big interest especially with the mixture of light textures and heavy ones It seemed that in Kaustir textiles where more common than furs. At one tenth there where female clothing on display some some clothes being so revealing Eydis found them more embarrassing then when she crawled down naked to warm Vrein. With a red face the girl hurried away from that tenth and the large woman that had smiled knowingly at her.

As the main shock of walking through the settling city was fading Eydis began noticing that people glanced at her a lot. Her pure white fur and hair, drawing eyes where ever she went. Though when thinking about it there where rarely others with bright hair spotted in the crowd. Something the young fox was used to seeing back home. Discomforted by this she figured it was a good idea to find something to cover her hair up with on the way back.

 

[E.T.]

"Madam?" The voice was deafening to Belphebe's quiet contemplation. The wealth of food laid out before her had gone mostly untouched, as had the last meal, the shallow furrows that her fork left were the only sign that she had at one point been trying to eat. Slowly and deliberately she pushed the dish away as the chef swallowed nervously from where he was standing against the back wall. In this kingdom of merchant titans he did not want to anger one of the queens.

"Ash." She said quietly.

"Madam?" The chef repeated the query, this time a bit more noticeably nervous. There was no verbal response just a wave of her meticulously groomed hand for the food to be taken away. Leaving the table to be cleared she moved to her office but had no motivation to go over the papers that had been laid out upon her desk. Instead she opted to sit on her balcony. Down below stretches of green were starting to show on the bright rooftops of the massive ship. Tenderly cared for plants were being cultivated even in this arid environment. Many of the staples of Viridos disliked the limited water and the constant salty air that come off the water, but with the help from some Chersonese root stock and some-finicky-magic borrowed from the thermic gems fresh greens were becoming more and more common.

Yet for the bounty that she had to sample all of it just tasted like ash; bland and impossible to swallow. The black city had reportedly continued smoldering for nearly a week and for two days the residents of the Prosperous City found themselves brushing the fine layer of ash from the decks each morning. The presence of these flying Kaustir warships appeared just in time to make several weeks of careful planning obsolete. Were it not for some careful foresight on her part the burning of the Black City could have left her in a tricky ultimatum.

"Well it would have forced the rest of the merchants into an ultimatum." She thought with a sly grin. Ah the merchant party, so fearful of making enemies, so reluctant to break any eggs. She supposed they were like an old hen in that way, running eagerly to the hands that tossed them grain, yet just as quick to peck at the same hands when they reached for their precious egg, and now the fox was loose in the hen house. Or perhaps a dragon was more accurate, there were few foxes, outside the Silver Wings of course, that could breathe fire. Maybe a few sparks under their wings was all some of these merchants needed to really take off. This was a nation of profit above all else, there was no time for complacency, not when the nations were just beginning to topple over the edge of war and conflict.

The breeze that dominated the ocean raised up for a moment, like some colossal beast reminding the world who was king. On a lower flat deck merchants were sent running as some of their wares were caught in the breeze, the great dyed canvasses that provided the shade no longer given by the ancient trees of their Hosia home rippled under the gust. Even with the brief excitement as the wind floated over the hide of the mighty ships the very life's blood shifting and morphing. Gems were turning up in the pockets of buyers and sellers alright, strange and new objects that were perpetually warm to the touch. They passed from hand to hand, mixing in with other coins and objects that were considered of some worth. Yet the ones that did make it to the public were rough cut at best, imperfections, and damage that lead to them being tossed from the collection they came in with. As for the ones that were not damaged, the ones escorted in from the private docks by armed guards, the ones that did not see the sun or outside the confines of the heavy lockboxes, they were stored away from a much different purpose. The Kaustirians were not the only ones with warships.

 

[Chexmix]

While Taggart and Leo observed the pictures, both captivated by the mystery, Tem seemed to be more interested with a detail the two men had overlooked: lamps.

"There's lights in 'ere..." The walls were dotted with small lamp like structures, glowing brightly and casting their light down into the room. The men were unaware before, but now were bewildered, knowing what it meant. Something was keeping those lights on. Before either could speak, they heard a chilling, gargling voice coming from a doorway.

"Young Ones.." Two figures stepped out of the darkness and into view. "We expected you would show up soon."
The figure speaking had a strange, unfamiliar shape. The most glaring feature was its wings- large and great like an Avian, but scaled like a Drakken. It stood on two talon bearing feet, but had human like hands. The creature's head was also shaped like a human's, except for the two fin-like ridges that ran across the top. The creature was scaled from head to toe. Covering the being was clothing made of tough shark skin, donned with colorful light reflecting fish scales. It moved slowly with grace and carefulness with and arched back that seemed to indicate the frailty of old age. It was of no race or species the three had ever seen.

The second figure was almost more interesting, though, thanks to the familiar dive suit it wore. It was an older model, not as up to date as the trio's own, but clearly from the Prosperos. However, the suit worn by the stranger bore a large burn mark, a section where the chest piece had caved in, and a smashed left arm. Protruding from the back of the suit was a pair of Avian wings, once beautiful but now reduced to a featherless mesh. In this Avian's hand was a two pronged spear, which was rusted, worn, and crumbling.

Leo instinctively reached for his blade, but his metal hand clanged against the side of his metal suit. On land his weapon would already be drawn, but here the gesture was in vain. They weren't given any weapons for the dive, only told to swim fast if they found something that would eat them. Unfortunately, escape was not an option in the ancient temple.

It seemed like an eternity passed as the five of them stood there in stunned silence. Finally Leo spoke up. "Who are you?"

The unrecognizable being stepped forward, and the Avian stayed at its side. "It seems it would be more appropriate for me to inquire as to whom you are, being that you have come into my city unwelcome and unannounced."

The Taggart, Tem, and Leo shuffled back as the thing approached. "You do not have to be afraid." His voice was raspy and deep. "But I do understand your fear. We often fear what we are unfamiliar with, and you are certainly unfamiliar with my kind."

"And what about that one? Where did you get that dive suit?" Taggart pointed to the Avian in the damaged suit. The Avian turned its head towards the anima with unchanged facial expression. Her eyes were emotionless and dark, and she uttered no response. Tem studied the two, and then suddenly grasped the arms of her allies in front of her. She recognized the Avian's face. It was Hope, long thought dead and lost to the sea.

"She's the one 'oo went down wit us th' first time! She 'posed tuh be dead!"

"I can assure you, she is not dead."

"Then you captured her?"

"Saved her, as best as we could at least."

"What do you mean by that?"

"She was critically injured when we found her. Most of her life was already gone by the time we stabilized her. Thankfully her mind and memories were still intact, so we could still learn your language. She no longer has the ability to speak or think for herself."

"That's impossible!"

"Wot? Yer sayin' you used 'er?"

"Her fate was already determined, and if we wanted to communicate, it was the only way. Much has changed since the last time we have seen life from the surface, and we knew more would come… It must have been one hundred… No... Two hundred years… Time starts to blur when you have been around for so long."

"You're saying you've been alive for two hundred years?"

"And then some." The creature thought that was particularly funny, and burst into a wheezing laugh, which turned into a cough. Hope remained stoic, and the divers exchanged confused glances. "You asked before who I am, and I will tell you. I am one of the few remaining of a dying species, older than each of your own, older than your countries, and all of your cities."

"You're... a God?" Leo choked out in disbelief.

"No. No. Not a God. But we are The First. Hidden here underneath the rubble and destruction of the ancient giants for centuries uninterrupted."

"The Titans…"

"Yes, the Titans you call them. Recently they have been stirring, and our city uncovered. And now I am here speaking with you."

 

[AtomicItalian]

[fieldbox="Prosperos Sea, red, solid"]

[BCOLOR=transparent]

[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]"You've a remarkably steady hand." Vaz said, his head tilted downward. He examined the growing pile of black hair tumbling around his feet.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"You say that now." The barber — a Hosian pirate who moonlit as a barber and amatuer surgeon — felt Vaz tense at his quip. "Ay, just kiddin' mate. I've been clippin' on clippers for years now, no need to worry." [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Clipping on a clipper? Ought to open your own shop, call it that." Vaz said, relaxing after the momentary scare. His dreaded, lice infested prison hair had been a torment. As a desert dweller, Vaz's hair was cut short and kept close to his head. The rat's nest had to go. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]The barber visit — arranged by Corzo after growing tired of Vaz's complaining — began slightly after dawn on the ship's starboard side. The rising sun illuminated the back of Vaz's head, giving Henrich — the barber — ample light to ensure Vaz's head came out of the ordeal without much disfigurement. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Hah. Well the day shavin' a bloke's head nets more coin than takin' it off I'll do just that. 'Ere we go mate, finished." [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Vaz rose from the barber's stool, brushing the remaining hair clinging to his bronze chest onto the ship's deck with his hand. The Avarathi merchant ran his fingers through his newly cut raven hair, relieved to have the weight and filth from his time as a prisoner lifted from him. A salt heavy sea breeze blew across the ship's deck, it's cool touch breathing a familiar jolt of life into Vaz. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Behind the men, the early shift of sailors — pirates, really — were finishing their various duties; sifting gunpowder, repairing damage from the previous fight, riggers high above checking the ropes. Soon they would wake the day crew and get their rest before starting all over again. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"I liked ya better when ya looked'n urchin." Corzo's voice came from behind the barber and merchant. "But I s'pose not a soul'd believe you an honest merchant lookin' thataway." [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Vaz turned to his friend, grinning. Corzo tossed the shirtless Vaz a blue and gold thawb — the long, flowing dress that many of the Avarathi traders wore to keep themselves cool — which Vaz promptly equipped. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Where'd you find this? Pull it off some poor Avarathi trading vessel?" Vaz asked, examining his new attire. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Naw, pulled it off some poor Avarathi pirate." Corzo responded, pointing a thumb over his shoulder to a pirate on the port side of the ship with a mop and without a shirt. He glared at Vaz. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Well, now I feel bad." Vaz deadpanned. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Don't. Told him I'd get 'im somethin' pretty in port." Corzo laughed. "Speakin' a which, we should be comin' on Prosperos by noon. Best grab a bite 'n get any sleep you're hopin' ta get, I can never sleep a wink in that gods-forsaken place." [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]*=*=*=*=*=*[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Get up mate. Time to b'hold that which greed an' endless ambition hath wrought." Corzo said, shaking Vaz awake in his rope hammock. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Vaz peeled himself from the hammock and followed Corzo out of the darkened crew quarters. Emerging from the bunks onto the ship's deck, the bright blast of noon sun temporarily blinded him. Vaz shielded his eyes, and as they adjusted, came to rest on a sight he was truly unprepared to behold. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"What in the name…." Vaz started, trotting towards the ship's edge. Corzo followed. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Prosperos, mate. All the merchants, swindlers, peddlers an' theives'a Hosia an' Avarath all'n one place." Corzo explained, following the merchant and coming to a rest slightly behind him. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"But...how?" [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Far's I can tell mustav been some kinda merchant's alliance a'some sort. Hid away steel and damn near drove the whole'a Hosia out t'sea on their ships. Lashed the ships t'gether, bound 'em with metals and gods know what else. All the major players've joined." Corzo said, his eyes locked on the steadily growing skyline of the floating city. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Tall ships and dinghies alike were coming and going from the numerous docks and jetties jutting from the merchant city. Cranes and scaffolding broke the skyline, men and women of many races gathered on piers, fishing lines hanging from their hands. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]A flood of questions washed over Vaz. How could this be possible? Was his family on this metal behemoth? Who could have created this…[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"K'Larr." Vaz said to no one in particular. He had never met the Draken, but he had caught glimpses of the merchant and heard numerous stories of his ambition and devious dealings. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Aye. S'pose a storefront wasn't enough for 'im." Corzo crossed his arms. "Hopefully these swindlers'll have more coin than they did last time I was 'ere." The pirate turned away from his friend and yelled across the ship to his helmsman. "Make way for the merchant docks and keep the riggin' ready, I've no intentions of stickin' round." [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Vaz followed Corzo from the ship's bow, catching up with him near the mast. As the ship drew closer to the city, the sound of scores of creaking ships, breaking waves, and grinding metal began to drain out the more natural sound of the sea. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"You've been here. Do you have any idea if any of the minor houses have joined?" Vaz asked. Corzo was staring straight up the mast, inspecting the ship's rigging. He answered without looking at Vaz. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Any of 'em? All of 'em are 'ere, far's I know." He gave the merchant a sympathetic smile. "I'm sure if yer family ain't there then someone'll be able ta tell ya where. Hell, the stiffs they got workin' customs'll probably know. Anyway, grab yer shite, we'll make port shortly." [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]*=*=*=*=*=*[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Corzo and Vaz stepped off the ship's rickety gangway and onto the sturdy steel that played the role of "solid ground" in Prosperos. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Vaz didn't stop himself from wearing the stupefied look of a rural child first experiencing the sight of a grand tower or massive tallship. He followed Corzo, but slowly, allowing him to take in the asymmetrical towers of dwellings and scrap, the cranes and beams and scaffolding, and the low, ever present murmur of humanity punctuated by sounds of industry. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]The men walked halfway down the jetty before a Prosperos customs agent stopped the men. [/BCOLOR][/fieldbox]

 

[unanun]

Some underwater place​

"We are only one rung in the long line of succession from the old ones."

The winged lizard moved ponderously through the water, with the goat, child, and human close behind. To the surface dwellers in their bronze prisons, the cumbersome movement was the price to pay to avoid the crushing pressures and lack of air. What they had thought was gracefulness was merely the slow movement of old age.

The creature's ("Attendant") gills flexed in the water. Its speech echoed with low, haunting tones through the water, felt more in the confines of their diving suits than heard.

"There is a .. a plan." He reached the mural and stretched up high to touch a certain depiction. "A destiny, if you will." He remembered that his feet were webbed, and kicked silt off the dissolving stone floor to ride up to the scene. It showed creatures of increasing abstract form, each one pointing the more definite generation forward with some sort of appendage. The primarchs were a mess of lines and shapes, surely the product of a frustrated sculptor who was simply unable to capture their form.

"There is a .. path, to, follow." The Attendant's speech was halting.

Tem, the little child clad in bronze, inched forward, tugging the steel wires latched to the small of her back. The spool was running dry. "Hey. Hey, Hope!" She waved five fat fingers in front of the Avian's shield. "Hope!" She searched for recognition, or just movement, in the glassy eyes.

"She's dead, I'm afraid." The Attendant arrived behind her and she squeaked, tripping backwards and flailing like a turtle on the floor. Taggart yanked her back.

"So magnificent .. " the draken-avian moved closer, and with a hiss detached the helmet from Hope's suit ("HEY!!"), reaching to caress the swollen cheeks, peeling her eyelids back, and fingering the musculature underneath the exposed neck. A thin trail of red seeped from the suit's body, and immediately mixed into oblivion with the Prosperos. He was lost in a mumbling appraisal of her skeletal structure. "The bones .. hollow, so light!"

The Attendant was lost in contemplation of the wings while Leo gave the other two a very significant look. They began to inch their way out.

"And what might you be doing with those steel threads of yours?" The Attendant continued to speak while removing the armour from Hope one piece at a time. By some lost art her body was not immediately crushed. "Fanning out like a peacock ... "

Leo smiled and reached behind to strum his fingers along the wires. Ten carabiners jangled in the loop.

Prosperos customs​

The landing area was a bureaucratic, but welcoming place. They were ushered onto crudely welded metal benches - always slightly wet from the salt sea air. If the customs officer ever exhibited a reverence for the engineering and resources that went into forging a platform so large that he could do a handstand on it in the middle of a Prosperos squall, the sea sickness and bureaucracy killed it a long time ago.

"Papers?"

Vaz and Corzo looked at each other.

You're doing it the hard way, the officer's face said as he waved them to a nearby table. The metal here was slightly rusty - a symbolic degradation from the gleaming, polished steel that welcomed them.

Elsewhere, Lemuel ran a finger along a certain spool of wire. Three of the bundles ran into the same place in the water. At least they had not separated. He made sure the deck masters were not looking and twitched a lever slightly, causing the wheels to jerk against the wires. Hurry.

 

[Chexmix]

"Oh these?" Leo was calling upon every ounce of confidence he could muster. In the past he stared down pirates and thieves with a cheery, sarcastic air, but if there were ever a time that didn't call for jokes it was now. The last thing he wanted to do was provoke the ancient creature. Thankfully it seemed preoccupied with dismantling the avian, for the moment at least. "These are just marking our way back to our ship. It's our own path to follow, you might say." He raised his arm towards the mural on the wall. The man forced a smile that showed through his mask.

"Leo!" A small voice called out quietly but harshly behind the group of three. The Aux Fairy Zure buzzed around to Leo's side, her hands placed on her hips crossly. "Do you really think it's a good idea to be mocking this thing?!" The Draken-Avian snapped its head towards the group, losing interest in the small bone it had been fumbling with from the Avian's back. Slowly it inched towards the group.

"Ah! An Aux! A magnificent development of your kind.. So interesting and yet.." The damaged spear Hope had been holding, once her aux, suddenly crumbled into a mound of dust. Soon the metal bits washed away into the room, gone forever. "So fragile..." Zure moved behind Leo for safety.

"It is said the Aux is a physical manifestation of a being's innermost soul. What could we learn about you by analyzing yours? I am so interested in the link between Aux and Crux." The creature was now too close for comfort. Leo turned and looked towards the doorway, the light piercing through seemed like a sanctuary that could never be reached. He then turned to his companions, who seemed frozen in panic. The First reached out its scaled hands towards Leo. A sudden tug at the remaining strings brought Leo back to his senses.

"I'm afraid we'll have to explore that later. Seems our time here is up" Leo stretched his metal arms out as best he could and leaned forward in a bow, but also catching the others on his way up and sweeping them towards the door.

"I'm afraid that isn't an option. You, like your flying friend here will not be permitted to leave. We wish to keep our existence here a secret, and there is so much more I wish to learn about life above."

The group shuffled back just a bit more, they were almost pressed against the back wall of the temple. If only they could slip away for a moment and into the light, they would at least have a chance to escape..

"The Light! Of course.." Leo mumbled to himself. "Close your eyes." He whispered to Tem and Taggart, who were just behind his outstretched arms.

"Well, I can start by showing you one thing about my Aux." Leo stepped forward, and Zure flew around directly in front of his face, between him and the Ancient. "It's called an advent. Watch closely!"

The proto-Draken-Avian was clearly caught off guard by Leo's sudden advance. It appeared the creature had expected to tear into the three with little resistance, especially since they were unarmed and helpless. The creature stumbled backwards in confusion, giving Leo just enough time to activate the advent. A bluish-white beam of light grew between Leo and Zure, growing stronger and forming a bridge between the two. Leo's body then began to glow, growing brighter and brighter until the light was nearly blinding. A pillar of light was emitted through the face mask of the suit, and the seems where the suit had been assembled even leaked weaker rays. When the light reached its full strength, it then began to flash in rapid succession. Five, ten, soon twenty times he flashed. The pillar engulfed the ancient creature, who brought his hands towards his eyes immediately, but it was too late. The light had temporarily blinded and paralyzed the beast which was now hissing, writhing, and letting out a tumultuous gargling shriek that pierced the ears of the three divers almost as much as the light pierced through the darkness.

When the light subsided, Leo turned to see the two others had fortunately heard warning and listened. "Come on, we don't have much time!" The three scattered clumsily out of the temple and onto the "streets" of the city, ducking quickly behind another building and attempting to put as much distance between them and the creature as the bulky dive suits would allow, knowing the creature wouldn't be far behind.

 

[Doom Spiral]

Olle: Sickness, War, and the Sea

The crate bursts open with a crack. Parcels of varying sizes tumble out. It pained Olle to know such fine goods would go to waste. Crouching, he tears one of the packages open. A stone tablet sat within, carved with incomprehensible runes and warm to the touch. How delightfully exotic!
"What is? What is?" asks Fetthund eagerly. "Gold?"
"No, no. Stone. Something of value for the right people."
But it was too much weight to carry far; Olle places it back onto the peat, reaching for another. This one held papers- charcoal rubbing of what were presumably other tablets, as well as field notes from the dig. There was no time to look it over- he dumps the grain from a burlap sack and stuffs as many papers and scrolls as he can into it. The effort of moving all the tablets wears down on him, and breathing turns to wheezing, then wheezing to a fit of coughing.
This accursed cough! It had not left him yet- each day it persisted, grating at his lungs. But he had made it through the worst, somehow. Fragmented memories of his bizarre, unearthly fever-dreams still haunted him. Metal clouds and their black rain, fire twisting into the sky... there was no way such a thing could have been reality. Olle shakes his head, looking for something to occupy himself. He needed to pack... needed to pack... water, yes, that's it. Water helps with the cough, and keeps any fever left from rising. He'd need lots of water for the trip. Now to find something to carry it in...

. . . . .
​

Thirst claws at Olle's throat. There had been nothing but the skin at his side to carry water in the cart, and he hadn't the sense to follow the stream down- it was faster, he reasoned, to travel straight towards the flat horizon of the distant sea. But another day had crawled by, the sun beating down relentlessly, and with every glance the ocean seemed just as far as ever. Before him, though, it lay: glittering in the distance, tinted orange as daylight faded. But between it and him sat a procession of Kaustir tents, placed periodically to form a border. This was not something he remembered, but at least he was used to crossing their border. Albeit, it was in older, quieter days when Kaustir was not invading and gold flowed like water through Avarath. It seemed like so long ago, though it couldn't have been more than a month or two. Olle was losing his grip on the passing of time, each day seeming to slip past like sand between the fingers. Even now, as Olle stumbled up to one of the tents, the sun lowered itself towards the horizon much faster than he was used to.
A guard starts as he notices Olle and the aux at his side, grabbing for a spear and standing.
"You, halt!" he cries, as if there was any other reasonable course of action. Olle stumbles to a halt, crouching down to pat Fetthund's head.
"Speakeasy," he whispers, and the dog's eyes flickered. Olle's tongue grows slick and light in his mouth, vocal chords widening, eyes tearing and growing moist and bright. The trader's head clears. It was time to negotiate.
"What's your business here?" barks the guard, squinting in suspicion. He looked tired, and it was probably near the end of his shift with it being this late.
"Just travelling to Prosperos with a shipment. Mule broke its leg crossing a river, had to leave the cart."
"Where are you headed from?" asks the guard, predictably. Olle wets his lips as best he can with a mouth full of dust.
"Aldus. It's been a long journey, and I decided against resting at the Black City as there was a lot of smoke coming from there."
"Probably a wise choice..." grumbles the guard, extending a hand. "Can I see your cargo?"
Olle deliberates, before smiling. "Of course."
He hands over the sack of parcelled notes, which the soldier rifles through.
"What are these? Academic notes?"
There is a hint of suspicion in the guard's voice. Olle maintains his smile as he responds.
"That's what it looks like, though my employer didn't like me asking questions. 'Just get it there, and don't touch it,' he said. Mentioned something about a plague among them, though I think it's just to scare me from stealing it."
The soldier's eyes widen. News of the plague must have arrived from the army. Olle coughs hoarsely a few times for good measure.
"Can I see your papers?" asks the guard, his tone more tense now. He puts on a glove, looking at Olle warily.
"Of course," Olle responds, reaching into his pocket to retrieve the expensive forged travel papers he'd carried for so long. They were well-decorated with stamps. The guard takes them cautiously with a gloved hand, reads them over quickly, and shoves them back.
"Be on your way then, but don't even think of asking to stay here. And don't touch our provisions!"
Olle nods, with a grateful smile. "Of course. I should be at the city in a few hours anyway."

He bends over to pat Fetthund and they continue on their way, through the growing dark towards the sea. A chill sets into the dusk air, and as his advent wears off Olle feels twice as weary as he was before. But as twilight grew, so did the stars in the sky, and the lights of distant city-ships. There was still hope: Olle was driven by the thought of finally putting this to rest, and spending his pay unwinding with the many pleasures of the Prosperos. There was a brothel he knew of, and many bars... he should be at the city gates by midnight.​

 

[Peregrine]

[fieldbox=Desert Sisters, gold]Nu and Chelena were once more walking through the desert. Nu was in front, scouting the way, and Chelena followed behind, her feet dragging through the dust. When she wasn't watching the ground to make sure she didn't put her foot on a rock or a cactus she stared at the back of Nu's head, studying her black hair as though it was the most fascinating thing in the world. Compared to the flat, dry desert around them, it pretty much was.

Since her strange outburst a few days ago Nu seemed to have gotten even more silent than usual, which was quite an accomplishment for the already nearly mute woman. They had been traveling together for so long that Chelena's bag of herbs had dwindled into near nonexistence, and still they hardly spoke more than a couple words an evening.

Most of the time that was a welcome relief. Nu was dragging her through the desert, where only day to day survival mattered, and that was the only thing that kept her from thinking about the building poison in her body. It was the only thing that kept her from giving up and waiting until her herbs ran out and the disease consumed her body. But sometimes Chelena couldn't help but wonder about Nu. The few times she had tried to ask Nu about her past the answers had been irritatingly vague. She had learned never to mention Lut, as it only led to a furious, painful silence that was more uncomfortable than a conversation cut off mid sentence.

More often Chelena wondered what it was Nu had seen in her to cause her to bring Chelena along on this endless, goalless journey through the desert. She had already made it perfectly clear that she didn't think she and Chelena were alike, but still she worked to keep Chelena alive, making her herbs into a tea when Chelena would not, waking her up in the cool hours of morning and evening so that they could travel further, finding water and food and shelter that kept the both of them alive in a desert that seemed to grow ever more hostile. What made her care? Perhaps that would be something actually worth asking.

"Nu?"

"Hmmm?"

"Why are you doing this?"

"Do what?"

"Bringing me along."

"Why not?"

"That's what you said when you rescued me."

"Yes."

"It's not an answer."

"No."

"No, it's not an answer, or no I'm wrong."

"Yes."

Chelena gave up.[/fieldbox]

 

[Snowday]

Tem stuck closely to Leo and Taggart as they fled. It was still pitch dark, and losing one another was a constant risk. Splitting up would have been an effective method if were possible to actually find each other again afterwards, but the opposite was true. She considered it briefly based on the idea that if they began swimming to the surface at roughly the same time, their lines would lead them all back to the boat, but this was dispelled by the imagery of her reaching the surface, followed by no one else. Admittedly, she was also in need of their guidance. It wouldn't do to leave her alone, and she knew it.

They slid behind the remains of a building just off of the main footpath. A decent hiding place, but the Attendant would find them in a hurry if they didn't dig deeper. Leo acted on this thought before Tem could, motioning for them to slip deeper into the cityscape amongst a maze of crumbling buildings and other structures whose purposes Tem couldn't identify. As Tem trotted along at their heels, the prevailing thought in her head was that trying to escape was all for naught. The bulky diving suits restricted their movements severely. Even if by some miracle they could survive without diving suits on the seabed, the Attendant would still be able to outstrip them without any difficulty. And if that creature had lived on the ocean floor longer than living memory, would it not make sense that his vision should be heightened? Also, they would never hear him coming. There were too many "what-ifs" to make sense of the situation. And still, the image of Hope's waxen corpse stuck in her mind, the fate she and the trader had left her to. She couldn't feel the guilt or regret just yet, as the matter at hand was too demanding, but in the back of her mind, she knew it would hit her hard once she wasn't fearing for her life.

Somewhere along the line, they stumbled into a house with better composure than the others, though still in poor shape. Some of the fixtures remained, but none of them would make for a hiding place. The walls which enclosed the space were complete so as to hide them from the supposedly heightened vision of the Attendant, but if he were to actually enter the place, it would be curtains for them.

"There's a door back here," came Taggart's urgent voice. He was right - in the back of what they had initially perceived to be a one room home, a door hung from its hinges, nearly the same color as the grimy stone walls. He cautiously pushed it open, finding nothing behind it but some sort of small storage room. Taggart began poking around inside of it, as if testing it for safety. Tem, on the other hand, decided that anything was safer than waiting to be snatched up by an Attendant, and nudged her way into the room. Leo, being the last one out, followed suit and gingerly closed the door behind them.

Tem, refusing to trust Taggart's own inspection out of spite, began one of her own. Upon pushing aside some rotting barrels, she found that a brick in the wall was missing, probably having crumbled away into nothing long ago. It was large enough for her to squeeze through, definitely, but Taggart and Leo? Doubtful, at best. She turned her back on it. She was doubtful of her own ability to make a noble decision if the opportunity to ditch the others arose, and she decided that Taggart and Leo shouldn't have to worry about her morality while they were still busy worrying about being slain by an Attendant.

They spent several long, quiet minutes in that room, awaiting the worst. If Tem listened carefully, she could half hear, half feel the vibrations of webbed toes displacing water - not far off.

 

[Wryneck]

Aboard the ship, Lemuel made his way back to inspecting things with his Aux as they came up. Instead of trying to haul them all up at once, they'd have them come up as they were tagged and hooked. It was more effective this way, and they'd be able to get away with at least something if they had to bail for whatever reason. God only knew what could happen out here. With all that'd happened so far, the middle aged male wouldn't be surprised if some other godforsaken abomination pulled itself out of the deep blue simply to bring them all back down with it.

As much as he hated to believe in all this "otherworldly" Mumbo-Jumbo, it was something he couldn't deny. It was already integrated as a way of life in this world they lived in, but he still held himself to his own code. "Anything you want is going to be earned through hard work and a little bit of luck."

Sadly, that wasn't help Tem and the others get up anymore quickly. He'd no idea if they were alright, or if they'd come upon some sort of new danger. It had been some time since anything new had been dragged up out from beneath them. Those unmoving wires were an unforgiving torment for a man who believed K'Larr's actions to be all too unnecessary. Be that as it may, they did live in a merchant's world. A man did what he had to for his money, and forgiveness (rare as it was) came afterwards.

Nonetheless, it wouldn't do them any good if they were to lose their dive team. Especially not after all they'd already been put through. Not knowing where K'Larr was, he could only ask the guards he'd avoided being spotted by earlier.

"Hey, I think I have a right to a question after all my work. And a break, too."

"Shoot for what it's worth to ya, but don't be expecting much. These ain't normal circumstances."

"I'd like to speak to K'Larr. It's the dive team. Nothing's been coming up, and it's no good to us if they've been killed down there."

The guard shook his head. "Ya know how busy the main man is. Can't be bothering him with yer troubles." With a wave of his hand, the guard motioned towards their current harvest. "We've got more than enough even if they is dead. What's a body or two against untold riches?"

Lemuel tried to hold his tongue against the man for fear of worsening his situation. "And if they are dead, will you happily be dragged into the next suit? K'Larr isn't a man to be satisfied until he's got all he can get. It's in your own best interest to let me speak to him on the matter."

The guard paused for a moment to think before groaning. "You can't be brought to bother him without being called on, but I'll mention it for ya. Damn brat." These words leaving his mouth, the guard would make off to inform K'Larr of the merchant's concerns. All the while, Lemuel had an unshakeable feeling that something worse than they could expect was looming nearer the more the clock ticked.

 

[E.T.]

So among the things that she could call herself Caoimhe could now include traitor. Then again perhaps betrayer would be better, in either case she had abandoned the last person she could have called friend. Even with the dracling by her side there was a tangible hole where Shardis had once prowled by her side. The cold mountains that marked the border of what had once been her home mocked her departure with dense snow that tumbled after in imitation of an avalanche. Progress was slow even though the snow was not super deep, only up to her knees in the deepest spots. Here the snow had melted just enough that it clung to her shoes and pants in clumps, weighing down her steps and making it feel that she was treading through ankle deep water. As she descended the mountains and entered into the far more temperate weather of the Chersonese the snow melted and it was not long before she was shivering from the freezing water that soaked her socks and plastered her pants tightly against her legs. The march was made no easier by the dracling's hesitant steps. He followed diligently behind his mother but there was reluctance in the way he glanced back at their trail through the snow, and in the way he would leap forward to fall into step beside Caoimhe even as the snow brushed up against his narrow chest so that he could question his weary eyed mother with soft chattering and bright eyes.

The cold was less forgiving to a dragon's already cold blood than even to Caoimhe's poor feet. The chill wind that crept after the pair made the dracling sluggish. When he could no longer keep up he the marching pace she knelt and scooped him up into her arms. After only about a fifty yards she sudden became very aware of just how big the dracling had gotten. Almost the size of a large dog he was now getting to the point where holding him up in her arms was a cumbersome and awkward task. Thankfully their decent was quick and snow gave way to hard barren rocks which in turn gave way to low scrub brush that slowly grew into the woods on the edge of the chersonese. However, by the time they reached the woods a heavy rain began to fall and even with her cloak Caoimhe still found herself getting quickly soaked to the skin as she could never close her cloak around both herself and dracling so both ended up wet and miserable. Eventually Caoimhe consented to lift the dracling into the hollow of a tree so that she could find them some shelter.

Mud slogged around her feet requiring her to fight for each step forward. Most holes and indents that she found could have fit one of them but were far to snug to allow both to seek shelter at the same time. Others she found were already occupied and she had no wish to fight a bear for its den tonight. Eventually she found a small cave, four feet high, six feet across, and about eight feet deep. Cautious sniff told her that it had been someones home, but the scent was stale so at least for now it seemed like a likely enough place to take shelter. By the time Caoimhe managed to track her way back to where the dracling was huddle in the tree stump there was already a just cooled thermic crystal lying next to him. The charred wood around where the crystal lay made her wary but after a few feather light touches she determined that it was no longer going to scald her if she picked it up. Using her shoulders like a ladder the dracling descended from the tree, a little more mobile than he had started as. They passed the night miserably, the dracling sleeping restlessly and Caoimhe consumed with her own quiet worries and guilt. Morning was slow in coming but it would be days before the sky truly clear again.

______________________________________________________________________________________________​

Time passed and as Caoimhe had fallen into a rhythm with the crew when they had first set out, then with Glyph and Shardis, and then finally with just Shardis she found a pattern she could follow that kept her mind sane and her stomach quiet. Well, at least for the majority of the time. Without Shardis's size and power she was hard put to take down some of the larger animals, and with prey still scarce from the army's drew there were many days when all she could gather were a handful of wild greens. Those days were the worst, they caused her stomach to constrict and twist, not in hunger but with worry, as one days like those the dracling contented himself to digging holes and consuming the earth that he pulled up with his lengthening claws. In general the dragon's appetite seemed to be waning in favor of dirt. The concerned mother watched her son for signs of sickness, but to her surprise he seemed to be growing bigger.

The dark grey color he had maintained as a hatchling was fading towards white, his horns lengthening, though they still retained their same dark grey color, and often when he did eat the meat that Caoimhe provided a tooth or two could be found as new ones grew in to take their place. Then there was the crystals themselves. Their presence had becoming more and more frequent before but now it was becoming a constant battle for the weary Caoimhe. In a far back of the cave she dug a deep hole and had taken to dumping the thermic crystal she did find in there. Still it was getting to the point where at night she could feel the heat radiating from the pit even with distance she kept from it.

There were times when Caoimhe lost her courage, her determination and twice when she was starving and over whelmed she would tuck the dracling away and run back towards the mountain to seek Shardis. The first time she only made it about halfway before she faltered and turned back. The second time she made it all the way back to the cave to find that Shardis had moved on. Even with the relief she felt the desperation that had carried her back to the mountain made her eyes sting.

It was not just the company and the lack of food that occasionally drove her to the acts of desperation. More than once during her constant hunts she would catch a whiff of what smelled life sewage. A familiar and terrible scent that brought Glyph's words to mind and sent her fleeing back to the cave to check on her child. So they had tracked her down, from over the mountains where they had waited for the red Czar to make his move and leave the cradle of the Chersonese. The dragon worshipers come to claim their god and leader. For a week she never even saw one, only the occasional whiff of something foul confirmed that they were even around. Most likely they knew she was hiding somewhere in the forest but beyond that they would have to resort to more old fashioned methods to find out where exactly their target hide. Caoimhe's paranoia grew along with the worry that had been eating at her heart until finally she could worry no more.

Fury, anger, she had worried so long that her very soul was sick of it. She wanted to hunt them and force them back to whatever place they called home squealing and crying as they ran. For a entire day she hunted those ghosts that had haunted her. She ran and ran until her legs were sore, then she flew until her wings were sore, and then she ran again until she could go no further and collapsed under a tree no closer to finder the figures that had tormented her. For a hour she just lay quietly, she knew she had to get back but nothing but her eyes seemed able to move. Completely spent she only felt a cold tiredness take over, it would be hours before she finally pulled herself together and walked the long way back to the cave the dracling giving her an almost disappointed sniff when he realized that she had brought back no food despite the fact she had been gone so long. No it would when she least expected it that she would finally come face to face with those stalking her.

In flight was one of the few times that she truly could let go. Wings growing stronger than ever the dracling no longer needed her to steady his wingtips during flight. She still would fly very close to him, watching in case he took a sudden dive, but other than that her only worry was staying away from the edges of the woods, and making sure that they did not loose their little home. Even with the avian spirit that drove her skywards the Caoimhe half of her that feared the fall should her wings give out kept her close to the treetops. The dracling gave an excited bark and fly for the sun, he would wrestle with the air and hunt clouds so was his right as a creature born for the sky and Caoimhe laughed for the first time in weeks in watching his delight.

"Not to high! The dar--AH!" Skimming so low that her wings almost clipped the leaves Caoimhe had no time to move before a net appeared before her and she was pulled back to earth. She had only enough time to throw her arms in front of her face as the net tightened around her but it did little to cushion the impact as she plummeted through the branches. A swath of green filled her view as leaves whipped at her face forcing her eyes closed as he body crunched up into the net by the speed of her flight. With her eyes closed she didn't see the solid strip of brown that was rushing up to meet her. There was almost an audible crunch as she connected with the branch.

By some last shred of unspent luck she avoided smashing her head her arms deflecting her just enough to have her shoulders take the brunt of the fall. Sliding off the first branch she paid the price for using her luck on the first branch as the side of her head connected soundly with another branch not much farther down before she was deposited roughly on the ground. The branch had rattled her and her very consciousness tottered uncertainly as she tried to right herself. Three vague shapes danced with the trees at the edge of her fading vision, and as one consciousness gave way to confusion another sprang forward eagerly.

"YOU COCKSUCKING DRAGON FUCKERS!" The three shapes jerked back in surprise as Aerie lashed out both verbally and physically, regretting the latter movements as her shoulder throbbed and her head gave a painful twitch. The hunting knife at her hip found its way to her hand and the constantly tended edge sliced through the rope that held her. Scrambling to her feet Aerie's back connected with the tree Caoimhe had hit on the way down. Flaring out her wings she sized up the three assholes that had pulled Caoimhe out of the sky. The shock of her scrambling back to her feet even after smacking her head and shoulder held the three fuckaroos still just long enough for her to get some idea of what she faced.

Strips of shed dragon skin were wrapped around their chests, pearly white against the drabby grays and brown that made up the majority of their clothing. No faces were visible as each wore a plain wicker mask that made each indistinguishable from the next, but it was the sounds that they made that were the strangest by far. Soft grumbles as they glanced at each other, barks, chortles, chirps, and the stray high whine that cut through the air like sun at a Nocturne convention. A single noise broke the stillness that had kept the happy four in limbo. A chirp, like that of a bird to the untrained hear, but distinct in origin to those who knew better. It had not taken the dracling long to notice that Caoimhe had decided to get more closely acquainted with the ground and now he circled uncertainly calling out to his mother. The three strawheads immediately glanced up to call back to the dracling with more soft chirps. Aerie swore colorfully under her breath as the reassuring but unfamiliar calls brought the stupid dragon in closer with curiosity. Quickly she searched inwards for some clue from Caoimhe, but her other half was as responsive as a dead frozen dog so she could only ruffle through spare memories for something to imitate. Finding jack shit Aerie improvised.

"Ah...Scales! Stay!" Perhaps not the most eloquent but the sound of her voice and the forcefulness of her tone was at least enough to hold the dracling at bay. However it also got the three to shut up and focus back on her again. Oh goody.

 

[Silvir]

A setting sea of fire

Evening creeped upon the large tent city. Eydis managed to get back before the shadows grew enough to hide a man. As with all towns and civilizations, none where without crime and violence. And she was not one that could handle getting into a fight right now. But evening was not all bad, with the hilly terrain the setting sun basked the settlement in its soft warm light. Dotted with the glowing fires lit by the residents who prepared for the next wave of customers that would soon awaken the red tents looked like they where on fire. The girl stopped surprised she had not seen this scenery before even though so many days had gone bye. Before she slipped into the large tenth leaving the setting sea of fire behind.

Tachor was pleased to see her return with the package. But had been less pleased with the request that followed and what it revealed about the fox girl. The ability to read was not as common outside Pegulis and feeling bored with the days going by mostly either waiting or serving guests that freely moved their hands where they pleased was not exactly the ideal environment for someone like Eydis.

So feeling the leather under her hands and the dry paper pages between her fingers. The girl's eyes consumed the information the flowed through the book's pages in the common language. Even if it was just a cheesy old drama of countries in conflict, with intrigues in the background and heroes in the front.
Though it slowly turned into some heavy reading as the story progressed. It would turn into interesting reading the coming days.

 

[unanun]

Somehow, the desert was getting hotter, on account of the shallow lakes to their south, filled with solidifying lava. The ykloids lit the night and served as a navigation tool, the radiant heat keeping their nights warm. Soon, they would be able to see the single, impenetrable smoke column emanating from the open strip mine that was Dorgrad.

Countless nights she sat huddled in her cloak-cum-blanket, her parched fingers running around the two tin cans that held the leaves. They started the journey plump but were now limp, with black and yellow creeping in from the edges. Nu used more and more each time to make the infusion strong enough to drive her nausea away. It was unnecessarily cruel that the more she lived, the faster she died, and Chelena felt that her condition was acutely mirrored by the leaves.

Twice she stood and tensed her arm, ready to throw the tin into the blue night. She counted down in her mind, promised that on zero she would let it go. Once she tossed it only to dive forward before it even left her hand, cradling it close to her chest. She didn't feel scared of dying, but her body refused to be her accomplice to the bitter end.

She dove for the fire and heaped sand on it. For a little while, as she gingerly fished out the leaves, black and barely clinging on to the stems, she hoped. That was soon replaced with an empty feeling that she had never quite experienced in her life. Her death, kept ever on the horizon by her journey in the desert with Nu, now began to walk closer, its arrival unavoidable. Its soft, moccassined feet slid through the sand, timed with her stuttering heartbeat and beads of sweat gathering on her nose.

Her illness took the colour from her world, cycling between yellow days and blue nights. From the sunset sparked a red, and from her clenched fists she also saw red (blood?). "Is this your idea of a joke?!" Chelena rounded on Nu, frustration with her silence finally boiling forth.

"We've been in the desert for, for .. weeks. I have no idea where you're taking me."

Nu was busy packing two small tins with a mixture of sand, charred leaves, and some of the ash.

"You won't talk to me. We just take turns brewing my drink."

The quiet girl now used a small, pointed rod to poke holes in the tins. She screwed them onto the side of two leather masks.

"Is this how you bury your dead? Lead them out while they live, drive them into the desert until they can't walk, then let the sand cover them?"

Nu froze, midway in handing the mask over to her.

"Old Kaustir way. Come. You need Ipari mask for Dorgrad. Or die."

Ahead of them, Dorgrad smoldered.

Chersonese

"She was last seen making a line for Dorgrad, High Inquisitor." The Wraith's voice was a throat-full of sand. "Should we continue following her?"

"No. Comrade Orvak will know to treat her properly."

The shadow slid from the broken statue's neck. Lut-Lukesh pulled the mask off his face and entered the war tent as the Burning Czar.

Later​

"The war council is very concerned that I am spearing the vanguard deep into Pegulis."

Shae poured some tea for him, in the dark of the High Inquisitor's yurt. The Czar had to meet during the diurne's day, and the ceiling flaps were tightly closed against the sun.

"So, why are you doing it?"

Lut-Lukesh held a book in his hands. Since the Cataclysm turned everything into dust, scattered to the poisoned airs, relics like these were truly rare. The pressed paper that formed the cover was well preserved by the desert, but in the wet, temperate Chersonese, the paper was disintegrating. This book was brought in by special request, to be returned to Avarath tomorrow. He held a thin sheet of metal in his hands, one edge honed razor sharp. Gingerly, he used the metal to flip the pages, so as to spread the force and prevent his fingers from contaminating it. Pausing at a page, he read:

The surest way to work up a crusade in favor of some good cause is to promise people they will have a chance of maltreating someone. To be able to destroy with good conscience, to be able to behave badly and call your bad behavior 'righteous indignation' — this is the height of psychological luxury, the most delicious of moral treats.

"You're .. you're sending them to die."

"The worst of the worst."

She threw the kettle of hot tea at him and he slapped it away, escaping only with a slightly reddened hand.

"To keep the ones here at peace." Lut gestured to the outside, where the diurnes slept, beyond to the beginnings of plowed fields, a city of tents slowly being built over by wood, small chimneys sticking out of clay ovens. "Once they are gone .. then I can broker peace."

"Of course there will be death. That's what happens, when your predecessor built a culture like Kaustir's. Survival of the fittest. Only the strong claw their way to the top. But I will purge it. Pegulis isn't interested in war, and neither is Tattersal. They will remember our invasion of the Chersonese for centuries, but in time it will become our land."

"In time ..." Lut Sar retrieved the kettle as Shae stormed outside, and poured himself another cup of tea.