This One Realm: Chapter 2 "So What Now?"

Not open for further replies.

How long have you been here, Lyseth. How long have you hidden here. Why are you hiding here. What are you hiding from ... From the mortals who seek to bend you to their will, or perhaps from something even you cannot see. How long more, Lyseth. How long more will you rot in this shell of flesh and bone and blood, bound by laws. Lyseth plucked at the strings. She was tired, she was alone, she was angry, she was confused, she was hungry, she was thirsty, and she was not in the best of moods. The plucking grew into something more, a ballad sung in a low, soft voice.

"My home ...
So far away ...
Past mountains, seas, and tides unseen,
Through valleys, glens I've been ...

"My home,
A mystery thing,
How I pray to see your shores again
But I know 'tis not meant to be ..."

Princess Oralia gave the slightest of glares at Kargon's back after he had shoved her in to a seat. A clonk of a mug set in front of her drew her attention away from the pirate to the strange smelling liquid in the cup. She had to lean forward to get a whiff of it. The smell of the tavern was so strong, she could barely get a scent of anything else. It might have been for the better, as the liquid contents didn't smell all that drinkable.

Several of the pirates at their table laughed. Nudging and cranking jokes about the drink and her in specific. A quiet huff escaped her as she picked up the mug and took a big swallow. She coughed! Drawing another round of guffaws and chortling! It tasted awful. Not like the sweet drinks and subtle champagne that was served at the royal palace. As it went down, it burned and settled in her stomach in the most horrid way. In moments she could feel that little tingling of the alcohol working it's way through her blood. At least that was a familiar sensation.

In refusal to be the butt of bawdy-pirate jokes, Oralia took another drink. This time without coughing. A evening casting a haughty so there! grin at them. While she sipped in silence, she took great interest in examining Ku-Jon. He was their pirate leader. Oralia also took in the room. She had never seen a tavern before. The place was dirty, messy, loud, and apparently filled with people that liked to get in to fight. Maybe if she sat still long enough she could take the opportunity to run away when they all got distracted...
Prestadeth watched Kargon go, a carefully painted mask on her face gave none of her thoughts away as she observed the tavern and the people inside. A plan was starting to form in her head.

A sputtering cough to her right brought the elf's attention to her young hostage, who was trying to stomach the noxious grog that passed for drink. Not a bad idea, she thought, perhaps she would follow her example.

A burly man, wearing nothing but a tattered kilt and leather straps on his chest, lumbered behind her in passing, a large stein of grog in his ham-sized fist. There was a surprised roar, followed by a crash as the barbarian tripped over something invisible and fell face first on to the floor. Prestadeth had turned enough to catch his drink, before it could spill.

She turned to face the pirates across from them again, a sharp smile of pleasure slowly spreading across her face as a tune began to start up from across the bar.

"Ah, something sad and sweet," she took a sip of the grog and fought the urge to grimace. "It aids the digestion."

From across the room, a drunkard shouted to Lyseth. "Play The Dead O'Tooles!"

Might as well enjoy this drink with Oralia; it may be their last.

With only a moment passing between Alyss' greating, Elanore entered his quarters, and the council was begun. Sindar motioned for one of his guards posted outside to shut the door, and as it cloesed, the general placed a rough, and worn hand to his forehead. He then rested both hands on the large wooden table in front of him, where a map was laid out. "You both know why you were summoned... Aberdan is dead, and his assassins are now hours outside our reach with Princess Oralia in their possession. Kargon is the only known member of the group which is comprised of three other individuals. An elf woman, and two human men... one is a Magi." He said with distaste in his voice.

Circling the castle with a finger, he began to drag his hand outwards into the skies above the palace. "Initial reports place them leaving off to the south, and the beginning to descend farther into the void. I'm sure you've both heard of a haven known as the Bandit Bluffs?"The general's cold demeanor towards the king's death would make one question his character, but the two before him knew the man had revered their King, and he was acting on pure duty in order to stop himself from weeping for the man who'd been like a father to him for the better part of his life.

"The known Assassin, Kargon, is a very strong, and crude individual who is very clever when resisting arrest, and should not be underestimated in what he will do or try to avoid capture... and I fear that he would gladly put Oralia to the sword should it save his skin, and so we cannot outright hound them... pirates can smell military search parites, and so I've decided that the best course of action is to trail them, and attempt to cut them off... Elanore, the Castigation has speed, and we will use that to our advantage."

Turning to Alyss, Sindar's eye focused on her intently. Alyss was a very capable officer, and has proven to him countless times that she can hold her own in combat, but what he was about to ask her was something that she was not used to... she would be asked to stay her hand from her weapon, and act as a homing pidgeon for the Castigation. "Lt. Alyss... I want you, and you alone to trail the assassins by foot, and keep the Castigation aware of their movements. Infiltrate their group, camp beyond their senses in the wild, or use any other tactic so long as you do not reveal yourself as a member of this military. We're at a disadvantage, and we will not odd to the mistakes that were made this night."

Standing back from the table, Sindar folded his arms, and closed his eye a moment. "The Bandit Bluffs location has always been a mystery, and some say it doesn't exist, but I have an absolute feeling that they would venture there... for it's their one trump card if it exists... they couldn't possibly survive in the skies long enough to get out of our search routes. If you both under stand what I ask, then I want you to prepare the ship, and take their last known headings, and outfit the ship to hide it's true appearance."

Lyseth's song faded and the harp's tune changed. It flowed less now, she plucked the strings a bit more. It was the beginning of the requested song. She wasn't always so eager to comply but, truth be told, she needed to get her mind off of her current trouble.

"Do ya hear that, that's my ma crying,
She said, "Son, I'll take you home",
But I said, "See, Ma, I don't do that,
I'm a man o' my word and I roam!

"No laws to mind but mine!
No trouble 'cept my own!

No need to tie down, or be a clown
'Cept when I want to 'cause that's how I roam!

I went down the street and I met 'im,
He said, "Son, you'd better go home"
I told him, "I ain't goin' nowhere,
So leave me be or I'll break all your bones!

"No laws to mind but mine!
No trouble 'cept my own!
No need to tie down or be a clown
'Cept when I want to 'cause that's how I roam!

Past law-bidin' men and nobil'ty,
I make my livin' and take my prize
No one is stupid 'nough to face me,
No whore will say no to my lies!

"No laws to mind but mine!
No trouble 'cept my own!
No need to tie down or be a clown
'Cept when I want to 'cause that's how I roam!"

Then while Lyseth played, a few of the patrons made up their own verses and then sang the chorus!
Steve flew through the night, the trip was uneventful until he reached the Waterfury at the break of dawn, He concentrated on wrapping himself in a bubble of flame to stave off the furious tempest he was about to traverse. The moment he entered he and the phoenix were rocked by wind and rain so fierce that it made even the most fearsome dragon seem tame. He stood on the back of the Phoenix and concentrated on his spell, the bubble would take the brunt of the tempest, still the wind was fierce and the rain turned to steam wherever it struck his shield. The steam obscured his vision for the entire flight through the Waterfury, but at long last the fury had subsided and as the steam lifted from his shield he could see it, the glorious Citadel of Fahm before him, floating just beneath the tempestuous wind and rain of the storm above.

View attachment 1360

The great Citadel of Fahm, it was a glory to behold, countless ages old and grander that the oldest dragons. To have been there when it was new would have been a marvel few minds could handle, but even in ruin. The Citadel was Spectacular.

Steve approached the courtyard used as a landing zone for those who used flying magics as he did, and the great phoenix touched down bowing it head to let it's rider disembark before dis-appearing into a plume of smoke. Steve walked into the council's chambers to give his report, bowing to one knee as was custom
"It is done," he said "The king is no more, quite literally I might add."

Turning towards Steve, a figure clad in soft robes of various blues sighed heavily as the Pyronmancer spoke with what appeared to be a certain glee with his accomplishments. A hand moved to the figure's face, as if to hide the ambarrasment that the young Magi caused. "One could have been a tad more subtle... silly fire casters, and their need for dramatics...." the figure said in a soft voice that was hard to give hint to whether it was a man or woman. It's opposing red eyes that peered from underneath the hood then narrowed as they focused on the Pyromancer.

"So Abderdan is indeed dead? And what of his daugher, Oralia... you wouldn't be made the fool to spare her in the heat of your great accomplishment... would you young fire caster? And leave a child of a murdered king to take up arms against his muderers?" the voice asked with a soft sting at Steve's demeanor. Had anyone else been present, they would probably wager that the two had bad blood between then... and truthfully they did. Lorza had little respect for Pryomancers in general..., and even less for Steve due to the Cousland's past actions. They were always reckless, flashy, and abundant.

Before Steve could answer, Lorza held a hand out to him, to command silence. "Nay, young fire caster... spare me what petty excuses burn on your tongue else I cool you with logic, and fact... So I ask again... did you complete your task, and end the King's line?"

It didn't take a soothsayer to tell that there was indeed a mutual tension between the two women. Though when they had to acknowledge the other, it was always clipped and formal, since they both at least shared a mutual respect for the other's rank.

That was where it ended, though.

Sindar's orders made, Alyss saluted him once more. "Yes sir, I will set out immediately."

Though she still wondered why she simply could not stealthly infiltrate their group and simply take the princess back, without further risking her safety to observe them. However, in the presence of Commander Elanore stilled her tongue. She would not question her superior officer in the presence of others.

But something else about this situation troubled Lt. Greenkey, and it showed plainly on her face. Two of the kidnappers had been prisoners in their own dungeon. Already a mage and a forest elf working together with pirates to kill a king and make off with the princess was a strange occurance. Was this some sort of an elaborate set up? Or a freak occurance? There were too many unanswered questions to tell, but Alyss knew, deep down, that things were about to get much, much worse.

These thoughts coiled about her brain, even after General Sindar had dismissed her, and she had left to prepare.

Zagara laid there in silence, focusing his gaze on the ceiling with such intensity that he may have eaten through the deckboards of the main deck. His hands clenched ever few minutes as he felt his anger beginning to boil undernearth his skin... ~Here I lay, in the captivity of pirates when I could single handedly sweep them all from the deck, and into the Void!~ He screamed at himself in thought, and then pulled at the ropes holding him to the bed. They creaked, and cracked but held firm, and forced him to relax, else the ropes would cut into his skin.

The door the cabin cracked open as a haggard face appeared from betweent he doorway. "S'wat's teh noise you be makin', boy? Simmer down n' be quiet like!" The pirate then stepped in, revealing the cutlass at his hip, and the dirk in hand which was covered in tar. He's been resealing the deck to prevent water damage.

Looking at the knife, Zagara's eyes widened... that was what he could use... and it would be much subtler than the magic... now just how to get it?

"Filthy sea mongrel... you have no idea what you've all done... or who you've tried kidnapping have you?" Zagara said attempting his best to mock, the man while sounding important.

"Hehehehe, aye boy. We know who we've got. A lassy princess, an narcoleptic magi, n' elf with knives for eyes. What about it?" The pirate returned the mocking, and began walking towards Zagara... his knuckles tightening around the hilt of the Dirk. As he reached the bed, he placed the Dirk along Zagara's cheek, and pressed the tip into the man's skin lightly enough to draw blood which wasn't too difficult... considering the edge the man seemed to maintain.

"You ain't nothin' special, n the like... every man bleeds, so don't be gettin' no ideas, boy. Captian pays us, and treats us good, ya hear?" The man said with a grin... revealing a rainbowed smile... one that made Zagara wish to vomit then and there.

But in that instant, Zagara fixed his eyes on the pirate, and spoke the spidery words of the magic, and.... nothing.

"Eh? The hell you tryin' to pull?" the man said in alarm, and reached for Zagara's head, just as Zagra spoke the words once more. The pirates hand dropped to the matress, as did the dirk, and he crumbled to the floor with a thud... and very loud snoring.

With heavy breaths, Zagara calmed himself for a few minutes, and looked at the dagger laying at his side. Reaching for it, he managed to cut his arms, and legs free, and remove himself from his bindings. Laying the dirk on the bed, he rubbed his wrists lightly to ease the rope burns, and looked around. A lone window revealed itself, and Zagara already had an idea in mind... 'Jump.' As he opened the door, and noticed the long way down, he bit his lip, and began to rethink his plan.... and he knew that he couldn't get off the ship unnoticed if he tried using the walkway...

In a hurried plan of grabbing just about every piece of fabric that he could, Zagara tied them all into a very disheartening rope, and latched it to the foot of the bed, and tossed the length of it out the window. The young Magi then placed a finger on his forehead, and drew a triangle in prayer while offering up "I should have never taken that damn golden plate...." and climbed out the window, and began down the length of cloth

Clinging to the makeshit rope with a white knuckled grip, Zagara slowly began down towards the ground, and noticed that it seemed a lot father now than when he'd looked out the window...

It should come as no surprise that when the cloth rope began to slide, and unfold that Zagara was quite surprised, scared.... and mad. He fell the last seven feet with a "GOD DAMMIT!" trailing him as he slammed into the ground, knocking the wind from his lungs.

Mean while ondeck, two watchmen heard the words, and turned to eachother.

"Hey, did you hear that-oomf!" His partners fist placed itself into his stomach.

Swaying back and forth, with a mason jar in hand... the other pirate stayed at the other with grog laced eyes "Don eva say the lord's name in vain.... ya bastard!"

Zagara groaned once more, as he rolled onto his stomach, and made his way to his knees, and then eventually his feet where he began to make haste into the town in order to get away from the Tourniquet. He made it to the town, with what he assumed was stealth, but upon stepping foot onto the streets, he noticed that he was getting all manners of stares, which made him reach under his coat to his hip... where his sword WOULD have been, and he cursed himself... and once more for not keeping the dirk.

As he walked, an elderly man began to approach him, and Zagara held up his hand revealing the Brand of an Apostate to him.

"Don't want any trouble sir... no need to get like that..." he man said, and began backing away in caution.

~So it would appear that even in the home of pirates... Apostates, and Magi are still feared.~ Zagara thought to himself, as he walked past a large building filled with music, talking, and smelled of stale ale. He turned to see if he could seen a sign indicating what it was, and found himself stumbling towards the door as a force slammed into him from behind.

He only heard the voice of to men arguing about a bar wench named Molly as he crashed into the door, and fell onto the Greasy Spoon's floor, with the door shutting behind him.

Summary: Zagara manages to incapacitate a crew member on the Tourniquet using magic, and frees himself from his bindings, only to fall to the ground after a half baked plan of using cloth to climb from the boat, and is then knocked into the tavern by chance as two individuals outside battle for the affections of a bar wench named Molly.

"Lost me first leg when I were a boy, and t'other last winter. Same shark."

"You're hired."

"I sailed on the John Brancey, the one wot got blown up."

"You're hired."

"Wait! You guys are pirates?!"


"Oh man, I stuck him good. Right in the gizzards. Bled like a pig 'e did. T'aint nothin' better than stickin' a fella wot deserve it."

"You're hired."

"Ah yes, Hydrophobia - that's what the apothecary said."

"You're hired."

"I'm a half-angel half-vampire with dragon's blo--"


"Ohmigod, Ku-Jo-Kun, your boat is soooo cute! Can I come and make cookies?!"


"I have... f.. four months to... to live..."


"Aw, did I bring up some daddy issues?"


"Oh, these cat ears? Well, it's a funny story actually..."

"Get out."

"Aye, tha's right. I killed me last cap'n. Ye wanna make summin o' that?!"

"You're hired."



"So... um.... where do I put my character she--"


"And when the sun comes up, my skin starts to glitt--"


"Gully McTavish? Ye pushed me overboard last year when ye were drunk?"

"Welcome back."

"Pirates, you say? How wonderfully droll. I'll have to tell Lady Harrington."


"Hire me, or I'll gut you like a fucking fish!"

"Welcome aboard."

As the last pirate signed up, Ku-Jon sat back in his chair, stretching lazily and glancing over at Kargon. "How are we doing?"

Kargon was scrawling on a piece of paper, frowning as he did his calculations. Anyone watching might have been fooled into believing he could actually read and write. In reality, it was just a crude drawing of a boat with little circles on it. Kargon gripped the charcoal pencil in his fist and stabbed at the parchment.

"We're short three powder monkeys and a couple o' boatswains. Plus we be needin' a helmsman."

The captain glanced over the top of his tankard as he drank. "What happened to Ambrose?"

"Scabies and rickets... or rabies and sickets... one o' 'em. Had to take 'im off watch and put 'im in the kitchen."

"You got a man with scabies cooking our meals?"

"Yeah, 'ad him replace Larry the Leper."

"Fair enough."

Kargon suddenly roared as the next chorus came up. "No laws to mind but mine! No trouble 'cept my own! No need to tie down or be a clown. 'Cept when I want to 'cause that's how I roam!"

Leaving his drawing with the captain, Kargon picked up his tankard and staggered around the table, landing in the chair next to Oralia, which had been empty ever since Bill Garrun found himself a whore. The big man slammed his tankard on the table and sloshed some of the ale on the princess's sleeve before he leaned in. On the other side, Prestadeth's eyes narrowed.

"Now, lassy," Kargon began, raising a finger to Oralia. "I dispense for thee some wisdom, fer it's a thing in sore needin' by you womenfolk. No man nor lassie in this fair realm be free till they kill their fathers. 'Tis the place o' sons and daughters to do so. For of the many shackles that may bind a man, none chafes so dearly as that wot raised ye." He had a sudden fit of coughing, then snorted back some phlegm before pointing at her again. "So, we'll be 'aving no tears and none o' yer wailing. For you be yer father now, and yer mother, and mus' do 'em proud and pray you'll die as well as 'e."

He slapped her on the back then chugged on his ale again, confident that he had set the young girl's mind at rest.

Then Zagara spilled through the door, and the tender moment was over. "Oi!" Kargon shouted, flinging aside his tankard and charging across the tavern, knocking other patrons aside as he barrelled towards the runaway.

By now, Lyseth had finished singing and now the drunks were having their turn. They made up verses, clasped their neighbors' shoulders, and waved their drinks. Alcohol splashed to the ground, soaked clothes and then a few fights broke out. Meanwhile, she was still humming the song and strumming the harp lightly, if only to keep her mind occupied. "Hmm hmm hmm ... hmm hmm mm ..."

Lyseth did not hear the crash that announced Zagara's presence. But she did feel it. It was like a light in the darkness, dim at times, blinding at others. Or a fire that grew and died down, only to gain strength again. A presence that spoke of magic and power ...

"So familiar ..." she murmured.

There were a few problems with that--one being the man who charged for Zagara on sight. The other being that the man was larger than she and there was no way she could physically carry him. Instinct and reason told her to leave it be. Whoever he was, he was trouble. She didn't need trouble. She had enough of her own. But on the other ... She was lonely and curious. She had not been curious for quite sometime.

Lyseth stood from her stool, tucking her small harp under her arm, and made her way through the crowd to the fallen Zagara's side. In the process she used her water magic to make every drop of ale splash onto the floor in front of Kargon to trip him and in his eyes to blind him temporarily. She kneeled down beside Zagara and lifted the mask from her face when upon closer examination, she recognized him!

"... Zagara ..."
A few men short, more or less the state of traveling. These days a man was either dead, crippled, or undependable. The latter were the most often hired, but Ku-Jon made exceptions for the first to when times were slim. Drumming his fingers on the table he let a wash of grog jolt him to his guests. Music coalesced well in the background, a lyre or harp stringing along a tune he wasn’t familiar with. Sounded too soft to be in the bar, like a bright bird caught in a grotto of snakes. Sooner or later it would be swallowed and lost.

With sideways glare, Ku-Jon affixed the elf in his line of sight. Of all his guests, she was the one he wanted most to cut up slowly. Her existence was offensive in almost every way the pirate could imagine. Oralia in all her innocence was only a mite more tolerable…considering she was worth more than fifteen times the city around them…likely more. As if a natural part of the crew, she remarked to the table that the music was sad and sweet enough to aid digestion. Snorting derisively, Ku-Jon interrupted.

“But not your purse elf. Won’t be I to pay for your comfort.”

Prestadeth glanced down to the prone man she’d tripped earlier and fished a leather pouch from his back pocket.

"He'll pick up my tab."

"A poor elf...if I haven't seen the bottom of creation...Have you given thought to the debt of life you owe me?"

"Indeed," Prestadeth replied without much interest. "And consider it repaid."

Ku-Jon frowned, closing an open hand over nothing.

"I'm afraid your currency is a mite transparent for this deal."

"You have insulted and threatened me since I set foot on your little ship. You are also, no doubt plotting ways to separate me from my captive even as we speak."
Her eyes glittered and a vicious smile split her face. "I have killed many men like you for less. Consider my sparing your life up to this point as repayment."

"Aren't you a saucy whelp," Ku-Jon muttered, swinging his arm out as if indicating something around him. "Without my ship you're be strung up higher then a troll's chin and dancing for the hangman. Killing me would have been a quick assurance of your own rather pleasant demise." Twirling the black dagger on the table, Ku-Jon let the point rest toward Prestadeth, a poorly veiled threat.

"That captive is more mine then yours elf, and I'm a captain wanted for high treason. That girl is leverage from an angry navy and I'm not to be lettin some spit of a rootfolk play me a fool."

"You are a fool. And the girl is mine."
She stated without mirth, sipping the remainder of her grog calmly.

Ku-Jon's face darkened, the shadow of rage coloring his cheeks. "Remember your trees to hug in the Low Realm."

Prestadeth's smile widened. "True, but more than enough shadows. "

She took another long drink of her ale, arriving toward the bottom and frowning, distaste for the blunt brew obvious. "I grow bored with your attempts to frighten me. Perhaps a change of subject before we resume tearing at each other’s throats?"

"Nothing so savage," Ku-Jon protested "Tearing leaves such an ugly mess. I prefer a softer evisceration." The banter had slowed, though the enmity still hung thick between them. Nodding, Ku-Jon bade her continue.

"What were you doing in that castle? Something tells me you didn't receive and invitation."

"A gentleman never brags." The captain answered, draining his grog and grabbing another mug from a reeling crew member "And you? As fitting as a dungeon is for your ilk, I don't presume you were there to begin with."

"Perhaps a tit for tat?"
Prestadeth suggested.

"Unfinished business with the pomp and royalty."

The elf arched an eyebrow, "Sounds exciting. Pity it didn't work out."

"A dead king and a kingdom wot got no direction"
he drawled, imitating Kargon's rough syllables "In short, treeling, I'm satisfied with the events...but our little miss royalty is the real feather in my cap.”

"I wouldn't start counting the feathers, just yet, if I were you."
The elf winked and Ku-Jon resisted the urge to punch it.

"And you'll stop me? No elves here tree hugger, you have nowhere to run to."

"Do not worry where I will run, too. We have our ways. What you should be worried about is," She paused to place the stein on the table with an audible thump, even over Kargon’s bawdy singing. "What I will do to you, the moment I perceive your threats to be a little more than empty words." Something gleamed in her eyes. Something ancient. Something vicious.

Laughing abruptly, whatever once peered hungrily from her eyes was gone. "But all this talk of death! Surely we can sheath our daggers for a moment, and talk of something lighter? One must always have spaces of peace before war."

"Arrogant little nymph aren't you? Don't underestimate your competition. I did nick the prized gem off The Castigation after all, no small feat there."

Prestadeth didn’t comment, idly slipping another stein from a passing barmaid. The theft went unnoticed.

"You haven't answered your end of the question."

"Hmm?" She looked up from the drink, eyes slightly unfocused and breath thick with grog’s scent "Oh yes, forgive me."

"I was simply waiting in a cell for the executioner's blade, or the magi's. . . thorough attentions. Whatever it is humans delight in doing to my kind. Obviously, I did not want to find out."

"They wasted cell space on you? Standards have fallen. No accounting for poor management." Ku-Jon chuckled, draining the next mug, "And how did you wind up in the castle dungeon?"

"I asked a magi for directions,"
Prestadeth returned with a grin "And what of you? Or, do you walk about stinking of a cell to attract women?"

"I slept a few nights in a Magi's home, I must still be carrying then stench."

"I'm happy to see you have another means of making coin. Industrious little bag of fleas."

"This 'bag of fleas' is the only reason you're still breathing I'd wager."

"Yes, thank you for that. Now it seems I'm what stands between you and your little plot for greatness, not to say I don't blame you for trying,"
Prestadeth sat back, indicating the tavern around them “So where does that leave us, my little flea bag?"

Ku-Jon paused to think, spinning the dagger back to his palm and grinning. "A debt of life you owe and a princess I'm in need of. We'll exchange the two and spit a deal."

"Oralia," Prestadeth confirmed, drawing out the syllables, "Will be staying with me, as I am the one who caught her, therefore her life is in my hands and not yours." A single finger raised imperiously before Ku-Jon could speak, "However, I am an honorable 'elf', and a life debt is owed. So I propose this: I will not kill you this night out of gratitude."

"How touching,"
the captain muttered, pouring another mug of grog from a stained bottle, "I'll remember your valor when I mount your ears in my quarters.” He paused, “The princess is a useless token with you. I, on the other hand, know how to bargain with the royal types."

"I've seen your methods of 'bargaining',"
the elf said sardonically,
"Her uses to either of us are irrelevant. She is mine and I intend to keep her."

"You may find it hard to carry her without arms, I hear the task is quite challenging." He did not allow a grin to invade the grim of his face, holding out his half full cup, "More grog elf? Or shall we cut the banter and decide which of us is walking out tonight?"

Prestadeth accepted the cup, but turned it around and around in her grasp rather than drink from it. "Your hospitality will not go unforgotten, but the outcome was decided long before we even sat down." Without warning, the elf thrust the mug forward, a wave of alcohol splashing into Ku-Jon’s face. Before he had time to let out a growl of surprise, Prestadeth had quickly hurled the stein into a big mans head behind the captain. Ducking away from the table, the elf took Oralia’s hand and pushed through the mob. Behind her, a choked roar dogged their trail followed by the sound of a table cracking. Ku-Jon followed shortly, hefted by a larger man across the room and into another singing group of cutthroats. Zagara’s entrance went unnoticed as Ku-Jon hurled himself to his feet. He could see no sign of Prestadeth in the crowd, only the stinging aftermath of her attack and the itching rage beneath his skin.

As though waiting for this moment, the Rusty Bucket erupted into violence. Few started fights within the infamous tavern, but when someone else had thrown the first blow…the resulting chaos would be placed upon their shoulders. A time for getting ahead and quickly removing an enemy, Bucket Brawls were banned for their fatality…which was the exact reason they still happened.
Surrounded by men of various sizes and capabilities, Ku-Jon snarled.

The elf had long outlived her usefulness.

Summary: Bickering and bar fight
Steve practically spat the wrods at Lorza, "My orders were to slay the king in a way that would sent a message to everyone that the Magi were not to be trifled with, and all debts to them would be paid. Not to murder an innocent gril," he looked at Lorza with more disgust than he usually afforded him he truly couldn't stand the bastard and, despite the rank between them, made every possible attempt to show his contempt at every possible oppritunity. "But still" he added taking on a more professional tone "It seemd the king was keeping a pet abomination in the dungeouns from the looks of him."


"Enough!" Someone had been listening to the conversation all along. "The tension between the two of you could set this place on fire and flood it with sewer-water...AT THE SAME TIME! We do most certainly not tolerate this kind of behaviour in our own ranks!"

"Bjork!" Lorza responded, shocked.

Entering the room was a small man, hovering galantly on the air above any human of normal size. Sitting gently on the breeze that carried him under his control, in a position most resembling of a man meditating. Bjork was not like any average human, his skin was covered with brown fur, two of his teeth were forced to stick outside his mouth at all times and he had two horns placed on the right and left side of his head. But most notably at first sight was his eyes. Accompanied with his teeth it made people judge him differently from his real personality. His nickname among those who did not know him was 'The Moleman', a short description his bullies had used on him while he was young.

That was not the case on current date, Bjork was respected by most in the high realms. As the Magi-Master of aero most people accepted him for who he was, both based on his looks and his behaviour.

Bjork closed his eyes, pointed his nose up and inhaled so much air his belly bulged like a bubble.

After exhaling, he lashed out at Lorza "How can you live in this enviorment?!!" The smell! The smell was terrible!

Even if he was the smallest man in The Realm, he would still be able to rip the soul of the fiercest warriors and monsters apart.

After some more furious lines were thrown at Lorza in a grumping manner Bjork rested his hands on his kneecaps, still in his sitting position. Then he followed by a swiftly motion with his arms, pointing straight at the nearby open window. Air started to mildly make it's way out, but quickly turned into a storm, still stairs that would have been easily knocked over stood still, no materials seemed affected, not even a book moved from it's spot.
Now he pulled his arms back, pointing in the opposite direction, a new storm coming the other way, then he rested his arms back to their normal position and everything was as it was the way he entered, just so much better.

"MMMMMMMMMAAAAAAAAAH! Fresh air!" Bjork laughed, his eyes colored like shining diamonds.

At last, he lowered himself to the height of the kneeling Steve as he approached him. "Pyromancer...we are greatful for what you did..."

He floated about pondering while scratching one of his front-teeth.

"...but the princess has to die! It has to be done, The Order demands that you go through with it." He concluded, rising back up to normal height.

  • Like
Reactions: 2 people

The tavern had erupted into chaos. But in such a place as this, one expected it--and took advantage of it. She placed her harp on Zagara's stomach. The man was unconscious but he wasn't dead, not yet. She would have been disappointed if he had. To survive what he had when they had first met and die now?

"I have not seen you in sometime and this is what happens when we meet again."

"It seemd the king was keeping a pet abomination in the dungeouns from the looks of him."

"An Abomination? We will speak of this later, fire caster, once your handler arrives... if Varkas isn't already drunk as usual."

Rounding on his heel, Lorza watched the furry Magi float into the room. Lorza never could stand how Bjork always floated around in order to flaunt his ability, but he never would speak of it for fear of Bjork's ability... more than once, Bjork had proved himself, and though Lorza was loath to admit it... Bjork was a master of Aeromancy, and probably the best the Order had ever seen... and so it was with this fact, that Lorza didn't argue his fellow master on his point about the animosity within their order.

"How can you live in this enviorment?!!"

"You know well that this place is too filthy, and drab for me, my furry little friend." Lorza snapped back. "You would speak to Varkas, and ask him, for these fire casters are such slobs compared to my students. The difference is night, and day." The Hydromancer finished as he looked at his nails, and then turned back to Steve as Bjork continued barking orders.

"...but the princess has to die! It has to be done, The Order demands that you go through with it."

"He is right, young fire caster... the princess must die, else all your actions would have done is sparked a fire, and fanned the flames... like most of your kind's actions..." He added at the end in order to sting Steve once more, knowing full well that his words would dig deeper into the Pryomancer's skin.



As he began to pick himself up off the tavern's floor, some strange masked woman knelt before him.

"I have not seen you in sometime and this is what happens when we meet again."

Giving her a raised eyebrow, Zagara continued to lift himself to his feet. "I believe you've either had enough ale, or not enough perhaps..." He then dusted himself off.


Whipping around towards that voice, Zagara looked wide eyed at Kargon as he was plowing through the crowd towards him. "Excuse me miss, but you might want to return to your drink, and whatever else it is that you do here!" He said to Lyseth after giving he a shove, and then reached to his belt. With no hilt for his hand to fall on, Zagara sighed with an "Oh dammit..." Before he could think of something else, Kargon's closed fist connected directly with this face, and sent him stumbling backwards into the wall, where Kargon decided to promptly place a foot to his chest.

As he slid down, the massive thug grabbed Zagara by his shirt, and lifted him up against the wall. Zagara's hazed vision managed to return enough to where he could see the man, and he lashed out with a kick aiming for the man's lower jaw hoping if anything that he could at least get some distance between him... or if he was extremely lucky... knock Kargon out.. which wasn't likely.

Kargon's odd words left Oralia with an unsettled feeling in her stomach. Though, that could have also been contributed to the alcohol that was working through her system. The more she drank to show off to bawdy pirates, the much darker her mood was beginning to swing. The conversation between Prestadeth and Ku-Jon was lost on her until she found her hand grabbed by the elf and dragged across a suddenly uproarious tavern!

Her hazy thoughts realized that this might be the perfect moment for an escape! Oralia jerked her hand free from Prestadeath and turned on a heel. But before she could start running she ran straight in to the chest of an fist swinging individual. Her muttered apology died on her lips when he gave a wide toothless smile and went grabbing for her. Ducking to the floor before arms wrapped around her head, Oralia darted between his legs. She paused only long enough to yank down his pants before she continue ducking and weaving through the mess of people to try and find the tavern door.
It was fortunate that Cassandra had been watching Ku-Jon's actions from the corner of her eye. When the first cup was thrown, and the rest of the bar retaliated in kind, she was already darting underneath her table, just in time to avoid being splashed in alcohol by a man swinging his tankard back and forth wildly. Although this was not the first time she had seen a barfight, this was probably the wildest one that she had seen. Weapons were being drawn, and anything that wasn't a weapon was being modified to become one. Some of the more magically-inclined patrons were even readying spells.

Drawing her own sword from her sheathe, Cassandra shimmied over to the next table, farther away from the action, just in time to see someone tumble into the table she had been sitting at, splintering it in half. Recoiling, she accidentally stuck her legs out from under the table, tripping somebody who was running towards somebody else, and thereby causing a knife to fall point first into the ground. She didn't bother to check who it was that she had dropped, as she instead opted to crawl in the opposite direction. Much to her surprise, however, as she was on her way to another table, someone picked her up by the back of her shirt and turned her around.

"You saved my life, girlie," Ku-Jon growled, and set her down on her feet. "Now get over against the wall and stay out of my way."

"Umm...yes sir," she whimpered, and ran in a manner most unladylike to do just what the captain ordered. She wasn't feeling much like taking part in this fight anyway.


"Lorzaaaa!" I'm not your dad, you're a colleague for....." Bjork didn't finish his sentence. Whatever issues these two had, he wouldn't bother interefer with it for the time being. Before Steve could reply, Bjork asked him to step outside for a while so that he and Lorza could discuss Master to Master activities.

"Now Lorza, I have a proposal for how we handle this princess-business."

Bjork floated up wards, stopping right before he touched the roof, bended his body forwards and scratched the back of his head against it.

"Aaaaaah yeah, mmmmaaaaah, thats the spot." He made some cuddle sounds that really could have you question wether he was human or animal.

After a moment of awkward silence, he lowered himself back to normal height and glanced at his companion.

"Something that could very well make this whole scenario a whole lot easier, for us." Bjork had to pause to scratch his shoulder. "Mraaah, I really should be taking a bath!"

"Anyway, our scouts reported where the princess is, and we could very well put rumours into life that she turned on her father. That this was all planned by her and some secret pirate-lover of her. We need to identify someone as her lover. The average citizen doesn't know what Oralia is really like, with enough power and will put into this, it could actually work...and it would be so much fun!"

Bjork paused for Lorza to let him have a moment to dwell on it.

"Of course, it's not as easy as it sounds, let me worry about that. One way to make this wild accusation more truthworthy to the citizens of Fomura, even among the elite, would be by working with pirates..."

He performed a somersault in air just to entertain himself, his favorite excercise to perform on random occasions.

"You are the first I've shared this with, give me your thoughts on it."


Lyseth was pushed out of the way, turning in time to see Zagara grasp for something that wasn't there. She slipped the long leather belt through her harp and buckled it across her shoulder. Then she picked up a chair and broke it against Kargon! "Stubborn oaf ..." she muttered. She would have to resort to more drastic measures then. She quickly cast a spell that allowed her to manipulate the blood running through someone's veins and hence the limbs they nourished.

However, because of time limits, she had to deal with whomever closest to her and the spell only affected one. She gestured. A medium, wiry human male suddenly stopped pommeling the man he was on top of, to stand and jump onto Kargon's back! The man was baffled but he couldn't stop hitting the pirate he was clinging to!
Not open for further replies.