This One Realm Chapter: 3 "Seperated Skies, and Unspoken Lies."

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Jumi, Sep 5, 2010.

  1. Mid Day, July 9th, ATS 1125
    Perijin's Spout, The Waterfury


    As the Tourniquet cut deeply into the night sky, the illumination of the Waterfury was everywhere. It's lights flicked across the sky in jaggeg streaks, and cracked the clouds in two, as well as those that were unfortunate enough to fall in it's path or wrath. Hail, and water fell in torrents, and sheeted the ship's deck. Many a seasoned sailor had heard of the environment created by the Waterfury, but only few could say they knew from experience, and survived braving to cross through it.

    Gale force gusts of winds swept across the deck an random moments, and threatened to sweep a man or woman from the deck and out into the skies granting them the longest fall they'd ever know until they were torn apart by the swirling, and hungry winds of the Void. Those on deck of the Tourniquet were harenessed to various rails, and held onto their ropes, and stations with white knuckled grips.


    Zagara stood on deck, with ropes attached to his torso, and anchored to the ship's railing. His spinning eyes gazed deeply into the hellish barrier that barred them from the Midrealms. The rains had denched him to the bone, and he then broke his gaze to turn back to the rigging. Ku-Jon, and Kargon had both explained to him what he was to do, and it was much more difficult with the slick ropes, and rocking deck of the ship as it steadily plowed through the wind, rain, hail, and lighting.

    "What hell is this!? This is no storm! This is the wrath of the Gods!" Zagara yelled out to Ku-Jon who stood quietly at his post at the ship's wheel. The Captain's eyes, remained dark in concentration. He'd passed the storm many times, but each time always felt like it might have been one trip too many.

    Lightning arced along the ship's side, and forced Zagara to rear back and cover his eyes as the blinding light burned the sight from his eyes, and blinded him momentarily. A few moments later he felt a few of the Tourniquet's other crew members grab him by his shoulder's, and shove him away from the ropes which they then manned for not trusting the mage's application of his newly acquired sailing knowledge.

    "Keep yer eyes on the rigging you damn mage!" One yelled over his shoulder as he struggled to anchor the knots with the other sailor.

  2. This was the wildest ride she had ever been on.

    The storm raging outside was forcing the ship to tilt and rock in the air. Oralia always thought that maybe airships could avoid that rocking motion, since they were in the clouds instead of on turmulent water. ...apparently she was wrong! Lying down in a bed only proceeded to make her 'seasick'. When she tried sitting in a chair, she found herself toppled to the floor on multiple occasions. Standing only proved to be minimally better. At least her legs could adjust to the movement and she could brace her hands on the walls when need be.

    Oralia tried to look out the window. All she could see was torrents of water beating against the glass. Occasionally there would be a flash of light. Vaguely illuminating the sky, but not offering a better view. Pushing away from the window, she left the small room and stumbled out in to the hall. Not even near the stairs to climb on deck, she could already hear the roar of the storm and see water pouring down on to the floorboards. She wondered where all that water drained, or did someone down below have to carry up buckets and dump it all overboard..?

    Climbing the stairs, the rain fell sideways and so hard it was beating down against her face. She could barely see more than a few arms length in front of her and the wind was so strong, she figured it could blow someone away. Almost as if to prove the thought for her, the ship made a sudden lurch. Oralia tumbled out on to the deck and crashed against the wooden railings. Nearly finding herself flying out in to the sky without a thing to cling too.

    Someone snatched her by the back of the shirt, turning her to face them with snalring laugh. "Get back below deck, gurlie! Only th' men can handle it up 'ere!" He didn't seem to notice Prestadeth or the newer members of the crew glaring daggers at his back as he shoved Oralia through the portal. She dropped down past all the steps to land on the wet floorboards below deck. Picking herself off the floor, she had half a mind to march back up there. At least until the ship lurched again.

    ...maybe it was safer to stay below.
  3. Prestadeth leapt from one billowing sail to the next, easily sliding down the thick fibers until she reached her target- a fist-sized tear. She thrust her hand into the leather pouch at her side, and withdrew a handful of sticky paste, and smeared it across the tear. The foul goop quickly hardened fused the edges of the tear together. The sails were riddled with such discolored patches, and through the wind and rain, Prestadeth could see several others like her, crawling about the ship’s sails.

    Seeing her pouch was nearly empty, Prestadeth launched herself from the sail, and allowed her tethered body to be swept up by the winds. The elf woman maneuvered her freefalling body to dodge ropes, wood and bodies as the deck drew closer and closer. At the last moment, the winds suddenly changed, causing Prestadeth’s breath to hitch as she was blown off course. Luckily, she was able to grab hold of the mast before she was flung over the edge. From there, she crawled catlike down the splintered wood, to refill her pouch.

    The elf was easy to spot amidst the chaos above the deck, her teal eyes shone in the darkness, seeing all that went on clearly as if it were day- an advantage of her kind. Though there was something else in the glow of her eyes-a murderous wrath to rival the storm's rage, that never faltered once as she worked. The other sailors had wisely left her to her task once they were certain she was capable.

    Ku-Jon had assigned her the task of repairing the sails as they were constantly torn by the wind, stating that a long-eared tree-dweller would have no problem climbing and leaping from each sail. Perhaps he was simply hoping the storm would fling her into the hungry void below, and save him the trouble, but he was right in his assessment.

    Unfortunately, the same could not be said as soon as her feet had touched the deck. She had never spent much time on airships, and while she had plenty of experience with violent storms, this was like nothing she had ever seen. The elf was experiencing a serious case of ‘sea-sickness,’ but she would be damned if she would allow anyone else to know. Prestadeth simply resigned herself to stay above, climbing amongst the sails as long as possible until she got her sea-legs.

    Air-legs. Whatever.

    "Keep yer eyes on the rigging you damn mage!"

    Zagara stumbled across the slick deck after being shoved away from the rigging, nearly losing his balance from the violent winds pushing him along. He came to a sudden stop when something strong grasped his shoulders, steadying him. The mage glanced at his shoulders and noted that dark, feminine hands held him.

    Prestadeth had dug her heels into the deck in order to keep them both steady, and to save her stomach.

    “Are you hurt?” She yelled over the blasting winds, the first sign of concern she had shown for anyone since their first meeting. She felt she owed it to him. After all, it was her poor planning that landed them into indentured servitude to a rag-tag gathering of low lives. He had stuck by her, aiding her in escape twice.

    And there was that other little detail of him summoning the shade of her dead father. She had not had a chance to interrogate him about that, and there was no way she was letting him get away until she got some answers.
  4. [​IMG]

    Spite-torn wind lashed at the rigging and sails, tears of the Waterfury soaking the deck and drownding the air. Ku-Jon stood silently at the wheel, fur lining his lupine face and burning eyes turned upward, every upward. The gem of the tempest was clasped in one silver-maned hand, its energy lashing at the storm around them. Despite the struggles of the men, Ku-Jon could not allow himself to be cowled. This was unlike any other time he'd entered the Waterfury...his men were struggling even WITH the gem's powers. Hooked teeth gleamed in the strike of lightning passing but feet over the deck. The torn sail flapped in wounded deperation, pervading the sound of thunder with its own alarm of urgency. Snapping away from concentration, Ku-Jon spun the wheel at the gem's behest. A pillar of crackling wrath, easily as thick as any tree, rippled the water-dark air abreast the stern. Leaping from the wheel, the new captain shyly took the contoured wood and turned it deeper into the storm. For a women, she knew the push and pull of airships well. She'd sub in well for Ambrose while he was recovering. Prowling the deck, Ku-Jon was a silver-haired monster among men. Zagara struggled to tie the swollen rope into knots but found himself inadequate. He was a mage, no sailor, and in a time when his combustible magic was useless, he found himself sorely wishing he'd walked another path of life. Strong hands grasped his shoulder and tore him from the rigging, twisting the mage to stare up into the blood-sooty eyes of Ku-Jon.

    "Enough mage," He growled, forcing the Gem of the Tempest into his hands "Put your magic to use and calm the Waterfury!" Zagara felt the energy of the orb within his grasp, the warm tug of eldritch breezes contained within. He was no aeromancer, but he had an inkling of how to do it. Ku-Jon had left no room for argument, his muscled body contorting against the wind as though some phantom fettered by damned compulsions. Growling at Bill Garrunn to take the work Zagara had failed to accomplish, Ku-Jon yanked the mage up by his shirt and sent him spinning down the stairs. Prestadeth was quick to scramble her way across the deck and toward where the mage had vanished, but her path was ended by the feral Ku-Jon.

    "Back to the sails with you leafskin," he ordered, indicating with a black claw, "You can coddle your human later." Prestadeth snarled, the growl of her tone lost to the winds howling around them. The ship convulsed, buffeted sideways by an errant swipe from Waterfury and Prestadeth nodded, the time for facing Ku-Jon would come later. Behind them, Kargon roared his own challenge back at the winds and yanked a rope to hold the flapping sail taut. His dark hair clung to the sides of his face, matted by the water, an his muscles rose like mountains from his sodden garb, straining to battle a familiar foe. Ku-Jon only afforded him a glance, trusting in Kargon's skills to weather him through the they always had. For an instant, a smaller creature stood in Kargon's place. Cherubic cheeks flushed in effort, a younger Kargon hung his full weight from the rigging with grimaced teeth. He had been as steadfast in his service then as he was was comforting how little things had changed. Lightning burned the sky and the Cast Soul drifted near the sailor's shoulder. Since his accident, the roving soul of his first mate had never anchored completely to his body. A ghastly thing of tattered shadows it drifted in and out of sight, hidden by the storm. It regarded Ku-Jon with an inscrutable expression for a moment, some regard of things to come and then gone to tempest shorn darkness.

    The water mage earned her keep repelling the worst of Waterfury's tears. Her face was wet with sweat and water, but her hands bent and swayed to the erratic patterns of rainfall. Her mind was bent in concentration, a rope tied to her foot in case the worst should befall. Kargon had his own, as did most of the crew. Guiding the hydromancer away from the railing, Ku-Jon turned his eyes to the sails. Prestadeth hung to the flapping canvas with grim tenacity. Certainly she seemed suited to scuttle across the riggings and ropes, not unlike a spider. Ku-Jon grinned.

    It was short lived.

    The Cast Soul flared to sight in sudden morbid consistancy, heralding the snap of timber as the mast buckled under the pressure. Splintering and tearing away from support, it fell sideways off the starboard rail. The sailors, knowing grimly what must be done, set to work snapping the ropes which bound the mast to the rest of the ship. If the full weight were to settle, the entire airship might be flipped into spin...a spin ending only in the Abyss. Ku-Jon thought quickly, leaping across the deck and putting both hands against Kargon's chest. The fist mate was scarcely allowed a roar of surprise before hurtling over the deck and out of sight. His rope caught and strained against its knot, holding firm. The mast swept past him, Pestadeth clinging to the sail with naked fear upon her face. In an instant, her life had been undone. Without thinking, Ku-Jon swept past his labored men and dove from the side of the ship. Catching the scourged mast with a clawed hand he scaled it toward the canvas. Prestadeth had begun her journey upwards, scrambling to catch holds in soaked sail as she propelled herself back toward The Tourniquet. Ku-Jon was to her first, enhanced muscles springing his large body upward as one long arm grasped her around the waist. The last rope snapped with grim sentence and the mast lurched beneath Ku-Jon's feet. Roaring, the captain hurled himself and Prestadeth toward the railing. In that moment he was indignant and triumphant both. Barely catching hold the splintered rail, he deposited the elf upon the deck and swung onto it himself.

    "Why?" Prestadeth spat, no happier for being saved than he was for saving her. The question gave him pause, it was something he was not entirely sure of himself.

    "I've lost too many of my crew to Waterfury," he finally said, low voice a rumble "And I won't be feeding her another."

    Gone from her side, the shifter hauled Ku-Jon back on board sputtering and cursing. The storm howled with renewed fury as the Tourniquet buckled in her ascent. If they did not breach the sky in the next few moments, the storm would force them into a fall. Ku-Jon looked for the Cast Soul, a harbinger of ruin...he saw it not.

    That, alone, gave him hope.

    Summary: Tourniquet loses a mast, Kargon compensates, Zagara is left with the orb to control the storm, and Prestadeth has an unlikely savior.