There Aren't Any Pirates In This Story

[Alembic]

Closed to Enigmatic Immortal.
The dockmaster's teeth were the color of rotting corn. Amelie watched them move up and down in his mouth with ugly fascination. His unkempt beard sprung out in every direction away from his face, and she wondered if the hairs had grown with such ferocity in a desperate effort to get away from his rotten incisors. “Excuse me, what were you saying?” she asked.

“I was saying, this ain't no place for a lady such as yourself,” the dockmaster said. He clomped his heavy black boots on the salty wet surface of the pier and crossed his arms. Behind him, sailors threw ropes and lifted anchors and prepared their vessels for the day's work. A wet westerly breeze brought the lovely stench of rotting fish to her nostrils. Earlier, a seagull had barfed half-eaten tuna on her dress, and she'd been forced to change. Kileport was such a charming little port town.

Amelie smiled at the man and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. The fisherman's shirt was stained with beer and fish guts. He disgusted her. “I'm looking for passage to a certain island off shore,” she explained. “I believe it lies only a few leagues to the west of here, perhaps not much farther than most of these fishermen travel in a day. I have gold to pay, should that be necessary..”

The dockmaster hushed her and leaned in closer. “Look, now,” he said. He smiled the way one smiles at a small child. “I'm the dockmaster here today, and it's my job to make sure there's no trouble. And I can't be sure there'll be no trouble if you keep going and saying things like that, alright?”

Amelie looked around. A few feet to her left, some sailor-types were sitting around a barrel and shooting dice. They were conspicuously managing to not look in her direction or pay her any attention at all whatsoever. She watched the same sailor roll the dice twice, three, four times, without any recognition by the others. Hmmm. “Very well,” she said, in a quieter voice. “Nonetheless, I am on an errand of vital importance. I can hardly swim that far!” She laughed, as though this was any sort of joke.

“Umm,” the dockmaster hesitated. “Which island did you say you wanted to go to again?”

Amelie pulled a folded up sheet of parchment from one of the pockets of her dress and examined her notes. “I believe it's called Whitianga.”

The dockmaster's eyebrows raised, like twin caterpillars arching their backs. “Are you sure you want to go there, miss?”

“Yes,” Amelie said, simply. She was tiring of this man and his horrible lack of hygiene. Here she stood, an alchemist of no small genius, a summoner of demons, a creator of life and a tinkerer with the very forces of nature themselves, and this stupid, small-minded man dared to condescend to her! The nerve he possessed was unbelievable. If only you could bottle up stubbornness, she'd make an exceptionally potent mixture from this conversation alone.

The dockmaster sighed. “I won't sleep tonight if I hire a crew out to take you there, I'm afraid,” he said. “Not unless you get yourself a bodyguard or something. I dunno what to tell you. That place's just flat out dangerous. I wouldn't set foot there myself, not without every protective trinket from here to Gisela around my neck. You're standing here asking me if you can go picking shark teeth from the mouth of a hammerhead.”

“That might be useful, actually,” Amelie said, scratching her chin. “Look, I don't think you understand what I mean when I say important. I'm talking about the truest Water in existence! Not just water but Water, an element so pure it could even...” She stopped herself there. It would almost certainly be a bad idea to reveal her purposes to this man. What she spoke of was the element known as Azoth. The pure essence of water itself, Azoth was no doubt a key to the production of the Philosopher's Stone, and was said to have the property of curing any known ailment or wound. To obtain such a legendary thing could bring her alchemical experiments to a whole new plane. Now, though, she honestly found herself unsure what direction to proceed in. She hadn't imagined in coming here that someone would physically attempt to keep her from her destination in such a way. She'd traveled all the way from Radasanth to get to Kileport—down through the Comb Mountains, through Concordia forest, all the way to what was possibly the southernmost point in all Corone. Such a long way on her quest, to be stopped by something as foolish as a fisherman with an ego? Ridiculous.

“You're a strange girl,” the dockmaster said. “Why don't you just—”

Raised voices and shouts from the far end of the pier cut him off. A splash followed some loud thumping, and then more yelling. Sounded like a fight. The dockmaster swore and ran towards the sound.

“Hey!” Amelie shouted. She chased after him. “I'm not done with you yet!”

[Enigmatic Immortal]

The sea breeze was rather pleasant on Jensen’s skin, feeling the salty tang upon his tongue as his arms stretched upwards to the barely cloudy sky. His fingers began to ruffle the long locks of his hair as he scratched his head, and the only thought he had in his mind was a simple one.

What exactly am I doing here again? Jensen smiled to himself as the thought crossed his mind over and over. Yes there was some mission he was supposed to be on, but the weather was just so perfect and wonderful! How could he be concerned with something so important and time sensitive as a mission when the sun was shining and the air was blowing just soft enough to make his hairs rise. He danced around the many individuals who made it hard to maneuver, finding perfect balance as he darted from side to side, lithely.

The port was busy with activity as several fishermen and sailors made their way around. And Jensen found himself in the west portion of the boat docks, where the Coronian naval guard docked. Jensen watched the sailors switch shifts as they moved in, and he passed by one of them as the man talked loudly.

“Marshall Ravenheart is rumored to be making rounds soon! We better get everything into gear or this port is gonna have his gunblade so far up our butts we may as well be licking it clean with our tongues.” Jensen snorted to that comment and one of the guards noticed him. Angrily the man looked to him, seeing his smug look and the other guards rounded upon him.

“What you laughing at?” One asked him.

“Letho Ravenheart is an old washed out man with nothing better to do than sell his stupid gunblade flavored barbecue sauce. The man is way past his prime and the only thing he does nowadays is bark out orders, grumble about the good ol days, and farts.”

“Do you know how easily that man could kill you?” Another soldier asked.

“Depending how fast he can get out his wheel chair, I’d imagine not long.” That made the soldiers cringe with hurt pride, moving towards Jensen. He watched their rusty greaves clack against each other, their weapons slowly sliding out of their holster. With a roll of his eyes the immortal turned away from them and began to walk onwards.

“Hey, Stephen, did he walk into a restricted area?” One guard said loudly.

“Yeah, I think he did, Danny,” Stephen replied.

“And if he didn’t what do we care? We’ll just plant his broken ass in the zone.” The third said darkly. Jensen smiled as he felt his blood start to move, and a solitary chuckle escaped his lips. He kept his back to them, but as he walked he made his pace slower and more exaggerated as he began to swing into his favored Carioporiea fighting stance.

“Suspect appears intoxicated,” The third said again licking his chops. When he reached out a hand Jensen turned quickly, laughing hysterically as his hand thrust forwards, clipping the man’s throat. With a gurgle of pain, the man fell to his knees, clutching his wounded throat. The other two advanced quickly, and Jensen had to pull back and dart to the side to avoid the tallest one’s arms. With a carefully placed hand he flipped over the soldier, kicking the other in the process. Upon solid ground again he whipped his foot around and knocked the heel of his boot in the thirds chin, bringing him from his kneeled position to unconscious.

Several other guards began to run towards the scene and Jensen let his adrenaline fuel him as he began to laugh hysterically, arms flowing into the second man’s gut over and over like a punching bag. He avoided a staff to his gut, grabbed hold of it, and returned fire hitting the foe in the stomach and holding the weapon lazily upon his shoulder, lifting two fingers up and taunting the Coronian port guard on.

“Come on sisies your boring the crap outta me!” Jensen teased. The guard came running at him, now four more newcomers as Jensen used his staff to try and keep them away. It spun around his body as he hit them, but more and more came at him.

“Letho’s an old man and you all fight like one! Come on, ass hats!” Jensen hollered. More soldiers began to run in to detain him, including a larger burly man with yellow teeth that looked like they would cause infection just looking at them. Jensen sighed as he worked out his angles, seeing the different men all surrounding him. At first he was confident in his skills, but now?

“Hey now, thirteen to one seems hardly fair!” Jensen looked to his right and saw a man incoming, but when he turned to dodge another came from behind and grabbed him. “Hey, I want my rights!” Jensen shouted as they dog piled him. The dockmaster fought his way forwards and just as the immortal felt his wrists bind shut, he looked into those yellow crusted filth enamels.

“You are under arrest, sir, for public disturbance.” The dockmaster looked behind him and rolled his eyes. “That girl better drop it…” Jensen looked to the rather noble looking woman and saw the intent to be a complete and total annoying bitch in her eyes.

“Hi,” Jensen said weakly with a wide grin and a wink.

[Alembic]

Amelie surveyed the vagrant and the group of soldiers detaining him with growing interest. The strange man with the odd hair and unusual clothing was almost certainly an adventurer. She knew the type from back in Radasanth—they could be seen there moving in and out of the Citadel all the time. The sort of person who wandered from place to place, fought random people and almost certainly had some sort of tortured past. Perfect. Just the sort of person she needed, in fact. A plan formed in her head and her jade-green eyes lit up with excitement.

“What's your name, vagrant?” she demanded. She put her hands on her hips, stretched herself up to her full height, and walked up to him.

The dockhand growled at her. “This isn't any of your business, lady.” Amelie ignored him. The fact that he'd switched to calling her 'lady' meant her aristocratic demeanor was working and he wasn't about to stop her. For once, she felt thankful for her upbringing as a noblewoman.

“Up yours,” the adventurer said. He spat at the ground beneath her feet. The soldiers tightened their grip on his arms and Amelie took a step back.

“Watch it, Mr. Yours,” Amelie said. “I already had to change my outfit once today.” She paced back and forth across the pier in front of him. The soldiers and sailors stood around the scene in a semi-circle, oddly silent. Everyone seemed too curious to see what she and the red-haired man would do to intervene and do anything. Finally, Amelie raised her head and looked the adventurer straight in the eye. “I would like to hire you as my bodyguard!” she said.

No one spoke. A few seagulls squabbled over a half-eaten crab and flapped their wings at each other. Finally, the dockmaster spoke. “What?” he said. “You, um. You can't do that.”

“Why not?” Amelie asked. “Is he not suitable for a bodyguard? I believe I just witnessed him dispatch a number of your soldiers, despite being significantly outnumbered.” She looked at the rag-tag group of soldiers, with their greasy hair and rusty weapons. Something about them reminded her of the seagulls who loitered around the same pier. Mr. Yours, on the other hand, seemed more like a hawk than a gull.

“He's a criminal!” the dockmaster protested. “He was disturbing the peace!”

“Yes,” Amelie said. She turned away from the dockmaster and rolled her eyes. Great Aether, how could people be so dense? “But you're a smart man, Dockmaster. I can tell. Don't you see that this solves both our problems? I'll have a bodyguard, and this disturber of the peace will be away from your dock and on Whitianga island.”

The crowd who'd gathered to watch mumbled their agreement. The dockhand grumbled something, but Amelie could tell he was sick enough of dealing with her to do anything to get her off his dock. “Fine, whatever,” he said. “Hey, Wallace? You wanna deal with these two?”

One of the sailors stepped out of the crowd. He wore a blue bandana and a black eye. “Sure,” he said. The way he pronounced it, the word sounded more like shore. Oh, sailors. How endearingly nautical. Amelie resisted the urge to roll her eyes again. The sailor named Wallace started shouting orders to his crew, who began to prepare a nearby sloop for sailing.

“Nobody asked me about this,” the adventurer complained, as the soldiers released him and shoved him towards the sloop.

“Well, Mr. Yours,” Amelie said. She smiled at him with all of her teeth.“You could come on an adventure with me, or spend the night in a salty little prison filled with sea rats. Your choice.” She took careful steps up the plank boardwalk to board the little fishing vessel, and spoke to him again over her shoulder. “Oh, my name's Amelie, by the way. But you can call me Ms. Boehme.”

[Enigmatic Immortal]

“Right, your name is smart ass, got it. So, Mrs. Ass,” Jensen said crassly. “This shindig you got going on, how’s the pay?”

“Pay?” The noblewoman said in a whimsical manner, as if the idea was in itself silly to even start with. “I think the payment of keeping you out of prison would be proper enough.” She turned with a click of her heels and began to trod towards the boat that had been procured for their voyage.

“Hey, I got a little girl I need to send to college!” Jensen said thinking of his little one, Azza. The adopted child was always in his thoughts since he had been kicked out of the Ixian Knight’s and so he spent his free time being a freelancing mercenary for hire. Seth Dahlios, Aislinn Orlouge, and the occasional bar tender had been his usual customers as of late, but if he was about to go on some voyage he needed to make sure his contacts were informed.

“Barbarians are trained for free, are they not?” She tossed her head back and smiled, so sweetly, so politely. So…vilely.

“Hmm, good point. I’ll train her to kick you ass,” Jensen muttered as he shuffled his feet forwards so a guard could untie him. When he felt his bonds free the immortal rubbed his wrists tenderly, thinking of all the torment this bitch of a witch was about to cause.

“Do not dally any longer, Mr. Yours, we have a time table to uphold,” She said walking up the plank. Jensen rolled his eyes as he looked to the dockmaster.

“Can I choose prison?” Jensen asked. The dockmaster shook his head solemnly.

“No, but to be fair I’d want the same thing,” He smiled his ugly teeth to Jensen, patting him on the back forcefully pushing towards his charge, and Jensen reluctantly began to shuffle forwards like a slave boarding a trade ship, eyes cast downwards with arms held to his front resting end over end.

“Gonna be a long voyage,” Jensen sassed under his breath. The immortal looked upon his vessel and eyed the rigging, the crew, the smell. It was a fine vessel, nothing overtly fancy but then again the man was used to living inside a cave. He did happen to note that usually these vessels had no beds either, just rooms with hammocks. Jensen giggled at the thought of his new companion being stuck with a hammock and no fruity bed with a million ducks slaughtered to make it super retarded fluffy. She was already conversing directions with the navigator, giving off coordinates and pointing to an approximation on the map he had. To be fair, it was a sign she wasn’t as helpless as one would think she would be. If anything it showed the crew that she was just as nautical savvy as the rest and wasn't going to be a total dunce for the voyage.

Jensen watched her move gracefully as one could on a moving boat, keeping a steady hand on the rail to move herself forwards towards her room. Jensen decided to follow her, for what else could he do? With a few quick steps he easily caught up to her. “Name’s Jensen Ambrose,” the immortal said kindly offering his hand to her. She looked to the hand as if it was diseased, and he was about to comment when he saw her eyes quizzically look to her left in silent thought. He waited as they paced, and she turned her head to him again. Realizing he walked four steps with no handshake he removed the gesture.

“You,” She said sternly. “You are the one Sei Orlouge kicked out?” She asked the question softly and Jensen’s spine stiffened letting her steps walk ahead of him.

“The faggot fairy king?” Jensen said in a daze, remembering his tussle with the Ixian leader. Ms. Boheme looked back to him and gave off a soft smile.

“I didn’t know I would be hiring the scourge of the Ixian Knights, how intriguing,” She said happily, as if this was some great profitable gain. Jensen eyed her carefully, watching her as her eyes looked to him, then to her right. She did this process repeatedly until Jensen looked to where she was, seeing the door.

“My apologies, Mi’lady!” Jensen said in a rude tone, bowing in front of her like a jackass several times. “Many pardons for you dimwitted servant!” He continued. “How stupid and asinine of me to not think of opening a simple door for such a fine beauty like yourself,” Jensen rolled his eyes as he stood up and opened the door.

When she walked into the room Jensen put on a wide smile of satisfaction, watching her reactions to seeing the smelly room with two hammocks tied to a post in the corner, one above the other. He took another whiff of the air and concluded something rotted inside this room and he stifled the laughter he wanted to build up.

“I CALL BOTTOM BUNK!” Jensen shouted tossing his jacket towards the coat rack and darting for his bed.

[Alembic]

With the rising sun and a fine easterly wind at their back, the ship made good progress on the second day. Amelie carried a white parasol about the deck and watched the sailors go about their business. She found herself thankful for the many trips between Scara Brae and Corone she'd made as a child. Familiarity with the sea was almost a requirement for the Coronian nobility, given the island's dependence on trade and the strength of their navy, and she'd absorbed a lot from her observation of the sailors.

“We should increase our speed by a few knots if we want to get to Whitianga before midday, Navigator,” Amelie said. She stood at the prow of the boat and looked over the shimmering expanse of water before them. How useless it all was! Salt water: one of the most common elements in the world, yet so impractical. She supposed it was fine for fish and all, but humans couldn't drink it. She couldn't use it in her potions. What a waste.

The navigator sneered at her, exposing teeth almost almost as bad as the dockmaster's back in Kiteport. “Yes, Lady,” he said. He started barking commands to his subordinates, and Amelie walked away with a smile. The sailor might resent her intrusion, but he'd done as she said, hadn't he?

She made her way to the back of the boat and twirled the parasol in her hands. Perhaps it was just the heat, but she found herself in an unusually cheery mood this morning. The sun overhead was bright on a cloudless sky, and a group of porpoises followed in the wake of the boat. They flipped and chittered to one another and made splashes in the otherwise calm ocean. Amelie stood and watched them in silence.

“Are you going to tell me why we're going to this godforsaken island?”

Amelie didn't even bother turning around. She could picture Jensen Ambrose in her mind's eye just fine. He was probably leaning back against the cabin, wearing that stupid jacket and smirking at her. She'd grown tired of his nonsense very quickly. No wonder Sei had kicked him out of the Knights.

One of the dolphins swam up to the side of the boat and did a flip in the water. How irritatingly whimsical. “Disgusting creatures,” she said.

“What?”

“The porpoises,” Amelie explained with a sigh. “So slimy and rubbery. You can't even eat their meat, it tastes awful.” She turned around and faced Jensen. He'd left his jacket in the cabin, but not the smirk.

“You would eat a porpoise, wouldn't you, Miss La-Dee-Da.” Jensen said. “You're dodging my question.”

Given how far she'd come from Radasanth, Amelie found it almost suspiciously ironic that she'd run into Jensen Ambrose, the outcast of the Knights. She'd heard plenty about him, alright. Even given her status as a new member of the Knights—she'd join when Sei Orlouge went looking to recruit an alchemist—she'd heard the stories about Jensen. How he'd gone crazy after a failed mission and started yelling insubordination at Sei and the other generals.. How he'd cursed out Sei's daughter, Anita, in a way not fit for a lady even to repeat!

Amelie still wasn't sure about that bit, actually. What did the letter G have to do with anything?

Whatever the case, she probably ought to hide her status as the Ixian Knight's alchemist for now, at least. She had undertaken this mission for their sake, after all. The wonderful healing powers of Azoth would no doubt be useful to the Knights in their endless struggle. She doubted Jensen would be any more willing to help her if he knew that, though. “I'll tell you what we're looking for when we reach the island,” Amelie said. “It's nothing the famous Jensen Ambrose will be too scared to handle, I'm sure. Go back to sulking in the cabin.”

Jensen spat over the side of the boat and glared at her. “I can't,” he said. “There's a creepy monkey in there, and it won't stop staring at me.”

For a moment Amelie was confused, but then she laughed. “That's just my homunculus,” she explained. “I told him to watch over my things and make sure nobody steals anything.”

“Is that the reason you slept on the floor last night, then?” Jensen asked. He was smirking more than ever before, now. The smirk was so intense you could probably forge steel with it. Aether above, this man was annoying. Yes, Amelie had slept on the floor. Not because she was afraid of thieves, but to avoid sleeping in a bunk over Jensen and giving the man a long view of her backside. From what she'd heard, he was quite the pervert.

Amelie had an urge to stab Jensen with the point of her parasol, but one of the sailors joined them and she resisted the temptation. The sailor glanced at glaring noblewoman and her smug bodyguard and raised an eyebrow. “Uh, sorry to interrupt your conversation, but we've sighted land ahead.”

“Already?” Amelie said. Her mood rapidly shifted. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach at what lay ahead. If all went as planned, by the end of the day she'd have one of the most powerful forces in all alchemy in her hands. “Very well,” she said, now smiling. “I'll go and gather my things.”

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Though land had been spotted it had taken more than two hours to sail in and set anchor around the island Ms. Boheme had requested to visit. The captain of the boat and his charge spent those two hours arguing when she had been alerted that no more than the barest crew would help them take a dingy off the port to the shore, but would not enter the island with her. That was what Jensen was for.

The immortal was rather enamored at the beauty of the island as they came in. The lush green of flora and fauna and the contrasting brown and white mountain ranges were a small pit of paradise. The puffy white wisps of clouds above the island gave it a serene feel as he spotted birds of paradise flying over head, taking to the skies with mighty colorful wings that even from a distance could be spotted.

He had contemplated for a while why nobody had renovated and controlled the island, but as they got closer his answer was revealed. The island was, as far as civilizations were concerned, rather small. It was as big as combining the two cities of Akashima and Radansanth in size. Huge for small tribal or easy going villages, but far to small for the commencement of industry. He shrugged either way in the end, for it really didn’t interest him. Boredom struck forth yet again and Jensen sighed as he felt a terrible tingling sensation in the back of his neck.

Without bothering to turn he could feel the cold icy nature of his employer, an almost tangible aura of manipulative and bitchy emotions lashing out at him. In some strange, distant way it reminded him of the serial killer Cassandra Remi, making him sneer in contempt at the memories the two had. His hand instinctively touched his throat where she had cut it, but no scar marred his features.

“I suppose it’s just us,” Jensen spoke first, his tone aloof as he gazed to the island. “Not expecting the crew to aid us on your search for whatever the hell it is your looking for.” There was a moment’s pause, before the clicking of her heels softly treaded forwards, Amelie standing next to him and looking to the island with an adventures eye. Where Jensen saw the beauty, she saw naught but the prize. By no means a bad thing, all things considered. Somebody had to be on the up and up.

“That is our predicament,” she replied. “Idiot thinks two people alone in the jungle is more than enough to handle whatever wild creatures or vile diseases we will run into can handle. He has informed me he has enough supplies to anchor for a month before he sails back without us. Judging the size of the island it shall not take us long to find what we are searching for.”

“Which is?” Jensen left the question vague, a perfect opportunity for her to answer. Yet as he expected she merely twirled her parasol in her finger tips, turned away from him and walked to her cabin. He watched her leave and began to grow irritated with her noble snobby attitude, so, with the most grace and finely gentlemen like manner, ripped the parasol from her hand. She turned instantly, a look if indignation and audacity on her face as she gruffed angrily to him. “Oh man, Azza always wanted a nice umbrella, let me see how this thing works. I push up when I want to close it, right?” Jensen taunted, slightly straining the delicate metal as he forced it upwards.

“Give that back to me, you petulant child!” She made a move to grab for it, and easily the immortal lifted it above his head where she couldn’t reach. “Ugh!” She growled as she debated jumping for it, but her feet remained firmly planted on the ground. “How dare you treat a lady like this! The fact you even have a girlfriend…”

When woman talked, Jensen’s brain usually shut off. Base insincts all male creatures are born with tend to take over, and he called this state, happy time. As Amelie ranted to him about his manners and upbringing and how his girlfriend must be some hag, he looked to her like a choice meat. He took in all her assets and began to categorize exactly what her best quality was.

“A Neanderthal! That is what you are! A childish, boorish…” Well, I can safely say her eyes are beautiful. But that nose, ugh, so ugly when she wrinkles it. Azza’s little nose is way cuter. Like a bunny's. “You have the ego of a sky dragon, the manners of an ogre…” Nice ears, but honestly, I still hate to say it, but the creepy bitch Cassandra Remi has those edible ears you just want to nibble. Hmmm let’s see what’s on the rack.

“The fact you were exiled from the Ixian Knights is terribly no surprise…” Whoa, not bad. Aislinn’s are bigger though. Way bigger. Like, double scoop Tuesdays at the ice cream parlor in market street bigger. I’d love to see her shape, but with that outfit she hides it pretty well. My guess is she’s never been laid. “You are not even listening, are you?” Hmmm, legs are…not well toned to my liking. In shape, but not toned. Stephanie still has the nicest legs…I miss Stephanie. Jensen sighed thinking of his girlfriend back in the Ixian Knights.

“No, you are not…you…you are ogling my body aren’t you?” The words flowed with no surprise to them, as if Amelie had expected this behavior. Hmmm, her ass isn’t as nice as Kyla’s. Dear god does Kyla have a nice ass. Nope, I think overall, with the way her locks of hair curve her face, the prominent chin, and the prideful and proper way of standing, her chest is her best asset.

“Idiot, Neanderthal, boorish. Girlfriend’s deaf dumb and blind with no taste. Nothing shocking really that I got kicked out, and yeah I was listening, and yes, you got nice tits.” Jensen smiled that trademark jackass smile. Amelie looked to him, eye twitching as she debated how to proceed. “So, I paid attention to you, will you finally pay attention to me and tell me what we are looking for?” Jensen asked, smiling brightly with a soft chuckle as he twirled her parasol in his hands.

“You didn’t do a good job of paying attention,” She said at last. “If you did, you would remember I would tell you when we got to the island. We are not on the island.” Jensen cocked his head to the side and in a split moment she made a move to grab her parasol. Jensen easily dodged her attempt, pushing her away with one of his hands. Where they went was harmless in every aspect, but to her, it was just blatantly wrong for Jensen to put his hands on her hip in such a manner. He had brushed her away, hand moving smoothly as if he had pushed away a lover, and to be honest it was reflex from all the times he and Stephanie play fought.

With swiftness not even the usually fast immortal was capable of dodging, her palm slapped him across the cheek, the other grabbing her umbrella in a huff, and she turned walking back to her cabin.

Ouu, bonus, soft skin! He grinned following her.

[Alembic]

As soon as Amelie stepped off the fishing sloop and onto the beach, the heat washed over her. The temperature on Whitianga island was at least fifteen degrees higher than it had been on the ocean. She started sweating profusely under her clothing. The current fashion in Radasanth was layers and layers of dresses and petticoats and the like, and so of course she dressed herself in this manner, but it wasn't exactly suited to this climate. If she had been alone, she could have taken some layers off, but giving Jensen Ambrose a view of her skin could not be considered an option.

She glared at her “bodyguard” as he followed her off the boat and he smiled and raised his hands in the air. The perfect, innocent, Why, what did I do wrong? expression. Insufferable misogynistic bastard child of a she-wolf.

Overhead, some brightly colored birds of paradise cawed, and below-foot red and green crabs scuttled back and forth across the beach. Banana and sandlewood trees crowded together further in and formed a jungle with a dense and tall canopy. The homunculus perched on her shoulder looked around with wide-eyed curiosity. Amelie began walking and didn't bother looking back to see if Jensen would follow her.

Unfortunately, he did. “Time to tell me what we're looking for,” he demanded from behind her.

“Fine,” she said. Her patience with the man was getting thinner and thinner, but she found herself already too exhausted by the heat and humidity to argue much. She felt like she was being smothered by a thousand soggy down pillows. “We're here looking for the alchemical element known as Azoth, which can be found only in a spring at the center of this very island.”

“And why exactly do we want this stuff?” Jensen asked.

“Nothing that would interest you,” Amelie lied. “It's significant to my experiments, but of no practical use to anyone else.” They reached the edge of the beach and started hiking through the jungle. Little monkeys with long fluffy tails climbed about the trees and leaped from branch to branch. Brightly colored flowers blossomed on the ground amidst a dense undergrowth. Maybe in other circumstances it would have been beautiful, but Amelie found no joy in her surroundings. The faster she left this place with a silver vial full of Azoth, the better. She could not wait to return to Radasanth.

Jensen grunted and climbed over a rotting log. “The sailors said this place was cursed. They refused to even set foot on the shore. Any idea why that might be?”

Amelie shrugged. Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed something scaly slithering away from them. A snake, or her imagination? “Just superstition," she said. "I can't account for the folk beliefs of locals.”

“You're not telling me everything,” Jensen said.

“I'm not,” Amelie admitted. “But I'm telling you everything you need to know. Trust me, I don't know much more about this island than you do. What we're looking for is in the middle of this jungle, I know that much. Now please just—”

A vine snagged on her foot, and she screamed and fell face-forward onto the ground. Behind her, she heard Jensen chuckling. She took a minute to stand up and brush herself off. Mud now soiled the front of her expensive dress, and her hair had twigs and leaves stuck in it. Monkeys chirped in the branches above, and she got the impression they were laughing at her. Jensen was smirking again.

Amelie's lower lip puffed out for a second, but then she regained her composure and started hiking again. What an awful little island.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

The heat was starting to really bother the otherwise complacent immortal. As they moved through the thickness of the vines and jungle brush, Jensen accumulated several sweat stains on his shirt. Even the black fabric had adopted a darker tone thanks to sticky sweat that clung the fabric to his chest. He contemplated on taking off his shirt entirely, but decided the comfort wasn’t worth the tyranny of rants that would come from his charge.

The Knight of Apocalypse moved a hand to his canteen, taking the smallest of sips to cool his throat and chest before corking the container. He looked back to Amelie and noted she was taking large gulps of the liquid and with a sigh he decided to at least try and be somewhat helpful.

“You’re drinking way to much,” Jensen scolded her. “You have to ration out that water.”

“I’m not an idiot,” Amelie said, glaring to him from the corner of her eye as she quickly screw the top back on. “I understand the concept of survival and the necessity to make supplies last. I also understand that every island has a fresh water reservoir that we can refuel at, and if necessary, we can boil more water in an emergency. Or do you assume because I‘m a woman and a noble that I wouldn‘t grasp that?” She tilted her head to him in challenge, taunting him. Jensen shrugged.

“Not at all. I thought you were an idiot purely based on the fact you’re a bitch and a bird just shitted on your dress.” Amelie quickly looked to her shoulders, but found no fecal matter upon her outfit. When she looked back to the immortal she found him climbing up a tree, laughing as he moved higher and higher.

“I understand the need to join your monkey family again, but we must make progress! I have a delicate-”

“Time table, yeah yeah, I heard you the first time,” Jensen shooed her away with one hand as he continued to climb. “Think about what it is I’m doing before you mock me,” Jensen shouted to her. Amelie looked to him, ready to retort, but her usual style of analyzing the details before speaking kicked in and she looked out over the brush in front of them. At the rate they traveled she couldn’t see more than five feet in front of her at any time, so dense was the terrain.

“Scouting the land,” She muttered. “I’m surprised you had the forethought to come up with a good idea.”

“I, like you, understand the concept of survival, and to learn the terrain so that way I know where the water deposits are seems pretty critical to me. I found a trail, it’s about twenty minutes west. That should lead us to a village.”

“Than that is our course,” Amelie said moving to the west. As she gathered her bearings and began to walk she found Jensen drop before her, jacket fluttering in the breeze of the decent. One hand touched the dirt, the other clutching something to his chest. When he looked to her his face had turned serious.

“Not a bright idea,” Jensen warned her. “Trails on uncharted islands mean we got homeowners. If we get caught by the natives I can’t guarantee if they’ll be friendly and respect your noble heritage.” Amelie looked to Jensen with a mixture of agreeance and reluctance. As Jensen rose up she found his hand clutching a small bunch of bananas.

“Very well, but did you find us a water reserve?” She asked, eyes never leaving the bananas.

“You drank to much, didn’t you?” Jensen asked, his voice teetering on the edge of ‘I told you so’. Amelie looked to the food, and then forced her head to look to Jensen.

“Logically, the water routes are formed by the mountains, and mountains seem to be located near the center of the island. We follow the water routes, we find the mountains, we find our prize.” Jensen looked to her, and with hands moving to fast for her to swat away Jensen grabbed her canteen and shook it. The sound was hollow to the open air and Amelie sighed. “You are incorrigible,” She spat.

“You’re also out of water,” Jensen retorted. He pocketed her canteen and tossed the noblewoman his, taking off three bananas from his catch and handing them to her. “Fifteen minutes east is a small stream, and then north for ten minutes is a river. Can you last that long?” Amelie nodded to him as she took the food and turned to the east, moving onwards.

As Jensen walked with her, merely a step behind he whispered loudly, “You’re welcome.” Amelie turned to him, her green eyes studying his face, looking to his smarmy smile before she nodded in thanks to him, but saying nothing. He supposed it would do. They walked the rest of the way in silence, passing several thickets of mud and Jensen detouring them past a sink hole. The wildlife seemed to follow them, little geckos and a few monkeys who darted from tree to tree, whooping at some great inside joke.

When they reached the stream Jensen pointed to the next path they would take, and both continued to walk down the narrow watery road. At last Jensen had enough of the silence and turned to her. “So, how did you hear about me? The Ixian Knights are prominent in the public, but the inner workings are rather tight lipped.”

Amelie said nothing for a moment, then, after discarding her banana peel behind her, looked to Jensen with the fakest smile. “Radansath is a town full of gossip. The newspapers had painted a wonderful story of your Ixian Knights and it was the talk of the town for weeks. I picked up rumors that Sei expelled one his warriors after their failure to serve him.”

“I didn’t fail,” Jensen said hotly, fingers curling in rage. “That idiot, faggot fairy king failed. When I tried to open his eyes to the truth that, that, Mystic Fuckwad,” Amelie winced at his words. “Attacked me, blamed me for the troubles he was having, and then kicked me out of his army.” Amelie chuckled.

“A wee bit soft on the subject, are we?” She teased. Jensen looked back to her, eyes filled with hate causing her smile to falter just a bit.

“I don’t find thirty plus soldiers dying for his cause and him passing the blame to others funny,” Jensen deadpanned his tone. “His responsibility as leader is to ensure his generals are ready, and he instead let them all do their own thing. Now he got a bloody nose from the enemy smear campaign and instead of tightening his defenses he punched out drunkenly at anything before him. Being kicked out of that shit hole was the best thing ever to happen to me,” Jensen turned away from her, walking forwards past the woman he was to protect to scout ahead.

Fucking outsider, Jensen thought. What the hell does she know about anything? It’s not like she was there! The way she makes it sound it seems to be my fault that Sei’s an incompetent jackass! Fuck, why the hell do I find all the bitches in the universe? Jensen stopped his advance and looked down upon the water, listening to rush of the river gently stream down towards the edge of the island miles away. He saw a few fish streaming around the top of the water, each scale as colorful as the rainbow as they darted back and forth.

He heard the twigs behind him shuffle and he turned angrily towards Amelie, having enough of her shit and wanting to get the mission completed as fast as possible. When he turned, he found seven men in loincloths, all looking to him with fierce intensity as one lifted up a blowpipe and blew hard, dust flying into Jensen’s face. The immortal flailed his arms at his eyes, screaming in surprise as he tripped and fell into the water. He vaguely saw the groups of hands grabbing him before he looked to the sun, the bright orb in the sky slowly growing darker before he passed out.

[Alembic]

Amelie woke from a feverish sleep on the hard dirt floor of a wooden hut. To her right, a small fire belched smoke upwards toward a hole in the roof, where it spiraled away into the nighttime sky. All the colors of the day had faded into reds and browns and blacks, and the air in her lungs felt unbearably hot. Out of the corner of her eye, she made out the silent and motionless silhouette of Jensen Ambrose.

Wait, nighttime? How long had she slept? Where were they? What happened? She tried to sit up and—

Her body refused to move. After a moment of pure panic, she tried moving each limb one by one. Arms...no response. Legs? Not a twitch. Every muscle in her body below her neck was paralyzed. Now entirely awake, and terrified, memories came flooding back to her. She remembered getting ambushed by a group of scantily clad men with blowguns. Then she remembered a pain in the back of her neck like a wasp sting, and strange dreams for an unknowable amount of time. Now this.

Amelie Boehme wasn't the sort of person to swear, but the words bubbled out of her now, in a way that would have impressed even the saltiest fisherman back in Kileport.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Jensen's huddled form mumbled. His speech sounded slurred and strange. “Finally up?”

“Yes,” Amelie said. “You're paralyzed too?”

“Yeah, but it's worn off a little,” he said. “I can move my left arm, but nothing else.”

Amelie said nothing for a long time. When she finally spoke, her words were calm and deliberate, like a surgeon instructing a rookie with shaky hands. “I doubt that the poison will wear off fast enough to spare us from whatever fate our captors have in mind for us. I may have an antidote to speed up the process, however. If I'm correct in my assumptions, a paralyzing poison such as this would target the chole humor, overloading the gall with yellow bile and causing an imbalance in...”

“Spare me the details,” Jensen grunted. “Where's the antidote?”

Outside, Amelie heard beating drums and chanting in an unfamiliar language. The chants sounded more like long hisses and rattlings than actual words. Amelie suddenly felt a chill, despite the stifling heat of the little hut. She hesitated, and then spoke again. “There's a small glass vial filled with aracmyn in a pocket of my dress above my right hip. If we split it evenly, there should be enough for both of us.”

“Good,” Jensen said. He started dragging himself towards her using only his left arm. His movements seemed painfully slow. Outside, the chanting and drum-beating had reached new levels of intensity. The air in the hut was stuffy and filled with a haze of smoke. All the saliva in her mouth had dried up.

“Don't you...dare try anything,” she coughed.

Jensen pulled himself next to her and chuckled hoarsely. “Don't worry, princess,” he said. He opened the pocket of her dress and pulled out the little vial of clear liquid. He fumbled with it, trying to open the stopper with one hand, and nearly dropped the fragile glass container.

“Don't break it!” Amelie said.

“My fingers are still numb,” Jensen explained. Given the situation, he seemed remarkably calm. He tried one more time to open the stopper, and then had a better idea. He bite the cork off with his teeth, and grinned. Then he took a small sip of the antivenom. With about half left in the vial, he put it to Amelie's lips, and she drank too. The aracmyn tasted like aniseed so horribly strong and sweet that she felt as though she might never taste anything else in her entire life.

“Nasty stuff,” Amelie commented. Jensen wrinkled his nose in agreement. All the best medicines tasted awful, though, Amelie had discovered. She already could feel the antidote working. First she felt a tingling in her shoulders, then in her torso and arms, then finally in her limbs and fingers. The strength returned to her body and once again her muscles felt under her control. After only a minute, she could move again. She stood up, and Jensen followed after.

The hut was barely tall enough for Amelie to stand up in, and Jensen had to duck to keep from bumping his head. “Looks like we're not on the menu tonight after all,” Jensen said.

“That's yet to be seen,” Amelie said. She peeked out of the hut's tiny window. Outside, she saw an enormous bonfire, with a dozen tribespeople dancing around it and doing their hissing sort of chanting. They were in the heart of a small village, a clustering of primitive huts in a clearing in the jungle. The tribespeople carried spears and blowguns and wore feathers all over their bodies. The bonfire, Amelie realized, had been built around a stone pedestal. At the top of the pedestal was a surprisingly detailed statue of a snake with a bird's head. That reminded her of something, a drawing she'd seen once...

Jensen interrupted her train of thought. “At least they're not elves,” he commented. “I can't stand elves.” Amelie put a finger over her mouth in a hushing gesture, and Jensen rolled his eyes at her. “You really think they can hear us with all that chanting they're doing?”

“I don't know, honestly,” Amelie said. She felt nauseous. “Let's just get out of here.”

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Jensen allowed himself a small smile to see the fear of the unknown in her eyes. As disturbing as the tribals were, they were far to wrapped up in their rituals to be of any consequence to the immortal. All he had to do was get them out. Poking his head out the makeshift tent flap, he observed that there were no guards, and a large ring of fire was raging at the center of the encampment. The crashing of the drums, and bellowing of voices, the stamping of feet continued to thrive as he ushered his charge out. Amelie looked to the situation, and shook her head mumbling something about barbarians.

He observed Amelie as they darted into the shadows, growling ot himself as he realized her dress was to bright for sneaking around. He removed his leather jacket, snapped it once, and placed it over her shoulders. Instantly she discarded the clothing, turning to him with an angry face. Before she could speak the immortal placed a finger to her lips, knelt down and lifted up his coat shoving it into her stomach.

“You’ll stick out the way your dressed now. At least with this it’ll blend you into the shadows more,” He whispered to her. A moment of hesitation later Amelie nodded and placed on the jacket. Though what looked like something so ratty and so old had a peculiar warmth to it that was welcome despite the humid temperature in the air. It’s weight, though heavy at first glance also rested comfortably upon her shoulders. Jensen stifled a giggle as he cracked a grin.

“What is so funny, you idiot!” Amelie whispered angrily. Jensen shooshed her and coaxed her down as he moved onwards into the tent’s shadows. She followed suit, making sure not to make any noise.

“It’s just, with that rapier, you looked like a pirate wearing my jacket. A badass pirate as well,” He chuckled. “A tiny hat, maybe the scroll and cross bones, and you could be the real thing! Ouu, and an eye patch!” Jensen turned to her seeing her face looking less than enthused about his playtime.

“Wise up, you cretin,” She muttered, though with a self pause to flex the jacket out and let it rest a bit more comfortably. “I thought the situation would determine a professional demeanor from you.”

“You don’t know me,” Jensen smiled to her, winking. She made a disgusted face to him as she ducked into the shade crouching behind Jensen’s leg. The immortal stood tall, leaning into a tent as he watched two tribal men walking with a wild boar tied upside down to two poles, carried between them. Another wave of people began to walk by, and Jensen ducked back, gently placing his fingers against the side of Amelie’s face to urge her behind him. She clutched his leg, tightly, but he didn’t check on her to see if she was afraid. For all he knew she could very well be a pirate and know how to use her weapon, but when he was playing with it back on the boat, it looked rather shoddy and nothing more than a piece of shit.

When Jensen nodded, he felt Amelie’s hands drift up his backside as she used his hip to pull herself up. Jensen, not remembering until that exact moment he was rather ticklish, hip bumped her, biting his tongue to keep silent. He felt the coppery taste of blood in his mouth, but what alarmed him more was that Amelie made a squeal of alarm as she fell over, making a loud noise in the brush under her body.

“Will you please stop acting like such a jerk!” She spoke rather loudly for a whisper, and Jensen tried to shush her with his words. She snarled at him, standing up and huffing like a noble, “Don’t you Shssh me!” Jensen now clamped her mouth shut, but he already heard the noise of a pair of feet walking towards their location. He began to fiddle with his jacket, reaching inside and passing her breast to find one of his throwing glaives.

One slap later and the immortal’s jaw stung like crazy. Amelie pulled away from him, but Jensen clawed deeper into his jacket, wondering where he placed his throwing weapon. She slapped his wrists, angrily grunting and making startled sounds as he all but groped her, but the knight didn’t care. He had to find his weapon before.

“Wub wub?” A voice spoke in a thick tone, a measure of drunken stupor to it. Jensen turned to look at one of the tribal men, a fat gut with a blunt wooden spear in his hand. He cocked his head to the side, as if confused, before he lifted his weapon forward and reached for his horn on his hip.

Amelie was pushed onto the ground as Jensen finally fingered his throwing glaive, turning in tandem with her fall to catch her before she hit total collapse, and let his weapon fly. The glaive spun in the air, making a whoosh sound before it collided with the tribal’s wind pipe. He gurgled, sprayed blood on the ground around him, and dropped to his knees before he died, his weapon falling flat and his horn shattering on the ground.

Jensen smiled as he turned back to Amelie, still holding her half up as she was nearly prone his grip, and winked once more. “I’d never let a pretty lady like you fall,”

[Alembic]

“You could have just asked me for your stupid knife,” Amelie said, with as much indignity as she could muster. Her voice wavered a bit. She watched as Jensen pulled the blade out of the tribal's neck and a small volcano of blood ruptured from the severed windpipe. She couldn't help wincing.

Jensen winked at her. “And what would the fun have been in that?” he said. Amelie glared at him. Somewhere in the distance, drums were still beating, but she couldn't tell from what direction. It seemed as though they came from all around, if that was possible. “Now do you have any idea where we're going, or are we just going to wander around until these fellows get a chance to shove poison darts up our asses?” Jensen asked

Amelie looked up. Dark clouds were forming over the jungle, but she could still make out the sliver of a quarter moon in one corner of the sky. “We should continue west,” she said. Actually, she had no idea, but that seemed like a safe guess. A fat mosquito landed on her cheek and she brushed it off. The jungle seemed a lot less pretty and a lot more disgusting and dangerous at night.

“And which way would that be?” Jensen asked.

Behind them, the sound of drums came again, but this time it was much closer and accompanied by footsteps and frenzied shouting voices. Amelie's eyes widened. “Whichever way they aren't,” she said, and she started running in the opposite direction from the voices. Jensen wasted no time in joining her. She couldn't have estimated how long they ran for. It felt like hours. Sometimes the drums and voices sounded quiet and the distant, and sometimes they felt so close she thought for certain that they'd get captured once again. They fought through tangles of vines and clouds of little biting midges. On one occasion, an enormous tarantula landed on Jensen's neck, and Amelie had to hastily stab it with her rapier. “Spider kebab,” Jensen commented, with a jokey grin. Nothing seemed to phase him.

Amelie felt miserable. She hadn't expected the jungle to be this awful and dangerous, honestly. Nor had she expected the hostile tribespeople, with their strange cult and paralyzing poisons. She tried to hide her fear and discomfort from Jensen, but from the increasing smugness of his smirks and his more and more daring innuendo, she thought he'd caught on.

Then she tripped and fell in a hole.

It happened as suddenly as that. One moment she was scrambling over a decaying log, and the next she was falling. She landed on her bottom and grunted in pain. A nice soft pile of fallen leaves and dirt had broken her fall, but the drop had still been at least nine or ten feet. She picked herself up and examined her surroundings.

A hewn stone chamber surrounded her, perfectly round and with corridors leading off in three directions. The corridors looked tall enough for her to stand up in, but were also round—perfect circles without any real floor or ceiling. Never before had Amelie seen such bizarre architecture. Torches with blue flames were mounted on the walls, and they gave off an eerie flickering ghostlight. On the ground, carvings of snakes and lizards with the heads of chickens stared up at her.

“Hello?” Jensen called from above. Amelie looked up at the hole above and saw him peering down at her.

“You can drop down,” she shouted up. “It's safe. I think this is where we're supposed to be.”

Without a moment of hesitation, Jensen dropped feet-first and landed right next to her. He glanced around at the strange room and looked unimpressed. “Where are we?” he asked.

“The labyrinth beneath Whitianga,” Amelie said. “From what I gathered in my reading, it stretches beneath the entire island, and has multiple exits and entrances. We must have stumbled across one of those.”

“Stumbled is the right word,” Jensen said with a smile. “That trip over the log was very graceful of you, lady.”

Amelie rolled her eyes yet again. At this point, she'd decided to just ignore Jensen's nonstop banter. She had more important things to think about. For instance, which tunnel should they take? The papers of alchemists and explorers who'd got to this point before had spoken of deadly poisons and some sort of monstrous guardian of the labyrinth. However, those who'd written the papers had fled the island empty-handed (cowards, Amelie thought), so none gave the exact location of the magical fountain of Azoth.

“What I'm looking for ought to be somewhere down here,” Amelie said. “Let's just pick a tunnel and start walking.”

“Whatever you say, princess,” Jensen said, with a mock-bow. Then he straightened up and looked at the hole they'd fallen from. “At least those tribals aren't a problem for now.”

“True,” Amelie said, but in her heart she felt less certain. From overhead, she still heard the faint sound of drums.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Jensen and Amelie walked side by side down the labyrinth, the woman’s face a mask of courage despite the glint of fear he detected. All parts of his body wanted him to continue to spook the alchemist, but the situation at the moment demanded a bit more of his attention. If he died on this god forsaken island he may end up having to swim home. Amelie, despite the terrible bitch she was, also didn’t really deserve a fate to be eaten or cooked alive by some vagrants in loincloths.

The pattern along the walls were of several shapes and lines all curving and zig-zagging up and down the stone in rainbows of colors. Jensen placed a hand upon the smooth stone, finding the cool touch pleasing to his body as Amelie pointed ahead to a crossroad. She stooped down and looked at the ground for some sign of tracks, but the immortal already knew she was wasting her time. He instead twirled his dagger up from his belt loop, twisting end over end in his fingers as he looked down upon his charge.

“Way I figure it, it’s going to be trial and error from here on in. I say we pick a path and walk it, and if, in the event it’s a dead end, we can at least back track to a safe location. I’ll carve a line in the walls using my knife,” To demonstrate his point the made a crude X mark on the wall before them.

“I do believe that is the first sensible thing that has come out of your mouth,” Amelie mused, lifting herself back to her full height and nodding to the established plan, gesturing for the immortal to take point. He began to walk forwards, tapping her rapier on the hilt and giving her a knowing look.

“May want to keep that handy in the event of an emergency,” Jensen said. “May end up needing it.”

“And what do you have to base that theory on?” Amelie replied following in his wake. Jensen shrugged as his knife began to scrape against the wall, eyes casting back and forth as he observed the lines on the walls.

“I’ll answer your question, if you don’t mind answering me one first.” Jensen pointed to the walls and spoke before she could make a counter point about how rude it was to answer a question with a question. “If you know all about this island, have such indepth knowledge of it, then how come you feel so confident that this legendary relic or whatever is even around?”

“Because to be the person who finds the Azoth will gain fame and renown to last a lifetime.” The way Amelie spoke it was as if she was possessed by the power of some dream. Perhaps, in Jensen’s mind, she was ridiculed by her peers and this little adventure would correct some insult. Perhaps this was her way of honoring a memory to someone dear. Maybe, just maybe, she was looking to make a huge profit.

Or maybe she was just crazy. Jensen really wasn’t sure.

“Then if nobody has found it, danger must be lurking near,” Jensen answered her previous question and moved forwards, lifting out his punch dagger just to feel a bit safer. His ears perked at the slightest sounds, and his eyes scanned the witch light darkness, the blue aura casting an illumination that did nothing but further hide the shadow’s secrets.

“Cowards,” Amelie muttered. Jensen gave her a quizzical glance as she looked to him, turning her nose away with an indignant huff signaling that once again, for the third time in the same hour, she was absolutely done talking with the loudmouth immortal.

They walked in the stillness of the labyrinth, the only constant sounds the flickering of the lights, and the scraping of the dagger on stone. The jagged white line ran nearly flush with one of the lines on the wall and the sound made it difficult for the immortal to hear. When they rounded over a corner and broke contact with the wall to cross the gap to wander down the further section of the maze, Jensen thought he heard the sound of shuffling. It was feint, possibly a small rodent of some kind, but he wasn’t to sure. He paused his steps and listened, Amelie waiting patiently for five seconds before she began to tap her foot.

He continued to walk further along the wall, scraping his weapon and listening. He still could hear that feint echo of something shuffling on the floor, like a boot dragging of leaves rustling. He strained to listen, the sound of the wall masking whatever was following him. He removed the tip of the blade from the wall and continued to walk, but the sound was no longer there. He gently placed the tip back, scraping the art once more as he listened, hearing the rustling once more.

He continued to repeat this process five times and after the start of the sixth round of silence Ms Boehme gave Jensen a warning glare.

“Are you trying to run my patience thin, Mr. Ambrose?” Jensen gave her a baleful stare as he willed her to put a sock in it, then pondering if he should just do it for her. He had an extra pair on him at all times. Before he could conclude his decision on the matter, Amelie spoke again. “Look, a dead end, now we need to back track to the fork and start over again.”

“Which fork? We passed, like, three of them.” Jensen held up his fingers to show he could count, waving them in Amelie’s face just to annoy her. She pushed the fingers aside, sighing as if he were a child and she began to walk back towards the exit to start over again. Jensen moved with her, keeping his ears open for sounds of anything, and when they hit the first crossroad, Amelie stopped dead in her tracks. Jensen, who was straining to hear something, nearly bumped into her.

“What’s the hold up, lady?” Jensen snarled. Amelie’s face looked utterly confused and her face began to drain in color, the tell tale signs of panic. Thinking quickly the immortal stepped forward, looking to the walls. His little white lines had vanished. A beat in his heart made his blood begin to run, a thrill of terror tingling his spine at the prospect they could be lost. But how? The line matched up on the wall behind them. He turned and looked.

“Hey, uh, Amy,” Jensen said lightly. Amelie looked to Jensen, her nose furrowing at the sudden name change and she looked to him before her own eyes began to grow wide in confusion.

“Mr. Amrbose, when did that path appear?” The immortal didn’t bother to look, as where he looked to her he found two paths that weren’t there before. He gently lifted his hand to her side, and patted the wall, curving his body and turning a bit to the left. The zig-zags along the wall ran into a new path, changing completely. “Jensen,” Amelie said with a bit more importance.

“Hold on, we’re not lost. I just discovered something,” Amelie’s hand began to fidget with his, swatting him in the arm as he observed the cirular rings. He turned a bit to his right, seeing the same paths he saw before, but the lines began to turn and run in different paths, not in a strait line. “Whoa, trippy! They designed this cavern using optical illusions! That’s kinda neat!”

“JENSEN!” Amelie shouted, her voice echoing down the multiple path’s as she turned and ran. Jensen gave her a confused look before he turned, finding something rather unpleasant shifting ever so slowly towards them. It was snake like in body, but it’s head was rather strange. It looked sort of like a chicken. Jensen rubbed his head, shrugging as he pulled out his last throwing knife and let it rip, flying down the hall.

When it struck the creature, it stopped, the weapon harmlessly bouncing off the thick hide. It coiled itself upwards, like it was amused and laughing, a flickering tongue coming out it’s little beak like mouth. “Uh,“ He turned back to Amelie, who gave him a deadly look of serious intent to harm him if he didn’t think of something, and fast. “Cock a doodle fuck!” Jensen spat drawing up his punch knife and charging, an obnoxious laughter bubbling out his mouth.

The Basalisk lingered for a moment, then shot outwards, a loud shriek shaking the walls as it went to battle with the enigmatic immortal.

[Alembic]

Maniacal laughter flew out out of Jensen's mouth and bounced off the round walls of the corridor as he charged the huge snake-creature. The basilisk reared its grotesque chicken-head and lunged towards him, but Jensen sidestepped and the monster's beak crashed into the wall of the corridor. The warrior's movements flowed from one to the next like water as he delivered a series of kicks to the basilisk's body and head. Amelie watched in pure amazement, paralyzed by fear and unable to do anything but sit and stare. The former Ixian Knight's kicking possessed an odd rhythm—as though he was dancing to some unheard waltz and delivering kicks in tune with the beat. One, two, three, one, two, three.

The basilisk curled back and shook its head. Jensen's kicks had only served to enrage it, and it opened its mouth and screeched. Amelie put her hands on her ears and winced at the noise. Its purple tongue looked the same color of a seagull's, she thought with absurd irrelevance. Then she remembered something.

“Jensen!” she shouted. “Don't look into its eyes, and don't let it bite you—it'll paralyze you!”

Jensen shuffled back and forth from foot to foot, still moving to whatever silent rhythm he fought to. He laughed again, with an insane giddiness. Could he really be enjoying this? Amelie wondered. Given her perception of the man so far, life-or-death encounters with ancient monsters might actually be his idea of a good time. “Right, don't let it kill me!” Jensen called back. “Great advice!” He dived in once again and spun around, then unleashed a barrage of kicks and cuts with the knife.

The basilisk's scaly hide, however, betrayed not even a scratch. The monster wrapped its serpentine body around Jensen and tried to bind him. He moved too fast for the creature, though, and leaped out of its grasp. Amelie had never seen a man with such agility. She, on the other hand, lay stunned on her back and couldn't even bring herself to move.

In her head, she revised her opinion of the explorers who'd escaped the basilisk and lived to write about it from “cowards” to “extremely lucky.”

“Chicken!” Jensen shouted at the enormous monster. He started making mock clucking noises as he kicked and thrust and spun around the creature. “Cheep cheep cheep cheep!” He laughed again, this time louder than ever.

Without warning, the basilisk snapped its head forward and clamped its ugly mottled beak down on Jensen's leg. Or at least, it tried to—but Jensen moved too quick once again. He giggled in an absurd fashion. Amelie could scarcely follow his movements, he moved with such unpredictability. That laughter, too! The entire time, he hadn't stopped laughing. Clearly a madman—but maybe you had to be a madman to fight like him.

Amelie felt useless. Her hand went to her rapier, but then she decided she'd probably just get in Jensen's way if she tried to help. “Go for the head!” Amelie shouted, trying to be of some use.

“Real easy when I can't even look at the damn thing,” Jensen said, and he burst out laughing again. Amelie was right, however. The punch dagger was never going to pierce the basilisk's hide, so he had to adopt a new strategy. He leaped into the air, did a front flip, spun around, and kicked the creature in the beak with immense velocity. With the monster stunned, he plunged his knife into the monster's feathery head again and again. He stabbed the creature's skull, beak, and both of its eyes. Dark black blood erupted from the wounds like steam from a geyser. When the monster opened its mouth to howl in pain, Jensen stabbed its tongue once and leaped backwards towards Amelie.

The screech of the dying basilisk echoed about the labyrinth so loudly that Amelie wondered if the sailors back at shore could hear the creature's wail. It thrashed its body back and forth and slammed its scales into the walls. The cavern shook and dust fell from the rooftop. Amelie found herself screaming too, but that couldn't be heard over the basilisk's almighty cry.

The monster of the labyrinth gave one more awful death rattle, and then it slammed to the floor of the corridor and fell still. Black blood oozed from its mouth and eye sockets and pooled in the rounded corridor floor.

“I think you owe me one,” Jensen said, between deep breaths. Amelie saw beads of sweat trickling down his chin and neck.

“Consider that compensation for the antidote I gifted you back in the village,” she said, trying to sound unmoved. Her voice shook, though, and was edged with bitter fear. With shaking hands, she pulled a vial out of her pouch to to grab some of the basilisk blood. Who knew what it might be useful for?

She fumbled and nearly dropped the vial, and Jensen plucked it out of her hands. “Let me handle that,” he said with a smug smile. He leaned down and scooped up some of the thick black blood. His hands did not shake.

Amelie took the vial back without a word. Then she looked back and forth down the corridors of the labyrinth. The scratches in the wall Jensen made with his knife had straightened themselves out now, and a blue glow came from the end of the tunnel they hadn't yet entered. Without the basilisk's hypnotic magic, some of the power of the labyrinth had drained, Amelie guessed. “That way,” she said, gesturing down the tunnel.

“No kidding, Princess Obvious,” Jensen said, but his voice sounded filled with anticipation rather than sarcasm.

They stepped over the basilisk’s corpse and ran down the hallway together, looking towards the ever-growing magical light ahead. Amelie felt a buzzing vibration in her head and her heart. As an alchemist, her body attuned itself especially well to the elements, and she felt something strong ahead. Azoth! The greatest medicine in the world, the purest form of all Water, and soon it would be within her grasp.

They were so close.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

The labyrinth pulsed as Jensen and Amelie walked, the guardian basalisk dead behind them and Jensen never felt more alive. But then again, he figured the same thing after every encounter where by all rights he should have been dead. His training had been paying off dividends lately, he mused with a smile. Next to him, however, the shaky alchemist had zeroed her attention to focus solely on the prize at the end of the tunnel. Jensen noticed the way her eyes were growing wider with anticipation, and the very idea that they could be finding the biggest treasure in the land made her courage begin to wax strongly.

“When we get inside, don’t touch a thing!” Amelie said hurriedly, her fingers reaching into her pockets to check on vials and other supplies as she whispered to herself a checklist of things she wanted to make sure she had on her.

“I wonder, how many times have you turned down Sex just to find shit like this?” Jensen pondered loudly. Amelie paid him no mind as they neared the portal that would enter the chamber of the Azoth. Jensen shrugged looking to make sure his jacket wasn’t being tattered by the Alchemists weight and rushing attitude. Whatever she was searching him didn’t interest him in the slightest, but if she found her prize, than maybe they could leave and she’d pay him in something real and tangible. That or steal it, he didn’t mind either way.

“My word…” Amelie whispered and Jensen snapped his focus back onto the task at hand, his own breath being taken as he looked at the sheer scope of what he was seeing. An inside waterfall dripped from a sculpted serpents mouth, it’s forked tongue dripping into the water of a golden basin etched with all forms of archaic and ancient text and runes. The sheer scope of the craftsmanship was well beyond anything the tribes people could conceive, and the room itself was hand carved years ago. The pillars that held the roof aloft were intricately carved to show the coils of a winding snake, wrapping around the columns.

An alter was held before ther dais of Azoth, several goblets and cups of all shapes, sizes and materials were scattered upon the stone top, a tattered and old cloth draping to the floor and over the last two steps of the three step alter. The immortal gazed upon the plant life that thrived underground, despite no sun shining down upon the leaves as the roots grew from the base of the fountain.

“Fuck…” Jensen whispered. Amelie turned slowly to look at the immortal’s wonder, and then angrily she slapped him across the chest.

“Really? Such crass words for beautiful art such as this? I wonder how you handle an exposé of culture, with such colorful words to describe what you see.”

“An expo-what?” Jensen said back to her, smiling. Amelie let out a rather low sigh, a sigh Jensen was starting to get used to as he stepped forwards. “What do you think all the cups mean?” Amelie looked to the alter and stepped forwards, finger tapping her chin in thought as the woman observed the angles and the cups.

“It’s, a…chemical combination. It’s part of the final test! Yes, I’m sure,” She dipped on vial of some foul smelling liquid into a glass, letting the chemicals mingle and then it started to smoke. “Each cup within here, when mixed with water, will give a very different result from the cup next to it.” She smiled triumphantly as the immortal gave her a raised eyebrow. “Simple test, really. We find the one that creates Azoth!”

“You do know there are, like, twenty cups,” Jensen pointed out. “How do we know which one just happens to be the cup of Azoth?” The immortal eyed one of the cups. “And who the hell fills them up with the correct combinations of materials used to create this so called Azoth?”

“If you would be so kind as to shut up,” Amelie said in a frustrated tone. “I am deducing that right now.” She continued to play with the components within the cups, and after several seconds she began to push some of the older cups away to the side. She turned to her bag, reaching into it and pulling out a book, looking inside at a chart and graph. Jensen watched her as she began to run her fingers along the chart, before looking back to the cups and using more of her bag of tricks to ascertain something. She poured liquid into a cup, sniffed it, and pushed the cup aside. She dumped powder into a few others, smiling as she watched the colors change before placing the cups to the side. This continued for several minutes as she at last snapped the book shut, putting it into her bag along with the empty containers.

“I narrowed it down to two. You will add the liquid within that basin over there and drink both cups. One is poison, which most likely is going to kill you within a minute, and the other is Azoth, which will cure your poisoned condition if the first test seems to go awry.”

“Me?” Jensen shouted. “What the hell do I drink it for? You drink it if your so confidant!”

“Well, if it turns out I’m wrong, you’ll need me to find the antidote, quickly.” Amelie actually smiled, as if this was the most natural course Jensen could take. “If it’s the right one, we’ll know quickly. Any maladies you may have will instantly be cured, and you’ll feel pure in every sense.”

“You are basing this off of theories, aren’t you?” Jensen said dryly walking to the basin as he held two silver goblets in his hand.

“Those theories are mine, and I am never, ever wrong,” Amelie said, but the glint in her eye made the immortal notice that she wasn’t so confident with that remark as he would like to pretend.

“Alright, I’ll trust you on this,” Jensen said grabbing a drought of water for his cups. “Cheers!” The immortal smiled taking a drink from the cup in his left hand. They waited several seconds, and the immortal began to twitch violently as he felt his insides explode into flames, his throat closing as his eyes watered. He dropped his other cup, collapsing on the stone floor as his eyes begged for release, looking to Amelie.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Amelie watched as Jensen thrashed about, her eyes filled with morbid curiosity. Jensen lifted a hand out before it went rigid, dropping in a slow fall to the ground with a thud. His eyes shut softly, breath ragged as he let out a twitch of pain before he was still. Silence ruled the room for several moments, the Alchemist taking a hesitant step forwards. She looked to the mixture in her hand, eyes gazing to the contents within the vial. The holy Azoth, the elixir of life, the famous miracle Panacea. She gave a hesitant look to Jensen Ambrose.

True, she did not expect anything to come of the loudmouth. He was far too stubborn and in his own way only useful for fighting the basilisk and keeping her safe from harm. Yet she felt a twinge of guilt and a sliver of doubt when she looked back to the body. She lowered her hand to her rapier, softly drawing it forth as she poked him, gently, with the tip. When he made no movements she let out a sigh of disappointment. There was the rational part of her brain that began to whir. Jensen drank the wrong drink, it was not Azoth he consumed, but a deadly poison. It acted quickly, quicker than she could act. He was dead in moments. It was not hesitation on her part, nor a mistake. Jensen was poisoned with a fast acting agent that killed him almost instantly. With such a limited supply of the holy elixir, she couldn’t waste it on a corpse.

She could mourn him in good time; perhaps attribute him to her notes. Those thoughts allowed her time to move forwards and away from his body. She poured the Azoth into a vial, corking it with shaky hands. A memory flashed of when he poured her the basilisk blood. She shook her head looking back to the body of the dead man, and sighed as she gathered her belongings. She studied the room one last time for her sake, making sure what was truly important to keep in her memories when she catalogued her journey for the papers. Perhaps she will have Jensen posthumously inducted into the Ixian Knights again for his work. Yes, this would repay the debt on her conscious for the death he gave in discovering Panacea.

As the last of her items were gathered and her satchel tied and ready she looked one last time to the body. With a shallow bow to him she moved onto the labyrinth. At first the optical walls began to mess with her mind, but she touched the surfaces of the edges, testing the area in front of her with her rapier to find the hidden routes. When she found the scratch marks on the wall she gave a triumphant grin, following them in their entirety, stepping past the corpse of the basilisk and moving quickly in her hastened steps. Soon she was at the hole she fell in and with a silent curse to herself she realized she had no means of which to climb back up. Knowing that the island was littered with these secret entrances gave her hope to stumble upon another one.

So Amelie walked the walls, her eyes scanning every nook and cranny, her head dizzy and heart weary as the confidence to leave the island became a more scarce outcome. She turned into dead ends, found sink holes that led to other areas, and several nests of the basilisk. A haunting thought that more than one of those creatures could be lurking set her on edge with paranoia. What she would give to have Jensen with her to keep her wits about. Something to distract her nerves and focus her sharp mind. She could imagine that ludicrous smile on his lips; that damning grin. His mind numbing banter and dry humor. She found herself thinking to it with fondness. Yet to survive was her new goal now. She didn’t need him at all. She was an intelligent woman; the only one capable of finding the elixir of life! Amelie strode with a bit more poise and grace. These tunnels had to have a logical pattern to them. All she needed to do was use her vast intellect to find it.

Several hours had passed and Amelie had taken to picking up rocks and placing them upon the ground down the paths she had traveled. She kept her guard about her, but moved with clarity as time passed on. She began to understand the waves in wall meant that a river path was found. The vertical lines meant dead ends; easy access entrance tunnels like she and the boorish man found earlier. When the walls had a picture of the snake at the start it meant it was a passage that led to a basilisk den. Slowly she deduced the labyrinth, dropping rocks and feeling a bit more confidant in her steps. She had paused in a dead end to rest for a bit, her eyes drooping shut for a fleeting moment. With a panic she woke herself. She knew she couldn’t rest until she was free, or else she may never escape.

At long last she found an entrance into the tomb of the elixir, and she smiled a roguish grin. It wasn’t so hard, she mused. Yet as she neared the stairway leading to the light of the morning that insufferable mongrel’s voice whispered in her ear. Trails meant locals, and this one looked fairly used. It would serve her no better to flee into the morning if it led right into the tribal camp. Annoyed, she marked the way in the event it was her only option, but turned to look for another. As she walked, back into the labyrinth she stopped, turning back to the side and testing the wall. What looked clear as day like an end to the cavern had belied a small hint of something more when the sun angled off her rapier from the mouth of the entrance. She tilted her blade so the ray of light hit the edge, and she found it break into two. With a smile she moved around the corner and found a new set of hallways.

These ones had no markers, no carefully painted or carved masterworks, but instead it was left unfinished closer to the labyrinth and more like a cavern. Within these walls she could hear the echo of the water, and she followed the sound until she found an underground stream. With new found vigor (stopping to grab fresh water) she moved quickly along the path, the flickering lights of the torches lit still burned strong, an indication that though it was not part of their holy territory, it was still a place they guarded. The water way led to a river, and within moments Amelie found herself the hole that the water poured into the river from. She gasped as she knelt and looked out the hole. It would be a four foot drop, may hurt like hell, but it was freedom. And to boot, she could see the sails of the boat not far off.

With all the dignity she could muster, Amelie submerged herself under the water, and dove through the hole until she was on the other side. When she touched the shore bank she did one last check of her possessions. Everything was accounted for and with a greedy grin she stood and headed back to the boat.

As she got closer to the ship the threat of danger in her mind was slowly replaced as she began thinking of her newly acquired fame and fortune. This discovery was going to make her famous. Of course, she would keep the best for herself, then part a deal with the Ixian Knights. Sei seemed reasonable a man and with this success her status as one of his top peers would be assured, but she would not stop here! She succeeded where many others had failed. What other greatness could she aspire to? With a dark chuckle she picked up her trot.

The closer she was to her extraction, the more the avarice in her heart gripped her and in time she forgot all about the name Jensen Ambrose.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Amelie had grinned to herself as she was back on the boat, sailing away from the dreaded isle with Azoth held firmly in her hand. Her first order of buisiness was to clean herself from the filth and dress in a nice gown. She ignored the talks from the other sailors as they wondered if she found what she was looking for. Instead she headed straight to the bathing area. Her bare feet felt cold against the wood, and with a deft hand she produced the key to her room from her gown, entering it. Her homunculus greeted her with a blank stare. She gave him little thought as she slammed the door shut. With a deep breath she leaned against the door before a fit of giggles overcame her.

“At long last,” she whispered loudly. “Azoth is mine!” She raced to her desk, nearly kicking the monkey in the process as she ignited the oil lamp. The room glowed with an orange hue, illuminating all around her and casting long shadows towards the edge of her living quarter. She pulled the vial of the elixir out, eyes wide with glee as she pulled a small cup forward. She placed the glass in the cup, letting the mixture pour slowly so nothing was wasted. “We cannot get ahead of ourselves,” she spoke allowed to nobody in particular. “I have technically yet to try this, but the life of a scientists demands answers. I’m one hundred percent sure that I have the Azoth in my hand.”

With a slight grunt she lifted herself to her belongings, pulling out a small red vial. “One poison, coming up! This little number should only induce vomiting, in case I was wrong. But if that insolent fool died, I don’t have much to fear, now do I?” Her lips parted in a grin as she spoke those words, turning back to the table with her miracle cure. She drank the poison with haste, waiting for the symptoms to occur. She spent her free time writing in her ledger her discovery, smiling the whole time. It took several hours, but eventually she began to feel a bit woozy. When she felt her head start to grow dizzy she placed the book aside and waited for her stomach to begin the spasms. The first one hit like a contraction and she stumbled to brace herself.

It was time to test Azoth.

She lifted the cups to her lips, toasted herself, and drank the liquid with a generous gulp. It tingled down her tongue, through her chest, spreading that tingle around her body rather quickly. She giggled as she felt her stomach quell itself as her mind raced with excitement. This was it! It worked wonderfully! Even her toes felt the tingle as her muscles in her body relaxed, a purifying feeling coming over her as she felt lucid. Then, with a startle of happiness she felt the blood in her system begin to cool. Success! She turned to grab her book when her arm went numb, followed by her toes. She felt her jaw softly gape open, and she could not find the strength to move her tongue. She looked to the window pane, seeing a ghostly reflection of herself and found her veins turning swiftly blue so she could see them clearly!


The haunting realization that this was not Azoth came over her as she tried to scream. Yet she could produce no sound as she let out a weak, opened mouth breath. She began to drool like a simpleton. She tried to turn her head, but the muscles in her neck stiffened. She was becoming paralyzed, and her veins were starting to suffer hyperthermia. Then, the icing on the cake was dropped on her like a bomb.

Dark, maniacal chuckling filled her ears as she heard something approach from the darkness. She could hear the shuffling of the assailant’s footsteps as they took their time to reach her, and when they did a soft finger touched her chin, though she could not feel it, and turned her head so it faced theirs.

“Forget about me?” Jensen Ambrose taunted with a devilish smile made all the more fiendish by the flickering flames.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Jensen sat on the edge of the desk, a bemused smile on his face as he looked to her. Though her eyes and mouth could not move, he could tell she was shocked to see him. He twirled a vial of his own up into his hands, playing with them through his fingers tips. With a patient smile he watched her suffer for a moment, before he popped the cork with a loud wet noise, and took the tip of the container and dropped it on her salivating muscle. It drooled down into her stomach and within seconds she began to feel a tingling sensation again, followed by a dark, fiery feeling before her mouth opened in silent agony.

“Azoth,” Jensen said with a lecturing tone. “Is indeed the cure all for anything that ails the body. It also hurts like a bitch, and can indeed kill someone if poison inflicts them deeply. That shit literally burns out the toxins in ones system.” Amelie’s eyes widened as Jensen chuckled. “I took a potions class way back in my days serving the Knight’s of Apocalypse. I diluted the hell out of this stuff. You gave me the whole thing in a raw form! I was coming down with a tropical flu, or maybe the basilisk got some venom in me, or could be from that wasp sting the tribals stuck in us. Who knows! Either way it was potent enough that it would kill anyone in the process to cure them.”

“You,” Amelie at last managed to gasp as she slapped her chest to get her heart racing. “Died.” She said with a lot of strain. Jensen shrugged.

“I’m immortal,” Jensen mused loudly. “Either way, when you asked me to take that poison, you had the best man on the team to do so. Not that I like the way you ordered me into it. But if I recall correctly, you were supposed to heal me. Instead, I wake up with you gone. Navigating the tombs wasn’t any real difficulty. I used to live in a labyrinth for years. So I escaped, got to the boat, and asked the guys to wait to see if you came, and if you did, not to mention I survived.” Amelie’s face turned red as she looked to the immortal.

“Well, then it seems all worked its way out.”

“Not quite,” Jensen whispered darkly. “Since you’ve been gone I’ve been doing a little studying of my own. Your monkey thing is paralyzed by the way. You would have known that if you weren’t such a noble bitch.” Amelie looked back to her homunculus and recalled his position in the room. He hadn’t moved. Her eyes narrowed as she turned back to Jensen and gave him a dark look. “I’ve been reading your ledgers. You don’t play well with others, do you?”

“My private thoughts and reflections are just that! I swear I have done no-“

“You got people killed. You didn’t even care. You never care.” Amelie gave him a double take, her eyes looking to him for sincerity, and when she looked down she saw her diary in his hand. With lightening quickness she grabbed the book.

“You have no idea about my life, Mr Ambrose!” She shouted. Jensen shrugged, eliciting a dark trembling rumble of annoyance from the alchemist.

"Maybe I don't know the full story, but for someone who killed so many people summoning a Greater Demon, you sure walk around like your shit don’t stink.” Her eyes widened at the accusation to her character, before she turned away standing and walking away from him. She turned again, looking to him with a sincere look.

“I have moved on in my life, Mr Ambrose. I will not let the shackles of the past confine me. I’d imagine you of all people could appreciate at least the notion for that. So what do we do from here? You have what I want, and I am not sure what you want.” Jensen turned so his butt rested against her desk.

“You have nothing I desire from you. I don’t know what you think having this will achieve, but personally you are one of those people I could see using this not for the benefits of others. Could be the way you ditched me in the cave, but then again that may be a biased judgment. To answer you, I want nothing. I’m giving this to Aislinn Orlouge, and letting her deduce it and make it available for the people as Sei sees fit.”

“I thought you hated him,” Amelie said darkly as she wrapped her arms under her breasts, pushing them up and stepping forwards as her skirt tilted left and right in a flourish. “That he was, as you said, a ‘faggot fairy king.’ Did you not?” Jensen nodded to her as he spoke.

“Yeah, but the guy isn’t looking to stab everyone in the back and look for personal gain. Love or hate Sei Orlouge, it's quite clear that the man does what he does out of the goodness in his heart. A rare trait, and the kind of person who should be handling these things.” Jensen said in a serious voice to denote the matter was closed. Amelie moved herself to stand in front of the door as Jensen made way to leave, her hand brushing the handle and gripping it, twisting the lock with a sheepish grin.

“You have to realize I have no intentions to hide anymore, Mr Ambrose. I simply want the Azoth. There has to be a way I can convince you,” she implied a hint of urgency in her words. “I’ll do anything to get it. Be sensible and reasonable. Please!” Jensen looked to her with a raised eye brow, gesturing for her to elaborate. Amelie looked around the room, before she looked back to him. “I’ve nothing much to offer you, but perhaps…” She stepped forwards, the words lingering on her breath.

Jensen gave her a coy look as he stepped back, lifting his hands. “I do have a loving family back in the castle,” he said lowering his head. “You should spend more time around people instead of your alchemy, and you’d maybe find what you are really looking for.” Amelie darkened her gaze as he approached her, lifting his hand and wrapping it tightly around her wrist, bending it so she struggled out of his way. He tossed her back as he opened the door, but she clutched his shoulder tightly before he could escape. He glanced back to her with a grimace and felt a soft pity for the alchemist.

In her eyes was no longer warmth, nor hatred, but cold, calculating clarity. The woman gave him a stern look as he glanced to her, and the two stood off.

“You are one to talk of nobility and doing the right thing. I wonder if you are merely showing me spite to atone for a past mistake, Mr Ambrose. Do not judge others, lest the things you judge them on are lessons you have learned.” She released her grip, looking to him with the same look she gave him when they first met. “I will not forget what you have done to me, Jensen Ambrose. You should not have trifled with me.”

Jensen gave her a leering grin. “Then I’ll be seeing you, Ms Boheme.” He titled his head and wandered to his new room, letting the door slam shut as he whistled his way out.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

There were several lit candles held in oval shaped lanterns upon the walls of Ashley’s Tavern, a single old wooden chandelier with rusted metal supports that gave the overall glow to the patrons inside. The buzz of chatter made private conversations easier to speak freely, their words getting mixed of the occasional laugh and cough. At a side table Jensen sat with his jacket draped over his chair, tapping a foot against the long pole supporting the spherical shaped wooden placing, whiffing the sweet, succulent sent of a little heart attack maker; baked chicken pot pie.

Across from a red head sat, legs draped modestly over the other as a long loincloth covered her lower frame, the halter top of her tunic lifted a bit higher as small fetish’s dangled in her hair neatly like wind chimes that let out a soft metallic chord when they combined. She wore arm length gloves that gave her a measure of elegance, and her posture was prim and proper, especially compared to the less elegant sitting immortal.

“I find it amazing, Jensen,” Aislinn Orlouge mumbled before taking a sinful bite of the baked pie. She fluttered her eyes, watching the vapor of the heat rise in the air in a sigh of pleasure once she cut the hole in the top layer. When she finished her bite she went for more as she let her next words out a bit faster. “That you still found a way to be upset with my Uncle after all this time. Tobias has been spending a bit more time around Stephanie than what I would constitute as…healthy.” She lifted her brow to accentuate her point, letting her fork dip into her mouth and curved it up to slide all the greasy goodness down her palate.

“That green haired leaf licker is no substitute for me,” Jensen replied causally. “though to think she’s getting randy with my girlfriend is…HOT!” Jensen piped up. Aislinn’s eyes jumped to his face as he fanned his tongue, the pot pie on his fork still steaming as he shoved it all down his throat in one gulp.

“Are you going to finish that sentence, or should we assume your crass ways will speak for itself?” Aislinn giggled despite her usual proper manners, letting her shoulder’s relax a bit as the warmth of the food brought them together. Every Wednesday the immortal and the witch got to together in this tavern to enjoy drinks, pleasant company, and a dinner to vent about their frustrations as of late. Though it never was taboo to invite others, the two never even thought to bring another along. This was their time, as companions and partners, that they let the other be themselves.

Jensen grinned to the girl before he sat upright, and shoveled more food into his mouth. Aislinn sighed as she watched him eat, almost tempted to give up eating herself…almost. She modestly took another bite as Jensen finished the insides, nibbling on the crust later. He sat back and looked to Aislinn with a bit more seriousness. The mystic cocked an eyebrow in concern, before Jensen turned to his coat and fumbled around until he pulled out a vial that had a thick, blue liquid that was borderline see through. She lifted her head up in wonder, but kept her hands to herself.

“Check the winds, they should tell you all you need to know about what I’m about to give you.” Aislinn gave him a coy look, before nodding to his request and closing her eyes. A few of the fetishes in her hair dangled, a bit louder than others before she opened them again. Her attention was fully on him now. “This, is Azoth,” Jensen said in a dead pan tone. “The Elixir of Life. It’s the real deal as well. Used it twice now and it did a bang up job curing some poisons and helping a woman I know who was paralyzed.”

“I vaguely recall Uncle Sei mentioning an alchemist going out to find the substance. You are telling me,”

“It’s a long story, Ais,” Jensen said rotating the vial around his digits. “I met up with her at the port and one thing led to another. Needless to say, we completed the objective. Though she won’t be coming back to the Ixian Knight’s anytime soon.”

“I still cannot believe it. You have the Elixir of Life in your hands. The winds do not deny your claims. However…I find it curious that Aqysh is calling to me as well. That is the wind of magic for fire, by the way.”

“Well that explains it all then,” Jensen said looking to it closer. “You may think this miracle cure all is the best, and it does work wonders, but you can’t give this out for any old poison or wound. Azoth burns the impurity away fully, and can kill a person if the poison is severe enough or they aren’t strong enough.”

“But,” Aislinn spoke up. “That would make it almost useless in practicality.”

“Yeah, pretty much. It’s a great drug for someone who’s really screwed, and perhaps something to keep around on hand with murderer’s like Cassandra Remi out in the world.”

“I suppose despite the risks, it would be useful to have an antidote to anything we cannot swiftly cure. This is a dangerous substance, Jensen.” Aislinn went back to her pie and took another bite before opening her mouth, still chewing food as she pointed to the vial. “Do you mind if I-“ Jensen tossed her the vial and grinned out of the corner of his mouth. The woman looked it over and popped the cork, sniffing the liquid before corking it. She went to hand it back to Jensen, but he shoved her hand back.

“I got no use for it. I tried water as a diluting base, but the Azoth burned away its own impurity. Simply put, the Ixian Knight’s will need your help in finding a suitable way to carry it make it less potent.”

“Naturally, I would think the water would merely bond to the chemical makeup of the agents inside to create it and…right,” Aislinn giggled as Jensen’s eyes looked to her widely. “It’s magic Jensen. All made up by magic.”

“Gotcha. Have Sei take Ms. Boheme’s pay and put it in Azza’s piggy bank for her. She’s not coming back. I dare say I made an enemy when she I left her.”

“Is there a tale with that? I am curious to know how you even got this stuff,” Aislinn asked. Jensen let out a mischievous smile of pleasure as he relaxed, kicking one foot over his knee and bouncing it like a dog wagging their tail.

“Sure is,” Jensen replied with his signature sass. “and you better believe it has action and adventure and daring the likes of which only I can know! Oh…and there’s pirates in this story too!”

[Duffy]

There Aren’t Any Pirates in This Story – Full Rubric, Light Commentary
Featuring Alembic & Enigmatic Immortal

Plot ~ 18/30

Story ~ 6/10 – trite, traditional, and driven by character as opposed to plot; that’s the only way I could describe your story. You go through the motions to a discovery, but it’s not the journey, or the destination that makes it an enthralling read. I was interested in how your characters reacted, responded, and regaled their tales to the world as they went about the mundane. If you had taken the time to develop the scene, from about post 4 or so, there would have been opportunities to develop each scene, the background, and the rising suspense as Alembic and Enigmatic Immortal go through the jungle, the labyrinth, and finally, the ‘trial’. The twist in post seven and the development in post eight made this score more than just run of the mill – little flourishes and moments like that need to come more often!

Setting ~ 7/10 – as reflect in technique, the use of language to bring the oceanic setting to life was well-placed and well thought out. The villagers were repugnant, the guards at the start suitably gristle, and the jungle wavering in the breeze and the sun. Though you both made outstanding picture setting openings, the setting starts to trail off about post is and seven. It comes back to the fore towards the conclusion. To truly reach excellence, you must maintain the own level of quality you set a precedence with, keep it fresh, and keep it consistent.

Pacing ~ 5/10 – whilst the tempo between segments was acceptable, you really came undone here by containing a scene entirely to one post. The events in each post could easy be expanded, to tell a fuller story, and to avoid a rushed feeling that is prevalent throughout the thread. I draw particular reference to the fight scene here, and to the scene before the Fountain. You go through tremendous discoveries, frivolities, and disasters in the blink of an eye.

Character ~ 24/30

Communication ~ 9/10 – I really don’t have anything to add, communication is your strong point both.

Action ~ 7/10 – despite the conflict between Jensen and the Basilisk being criminally short, it was critically clear. You both have a strong, crystalline ability to portray motion. Even the awakening scene from the paralysis darts was picture perfect in my mind.

Persona ~ 8/10 – the noble skeins of Alembic’s personality and the persona of Jensen’s eternally vigilant asshat shine throughout the thread. You really get a sense of who, why, and where the characters are going, have been, and where they are through their dialogue, internal thought, and their demeanour. One small error of form came in post three; there was little justification for Alembic’s actions to hire Jensen as a bodyguard. It came as a contrast, stark, and difficult to believe, set against the noble identity you establish. I’m not suggesting everything you do needs to be clearly explained, but with this sort of exegesis of character, perhaps a little deeper you should go into why.

Prose ~ 17/30

Mechanics ~ 4/10 – sadly, a truly snappy, interesting, and enjoyable read was hampered by consistent mechanical errors. In many instances, these were the proof reading errors one can easily rectify during a re-read. However, there are some errors that seem to be learned, so I have tried to summarise the bulk of it below. Take care to check these when moving forwards into new work:

1. You use a question mark to end Ego? In post one there is no question to go with it.
2. When speech ends in a ! or a ? the proceeding word is typically not capitalised. The punctuation is treated as a comma. This mistake occurs in post one, two, four, six, seven, and in post ten.
3. Timetable is one word; you write timetable on two occasions, post four and six.
4. ‘It’ is missing from ‘sounded like’ in post one.
5. Missing question mark in post two, paragraph two after ‘How could…’
6. Your instead of you’re in post two.
7. Try to be careful when using elision outside of speech. It is not incorrect to do so, and I did make a deduction for its presence in the thread. However, please try to standardise it where appropriate. If you’re going to do it, do it throughout.
8. Your final post ends with a comma, instead of a full stop.
9. Was the capitalisation of Enigmatic Immortal intentional in post nine?
10. You capitalised Sex. I don’t think even Jensen enjoys it that much!
11. Ther instead of the in post fourteen.
12. Consistent errors with words ending in ing, where ed should be used. Reading, read, pleading, plead, tense is a strong part of clarity and technique – read back over your writing to keep consistent, as these errors were prevalent.
13. Neanderthal is an earth specific term, and indeed, has no place here in post six.
14. Several sentence structure errors around triple clauses. The third part should end in , and, examples of awkward structure to be found in post four and ten.

Clarity~ 6/10 – the sentence structure, tense issues, and the formatting errors hampered what would have otherwise been a clear and easy to follow story. In post twelve, after the dialogue beginning with “Cock…” the net two lines caused me to have to re-read several times. Severe issues around post one’s “very forces” paragraph detracted from Alembic’s excellent opening.

Technique ~ 7/10 – an absolutely fantastic nautical lexis used sparingly throughout the thread. You made it a cool cliché, but not overbearing, and that deserves merit. You handled the time transitions effectively, with a simple declaration in the opening line of the relevant post to inform the reader; noticeably in-between posts 8 and 9. Be careful to avoid recitation in the future, such as rotten in post one, and ritual in post ten.

Wildcard: 7/10 – a few extra notes to give you food for thought. Alembic’s internal dialogue type narrative is quick, quirky, and just unhinged enough to make her character really stand out. Whilst it was cantankerous and unclear in places, it really supported the character and technique scores of the thread on the whole. Jensen’s dialogue as ever is a pleasure, and aided your high communication score. I love the classic ‘whichever way they’re not’ line when running from the villagers. It’s such a cliché, but you made it your own and it fit into the pseudo humorous nature of the thread. On a final note, I really like how Alembic rewrites her own mental notes and adjusts her use of coward – all in all, though there weren’t any pirates in this story, there was plenty of swashbuckling and high seas antics – bravo!

Total ~ 66/100


Spoils:

Enigmatic Immortal receives 3394 xp.

Alembic receives 808 xp and 170 gold.

The Ixian Knight's earn the following Magical Item that any member can pay 750 GP for a one time use:

Azoth: A rare Elixir that is known as Panecea, this substance can heal all effects of hex like magic or status ailments, as well as a cure for ANY poison in existence. The downside is the stuff BURNS the poisons away, and regardless of level or tolerances found in people's profiles the antidote will paralyze the user for one full post as the pain and shock to their body takes effect.

In addition, Jensen Ambrose requests that he be given access to unlimited quantities of Azoth under three conditions:
1: Jensen may never, ever, sell it.
2: Jensen may never have more than one use on his body at any time.
3: Jensen can never GIVE the Azoth to another player. If he wishes for them to have it, he must make them drink it, or at the end of the thread it's useless to them. (in effect, they can't use outside the thread they earned it).

[Letho]

EXP/GP added.