Price of Passage

[orphans]

Closed to SirArtemis. All bunnying approved and stuff. As for time frame, a great deal some time after Following Your Footsteps and any other quest that happens in known Althanas regions before Azza departs. This quest will mark the beginning of Azza's leave of known Althanas Regions for a long time. This thread is Part 1.
Finally, the last stop in this sad excuse for a voyage. White crests topped the waves that broke before the metal ship’s bow. Black smoke churned out lazily from twin pipes that stood where the mainmast would have been on a conventional ship. I’ve had enough of sea rations. Long as the boys don’t make trouble on dock, should be able to enjoy shore leave. A petite woman leaned against the steel rails of the ship on port side as she looked out to the horizon with brilliant hazel eyes. In the distance, she could barely make out the faint outline of the shores of Corone - Radasanth more specifically.

The sea mist that rose from each broken wave did little to wash away the grime, grease and gunk that coated the woman’s heavy trousers, long-sleeved denim and leather apron. Scorch marks marred large portions of the outfit and it was only by sheer luck that there weren’t any holes burned through. Not large ones in any case. Her fiery hair, equally as dirty as the rest of her, lashed about in the wind as a sudden lurch of the ship indicated an increase in speed. Her body moved in time with the jolt as she reached up to wipe some water from her hairline, only to add a streak of soot.

A chime sounded through the ship before a near monotone female voice said, “Attention, arrival in Radasanth is estimated to be within the hour. Please prepare and dress accordingly. As a general reminder, those with permission to access the city are to check their mana arms in with the quartermaster before leaving for shore.” Another chime sounded to signify the end of the announcement over the ship’s speaker system. Wish she’d sound a tad more interested. Not like she does anythin else but sits on her arse all day. The chime of the speaker system played again and this time the voice spoke with more pep, “Erieai Ezraehie, please report to the captain.”

The few on deck let their gazes of mild interest linger on the petite woman before returning to whatever they were doing before. Erieai Ezraehie only sighed as she tugged a well worn (and oily) cap from her pocket. Gathering her shoulder-length hair together, she pulled the cap over to secure it on top her head before stalking off to find the man that demanded her attention.

A set of white lines painted onto the steel deck guided her quickly to the entrance of the ship's interior. Fiddling with a set of keys, she found the one she wanted and twisted it into the slot provided. The door hissed with pressure and steam as it swung open, allowing Erieai to walk through. Behind her, the door closed by itself after a full three seconds and sealed shut with another hiss.

Erieai followed lamps that gave off a light with a pastel green tint lit the interior and down several corridors before she finally arrived at a set of stairs leading upwards to the command center. Wonder what in the hells he needs now. The door to the command center required another key, but one that Erieai didn’t have – the only one she didn’t have. Raising a fist, she pounded on the door twice, as per tradition, and waited a few seconds. A slot in the door opened and a pair of hard eyes took stock of the woman, and then the slot closed. Soon, the door hissed and the sound of grinding gears accompanied the whine of the entrance yielding, almost stubbornly.

“Ah yes, Erieai, good of you to make it on such short notice. I was afraid that the noise down in engineering would be too much to hear the speakers.” A tall regal man with well trimmed blond hair and powerful brown eyes set deep within his brow stood before Erieai. At a fraction short of six feet tall, the man towered over Erieai by a good head’s worth. His embroidered black uniform was spotless and a braided gold knot hung from his left shoulder, signifying his rank. Despite his imposing appearance and obvious importance Erieai merely looked to the man with an annoyed expression.

“Was up top on deck. You cut my break short.” Placing a hand on her hip, she gave the command center and the crew inside a quick once over before returning her sights to him. “So whatcha need this time, Tarolts?”

Tarolts Elutu, human captain of the Leviathan trade ship and second heir to the Elutu noble family. He was normally a man who bent his knees to none, save for the Queen and his own parents. His one exception to this rule was the filthy, grease covered woman before him. “My apologies, Mistress Ezraehie.”

“Oh stow your posh upbrin and get down to business.” Erieai’s crude words only elicited a chortle from Tarolts as he motioned from her to a nearby table. Upon the table lay several maps and charts of Corone and one extremely detailed map of Radasanth.

“I was informed that our Veil is getting weak and could potentially compromise our position while docked and unfortunately we were unable to find the materials you needed at our last location, Fallien.” Erieai listened to his explanation – as if she needed one or had forgotten what she had reported two days earlier. She had been the first to notice the shimmering barrier around the ship lacking the usual luster it always had and upon a suspicion, figured the reason was a faulty power cell.

“There are mines in the Jagged Mountains close to Radasanth," she quickly stated, tapping her fingers on a few locations on a map of Corone. "Pretty sure you can find what we need at the bazaar there.” Erieai then eyed Tarolts in disbelief. “You called me up here fer this?”

Tarolts shook his head once, “Of course not. There was another option that you had mentioned before, but didn’t tell me, because you said I wouldn’t like it. What is that option?”

“Switch off power to our cannon arrays an’dsiphon power to supply the Veil generator.”

The captain frowned as he considered the option. Both options weren’t appealing. Nevertheless, he had to decide and with a heavy sigh and shake of his head, he offered a shrug of defeat. “So be it. Siphon the power from the cannon arrays, but leave the forward array powered so we aren’t completely defenseless.”

“Oy that sorta draw’ll decrease operational efficiency of the power supply by seventy-five percent. You sure?”

“I’m sure. We will make due until you are able to make a replacement power cell.”

“I’ll have to make two.”

There was a pause as Tarolts considered the option, but then a smile settled on his face. “The order still stands. You’re eluvian, I’m sure you can do it.”

Erieai managed to roll her eyes and wave a hand carelessly behind herself as she started for the exit. “Yeah yeah, and you humans should learn not to pick fights with everything that moves.”

“One moment, Miss Ezraehie,” Tarolts called quickly and was met with Erieai’s perplexed stare.

“What now?”

The man held up his hands with open palms as a gesture of peace as he treaded carefully with his words, “I see you’ve requested leave and that it has already been granted.”

“And?”

“You might as well pick up what you need there and in return, you will be reimbursed for any expenses you incur…”

“Oh ho, is that right?” was all that Erieai replied with as the corner of her mouth jerked into a grin, as if a fishing line had caught hold.

“On the condition you do not react harshly to the locals when they mistake you for an elf.” At once, Erieai’s expression soured as her fists clenched with the need to strike something. Her eyes glared daggers at Tarolts who only kept his hands open for her to see. For an eluvian, being mistaken for an elf happened only for two very specific reasons: one, mercenaries new on board and who didn’t know better and two, those who were ignorant to the differences between eluvian and elf. Both were always met with varying levels of aggression. Truth be told, there weren’t many differences and most were subtle.

Erieai’s long and pointed ears twitched as her temple throbbed in barely contained rage. While Tarolts had not actually called her an elf, the imagined possibility and inevitability of being mistaken for an elf on shore was enough to boil her blood. “Any expenses, right?” she suddenly asked, the anger dissipating quickly. Immediately, Tarolts regretted the offer, but he only nodded his head in reply. “Deal, so long as I can mock the other races if they do call me a tree fucker.”

Tarolts sighed as he brought a hand to massage his temples. “We have an agreement then.”

“Captain,” the voice of the monotone female called out. Both Erieai and Tarolts looked over to the eluvian communications operator. Her uniform was the standardized gray for the majority of crew with all of her hair hidden beneath an officer’s cap. “We will reach Radasanth in less than twenty minutes. Shall I make the announcement?”

Erieai waved casually again as she made for the door. “Suppose I should get to siphonin.”

The captain nodded to Erieai’s wish and returned his attention to the operator. “Yes, if you would, Miss Yuel. Oh, and please call Pell. I need to discuss the number of mercenaries and skilled hands we are to contract.”

[SirArtemis]

The early morning sun shone down on the city of Radasanth, a natural alarm to let everyone know that the time to begin the day had arrived. Artemis did not need the wakeup call; he had been awake for two nights now. He had offered aid to a man named Victor Callahan in what ended up being an emotionally driven personal vendetta that passed under the facade of a mission for the Town Watch. Of course, the mission maintained legitimacy, but Victor's intentions lay in revenge more than professionalism.

Victor had shown a lack of restraint, killing countless people while Artemis and their third companion, Silas (Sei Orlouge), had simply incapacitated their targets. Eventually, they found the wife of the man they were seeking, and Callahan began torturing the woman in order to gather information, and that did not sit well with Artemis. As a result, he had interfered with those plans, betraying the gunslinger and helping the target escape at the last moment along with the help of Silas, and Victor now likely felt an unrelenting rage toward Artemis, ready to unleash the fury of his firearms at the first chance he got. To avoid the possibility of such an unfortunate fate, Artemis decided to do what any sane man would do: run. And that's exactly what he intended to do, as soon as he found the chance.

For days, Artemis sat tucked by a window inside an inconsequential tavern, his hood up over his head to mitigate the likelihood that someone might recognize him. The barkeep did not ask questions. He fully understood that sometimes it remained in one's best interest to know less rather than more, and his intuition gently reminded him that now was one of those times. And so, quietly and predictably, he waddled his plump self over to Artemis every so often to make sure that the young man had everything he needed, keeping conversations brief and professional before returning to tending bar. Artemis barely noticed except for recognizing the raspy voice of a man who had been unable to refuse tobacco for too many years of his life.

Time seemed to pass at an inconsistent pace. Occasionally hours passed in what felt like minutes and sometimes minutes passed as slowly as hours. The faces began to blur and sounds disappeared as the lack of sleep began to catch up with the young man, his eyes closing while his head lolled about. Physical exhaustion compounded with the mental exhaustion of anxiety as well as the lack of an opportunity to get away. He listened carefully to the gossip of the tavern and watched as the ships docked and set sail, hoping that one would come into port without the intention of staying long. When he had begun to lose hope, it seemed an opportunity might have finally shown itself.

A unique looking vessel carefully pulled up to the docks with an almost machine-like precision, its hull completely white with hints of blue from the reflection of the water. A single black sail hung from a lonely mast and a cobalt-blue flag waved its greeting from the stern, as simple a flag as any could be. Yet despite the simple appearance, the wooden ship appeared to be massive.

'That ship must be more than thirty meters high and at least two-fifty long.' Artemis thought with a look of awe. Minutes passed as Artemis watched the vessel come to rest in one of the few spots where a ship of such a size could even fit. He watched and waited for a sign of people making their way onto land. He knew this would be his opportunity to get away, he just needed to figure out how to get on the ship.

[orphans]

Pell Ringmar, by all accounts from his peers, was a simple man. Normally he was a commander at the western front of his country, but for the past month? He was nothing more than another soldier and set of hands aboard the Leviathan, until today. Pride swelled in his chest as he reviewed his given task that came in the form of a leather-bound folder. Pell had been handpicked for the sole purpose of mercenary recruitment. It wasn’t an easy job and recruiting high quality mercenaries was always an issue.

Satisfied with the information he received, he took stock of his surroundings on the pier where the Leviathan was docked. It was strange to see the ship under veil with the recent power shortage; the image was much more drab than normal. From the outside, it looked simply like a massive wooden flagship or cargo boat. Either way, it was a horrible disguise, but better than nothing.

He ran a gauntleted hand quickly through his short brown hair to make sure loose strands were swept back before making his way to the dock proper. As he walked, he noted the familiar faces of the ship’s workers as they piled boxes of what was to be traded later that day. Their garb was different as it always was with every port they visited and always adjusted to fit the local attire to draw less attention. The idea made Pell chuckle lightly since after all, a gargantuan ship approaching port probably sounded all sorts of alarms anyways. There was always the lingering question of why they were allowed to dock at every port, however he figured those answers were above his pay and for more calculating men than he.

Once he had reached the harbor’s main area, he was greeted by five soldiers from the Leviathan in similar armor to his: light plates with an underlay of chain. All of them carried a long sword and wore a helmet, save Pell who only had a long sword. The headgear in question covered the men’s faces and would have made it difficult for Pell to be more personable to potential recruits.

Beside the group, a small table was set up with a stack of fliers and a couple of chairs. Another soldier from the Leviathan already had a stack in his arms nearby and was passing them out to the sparse few who were up and about so early. The only ones even around at the moment, not from the Leviathan, were the harbor workers of Radasanth and the fishmongers from the market.

“Shove on over will you?” Turning about, Pell looked down to a short woman - an eluvian woman. Staring into her hazel eyes with his own bright golden ones, Pell realized who it was right away and bowed in respect to her. He wasn’t a tall man – only barely the average of five eight – but in comparison, looked to be an adult bowing to a child of five flat. “… I asked for you to shove over, not bow to me.”

Pell offered a disarming smile and moved out of the way so that she could pass. Had it not been for Erieai’s powerful eyes and her usual speech, he wouldn’t have recognized her in what she wore now. While it might have seemed perfectly normal to those who didn’t know her, those that did saw it completely out of place. Erieai’s usual grime and filth was washed away and her clothing was that of a common girl - loose fitting pants that were perfect for the morning of a summer day and a blouse that hugged her frame. At her side she carried her usual satchel, except it was washed. Her footwear however, was still the same heavy steel-toed work boots she wore every day. A very mismatched set of clothing.

“You done gawkin at me?” Several of the soldiers laughed beneath their helmets while Pell only rubbed the back of his head as his smile flipped around.

“I didn’t mean any disrespect Eri.”

“Right...”

Fumbling a moment with the right words, Pell offered quickly, “You’re heading to the city then?”

“Whats it look like? Hells ain’t goin fer a picnic.”

Pell’s eyes lit up with an idea as he moved over to the table and selected a few fliers. Returning, he quickly offered them to Erieai. “Mind taking these and spreading them around to any merchant you meet? I’m technically not allowed to leave this area and neither are the soldiers. Tarolts doesn’t want anything to get out of hand like it did in Fallien.”

A grimace tacked itself to Erieai’s face as she eyed the fliers. With a defeated sigh, she took the fliers and stowed the majority away in her satchel. “I suppose I can manage a favor,” was all she said as she took her leave.

Pell watched her leave and let out a breath of relief. A sudden hand fell onto his shoulder and patted it a few times. “Geez, think you’re falling kinda hard there?” He turned to face the soldier who had spoken and even though the voice was distorted, Pell could tell who it is.

“Shut up Jackal and pass out some fliers.”

[SirArtemis]

Countless faces blurred together as the bodies mingled and passed by the dirtied window. He squinted past, looking out upon the intriguing vessel that had just docked and watched as people seemed to walk from its direction. A group of armored men had set up a station and appeared to be advertising something, though Artemis had no way of knowing what. At some point, a young woman appeared from the direction of the ship and spoke briefly with the men, taking a stack of what were likely fliers and began to walk away from the group.

The woman appeared to be heading roughly in Artemis' direction, her steps bringing her to a building a few doors over from where he now sat. Seeing the opportunity, he left coin for his most recent meal on the table and slipped out of the dim tavern and into the bright morning sun. He watched her stride, noting that she moved a bit less elegantly than he would anticipate for a young woman. Her movements were rugged and brash, filled with a purpose – one that definitely did not involve appealing to others.

Artemis blended with the crowd, finding small packs of people and moving alongside them as he made the short trip. He stepped to the side of a fishing equipment shop as the woman arrived at a small stall set up in front of a forge, a young apprentice with a dirtied brown apron slung over his light linen clothes.

"Oy, ya got scraps? Any junk?" The woman posed the question and left the young man looking confused, tilting his head like an intrigued puppy. He scratched at the grime that crusted the side of his cheek, tainting the little fuzz he had growing.

He turned back toward the forge and yelled. "Hey boss, the lady is looking for some scraps or junk. We got anything?"

The constant ringing of metal and the roar of the flames made it difficult for the smith to hear, and he just looked up with a crinkled expression before responding. "What?!"

The young man rolled his eyes, walking back to the smith and likely mumbling the same words, leading the boss to just point to a corner before going back to work. He then walked back to the stall to answer the customer's request. "You can come take a look at what we have and after you decide on what you want, I'll price it for you."

The woman nodded, placing down her pile of fliers upon the stall before following the young man to the designated area. Artemis, who had been carefully paying attention, took the chance to walk out of the small alley between buildings and let his clammy hands slide over a flier, crinkling it into a small ball and wrapping his fingers around it, making a small fist. While the woman shopped, Artemis made his way back to the tavern, looking to find some sanctuary to see what was written on the leaflet.

Once he had arrived back at his filthy window at the Effervescent Blemish, the tavern he had just left, he unraveled the crinkled sheet of paper and read. Most of the writing existed to draw people in, with promises of reward and adventure, but Artemis ignored most of it. He only noticed the details that mattered, and those were a time and place – by the ship at noon. Artemis checked the time, noticing he had a couple of hours to wait, and so that's just what he did.

[orphans]

Not bad for a backwater country. With a loud yawn, Erieai looked about herself in the main bazaar of Radasanth Market. What little fliers she had left, she pasted on random walls and posts or handed to the merchants she interacted with. A guard had stopped her at one point, but she just handed a flier to him and sauntered off, stunning him long enough that she melted away into the crowd.

Checking her satchel, she ticked off the things she needed in her head and tossed the rest of the fliers out onto the ground. Whether the wind wanted to claim them or not was none of her business. Right… need raw crystals for the power cells. Lifting out a slab of steel, she checked the plate and scratched lightly at a dent before putting it back inside.

A stone’s throw away from where she stood was the Citadel, a barbaric place by all accounts – from those on her ship anyways – and the only saving grace was that no matter how grave the wound, you’d be fine. Pointless. Even so, Erieai did admire the masonry work of the vast structure.

Suppose an apothecary would have some. For such a large city as Radasanth, Erieai found the streets hard to navigate. Twists and turns gave away to narrow corridors that ended at the back of random buildings. Reminds me of old town… hate old town. Eventually, Erieai pushed into a building that had Mort’s Potion and Magic Regents printed on a sign in large black letters. The smell of different kinds of dung assaulted her nose as she wrinkled her face in disgust. Half wishing she had her toxin mask with her, Erieai gravitated quickly over to where a sparkling assortment of crystals and gems were displayed.

“Hello child,” began the voice of an aged man in perhaps the slowest and lethargic tone imaginable. “Welcome to Mort’s-”

But it never finished as Erieai waved a hand dismissively, “Dun care what you call this place. Reeks of shit. I need fifty of each type of crystal and gem you got.” Turning, she saw a decrepit old man who, while baffled, only nodded to her words with an awkward smile. “Suppose tellin you to hop to it would be too much to ask...”

“I remember,” he started once more in a lethargic tone, “a long time ago when elves still had respect, even for old men like me.”

Erieai’s ears twitched in both agitation and a severe need to pummel the man, but seeing a wounded glimmer in the elder’s eyes, she felt a pang of pity. “Awe, gods. If you were any younger I’d bean you over your head.” Confusion replaced the old man’s current features, making Erieai tussle her hair quickly with a hand in annoyance. “What I mean is, I ain’t an… elf.”

“Oh?” was the lucid reply of the old man as he shuffled forward with a bag in hand. “What are you?”

A contained sigh forced itself out from Erieai as if the man should already know the answer to his question. “An eluvian. We look alike, but we’re different alright?”

“I see.”

I doubt it. Keeping the thoughts to herself, Erieai waited impatiently as the old man meticulously picked up one gem or crystal at the time to place inside the bag. It took a greater part of herself control to keep from yelling in frustration and doing it herself.

At long last, the old man finished and asked her for the appropriate amount of coin. Erieai parted with them quickly, and practically ran out of the store, thankful for somewhat fresh air. A city the size of Radasanth had many horse-drawn carts about and with so many about, the stale stench of horse manure baking in the heat of the rising sun was nearly palpable. It was something the locals were probably used to, but all it did was make Erieai homesick for smog and fumes of heavy machinery. Granted, not much better, just more preferable.

[orphans]

When Erieai neared the docks, she gagged at the overwhelming odor of fish – from the now returning fishing boats – with the horse droppings within the city. Damn sea rations and horse shit. Hate this city. Covering her nose with one hand while her eyes began to tear, she jogged lightly the rest of the way. Any hope of reaching the interior of the Leviathan quickly was dashed away as a crowd came into view as Erieai rounded the last bend.

Mahana be cursed! Of all days for this to happen. Stupid recruitment. With a heavy sigh, Erieai steeled for much elbowing of guts and kicking of shins to carve herself a path through to the front.

Foregoing the pleasantries of asking, the short woman began with a deft kick with her work boots to the nearest person. He was a haggard looking man, unshaven and exuded the same revolting scent as the rest of the city from the black cloak he was wearing. She felt little pity as he gave a stifled grunt of pain and most likely swore under his breath.

Or perhaps that was the next person she elbowed swiftly in the groin, not quite able to reach the gut of the tall man. This repeated itself a few times as the eluvian forged a path of curses, stubbed toes, bruised shins and aching stomachs to the front of the crowd.

“Pell, there’s Erieai,” one of the soldiers of the Leviathan quickly said.

The glimmering yellow eyes of the recruiter beamed at the returning mechanic as she stomped her way over. “Hey! Glad you could make it. We’re just about to start – what’s the matter?”

The remark earned Pell a harsh kick to his own shin, and while plated with steel himself, it still hurt enough that he winced. “Fucking arse! Couldn’t of kept a path clear?”

Managing a grin, Pell scratched the nape of his neck at the rebuke. “Haha, sorry about that. We could really use your help though - now that you’re here.”

“More favors?”

Pell shrugged. “It’s for your department as well.” With that, he stepped forward to address the crowd that had gathered. “Thank you ladies and gentlemen.”

“And creatures…” Jackal mumbled under his helmet.

Only Pell could hear his comrade and he shot a dirty glance behind himself quickly before he returned his attention to those before him. “We will begin the screening for potential recruits starting now. We have four stations currently set up.” He pointed to three small tables each covered by a different color cloth with a chalk marked circle that served as an arena on his left. Then he pointed to a large lonesome table draped with separate color on his right. “As indicated on the fliers, we are seeking mercenaries and skilled hands to work for an extended period of time. The contract is five months minimum.”

“Ey! Is tha pay relly dat good?!” Someone from the crowd shouted. A murmur of agreement sounded from the gathering.

“Cutting right to the chase - I can respect that. Pay is exactly as good as it sounds, even better if you perform well.” Another murmur of skepticism sounded from crowd, making Pell chuckle. “As I’ve said, we will be screening for recruits. The pay is that good because half of you louts won’t make it as a mercenary and the other half isn’t as skilled as they say they are.” As expected, some of those that gathered began to disperse at the mockery.

“Oi’ll disprove yuh.” A large mountain of a man of seven flat in leather hides stepped forward. Muscle practically bulged from every imaginable place, and then some. A rectangular slab of steel that barely resembled a sword was strapped to his back. Instantly, the attention of those beginning to leave returned at the change of events.

Pell merely gave a snort as he wiped the tip of his nose with a gauntleted thumb. “Challenge accepted.”

“Oy, don’tcha think he’s a bit big, Pell?” Erieai managed to let out in wonder. “Maybe you should just let him on?”

Pell shrugged and walked towards the circle. “Still smaller than a Tulartar from back home. Besides, just because he’s big doesn’t mean he can fight.”

The large man gave a deep laugh and grin as he stepped into the arena. “Oi fight behta den yuh might think.”

Pell paid no mind and only popped his back and rolled his neck a bit to loosen himself. “Rules are unarmed combat, so you might as well disarm. If you leave the circle you lose. First to knockout or ring-out wins. Fair enough?”

The large man unstrapped his weapon and tossed it to the stones of the harbor, cracking the pavement where it landed. Taking a look around him, he could see that he was three feet minimum from the edge. “Fair.”

“Jackal, if you’d please.”

“Commander, this isn’t even a fair fight.”

“Shut up Jackal and give the signal.” The mountain man gave another grin, sadistic this time.

“Fighters, ready?” Pell raised his fists up to a guard and the mountain dropped into a stance of his own. “Fight!”

Like a bolt of lightning, the mountain of a man moved with the surprising grace of a pouncing puma and lashed out with a fist. Pell managed to block just in time and skid to the edge of the circle. Following up, the large man charged and readied another strike.

However, Pell ducked under the strike and closed the gap in a sudden movement. A blur of punches rattled into the gut of the large man followed by a single upper cut that cleared the man off his feet. He landed with a resounding thud that left the audience in dead silence. After a moment with no movement, Jackal sighed and shook his head.

“Told you it wasn’t even a fair fight. You’ve been fighting creatures larger than him for, what? Three years?”

“Five. And they’re Tulartars, not creatures,” was the casual reply as Pell walked over to the large man. Pulling something from his belt, he waved it under the man’s nose. Immediately, the large man jerked about with a bewildered look in his eyes. “Calm down, what’s your name?”

“Gaunder...”

Standing up, Pell offered his hand. “Get over to table one and sign on up. You’re hired.”

Gaunder took it and pulled himself up, nearly dragging Pell down in the process, before he offered a sheepish grin as he rubbed his jaw. “Dat was sum punch…”

Pell just jerked his thumb to the furthest table to the right where a soldier stood. As Gaunder walked off, Pell turned to speak to the rest of the crowd. “We’re hiring as many proven skill sets as possible. As demonstrated, the arena and table one are for those signing on as melee fighters. Table two will assess your magical prowess if you wish for that.” As he talked, a second soldier walked to table two. “Table three is for those skilled in ranged combat.”

“There's no target!” Someone yelled out.

“You’ll be shooting at Jackal and he will be catching your arrows.”

The crowd mumbled again, but this time more in awe as Jackal cast his eyes to the heavens in despair while Erieai only offered one word, “What?”

“Don’t worry Eri, Jackal’s actually very good at determining who’s a good marksman or not this way.”

“Yeah, those who don’t hit me are good. The ones with crap shots are the ones I don’t expect. At least now I know why you wanted me on for this…” Jackal groaned while strolling over to table three.

“Quit whining Jackal. Maybel’s right next to you at two. He can patch you up quick.” Clearing his throat with a cough, he continued to concentrate on the gathering before him. “Table four is for non-combative skills.” The remaining two soldiers took their places behind it and began to bring various tools of different trades onto the table from beneath.

There was no movement from the masses as Pell finished his explanation. “Lively crowd,” Erieai said as she started down the pier towards the ship.

“Erieai, you’re not going to help at table four? Don’t complain to me if someone idiotic gets assigned to your department.”

“Fine!”

Turning to the crowds, Pell yelled, “Well come on! The sooner we have enough recruits, the sooner we all leave and you all start getting paid!” As expected, the mention of coin sufficed in getting the mob to move.

[SirArtemis]

'What the hell did she kick me for?' Artemis thought, crouching down to rub his shin while the small woman who looked like an elf pushed her way through the crowd. He watched as the man at the front announced the purpose behind this whole charade, and the vagabond could not help but be thankful that his intuition had yet again been correct.

After the small demonstration with the tree of a man by the front, as well as instructions finally given, Artemis made his decision. He strolled over to the fourth table: the one for non-combative skills. However, as he made his way to the front, he noticed the small elf woman who had struck him not more than a few minutes ago.

"Well? What are you offering?" a man asked, standing behind the table.

Artemis stared down at the young woman. Her stature seemed even less imposing as she sat behind the makeshift table, almost looking like a little elven girl. The table was literally a large plank of wood set upon two crates.

He stared at her, lifting an eyebrow at the small figure before him. "Why did you kick me?" he asked, staring right at her.

"Whot?" the girl asked.

"Why did you kick me? You kicked me in the shin. You could have just asked me to move."

She just rolled her eyes at the man, not deeming him worth the effort.

"Sir, if you don't have anything to offer us, please step out of the line." The man seemed to have little patience, apparently not very pleased by his duties here. He adjusted his helmet, pen still between his fingers, and began to look over Artemis' shoulder for the next person.

"I'm a smith."

At that, an awkward silence filled the air, as if both refused to believe the man. "You look more like a fighter, lad. Why don't you go try out the ranged or melee table. Looks like you have some blades and a bow."

"I'm a smith," Artemis said again, more adamantly this time. He had too much death on his mind from the DeVir nonsense to want to fight. After all, Callahan had shot up some men and left them to die, bleeding out all over the floor. The image would not leave the young man's mind, and he did not want to fuel the fire.

"Alright," the man said, not feeling too invested in changing the man's mind. After all, if he failed, that was not the recruiter's problem. "Prove your skill."

"What do you need me to do?"

The man pointed to an anvil beside the table where a bronze shortsword rested. "Turn the shortsword into a hatchet," the man said with complete seriousness.

"Okay, where's the forge?" Artemis asked, not remembering seeing anything of the sort when he had arrived at the crowd.

The man stared at the vagabond through his full helmet while the woman sat smirking. "What forge?" he asked, staring at Artemis.

Artemis sighed, thinking about how he would find a way to shift the form of the metal with no heat. He glanced around, seeing if he could find anything to work with. He noticed the other three tables already in full swing.

At the first table, two men had taken off their shirts and began going blow-for-blow. It had turned into a fight club, the small ring guarded by a semi-circle of a crowd, cheering on the combatants just as much as they wanted to enter into the ring themselves. Even worse, it seemed that some matches had no winner, both men rejected for their inadequacy.

The second table was the most cliché, a line of robed figures of different colors waiting to show what tricks they had learned while staying up late at night studying. A red-robed man stood at the table now, his hood falling just behind his neck as he swung his hands around in an elaborate gesture. He chanted and swirled, his eyes rolling to the back of his head just as he finished his spell. Artemis could not tell what the man had wanted to happen, but he did notice a small flame ignite on the man's hood.

The red-robed man looked around for a moment, dumbfounded by the failed incantation. Suddenly he began to feel the heat, his eyes going wide as he realized what it was and began to shout and tear at his robe. Behind him, a man in blue robes stepped forward as a stream of water shot out of his finger like a gun. He drenched the man before him and doused the flame, walking up to the table and preparing for his own trial while the wet and embarrassed 'wizard' strolled off.

'What is this, a fucking theme night?' Artemis thought, his irritability showing as he shook his head at the fire and water wizards' selection of robe colors.

The next mage walked up to the table where three clear crystals of different sizes rested upon the surface. The robed figure stared at the helmeted man behind the table and a few words were exchanged before the applicant pointed to one of the crystals. The helmet shook from side to side and the water wizard turned and walked away with his head down.

Closest to him was where ranged combat was being tested, and the test was simple. In front of the table stood a guard named Jackel, and far in front of him stood a long line of men with bows ready. One-by-one, they stepped up to the line that had been laid before them and fired at the helmeted-soldier. Most of the arrows flew right past the soldier, finding their way into random barrels by the pier, others ending up in the water. Occasionally the soldier would be forced to catch an arrow, the archer from which it came stepping up to sign his name before the testing process resumed.

With a sigh, Artemis realized he would find nothing, and instead decided to improvise. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a pair of cubes, the smaller being about a fifth of the size of its larger brother. He set the large one down upon the ground, the cube no larger than an average man's fist, and took a step back. He opened the smaller one and pushed the red button, causing the cube on the ground to unfold itself, spiraling outward until a square about twenty inches on each side formed flatly upon the surface. Suddenly, it ignited, blue and green flames flickering and dancing in excitement of their freedom.

He walked over to the anvil, completely oblivious to the intriguing looks of all those around him. He picked up the shortsword and set the upper half of the blade upon the flame, sitting down on the ground with his legs crossed and waiting, shutting his eyes to pass the time. He was exhausted. Lack of sleep was not something he had been accustomed too, and he was pushing his body past its limits.

'Soon I'll be on this boat and I can sleep,' he thought, motivating himself to succeed.

Minutes passed while he waited, others in the line continuing their approach, giving their names and their professions and hoping they would be able to prove themselves. A carpenter had been assigned to carve a cube of soft wood into an intricate design using nothing but a small mythril paring knife. A tailor had been given a sheet of fabric and a needle, told to make a shirt out of just that. The process continued as people offered their skill and then stepped aside to pass their trial.

Artemis opened his eyes and saw that the brown of the bronze had turned into a warm glow of orange, and he reached for the sword. He walked back to the anvil where a hammer hung off the side of it, grabbing it with his right and setting the blade of the sword down upon the metal.

He began to hammer at the bronze, bending the tip over and creating a hook in the blade, the warm glow slowly beginning to dim with every passing second. He worked quickly, turning the blade into a sixty-degree angle, as if he planned to use it as a pickaxe. The bend was about two thirds of the way up the blade, and once he had finished, he walked back over to his burning fire.

Again he sat down, placing the blade further into the burning blue and green. An alchemist walked up to the table. They gave him a vial of water and a trio of ingredients, then told him to make the potion into something that augmented strength. Artemis just shut his eyes again, ignoring the happenings of the world around him. Meanwhile, the woman who had kicked him in the shin had rested her elbows on the table and glanced at him occasionally in her own vague look of approval.

More minutes passed and Artemis opened his eyes, attuned to the time it took for metal to heat given his experience, and stood again, striding over to the anvil to finish his work. He created another bend in the metal, folding it just as he had the first time though in the opposite direction, and hammered the blade into the shape of a 'z'.

He set the blade upon the anvil to cool as he walked over to the burning cube. He took the smaller cube out of his pocket again, opening it and pressing the black button and watching the flat square spiral back into a fist-sized square. He reached for it, the magic instantly cooling the material and slid the companion cubes back into his pocket. He walked over to the sword, lifting it up and examining it for a moment in the air, turning it to get a good look at the shape.

He brought it over to the table and set it down in front of the eluvian who stared at the oddly shaped blade in confusion.

"That'll work as a hatchet for a short while. Not going to be as good as a real one, but you can get some chopping done."

She looked down at the blade, then back up to him, then lowered her gaze back to the blade and stared.

"So why did you kick me?" he asked again, the helmeted man letting out a chuckle through his helmet.

"Oh quitcher whinin. Ya sound like a girl who got her skirt tussled up." The woman reached down beside herself, grabbed a pair of silver rods, and tossed them toward the vagabond. He caught one in each hand and turned them over, inspecting them for any special properties, but they just seemed to be plain silver. "Now poke the scrap, there," she said, pointing to a small piece of metal at the side of the table.

Artemis looked down to the pair of rods and walked toward the slab with blatant indifference. He poked the rods to the blueish square of metal and felt a tingle rush through his arms. Countless white sparks very slightly tinted blue formed between the pair of rods, bouncing off the slab in random directions with an overwhelming display. Artemis did not seem to care, as he had no idea what any of it meant.

The woman just watched the display, making her own analysis of what the information meant. "Well?" Artemis asked, wondering what else they would ask of him.

The guard pointed to the dock behind them where the massive vessel gently swayed upon the water's surface. "Once everyone has applied and we clear out, line up at the dock to board. Just stick around and wait for us to finish up."

Artemis nodded his understanding and began to walk off, interested in observing more of what the other tables were doing, wondering how skilled the others would really be. He wandered from table to table, pausing for a few moments at each to see how the applicants were doing. One mage, this one in black robes, seemed to be quite irritated that he had not passed the test posed to him. He shouted and flailed, beginning to cast a spell at the recruiter, but the helmeted man seemed to not mind. He simply extended his hand, creating a bubble around the robed figure, and floated the body over to the water, dropping him into the bay with a resounding plop.

As he wandered and waited, he heard the man that tested the archers say something to their commanding officer – the man who had displayed his physical prowess to the group at the start. It was then that Artemis noticed that everyone wore a full helmet, less the elven-looking woman and the commanding officer.

"Hey, Pell," Jackal began, the two men facing out toward the crowd. "You think that kid with the sword is going to sign on? She looks kinda freaky."

[orphans]

“Jackal.”

“Yeah Pell?”

“Stop grinning under there. You know they all look freaky. The non-humans anyways,” mumbling the last part, Pell continued to scan the crowd. “And there are plenty of girls with swords out there. Which one?”

Jackal’s heavy hand fell on Pell’s shoulder as his other hand caught an arrow. Jerking a thumb for the shooter to sign on, he then pointed with the arrow to indicate who he was talking about. “That one there.”

Pell’s eyes fell onto the next archer and saw him waiting. Figuring it was safe enough to look, he followed the imaginary line the arrow created and looked into the crowd. There, he found a confused looking girl with white hair and dressed in a brown garb fashioned to look like the training robes of the initiates back home. Instead of having the sword strapped to her back or at her waist, she carried it in her arms. “She’s holding her sword wrong and has winter hair. So what?”

A deep sigh sounded from the helmet as Jackal rapped the arrow against his superior’s head. “Look closer!”

With a slight grumble, Pell returned his eyes to look at the girl. Straining his eyes, he could make out… horns? Regardless of the horns, when the girl turned, he plainly saw wings upon her back. “Well, that answers why she doesn’t have her sword on her back.”

“That’s beside the point, Pell. You think she’ll sign on?”

“We’ll see,” was his reply. Sticking out a hand quickly, he stopped one of the newly recruited from heading down the pier to board the ship. “Sorry about that, forgot to mention one thing.” Turning to look at who he stopped, it took most of Pell’s calm to stop himself from recoiling. An orc… so green.

“Look, pink man, your recruiter had me do some idiot’s test and I passed. Now I can’t get on the ship?” Annoyance was abundant on the overly green features of the orc’s face as his nostrils flared in anger.

“Erm, no, let me make an announcement first.” Pell began to clear his throat, but noticed quickly that the noise was well over what he could shout over. Considering his options, he stretch a hand up slowly and as it extended all the way, a resounding crack resembling gunfire sounded. At once, those around stopped and looked to the source of the noise. “Thank you, now that I have everyone’s attention. Make sure you have everything you need. Once you board the ship, we cannot let you off. Standard procedure. Carry on.”

The orc looked abashed at this point and Pell took the slight change in color in the man’s cheek to be a blush. “I’m... sorry. Just wanted to see my accommodation is all, but I do have some books to pack.”

“Books?” Pell hoped the surprise wasn’t obvious in his voice.

“Yes,” the orc said with some irritation as he jerked a thumb to the fourth table for non-combatants. “Books, I’m a librarian.”

“Oh.” Could’ve fooled me. “Well, don’t be late. We’ll most likely leave tomorrow morning at this rate.”

Grumbling something, the orc moved off and disappeared through the crowd of people. Others followed his example to gather belongings and say their goodbyes to loved ones.

The odd-looking girl continued to stand about looking to each of the stations. Whenever she took a step towards one, she stopped and reconsidered. All the while, Pell stared at her intently to study her looks. There was something about her appearance that seemed so familiar, yet off.

“She could just stand there all day and look pretty. Taken a fancy to her, eh Pell?” Jackal asked with a nudge. Those who had lined up for archery had finished first, as expected.

“Shut up Jackal. I’m just trying to remember why she looks familiar.”

“Brothel back home? Never knew you were into non-humans.”

“Jackal, eluvians aren’t human either,” Pell pointed out calmly.

“Yeah… but they can pass as such if they have long hair to hide their ears.”

A creeping sensation washed over both their backs as both shot a glance over to Erieai’s station. There, they saw the eluvian giving them a death stare while her candidate poked and prodded the scrap of metal with the rods to no avail.

“Let’s move off this subject.”

“Yeah, I agree,” Jackal mumbled quickly as he began down the pier. “I’m gonna head back to the ship.”

“Filled the numbers already?”

“Yup!” was all Jackal offered as he practically skipped down to board the ship?

“Mahana help that moron…” Returning his attention to the possible recruits still left, he watched as the melee contest was in full swing. It was always the most popular, even back home in Seoyruun. Over at the non-combative table, the line was still long. It always was given the nature of the tests. They were impractical tests, but only looked for the individual’s resolve to carry on. Funny how they would all be accepted if they simply tried.

Looking back to see if the girl had moved at all, Pell found her standing behind the last person for the station for mages. Figures. The sword is all for show. Even so, magic? Sadly, even if she was strong in magic it would all depend on her internal mana. It was what helped to choose the right crystal and as magic support, they would be need that skill more than actually casting spells.

Maybel, the mage tester, went rigid at the sight of the small girl. The two talked and then the girl chose immediately. Maybel nodded his head and pointed shakily towards Erieai’s table. She nodded and then ran over to Erieai as Maybel walked slowly over to Pell.

“Pell…”

“Yes, Maybel?” Pell asked as he watched the girl run past him.

“I didn’t think we’d find the Skalu Hudie here.”

All of a sudden, everything clicked into place for Pell as his eyes widened at Maybel. Even though his companion had a helmet on, he could tell the man was in awe and wonder as well. “Now that you mention it, the resemblance is uncanny, but I always thought they were… bigger.”

“But, she is one, isn’t she?”

Both of them looked to the white-haired girl as she held the two rods of silver. Erieai herself looked bored out of her mind as she pointed at the piece of scrap metal. The white-haired girl prodded the metal with both sticks and waited. After nothing happened, Pell looked to Maybel with a bit of disappointment. “I think you jumped the gun on this one Maybel. Maybe she’s –” but Pell never finished as screams and a bright flash exploded out of the direction of Erieai’s table.

Turning their eyes back after the light subsided they found a dazed Erieai and the white-haired girl panicked with two silver orbs rotating about her quickly. “Still think I jumped the gun on this one?”

Erieai, once recovered, snapped her fingers and the two orbs drifted slowly to circle around the hand she had used. Then, she smiled. A very bright smile that surprised even Pell; Erieai never smiles like that for anyone. “Maybel?”

“Yes Pell?”

“What did she say her name was?”

Maybel cleared his throat as he adjusted his helmet, wishing there was more to do to delay in inevitable. “She uh, said her name was Sophia.”

A grin appeared on Pell’s lips as he looked expectantly to the young girl as she talked to Erieai. Well, maybe not all legends we learn about are bullshit.

[SirArtemis]

After the announcement regarding boarding the vessel had been made, Artemis watched as some of the crowd began to disperse, those who had signed on heading off to collect their necessities for the journey, and those who failed the tests resuming their meaningless and meager lives. With the density diminishing, Artemis knew that he would need to get out of plain sight, and boarding the ship became his best option. Part of him felt uneasy about the idea of the permanence of the decision to board.

'Once you get on, you can't get off.'

Artemis repeated the word in his mind, allowing the seriousness of this decision sink in. He did not really know where the ship was going – only that it was away from here.

He walked over to the one soldier who did not wear a helmet, the very one who made the announcement.

"Excuse me," he asked, waiting for the man to acknowledge him.

"What can I do for you?"

"Why are people not allowed off the ship once they are on?"

Pell just looked at the young man, a knowing smile forming on his lips. "Just protocol."

"Does the rule apply to everyone?" Artemis worried about the town watch, wondering if Callahan had sent them to look out for him. Paranoia had taken hold of the man, and getting away became the most important thing for him.

"Anyone who isn't from where we are, yes. Why do you ask?"

Artemis did not answer. He simply walked past Pell and continued toward the boat, satisfied with the answer. Pell folded his arms and turned to watch the man walk away, the vagabond not turning back once. The knowing smirk remained on his face, and after a few seconds, he turned back, returning to the task and wanting to finish up as soon as possible.

The dock was rotten and warped, the wood worn from the decades of use. The cracks had shrunk and grown with every change of season and with every passing storm. Occasionally Artemis would pass a board that had a lighter tinge, replaced after being completely broken through.

As he walked along the side of the massive vessel, he found he could not see over the side, but he could hear sounds one would expect. When he finally made it to the gangplank, he walked up the steel platform and onto the vessel as something completely unexpected happened.

As he breached the veil that had been put into place by the owners of the ship, the world around him changed significantly. Massive metallic cylinders set in a trio were set upon the front and back of the vessel, poised up and out. Where the lonely mast had once been, a large steel tower now stood, topped with a flattened room wrapped with windows instead of walls. Flanking the tower were two massive steel pipes, their tops stained black along the rim. The whole vessel was a smith's dream, everything made of the highest quality metal and crafted flawlessly. The seams and rivets of how everything fit together was a work of such masterwork, and it had never been something the man had seen before. Awe overtook him as he spun slowly and began to wander, forgetting why he was on the ship in the first place.

"Quite the sight, isn't it?" Jackal said, standing beside the man and leaning against a wall.

Artemis turned, looking to see whom it was with a bit of nervousness. When he saw that it was a soldier of the vessel, he relaxed slightly before speaking. "Yeah, it is. I've worked with metal most of my life but... I've never seen anything like this. Never something of this magnitude."

"You're the one who made a z-sword hatchet, right?" he asked with a chuckle.

Artemis smiled, scratching the back of his head. "Yeah, that'd be me. I probably could have done something better but I haven't slept in a few days. I think it's getting to me."

Jackal stepped toward the vagabond, resting his arms on his hips as he stared through his helmet at the man. "So why metalwork?" he asked, eyeing Artemis. "You have a bow. You have some blades of your own. I'm sure you're skilled with those as well."

Artemis' hand fell to the hilt of his blade, Virtue, and rubbed the engraving – an old habit of comfort that refused to die. "I don't like to kill unless I believe the reason to be virtuous, and as I don't know the reasons you may have..."

Jackal slowly nodded his head, as if approving of the man's reasoning. "That's fair. Well, welcome aboard. If you'd like to get some rest, that's the way to the living quarters." He gave a slight tilt of the head, gesturing in the direction behind him. "I'm sure you would appreciate some sleep." Jackal sensed the reluctance in Artemis' expression, and decided to give the man some solace. "Don't worry, no one will touch you in your sleep. At least I won't."

With that, he turned and walked off, removing his helmet as he went and revealing a head full of jet-black hair that matched the style of Pell's cut. He left the vagabond to his thoughts. He stood there in silence, turning to face the city of Radasanth and wondering what future lay before him.

[orphans]

“But that’s not fair!”

“Is too! Sides, I’ve never had a first pick. Isn’t that right Pell?”

“I never have either! Pell, tell her!”

The normally bright yellow eyes of Pell had dulled with the exhaustive back and forth for the past hour. His head throbbed as the three stood on the deck of the Leviathan. Recruitment had ended for the day and numbers were surprisingly high and if the same pace kept up, they would all be leaving within the next two days or sooner.

That being said, Pell hadn’t counted on both Erieai and Maybel wanting the same recruit. Both had varying reasons and both gave rather good reasons for wanting the girl Sophia. Still, the bickering had simply gone in circles and only made Pell’s head ring. Combined with the occasional questions from the new recruits that had chosen to board early, he desperately wanted to crawl into his bunk and just sleep; or perhaps just be sent to the front again. At least there, all he had to focus on was killing the enemy and keeping himself and his troops from getting killed.

“Pell forced me to stay there and waste time. I coulda had those two power cells made already! If I had her help, it’ll go faster.”

“Like the hells it would! She wouldn’t even know what to do!”

“I’ll teach her then.”

“She’ll be more useful refining her magic talent!”

The two of them then looked to the young commander and whined simultaneously, “Pell, say something!”

With a slight groan, Pell raised a hand to massage at his throbbing temples. “Please, both of you. I’ll confine her to my unit if you two can’t make a compromise.” Immediately, he regretted saying those words as the two launched their attacks anew.

“You?! She didn’t sign up for melee combat!”

“That’s right! You’ll only twirl her mind about somewhere idiotic!”

“Exactly! You know what could happen if you tamper with the mind of a Skalu Hudie?” Pell and Erieai looked to Maybel with confusion. At once, Maybel waved for all of them to huddle closer and whispered urgently, “She could destroy us all...”

Frowning, Pell pulled back. “The hells do you think I’d do to her?”

“I don’t know Pell, but we all know you aren’t exactly the gentle type.”

Erieai snorted in agreement. “Ain’t that the truth. Broke the handle clean off his own door in the mornin while stumblin about.”

“No I – how did you know about that?” Pell wished he didn’t ask that as he received a swift kick to his shin from the eluvian woman.

“Cause I had to fix your damn door.” Maybel snickered beneath his helmet that he had yet to remove while Erieai glared at Pell.

With an exhausted breath, Pell said reluctantly, “We don’t know if she even is a Skalu Hudie. The legend and prophecy itself is nearly two thousand years old and it never even specified a time.”

“So I’ll get her?” Erieai piped up with hope.

“Yes –”

“What?! Pell that’s not fair!”

Pell held his hands up quickly for both to be silent as he continued slowly in a barely controlled tone, “On the condition that Maybel gets a week as well.”

“What?”

“Likewise… Pell, she’s not an animal. She’s a Skalu Hudie!”

“Look, I know that a few of the prophetic signs have shown, but you can’t be sure of it. Therefore, you two will share the recruit by alternating weeks.” Both of them were about to object when Pell’s voice grew low and dark, “This decision is final.” With a glower at the two, Pell stalked off while rubbing his temples gingerly.

“Well, that was a turn in the cuckoo’s nest. You lunch yet, Maybel?”

“What? Oh, no I’m going to get some shut eye.” Pulling the helmet off, Maybel ran a hand through the same uniform haircut as Pell and Jackal, only his color was a deep chestnut. He had a young face that was delicately chiseled. Eyes that matched his hair's color surveyed the deck of the ship, now populated with a mix of newly hired mercenaries and crew to make sure they kept in line. There was little effort or need to corral the new hires as all of them gaped in awe and wonder, perfectly content to be lead about and have things explained.

“Oh ho?” Looking to up to the man, Erieai crossed her arms in suspicion. “You aren’t thinkin about looking for the girl are you?”

“Of course not!” he shouted, drawing a few looks as he lowered his voice in embarrassment. “I mean, no, I’m not going to do that.”

Looking to him a bit unconvinced, Erieai eyed his left cheek where an intricate knot was tattooed in red ink. Relenting, her shoulders sagged lightly, “Suppose I can trust the word of a sixth circle magi. Alright, for the first week, why don't we both have her? She’ll need to learn quickly anyways.”

“Really?” Maybel blinked his eyes a few times in surprise, widened in hope, and then narrowed in suspicion.

“Yah, really,” Erieai replied quickly as she squirmed at his gaze. “But only if you go pick up foodstuffs from the market. I didn’t have enough room this morn.”

“But – augh, fine.” Jamming his helmet back on Maybel started for the plank off the Leviathan.

Grinning from ear to ear, Erieai pulled out a glossy red apple from a pocket and bit into the sweet flesh. “Now,” she managed between a mouthful, “If I were a small girl on a big ship, were would I be…”

[SirArtemis]

'So this isn't a dream,' Artemis thought, waking up from his restful slumber and looking around. The room he sat in was, in essence, a metal box. There were eight beds set up, all as bunks and with a small storage chest at the foot of each. A small part of him began to fear the Radasanth Guard had found him – he felt like he was stuck in a prison cell. The only solace was the exit that completely lacked a door, which prisons generally had.

He stood and walked out of the room and looked in both directions down the endless steel hall, a seemingly recurring theme within this ship. A man walked by in a white uniform that seemed to be hurrying to his next task. "Excuse me, do you know where the lavatory is?" Artemis asked the scurrying man.

"Back of the ship," the man said quickly while pointing a thumb behind him as he increased his pace.

Artemis looked around his room, opening a chest and seeing what was inside. He noticed there were some clean sets of clothing and he decided to grab a clean tunic to change into, given that the one he wore likely retained quite a vile stench given the last few days of not showering. With tunic in hand, he turned and began to head down the way the man pointed, a cool air rushing through the tunnel-like hallway. It was then that he realized the countless glowing rods stuck to the ceiling as he began to pass, emitting a warm yellowish glow. It was something the vagabond had never seen, as he spent most of his life in the familiar flicker of torchlight.

He reached up to touch one and he felt the heat resonating from the light, a very subtle hum reverberating against the steel.

"This is just weird," Artemis mumbled, continuing down the hall.

Eventually he found himself in a room that he believed was the lavatory, yet was very different from what he had expected. As he walked in, the wall to his right contained about four small chambers, each with its own walls and doors but a small slot under the door, as it hung in the air. Within each chamber was what Artemis believed were toilets, the small metal bowls filled with a bit of water that seemed to linger, as if waiting for something.

To the left of the room and in front of the toilets was a line of half a dozen bowls attached to a long counter, yet again made of metal. Each one had a small hole in the middle and a metal hook that pointed at the bowl. A handle of sorts was placed upon the top of each hook and Artemis reached for one, beginning to wiggle it. As he did, the hook began to leak, and water streamed out and into the small bowl beneath. In surprise, Artemis quickly returned the handle to its original position in fear that he had broken something, and the water had stopped. His heart rate had jumped, and as he steadied his breath and let it settle, he lifted the lever again, gently allowing a clean stream of clear water to pour out.

"This is just ridiculous. Who are these people?"

Artemis rubbed his eyes, making sure that this was indeed reality and looked ahead of himself, staring at the reflection that he had not paid much attention to until now. He looked haggard - a shadow of a man. His black leather armor, black cloak and dark brown hair made him look like the walking night. Letting out a sigh, he took some of the cool water and splashed his face a bit, then unbuckled his leather chestguard and removed it, setting it aside on the counter. A bar of soap sat in a small shell in front of him and he lathered up his hands. He washed his face, then dipped his hair in the sink and used the soap to wash that as well. He stared at himself as the water dripped off. He blew out with his lips, causing a few drops to stick to the reflective surface in front of him. The way the drops stuck reminded him of the bloody massacre Victor Callahan had left behind, the image causing him to splash at his face again.

"Damn it."

Another deep sigh. He removed his tunic and threw it aside in what looked like a laundry basket of some kind, then washed what he could, taking extra care with his underarms - they smelled like a carcass. After finishing up, he gave his face and hands another wash and lathered his face before pulling out one of his pristine mythril daggers and setting the edge to work. The grating sound of sharp blade slowly slicing through each hair put him at ease, and within minutes his face was smooth and he felt a bit more like himself.

He finished the job and set the blade aside as he washed off what was left on his face. He stared down, looking at the reflection of the weapon and the engraving of the word virtue along the hilt. He reached for it, running the metal under the water to clean it and ran his finger gently along the engraving - an old habit that he could not let go. He quickly sheathed it as a strong urge to get out into the open compelled him to get moving. He pulled on his clean tunic and rebuckled his leather chestguard, then wandered through countless glowing hallways, the rods seemingly endless as they did their assigned duty. More people passed him, some in the white uniform, some in a shade of blue, and very rarely one would pass in black.

Eventually, he found his way back up to the deck of the ship and wandered to the front. Standing there was Jackal, his black hair gently dancing on the wind as he twirled a throwing knife in the air.

Artemis approached the rail along the front of the ship to the left of Jackal, peeking out and over at the docks. He took a deep breath and filled his lungs with the fresh ocean air, which he already missed after spending so many hours tucked inside of the metal casket that he slept in.

"How long was I out?"

Jackal didn't even look at him. He simply continued to twirl his knife. "Well, depends on when you started. Last I saw you was yesterday afternoon."

Artemis yawned, looking up at the sky and noticing that it was morning. He watched as people began their day anew, just like they had the last few days he had watched them. On and on with their normal routine, their days unchanging and the lives as simple as a life could be. Artemis could not decide whether it was pity or envy that filled him as he watched them the last few days.

It was then that he noticed a score of guards walking down the pier toward the boarding ramp of the ship that Artemis was now aboard. Panic started to fill him as he watched in fear that they were coming for him. His heart started beating faster and his breath quickened, but he was too afraid to say anything. Jackal stopped twirling the blade and watched for a few seconds, completely ignoring Artemis' reaction.

"Well, that should be interesting." He turned and left the front of the ship, his black uniform matching the dark of his hair, both perfectly immaculate as he wandered off toward the boarding area of the ship.

Artemis could only watch, his eyes wide with horror as he hoped that they were not in fact here for him, though the cynicism within him refused to quiet down. He left the front of the ship quickly, hoping to see what the commotion was about behind some cover, and headed in the same direction as Jackal.

[orphans]

“Captain Elutu, there seems to be an issue on our docking pier.” Looking up from a tablet of crystal, Operator Yuel turned in her chair to face Tarolts. Hints of a smile flitted about her lips as Tarolts yawned into his morning tea.

“Mmm? A problem?” By the time he looked over, the smile had disappeared and Yuel’s face was once again the static blank look with only her sharp brown eyes to break the monotony.

“Yes sir. I’ll put it on image.” Laying her crystal tablet onto a slight indent of her desk, a small click sounded as the scene outside the Leviathan projected over the central table: twenty heavily armed Radasanth guards marching down the pier towards the ship. Already, the Leviathan’s own soldiers had rushed out to block the way.

“Odd, wonder what’s the matter.” Scratching at the beginnings of scruff on his face, Tarolts moved over to the windows to have a better look.

“Captain, scouts in the city reported this morning on the general atmosphere. There seems to be civil war in Corone as we speak. Perhaps they are displeased with our hiring of potential mercenaries?”

“Figures… I believe Pell can handle this well enough.” He took a few sips of his tea and walked back to the table. Yuel disconnected her tablet and hit a few symbols before the image over the central table was replaced with a detailed map of Radasanth, along with a multitude of small colored dots that moved about the city and docks. “It also seems we have a few still in the city on shore leave…” he mumbled as he eyed the green dots dispersed throughout Radasanth.

“Yes sir. Should I send out a recall signal?”

“That shouldn’t be necessary, but have it on standby,” he said as he sipped his tea. Another quick survey of the map revealed nothing new save for the twenty black dots on the pier moving closer.

-----

Down on the pier Pell was having a bad morning. The head of the Radasanth guard had done nothing but yell and demand for the hired hands to be released. Only trouble was, he spit just as much as he yelled. Unfortunately for the guard, the only response Pell had to offer was, “I cannot comply with that command. You aren’t my superior.”

“You don’t understand, boy, I’m not asking. These are orders directly from Emien Harthworth.”

More spittle flew and Pell neither tried to dodge nor shy away from the storm. After the guard captain was done yelling, Pell wiped his face carefully with a gauntlet and spoke calmly once more. “That name has no meaning for me. My superior only informed me that we have the proper clearance to recruit and use this dock.”

The guard hocked a wad of something out into the water and eyed Pell for a moment before chuckling. “I’ll say it differently and clearly so that you understand me: Your ship is detained,” he nearly bellowed. As if to indicate his meaning he pointed out over into the sea for Pell to look.

Pell neither moved nor showed any indication he was willing to do what the guard wanted. Instead, he unhooked a helmet that had been hanging from his hip and placed it over his head to join his other brethren. “This conversation is over, dog of Harthworth.”

-----

“Captain Elutu, a fleet has moved into blockade formation at the mouth of the harbor. The spotters have identified them as a detachment of the Corone Navy second fleet. Five heavy gunships.”

“Still wooden ships,” Tarolts mumbled as he approached the side looking out into the sea. Hazy shapes in the distance could be made out as silhouettes against the lingering morning fog.

“Mercenaries who have gathered their belongings are also approaching now. Some are hesitating due to the presence of guards.”

“Send the recall. Give all personal the permission to use force if necessary. Ignore technology restrictions as well.”

There was a brief moment of hesitance from Yuel before she moved. Her fingers hovered quickly over a series of switches on her desk and flipped three of them. A brief sharp whine sounded in her ears as one of her eyes visibly flinched. She always hated that order. Everyone hated that order, but everyone also knew the severity of it.

Tarolts only drained the rest of his tea and moved back to the table. He could see the green dots dispersed throughout the city moving at a rapid pace towards the location of the Leviathan. Harthworth, what are you after now? You know we conduct this trade every two years regardless of what happens. A sudden flash of a crimson dot moving towards the direction of the ship from the edge of the city snatched his attention. “Miss Yuel, see if Miss Ezraehie has the power cells ready.”

“She already reported them in place and is calibrating a few linger problems, Captain,” Yuel returned.

“Good, we leave as soon as all personnel are on board. Things just got more serious than I thought.” So that’s it isn’t it? You’re running out of serum crystals to make your disgusting pets and you need more. “Send a message to Telaeve. Tell him there’s a scarlet incoming. He’ll understand.”

[SirArtemis]

Artemis scrambled along the side of the ship, looking over to see what would unfold before him. Pell stood on the docks in front of the boarding ramp, a dozen men of his own standing guard in their full armor as a score of equally impressive men approached. The members of the town guard were not the normal run-of-the-mill men you would see wandering the streets of Radasanth; these men stood wrapped in full plate mail, every inch of their bodies covered and guarded from any dangers that might come their way.

A name passed between Pell and the man who lead the armored troops – Emien Harthworth. Artemis felt a name like that would not be used as a threat if it did not carry some authority throughout the city, and he did have some recollection of hearing the name before. Unfortunately, he could not put a name to the face, and it did not seem that Pell cared very much. The fact that their ship had been boxed in and trapped also seemed to faze the men little.

However, it seemed to annoy Pell, and it was not long before Artemis watched the man don his helm for the first time, covering his brown hair. Just as he did, a blade struck the leader of the guard in the shoulder, and as the vagabond looked more closely, he recognized the blade as the one that Jackal had been twirling in his hand moments before. The heavy dehlar, perfectly balanced, struck hard and with enough impact to set the man back a few steps; however, he did not make a sound.

The man looked down at where the blade had struck him and then looked up to the ship. A look of irritation went across his face as he spat again, this time to the side, before looking up at Pell with a sadistic grin. "I was hoping you wouldn't make this easy," and as he said the words, he pulled out a pristine mythril longsword from its sheath and set it upon Pell.

Pell did not even use a weapon. He raised a gauntleted arm and blocked the blade's complete momentum, then quickly knocked it aside with a quick motion of the same hand. His other gauntlet followed up with a strong strike to the head guard's abdomen, and Artemis swore that for a moment the man was lifted completely off the ground by Pell's fist. As he retracted his arm from the single strike, a clear dent could be seen.

The head guard gritted his teeth at the strike of the blow, refusing to shout in pain, but shout he did: "Kill them!" The malice in his face could be seen, as the helmet he wore left his face exposed, almost expecting it to be a weapon of its own; granted, he was quite ugly.

Artemis watched as the pack of men engaged one another, metal ringing through the air as the docks became a battlefield. Artemis simply shook his head in disappointment and frustration. He had wanted to get away from all the fighting and killing, and all he had done was find himself in yet another situation. As he pulled out his bow, he noticed that the ship's men all seemed to shudder slightly for a moment, and all at once. Confused, he looked over at Jackal, who winced and picked at his ear with a finger.

Jackal looked up at Artemis. "Well Hatchet Guy, you should either find some cover or help out." At that, he disappeared through a door, leaving Artemis on the deck of the ship.

"Tch, out of the frying pan and into the fire." Artemis mumbled the words under his breath as he watched the body of his bow turn from its normal pure white to a midnight black. He pulled the naked string back as a dark mist formed into the shape of an arrow. As the vagabond released the magical projectile, it flew true and struck one of the guards that were teaming up on another man. However, whereas Artemis expected the man to fall to the ground, the magic incapacitating him, instead it only left him completely disoriented. That was good enough, as the man who was being tag teamed saw his opening and took the butt end of his blade and struck the opponent in the head, knocking him to the ground and leaving him sprawled out and vulnerable.

Artemis fired another arrow, trying to thin the ranks, but the next man he struck had even less of a reaction to Artemis' magic.

"What's going on, Judicis?" Artemis asked, speaking to the sentient spirit of his bow. "Why isn't the magic working?"

'These men have been trained to resist magical effects, Artemis. You also have not yet mastered the power of the projectile, and without training, it will not do to them what you wish to be done.'

Artemis cursed under his breath as Jackal returned, wearing his armor and holding a long cylindrical piece of metal with what looked like a handle and a small hook beneath it. He loaded what looked like a small metal barrel into the larger object and lifted it up, propping the base against his shoulder. A loud bang resounded from the object, similar to the weapon that Victor Callahan used that he called a gun. Artemis surmised that this too was some form of a gun, and when he looked at where the weapon had been pointed, he saw fire erupt from the point of impact.

"Gotta love incendiary rounds," Jackal smiled, pulling out another of the barrels and setting it in place with a loud click and jerk of his arm. Artemis fired another arrow, hoping to find some enemies that were more susceptible to the magic, and again he struck a target that did not react. Jackal, however, fired his round at the same man, and as the shell struck, a clap of thunder resounded, causing a few men just around the target to stagger slightly at the loud bang. The sound left them disoriented much as Artemis' initial arrow had, and Jackal quickly reloaded yet again.

Another clap of thunder resounded from his gun, as well as from where the weapon struck, and at that moment, Artemis saw a storm of men rushing toward the rear of the town guards. Nearly two score of them rushed forward, a quarter of group moving faster than the rest. Artemis recognized some of the men that lagged as mercenary applicants from the day before.

Instantly, the tides had turned. The guards below had been outnumbered and flanked, giving Artemis hope that this would be over soon. That hope was soon dashed as a loud thud just behind him caused him to turn, and instantly a fist met his face and sent him through the air, tumbling over himself and landing on the ground with a thud. He tried to look up through blurred vision at the shape of a man that stood over him, but he could not comprehend what he saw.

[orphans]

“What the nine hells Hatchet Guy – Oh fuck!” Jackal turned quickly to see what the commotion was with Artemis. Part of him wished he didn’t and the other part thanked his goddess of luck as he raised the rifle just in time to intercept the blade of the masked opponent. “Go suck on another soul you damned scarlet!” Jackal yelled as he gave a sharp kick to his adversary’s right knee. Experience told him that there should have been a nice popping sound with a snap, preferably with some screaming. Instead, the Scarlet’s blade grew hot and melted through Jackal’s rifle and nearly relieved him of an arm.

Following up quickly, the Scarlet weaved forward to strike at Jackal’s open torso. The clear sound of metal scraping metal ground into Jackal’s ear and made him look quickly at the gauntlet of his opponent. Once again, he wished he didn’t look as claws sprouted from the knuckles before it crashed through his armor then his stomach. A second later, he found himself sailing through the air.

Jackal’s body hit the steel deck of the Leviathan and rolled twice before stilling itself in front of three soldiers. One strode forward quickly and placed himself between the wounded man and the Scarlet Brigade member as he shouted an order for medical attention. The two others immediately grabbed Jackal and the unconscious mercenary and carried them below to safety.

The Scarlet regarded the lone soldier for but a split second before rushing forward with all intents to kill. An instant before the Scarlet’s sword could claim the soldier’s life, the air between them shimmered. A loud clash resounded through the air as the soldier parried the Scarlet’s blade with his own and held the clawed gauntlet with his free hand.

A guttural scream rose from the Scarlet, refusing to be denied his victory. Wrenching the clawed gauntlet away, it then struck forward once more. It was countered with an arcing strike, severing the claws away from the gauntlet. Seeing its chance, the Scarlet cleaved for the soldier’s head. Its blade struck the helmet and both shattered at once into fine dust. When the powder cleared, cold steel-gray eyes rose to meet the mask of the Scarlet member as the Scarlet drew another blade from its back.

-----

Chaos reigned on the pier as the mercenaries and crew returning from the city took the guards by surprise. A howling war cry sounded from the one leading the charge as he crashed against the blade of a guard with his own.

Pell and his men gave a shout in return and began the fight in earnest. Time was of the essence now and the few guards separating their brethren needed to be eliminated, immediately. One by one, the guardsmen were cut down either from behind or pushed into the water with their heavy armor to serve as their coffin. An inglorious tactic, but Pell seldom paused to think about his actions if it guaranteed the survival of his men.

A fierce roar rose some ways away in the melee making Pell whirl about to find the source. When he did, he couldn’t help but grin beneath his helmet as he watched the orcish librarian lift a guard and throw the man unceremoniously into a stack of crates nearby. Another quick survey showed what remained of the Radasanth guard attempting to flee. A sudden crackle of cannon fire in the distance confirmed Pell’s suspicions. Whoever this Emien Harthworth was, he had expected conflict and had planned for the worst.

“Everyone on this ship, now!” Pell managed to yell as the beginning barrage of cannon balls barreled overhead and crushed the cobblestones near the docks. Others were more accurate and splintered the wood of the pier and flesh of men alike. Those that impacted the Veil of the Leviathan made the image of the ship ripple unnaturally, causing hesitance in the mercenaries. Another salvo of cannon balls impacting nearby was more than enough to stir them to action.

[orphans]

Safety was the last thing any of the new recruits felt as they boarded the Leviathan. While it was true that the thunder of distant cannon fire was mute within the Veil, the clash of steel between the lone soldier and the Scarlet member was anything but silent. Just when Pell thought things couldn’t be any worse, the wail of the ship’s emergency siren sounded.

“Get below!” Pell yelled. Irritation could hardly describe what he felt when he saw more than half of the new recruits covering their ears from the siren’s blare. With no time to wonder if they had heard him, Pell motioned for his men to drag everyone below deck. That left only the lone soldier still engaged in combat. “Telaeve, the Veil is lowering! You need to get below!”

“Understood,” was the curt reply as the man parried a thrust that threatened to disembowel him. Telaeve then countered with a sharp blow to the Scarlet’s blade. The moment the swords touched, Telaeve’s weapon turned a pitch black and sank to the deck, anchoring the Scarlet’s blade as well. It created the brief window of opportunity Telaeve needed as the Scarlet lurched forward towards the ground with its sword. Using the precious seconds gained, Telaeve tore away his opponent’s mask with his right hand while his left became aflame with amber light.

In the moment that followed, the world stilled and an eerie calm took hold of the deck. The once steel-gray eyes of the man burned with the same amber light he clutched as he spoke in an otherworldly tongue:


http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v496/moonstalker/words.png


When the final syllable broke free from Telaeve’s lips, the world resumed its never-ending motion forward. With it, the Scarlet member gave a hollow scream at the heavens and collapsed to his knees. In a single motion Telaeve strode forward and plunged the hand still aglow into the man’s chest and drew out a pulsating crystal. Without a second to spare, Telaeve made for the safety of the interior and whispered a prayer quickly for the husk of the Scarlet member left on the deck.

[orphans]

“Reactor room reports full power in all systems. Aim corrections to the main cannon array have been finalized. All crew and most contracted mercenaries are reported and accounted for. We’re ready to cast off on your word, captain.”

“Thank you, Miss Yuel.” The command center was a hive of activity as Tarolts paced to the side surveying the open sea. Distant muzzle flashes continued one after another, sending a continuous salvo of shells toward the Leviathan. Peering behind his shoulder at the projected map, he noted the crimson dot fading quickly. “Telaeve performed well. Helmsman, take us out of port. All ahead full. We’ll ram through the center ship of their formation.”

“Yes sir, all ahead full.” A deep grumble welled up from the mammoth ship as it started forward, gathering speed quickly and splitting the waves easily before its bow.

“Gunner, target all portside targets but leave the starboard free. Fire when the Veil drops.”

“Aye captain, confirming portside targets.”

“Miss Yuel, if you'd please.”

“Veil lowering and transferring to primary barriers in three… two… one.”

A shattering of a thousand mirrors sounded as the Veil lifted from the Leviathan and for the first time in months, sunlight glistened freely upon the steel. Narrowing his eyes at the momentary glare, Tarolts offered only one word, “Fire.”

Three thundering booms tore through the air and in their wake, shook the Leviathan to its core. Barely a moment had passed before the left most ship erupted in lavender flames followed by an explosion of ignited gunpowder.

“Main cannons have been reloaded and ready to fire again on your order, captain.”

Tarolts hesitated for but a moment as he stroked an idle thumb against his chin. Something didn’t add up. Harthworth wasn’t a simple man and this couldn't be a simple test of strength or attempt for serum crystals. There was something else at work here. “Adjust aim to destroy their masts.”

Without question, the gunner dialed in the corrections and held his finger over the firing control. “Correction made.”

“Fire.” Once more, the cannons of the Leviathan roared and the desired results were obtained. However, a moment later, the disabled ship detonated as well. “Miss Yuel, divert all cannon power to front barriers and engine. Helmsman, activate the runes and stop them after we ram their ship.”

The helmsman shot a look to Yuel, who only shrugged her shoulders as she flipped a few switches quickly, before releasing a lock and cranking the control lever completely to the top. “Thrust runes activating.” Immediately, the entire Leviathan rushed forward, seemingly leaping the rest of the distance between it and its target. A fiery explosion rocked the ship as it collided with the center Corone Navy boat, making the barrier surrounding the Leviathan shimmer in a brilliant autumn light. As the light settled, Tarolts walked towards the windows facing the stern of the ship to watch the tidal wave created in the aftermath capsize the remaining two vessels.

“Miss Yuel, return the ship to normal and set a course for home. Send me a report on damages after everything has been assessed.”

“Of course captain. Shall I find you in your office later?”

“Yes, I’ll be preparing a report of my own.” The two guards standing by the hatch to the stairwell saluted Tarolts and he returned the gesture in a tired manner as he exited. Damn you Harthworth and damn these games between you and my father…

[SirArtemis]

When Artemis opened his eyes, a dull ache filled his entire body. Stiffness in his limbs and disorientation after being knocked unconscious left him feeling groggy and ill. As his vision came into focus, despite the pounding headache and distracting dull pain in his ribs, he realized he was in an infirmary. He began to think back on what happened, remembering that he was likely upon the metal ship, and seeing Jackal bandaged heavily around the midsection a few feet away solidified those thoughts.

He looked about himself, realizing he was not even in a bed of his own, but after seeing the state of the people who were in the beds, he understood completely. The memory of a fist striking him in the face explained the headache, and he assumed that however he landed, that had caused the pain in his ribs, so he stood up gingerly from the chair they had placed his sleeping body in and began to pace the infirmary. He was sitting on his black leather chestguard, which had been removed to bandage his lower torso, and he grabbed it as he rose.

The metal walls were lined with shelves and cabinets of the same material, glistening and reflecting the countless potions and bandages littered about the room. There were also many objects foreign to Artemis, including several that looked much like his lock plunger, though tipped with thin metal. He even watched one woman stick a man in the arm with one of the devices, leaving the vagabond to rub his arm empathetically. About the room, nurses and doctors and other medical staff went about their business, some even using magical means to heal victims.

Not wanting to get in the way, Artemis smiled and nodded at the passing staff and slowly made his way into the halls, trying to orient himself and use his earlier attempts at getting out on deck to guide him on his second attempt. Eventually, he found an exit and all seemed pretty calm despite the recent events – or at least Artemis thought they were recent. He had no idea how long he had been unconscious, but did not expect it had been too long.

Once he reached the deck, escaping the odd glow of the light sources in the tunnels, he felt the warmth of the sun mixed with the cool ocean breeze upon his skin. Across the surface of the deck, splotches of warped discoloration peppered the surface. Each patch had a crewman dressed in white carefully scrubbing away.

"Careful!" one of the men yelled as Artemis walked by the material.

"I'm sorry," Artemis said, confused by the severity of the reaction.

"Don't be sorry, just don't come near this stuff."

"Why?" Artemis asked, feeling like a child in an unknown world.

"Because it's dangerous, why else? It's a residual effect of the smokes and fumes from the cannons firing. Harmless to inorganic material, resulting in this discoloration, but if it touches organic material, it'll bind to it and eat away until it disappears into nothingness."

Artemis stared, completely confused and dumbfounded by what the man had just said. As if to answer the expression upon the young man's face, the crewman tossed an apple core he had finished snacking on upon the patch. Instantly, the edges started to become enveloped by a glowing light, and that light spread over the surface of the core. Once the light had spread, it started to shrink, working its way into the apple until nothing was left but a fine glowing dust that filtered into the air.

"That would happen to you, of course, unless we quickly amputated the part of your body that was under attack. Magic doesn't help – just accelerates the problem."

"You know," Artemis began, but could not quite find the words to articulate the strangeness of it all. "Forget it, I'll avoid the stuff, got it."

"Good," the crewman replied, returning to his work.

Artemis meandered between the patches, finding his way to the railing and looking out upon the open sea. Nothing but blue lay in every direction and at the very least, that told Artemis a bit about how long he had been unconscious. As the metal vessel hopped along the waves, tearing itself a path straight to its destination, Artemis could not help but let out a heavy sigh and rest his head upon his arms.

'It's like no matter where I go, fighting follows. I miss the forge. I miss the simple life. I miss not having to worry about anything more than whether or not I had the things for day to day life, rather than losing my life.'

His thoughts found their way into the sentient spirit of Judicis. This isn't your fault, Artemis. It would be silly to blame yourself. Sometimes the circumstances of life simply leave us in a position we'd rather not be in, and that leaves us only with the option to overcome that circumstance. Don't lose your resolve. There are many things that we must still accomplish together.'

"Yeah," Artemis mumbled under his breath, letting out another sigh. He let his eyes shut for a moment, letting the gentle rock of the ship relax him. He turned his back to the rail and slowly slid down along it, sitting down upon the deck of the ship. He opened his eyes for a moment, looking across the way to the other rail, and he could not help but notice what looked like a white-haired girl dressed in brown garb looking out upon the waves as well. He could not hold back yet another sigh as he worried that even someone like her would end up dead by the end of this, whatever this was.

[MetalDrago]

Story (6/10): This is only the opening arc to a much larger story, and as such, I’m going to try to look at it as such. This is a very… intriguing opening to what promises to be some kind of grand adventure. Overall, it is a decent introduction. I would have liked to see more of a focus on the characters and introducing them in a bit less of a… roulette manner. The idea of introducing the characters and getting the reader caring about them was there, the execution was just a tad off, but that’ll fix itself as you continue to work more on your stories and find your natural style.

Continuity (5/10): I don’t know what to really say about this one. Apparently these people are from some other land, and I’m assuming you’re planning to flesh out the history as later events take place, so I’m not docking too much here. A little background info wouldn’t have hurt, just to get the reader’s feet wet. My biggest complaint here is that there’s no explanation of the agreement or lack thereof between Corone and this foreign territory. Therefore, when the problem arises between the Coronians and these “outsiders,” there’s not feeling of betrayal to go along with the fact that they had in fact been betrayed.

Setting (6/10): The setting was fairly average. There was enough in the background that I could usually tell where a person was, but little besides that. Try adding some depth to your setting by giving the characters something to do as far as interacting with the environment, instead of mostly telling the audience what it looks like.

Creativity (7/10): A technologically advanced nation finding a mercenary workforce from within Corone’s borders. Overall, a fairly interesting idea, and I look forward to seeing where you guys end up going with this.

Character (5/10): Overall, I got a general idea of what each character was like. However, it was all very general information and did not get me totally invested in each character. I would suggest showing more of their personalities as far as who they without making each scene look like it’s just there to introduce the characters and their personalities so blatantly.

Interaction (6/10): Despite some slight character problems, I did actually find the interaction at the very least enjoyable. While it did leave me wanting, it didn’t disappoint, so keep working on refining your techniques here and watch this score rise.

Strategy (5/10): Overall, pretty average. Considering there was very little action, though, I’m not surprised. I’m sure as the story progresses, you’ll see this score go higher when actual conflict is introduced later down the road.

Mechanics (8/10): Very few, if any problems that I outright noticed.

Clarity (7/10): I knew fairly well what was going on, but there were some muggy parts for me, due to lack of information about the people from this other nation. Overall, good job, though.

Wildcard (5/10): I look forward to seeing where this story goes from here on out.

Overall Score: 60/100

Orphans receives 2,000 EXP and 725 GP
SirArtemis receives 1,650 EXP and 725 GP

[Letho]

EXP/GP added.