Tears at Midnight

[Tobias Stalt]

Closed to Kaida.

Around him, the world twisted. Oblivion swallowed colors and left in their place a soul drinking darkness. Tobias let out a harsh breath, still unable to adjust to the illusions that the Ai'Brone prided themselves in. He felt the arena come to life before he saw it. Dank squelches of water beneath his leather boots warned Tobias of a damp environment. "This sounds reassuring," he grumbled.

In the next instant, a flash of bright white abolished the abyss, and Tobias rubbed at his burning eyes. Wood creaked in protest as the sound of waves crashed against it. Thunder tore through the world, and the screams of sailors as they fought for their lives replaced his former numbness. "A storm?" the Tactician gaped at the surreal imagery that had taken hold of his senses. He felt the salty spray against his cheeks. Rain ripped into his eyes and forced him to shield them against the elements.

"Oi!" came a loud call from next to him, "don't just stand there! Batten the bloody sails!" Tobias snapped into action without another thought, a trigger left from his days in the Alerian Military. He slipped knots over rigging and pulled the rope taut, a grunt of effort the only sound that came from him. The taller, lithe boatswain nodded his approval. "If only they all took orders so well," he rumbled, then turned toward the next sail barking orders.

The next flash of lightning left Tobias staring out at the maelstrom. "Damn," he cursed, "damn, damn, damn..."

Howls of gusting wind whipped over the deck and sent bodies tumbling. Tobias held fast to the rail, and he cried out, "ROGUE WAVE!!" A deluge of water stole into his throat and Tobias promptly coughed, sputtered, and choked. He spat harshly. "Bow to northwest, Cap'n!"

His eyes tore frantically over he crew and toward the helm, but not a soul stood behind the wheel. "Gods below," he hissed.

[The Muri]

*Splat!*

I came to the Citadel to have fun, and what do I get? A gush of water right in the face! Cold, slippery, foamy water. I had to reach up with my hands and rub my eyes. Lightning crashed in the distance I heard, and the wooden floor beneath me shook. I knew where I was...

I opened my eyes to see a dockside full of confusion and chaos. Men raced fast as the wind rustling my hair to keep the boat from overflowing, as that good 'ol H2O was already sploshing against the barrels rolling around the deck. It was a dark and stormy night... and to make more of a storm, I had no idea who I was fighting!

I spit the salty liquid in my mouth out and decided to just holler for my opponent, "H-hello?! Who's the person here not generated b-"

Another wave came crashing down... all over me. Now my entire body was soaking. No fun!

"N-n... not generated by the monks??"

[Tobias Stalt]

Wood creaked beneath the weight of salty water as the sea bombarded the ship. Screams of surprise and terror tore above the torrential downpour. Raindrops played a staccato sonata on the deck. Tobias slowly lifted himself from the rail and bolted. His feet slid on the deck and he fell more than he walked, but he gripped tightly to the ship when he found the opposite rail.

A voice cried out, definitively female. She asked who was real, and he snorted. "A bit redundant right now, wouldn't you say?" he questioned with a jeer. His jaw was set in concentration as he struggled up moaning wooden stairs toward the helm.

When he grabbed the wheel, he let out a heavy sigh. "Here goes," he said breathlessly, and the ship heeded his command. The turn was slow, but steady. The horizon itself seemed to yield as the rogue turned helmsman spun the wheel as quick as he could. The wave in the distance loomed over them, but they now faced it head on. "Brace!" he called out, and the crew jumped for anything they could grab.

The wave spilled over the ship as they crashed into it. Water flew everywhere, as if a bomb had gone off. Tobias' gaze searched for Kaida again. "Sometimes it's better to focus on the situation at hand, rather than the goal itself." He was a soggy mess; brown hair plastered to his forehead and drops of seawater dripped from his face. His clothes were a ruin, drenched and twisted, and squishy sounds came from his boots when he walked. With one hand on the wheel as they steadied, he let himself relax. That had been arduous.