Light of knowlege

[Melancor]

This Quest is Open for everyone who wants to join. I am new at this and English is not exactly my native laguage so I'm sorry if I dont express my self correctly. Ok here it goes.


Eli had been walking for quite sometime his feet where bleeding and the pain in his back was yet to disappear. He felt disoriented, just like a newborn, he was getting accustomed to new factors in his surroundings. The feeling of hard land was unfamiliar and breathing was hard for him to do. Walking between the trees helped him keep his balance, although the voices where still haunting him, and made him loose his little if any concentration. Just as he was getting used to the uneven ground of the forest, he felt the plain ground. He had reached a road, where it leaded was a mystery and how he knew it leaded somewhere was one to.

The sensation of fear invaded him, and his senses told him to hide as a soft rumbling and clutching sound approached. He ran back to the safety of the woods where he kept silence and watched.

“---Bertha, business is no longer good in ‘The Peaceful Promenade’ we cant go back and that is final.” In the distance he saw something new to him, it was two people riding what looked like a wooden box with wheels and pulled by beasts. It was a man and a woman, and somehow the four-legged animals seemed familiar to him.

“Oh yes well where are we ought to go, there is no more safe place than this, its dangerous everywhere else, Dawgh remember what happened to Archio? He got killed by a drunk in Salver!” The man seemed to be angered by the comment

“Well Archio was no good anyways! He could not even sell a charm and he called himself a merchant! Bah!” In that moment an even more heady noise started growing at the other end of the road. The couple seemed frightened and warned their horses to halt. They kept quiet as a black-dressed rider approached with a menacing pose in his pale face. The rider came to a stop and addressed the couple.

“Who you are and what you seek away from this lands is not my problem, but you shall give me anything of value you have in that cart, or I shall kill you in the spot” The man pulled back his heavy hood, and without a single drop of fear he answer the rider.

“why are thou so threatening? We are peaceful people, please don’t hurt us or ask for something we can’t provide.”

Eli witnessed how the couple and the rider argued. The rider started getting physical, and at that moment the man in the cart pulled out a sword and swing it at the rider as the woman pressed the strong horses to run. Eli saw how their cart rocked violently and dropped bags, clothes and crafts. The angered rider’s horse rose after the couple with thunderous gallop and both bodies disappeared in the horizon.

Eli was confused and did not understood what had happened, but now he knew that it was best to say away the road. However, something claimed his attention, and rose his curiosity. Eli went back to the road and pulled the crafts and bags out of the road into the woods one by one.

What are these objects? Both the man and that rider had one of those. He said to himself as he took a sword in his hands. Eli was holding it by the blade and dropped it to the ground when he felt a sharp pain in his hand. He was upset and started hitting the sword with a stone; finally, Eli gave it a mean look and continued browsing the bag. He took out a big white shirt, it had some holes on it and it seemed old.

“Is this what covered those people? Or was their face and hands the only place where they had skin?” Eli took the shirt and found his way into it, he had been naked ever since, and he found the shirt comforting and warm. The shirt was big, Eli was already a tall youth, and the shirt covered his knees. He kept browsing the bag. Eli found more items, which he could not figure out how to wear finally he gave up and shifted his attention to another of the weapons.

What is this craft he took a quiver in his hands and while trying to learn what it was, arrows came out. I better but these things back where they belong Eli saw their iron tips and remembered how the sword had injured him. There was one last craft that seemed familiar to him, It was a wooden arch with a string, the wooden arch summoned music to his mind, Eli had a dim memory of a lyre in his head. The wind interrupted his thoughts, it was getting cold and his shirt did not offered much protection.

Eli put everything inside that big bag and continued to walk in the direction where the victim and the aggressor had disappeared. Where he was going he did not know But he had the sensation that he needed to meet someone, he needed to make contact with these strange people. After hours of dragging the bag in the mud Eli heard voices, music, and iron being hammered, laughter, and many other sounds that he could not identify.

Eli had reached Scara Brae, he hesitated a little, but then he decided the enter the city. There were many people, great multitudes had always scared him but now he felt that it was safe, even though scrutinizing looks made him uncomfortable. Rare people, some human and others that he had never seen before, Small people, tall people, fat people, beast-like people. It was all new for him. but as different as they all where they socialized, he felt the necessity to do the same, but he had yet not mastered the language and he felt the people where somewhat hostile towards a stranger, he decided to sit down in the cold ground with his bag, waiting for something to happen.

[Nymph and Dragon]

A chilly breeze rushed through the twisted streets of Scara Brae, leaving a trail of pinched faces and clenched coats in its wake. Crippled beggars tucked their feet beneath threadbare blankets, soldiers cringed at the thought of having to patrol in this uncommon cold for the remainder of their shifts. A general displeasure had fallen over the city, a kind of grudging bitterness towards whatever great force they believed it was who had caused the frosty weather. Sporadic winds did little to improve people’s moods, and Twyla was far from immune to the weather’s effects.

You really are useless.

She sat on an empty barrel outside of a leather shop, clutching her purple cloak tightly around her shoulders to ward off the chill. The unkind thought was directed towards the two foot water Elemental who lay on the ground beside her, nearly invisible in its aqueous form. He was coiled into a tight spiral with his ears flat against the sides of his head, shivering slightly as another soft breeze rushed over his transparent scales. His eyes opened as her voice bounced into his skull.

Pardon? His reply was polite and unnecessary; his telepathy had already given him a clear idea of just what she was referring to.

NORMAL dragons can breathe fire, she replied disdainfully. I’m freezing my rear off here and you’re not even capable of blowing your nose to make me a bonfire.

The annoyance that he sensed across their bond was not directed at him, but he was accustomed to bearing the brunt of her ire. He’d lived for thousands of years before their souls had been inextricably combined, but it was only after meeting her that the dragon had been introduced to the wonders of sarcasm, a miraculous tool that was starting to come to him quite naturally.

I have an idea that might be even better than a big, conspicuous fire in the middle of a public street, he replied with feigned excitement. Why don’t you go inside where you can get out of the cold?

Twyla threw the dragon an irritated look, then returned her blue-eyed gaze to the street in front of her. Now part of her annoyance was directed at him, but she was still distracted enough not to bother with a retort. If he hadn’t been telepathic, he would have wondered at her unusual behavior of late. The nymph had been downright taciturn for the past week. She seemed constantly deep in thought, barely taking time to insult him and rarely using her Mindwrite medallion to make biased notes about her favorite subject, humanity. As it was, he did know what it was that troubled her, though she herself had yet to come to a correct conclusion of the culprit. No amount of goading or intentional aggravation on his part could bring her permanently out of what he concluded to be a state of subconscious depression. Her uncharacteristic silence wasn’t so much a bother, but he didn’t enjoy the gloomy feelings of despair that she kept unknowingly sending across their link. But even his telepathy left him blank on the question of how to cheer her up.

The pair sat in silent contemplation for a moment, both pondering different approaches to the same general goal. The Elemental had fallen into a doze when a derisive snort of laughter came drifting through the cold air from above him. Though the lower half of Twyla’s face was obscured by a thin pink scarf, he could tell by the glint in her eye that she was smirking. He sent his vision across their link and saw through her eyes the source of her amusement.

A young man had settled himself onto the street with a large bag and was looking around expectantly at the pedestrians who passed him by. The dragon thought he must be a hawker and waited for him to pull out his wares to sell, but the man just sat there. Heads turned to dart curious glances at him, some even shaking piteously at the tattered look of his clothes and the beseechingness of his gaze. There was a sincerity to his vaguely handsome face that was childlike, a kind of vulnerable innocence that caught the wary people of the city off-guard.

“He hasn’t moved in ten minutes,” Twyla said aloud with another soft laugh. “I wonder which asylum he escaped from.”

The Elemental could read the trail of thoughts in her mind that led her to speak again, and he groaned silently.

“I think I’ll go help him,” the nymph continued thoughtfully. “He seems the impressionable type, and who better to show him the ropes of the big city than an expert on humanity?”

Twyla, maybe you should—

But the nymph had already pulled the hood of her cloak over her head and was on her feet and striding through the crowds, uncaringly stepping into the paths of oncoming traffic and ignoring the curses and protesting cries that followed in her wake. The Elemental got to his feet and crawled speedily after her, avoiding the feet of walkers who had no inkling of his existence. By the time he’d caught up to her, Twyla was already in front of the man, arms crossed over her blue-robed chest and cloak flapping around her ankles. She gazed haughtily down at the man at her feet, eyes sharp as she took in his bedraggled appearance. The Elemental stopped directly behind her, peering at the seated man through the nymph’s eyes.

“You seem to be in need,” she said in a ringing voice that startled one or two pedestrians. “My name is Twyla, and I’m here to answer your prayers.”

[Melancor]

Eli felt cold extend from this toes that touched the ground to his chest behind the ragged shirt that offered some kind of protection. Even though he had been researching the nature of the people surrounding him he had not noticed a brown puddle next to his feet. Eli submerged his hand into the water and gained a feeling of somewhat security. As he pulled his hand out of the cold water and leaned his face over the puddle to take a better look, one of the pedestrians carelessly stepped in the water dispersing it in various directions. The People seemed to ignore what was a source of amusement to Eli.

He leaned over the puddle a second time, there was enough light from the gray sky and allowed him to see his reflection. He understood that he was not like the other people. Another gust of cold wind hit Eli’s body, and when this happened he witnessed the color of he's eyes gradually change into a silver gray from which had once been a sky blue.

Eli shifted his attention back to the crowd. A strange person seemed to be approaching him. He became frightened and assumed his later rigid position.

He found the person’s appearance quite pleasant. It was a beautiful woman, unlike all the other that walked around and gave him glances of cruelty. But her voice was ever more beautiful than any of her facial features. Moreover, the color of her eyes submitted the suggestion that the woman was like him.

“…I…” Eli paused for a moment “…. What is this place?” he looked around into the crowds “….are these people fisherman?” For the moment, Eli was still isolated by his communication skills, which he had acquired by listening to the crowds surrounding him. He applied his little knowledge on the mysterious crowds.

[Nymph and Dragon]

Twyla’s smile disappeared and her eyebrows dropped as the man spoke. His eyes were piercingly grey, the kind of luminous silver that she hadn’t seen since the last time she was with her sisters. His hair was similarly colored, and up close she was fairly certain that it wasn’t dyed. There was something about his appearance that was discomforting and eerily familiar.

Is he serious? She sent the question to the dragon behind her, whose head was already tilted in curiosity as he picked up the man’s thoughts.

Very, he answered grimly at the blankness of the man’s memory.

“No, these people are not fisherman . . . not for the most part, anyway.” She frowned at the crowd, catching sight of a few rolling-gaited sailors who might have qualified as fisherman and just as quickly dismissing them. She’d met real fishermen, the type who swam down, down into the ocean for deep-sea prey and who never came back. She’d killed a few, but for the most part had disdained such easy prey. Her thoughts easily drifted back to her glory days, basking in the triumph that was now so painfully missing from her life.

Twyla, he needs real assistance, the Elemental tried again. We should take him to someone who can help him.

Are you implying that I can’t? A flash of anger flitted across the bond, and the dragon fell pointedly silent. She obviously wasn’t in a listening mood.

“And this place is Scara Brae," the nymph continued with a mockingly grand gesture, "the rather ramshackle capital city of this morbidly boring island, which, sharing the same name, clearly shows the kind of lack of creativity one must come to expect from humans.” As soon as she said it, she realized that she had spoken of humans as if they were a third party. But what made her subconsciously assume that he wasn’t human?

Her gaze went back to his eyes, and her frown deepened. “Who did you say you were again?”

[Melancor]

Eli’s face tightened as the woman made her inquiry.

“…I am afraid I cannot answer that question myself…” He looked down to the stone pavement and bit his lip and he gave an explanation “… the last thing I can remember was awakening where land and sea meet…” He decided not to reveal the rest of his clouded, and few memories for what he had done against those people. “people like the ones here… they called me Eli Poseidon”

His whole body shook for a moment. He had so far ignored the pain, but the recall of his memories had made the pain return. Eli reached for his back and tried to ease it by touching the sealed mark, but it was useless. Eli made a discomfort sound as a sharp pain invaded his left hand; the cause was not by the result of his recent encounter with the sword rather something in his skin.
Sudenly Eli detected the precense of a serpent like creature, he had not noticed it until now, and it seemed to accompany the woman. He had sensed some kind of communication between the two, as he examined slight facial movements.

Maybe this is a water creature, it seems familiar. Eli send a small message to the creature with the only language he could remember after his incident.
...Are you an ocean dweller? Eli had used Echo, making an almost unrecognizable sound to untrained ears. The creature did not show any signs of recognizing the message, so Eli shifted his attention.

“…You say they are humans-” Another breeze had blown, cold bothered him no longer, he had been exposed to the frosty windy for quite some time and now his body had started to loose toutch. It made him feel insecure by seeing how people reacted by hiding under heavy coats and found shelter in their clothes "... Could you take me somewhere else?" Eli had felt some distress in the woman’s tone as she addressed the people she called humans. “…are you not a human?”

[Nymph and Dragon]

(Bunnying forgiven.)

Where land met sea . . .

Twyla couldn’t hide a flash of surprise at the man’s answer, but he had barely finished his words before he dissolved into a fit of fidgeting. Twyla took a distasteful step back, her mind churning as she watched the man squirm.

The last thing he remembered was the beach. Was it possible that he had really come from the sea? It wasn’t likely. Humans had an incomprehensible penchant for hitting each other over the head, so maybe he’d been walloped one too many times by peasants who didn’t like his odd features and had gotten his brains permanently scrambled. That would explain the amnesia he apparently suffered from. Unless he was lying to her about it.

Snake, is he lying to me? She snapped the quest silently and waited for an answer, but it was a long moment before the dragon responded, and his voice was faint and distracted.

No.

She sent a wave of disapproval across their bond at the exasperating taciturnity of the reply, but she could tell that his attention was focused elsewhere. For that matter, the weird man was looking down, too, towards her ankles instead of at her face. Twyla’s discomfort grew. The scarf concealed her features enough that he wouldn't be pulled in by her involuntary Allure, but her robe was long enough to brush the ground, not at all revealing enough to earn such intense attention. What was wrong with him?

He knows I’m here, the dragon piped up, his voice thoughtful. I think he spoke aloud as well, but he was definitely talking to me.

Way to give yourself away, useless. As much as possible she wanted the Elemental's presence kept a secret, more to save herself the embarassment of such an ugly companion than out of concern for his welfare. If he spoke aloud, why didn’t I hear him?

Maybe it was some kind of high-pitched frequency . . . he asked if I was an ocean dweller.

Curiosity burned at the back of the nymph’s brain. This man was growing stranger by the minute. Don’t answer him.

I didn’t, the dragon replied, but his voice indicated that he had done so out of a personal preference and not in deference to her authority. The slight made a thread of anger weave its way into her brain, but then the man spoke again, a set of questions that startled Twyla with their blatant forwardness.

Who does he think I am, his mother? Why the hell would he expect me to take him anywhere?

Maybe he trusts you, the Elemental answered with a hint of amusement.

What do you mean, ‘maybe’? Read his mind and tell me.

You know I don’t do that. The dragon’s voice was tinged with weariness at the old argument. No matter how many times he told her that he wouldn’t reveal the inner thoughts of other people, she still never seemed to tire of trying to get him to give her someone else’s private information.

Stupid snake. The nymph resisted the urge to growl aloud and tapped one foot impatiently against the ground. She’d only been in Scara Brae for two days, pursuing a flighty rumor of an impending civil war that she’d been informed of through a “reliable witness” at a bar in Corone. She had yet to see any signs of said disturbance, and the fact that another lead on a possibly momentous event in human history had turned out to be a dead end was just one of the things that was eating away at her temper.

Her thoughts went back to his first question. Normally she had no qualms at all about revealing her superiority to those who questioned her race, but her lingering mistrust of the strange fellow made her want to keep uncharacteristically silent about herself. The only thing that was preventing her from walking away from the suspicious character was a nagging curiosity that wouldn't let her abandon such an interesting source of information for her research.

“Sure, Eli, I’ll take you somewhere else,” she said patronizingly. “Can you tell me where it is you’re trying to go?”

[Melancor]

(sorry about that :X)

The woman’s assurance made him finally feel safe. But her question bothered him, the cold and the slight smell of hickory nuts, the small plaza and the wonderings of the pedestrians, all of them going somewhere, and with something to do. Unlike him, with nothing to do other that go to that “other" plase he had requested as his boldness had gotten the best of him.

For a moment he felt abandoned. He had no place to go, unlike the children who entered their houses where the dim glimmer of fire reigned with a soft warmth. A place where they felt safe, and where they could always go, season after season and year after year until they would decide that their liberties had been pirated and flee to the world of the mature and wise.

The Question was such he could not answer. His raggedy clothes had been an indication of how different he was, if even the other people did not wear something more glamorous, he realized that his way of using it was inappropriate.

“… Where I go …. Is to the place that will give me the answers I need, the Sea will not speak to me again, her white horses do not oblige my commands, they will only answer to tell me that they can hear, and awake me to the moon who calls dim memories into my head”

Eli looked around to see the some humble red and white posts, where all kinds of foods where laid into display for the curious or underprivileged buyers. The variety of foods was as equal as that of the Ocean creatures, unlike the common fish of the sea, which hanged lifeless from hooks and ropes. Alternatively, where kept in dirty ice in a struggle to conserve them and hide their real precarious condition. Horrid Images went through his head by witnessing how the people ravaged over pieces of meat, gruesome acts where getting the best of their first impression, his intentions where far away from staying between these people.

“I need to know who I am… I need to find someone who can tell me…”

The answer terrified Eli in advance, what if he was among these vile humans? Was his original nature as brute as the one that these people displayed without concern? Eli could only hope that there would be another side to what he though was his destined nature.

"Please... take me somwhere else" asked Eli as kindly as his broken voice would allow him.

“Ah!”

Eli made another painful sound; he had started to feel the effects of the dry wind even more acutely. His skin was dry, his body had yet not accustomed to the effects of nature in land. And he could not quite understand what has hapening . Eli wondered if this stranger and mysterious woman would help him to comprehend this new world, or manybe even give him the answers he seeked, but boupted so as he felt that there was something more to this woman that met the eye. And as he wondered he realized...

“…. May I know your name?”

[Nymph and Dragon]

This fellow certainly likes to talk, Twyla thought sourly, trying to keep up with his troubled babbling. The Elemental didn’t respond, but she could feel his compassion for the man as keenly as if the sniveling sentiment had originated in herself.

“I’m Twyla, remember?” He really did act like a child. Lip curling in disdain, the nymph lifted her gaze from the man to scan the buildings that lined the streets around them, still impervious to the annoyance of pedestrians that had to change their courses to avoid the stationary trio. She frowned when her search didn't yield the wanted results and returned her eyes to the man, who was slouching miserably in his sparse clothing.

Come on, Twyla, let’s help him. The enthusiasm in the dragon’s voice made her nauseous.

‘Let’s’? Surely you jest. YOU wouldn’t be doing anything. It’d be me - solely me - expending needed energy in an attempt to rectify this sorry specimen’s pathetic situation that I did nothing whatsoever to cause. I think I may have mentioned once or twice how I feel about humans in general, but I probably haven’t told how I feel about charity, and that’s because I don’t do it!

Her vehement speech was followed by a moment of silence, and then the Elemental’s voice trickled again into her mind on a wave of hesitance. Would you help him if I told you that he wasn’t really human?

That made her pause. Everything about the man made her skin crawl, but her mind was smoldering with curiosity, burning with questions that he didn’t seem sane enough to answer. But how far could he honestly be from where he came? She prided herself on her investigative skills, and maybe with enough perceptive questioning and logical deliberation she could solve the mystery of the curious Eli Poseidon.

“Okay, Eli, I’m going to help you, but I’m doing it purely for personal reasons, so don’t get it into your head that I like you or have some kind of benevolent inclination.” She made her voice as sharp as she could to distract him from whatever misery his mind was gnawing on, ignoring the wave of approving joy that came from the dragon's mind. “I’m going to do what I can to help you figure out where the hell you came from, so get up and follow me and try not to look too much like a fish out of water.”

She turned on her heel and set off down the street, frowning in disappointment that the Elemental had moved smoothly out of her way and wasn’t there to step on or kick. Even if she did have to feel the same strike, it was usually worth a little bit of pain to impart a good blow onto her obnoxious companion’s scaled hide. She could sense his presence trailing behind her, nearly invisible to anyone who wasn't looking for him but already acknowledged by the seates tranger behind her. She didn’t look back to make sure that Eli was following. He’d asked for her help and she’d surprised even herself by agreeing to give it. She may have been doing a good deed, but she certainly wasn’t going to play nanny. If he did really want her help, she shouldn't have to hold his hand to make sure he tagged along to recieve it.

[Melancor]

Eli followed as Twyla had insinuated, carrying his bag tightly in his pale arms.
As he walked trying to avoid the pedestrians’ shoulders, he started to have hostile feelings against these humans, In return to that which they had against him. He walked behind, towering over her. He had understood that Twyla was not much of the friendly kind.

Eli walked exploring the streets of Scare Bare; these people did not seem to be more interesting than anything he had seen already in the small plaza where he made his acquaintance. He kept walking through the intricate streets made of gray and now beaten up stone, he’s feet had started bleeding again, he though of those objects he had in that bag, and by following the example of the multitude, in his mind he now had a good idea on how he could put them to proper use.

Eli almost collided with Twyla when hid daydream took over him. they had reached a tavern. Warm inside of a yellowish color mostly caused by the emanation of the dim light of a few oil lamps. He found the wooden furniture quite pleasant, and he waited there vainly for some sort of indication.

[Nymph and Dragon]

Twyla led the way imperiously down the street, her eyes darting along the buildings until they landed on what she was looking for: the Salty Maid tavern, one of the most repulsively-populated dumps in the city. It was known for its sour ale and even tarter waitresses and was frequented mostly by fresh-off-the-boat sailors who liked the cheap drink and tasty eyeful of the look-but-don’t-touch barmaids. She’d been there twice in as many days, certain that the unkempt hole was the most dependable source a city of this self-importance could provide. Men who were stone drunk and puking all over themselves weren’t pleasant to be around, but they were certainly more honest than the uptight nobles who sipped their wine and hid the truth behind elaborately pompous dissembling.

“All right, Eli—” Twyla whirled around and had to step quickly back to avoid stubbing her nose against his chest; she hadn’t realized that he would be following right on her heels. Why was he so vacant-headed, wandering around as if he hadn’t a thought in the world? Nobody could fake that kind of innocence. “We’re here.”

The dragon couldn’t resist. There.

Twyla darted him a scowl and waved a hand impatiently. “Here, there, whatever. This is the Salty Maid, and I was starting to have a respectable reputation that you’re probably going to destroy. It’s fine, though, because I wasn’t planning to stick around here much longer anyway.”

She turned again and led the way into the tavern, shoving the door wide open so that it wouldn’t swing back and hit Eli. A gust of warm air welcomed them, coming more from the many bodies that filled the room than from the dim fire in the hearth against one wall. Cheap lanterns gave the large tavern a preposterously romantic feel that was made even more ridiculous by the lack of women and excess of burly, sun-burnt men. Twlya’s azure eyes skipped over the room, settling with a spark of approval at a small and vacant table near the fireplace. She glanced back and crooked a finger at Eli, then weaved her way through the other tables until she stood next to it.

There were three chairs around the dark, salt-stained wooden table, and she exaggeratedly pointed at Eli and then to one of the chairs. “Sit down and don’t get into trouble. And tell the waitress your drink’s on me.”

He does understand what you say. The Elemental’s voice showed its annoyance at her treatment of the odd man. It had snuck into the tavern after her and was now beneath one of the chairs in the innocuous form of a puddle of water, watching the tavern across their link through the nymph’s eyes.

“Just making sure,” she muttered. “I don’t want to have deal with a mob of angry, stupid humans who don’t have sympathy for a halfwit.”

He’s not a halfwit.

Twyla had already turned towards the bar, which stretched along one wall about six feet away from the fireside. Actions speak louder than words, which is why I’m still convinced that you’re not sentient.

It was an old jab and the dragon didn’t take offense. He still didn't know what to make of their strange new companion. He seemed to already know that the Elemental was there, but he still didn't feel comfortable making his presence a well-known fact. And the nymph would probably be furious if he dared try to communicate with the silver-haired stranger . . .

Twyla sat down casually on a barstool between two hefty men, one smelling like tar and fish and the other like sawdust and smoke. Each had a nearly empty flagon of cheap ale in front of them, and Twyla motioned to the bartender to bring them each another. She fluttered her eyelashes at the fishy one and swallowed her revulsion as she tried to think up ways to ask after mysterious watermen.

“So . . . either of you boys spend much time in the water?”

[Melancor]

I am sorry i took so long :x I had been pretty bussy lately, anyways!



Eli sat in the worn down wooden chair as Twyla had indicated.

“Tell the waitress that my drink is on her… what ever that means, this is not the place I was expecting.”

He placed his precious worn down bag on top of the wooden table. Then his mind continued to wonder, He had been going in and out of it since he awoke in the beach. Probably trying to find the answers to his past, but did not seem to mind that people would think odd about his persona. It seemed like his preoccupation started to become only about him, as his mind tapped into more remainders of his memory, and the seemingly dislike of other people towards him.

I hope I don’t belong among these people… these, humans, act like brutes.

Eli frowned as the waitress came to ask him about that “drink” Twyla had mentioned, interrupting his thoughts about why Twyla would prefer the company of people, specially when she had showed the same dislike towards then as he was staring to get. Witnessing their destructive drunken nature was not helping at all. Eli gently waved at the waitress dismissing her.

He was becoming appetent and he realized so. Finally he decided to move, against the desires of Twyla. With bag in hand Eli creped along the bar, this time walking with more confidence, actually moving people as apposed to getting pushed and shoved. These men smelled like alcohol, vomit, and urine, not something his nose found pleasant. Heavy and un-groomed men singed together in a choir as they allowed the alcohol get to their silliness. Finally the found a place where he could have peace and quiet.

Eli had managed to reach the back room of the tavern, though quiet, it was far from sanitary. It was dark, but the orange light of a sole lantern revealed the cold stone walls , and much dry straw in the floor, Wondrous of what these people where using this back room for, the smell made him prefer not to think about it.

He had collected enough information by observing, now he knew how to use the items in his bag, he took the bag and grabbed it by the bottom, allowing all the clothes and other crafts to fall out. In almost darkness he put on the black pants, they where a little to tight as he was a taller person and who those pants where intended to. Te tucked the shirt and But on the dark chest plate. The leather brown boots where probably the most comfortable of all of the equipment, it was a relief for his blistered feet. He took the long and heavy cape black and buttoned it around his neck, for his surprise there where a pair of dark brown leather gloves at the bottom of the bag, which he easily found the way into.

This is much better. He thought as he pleasantly accustomed to his clothes, he now had a better identity and he was pleased. though he had still not figured out about that strange 'arch, and that leather silinder with sticks in it' he would have to ask Twyla about that. He took the two items in hand and opened the door of the drak backroom.

All dressed in his good “new” clothes he walked back to the table with a slight smirk of satisfaction on his face, wile color of his eyes changed back to blue. Eli was finally comfortable. he set the items in the table with a thud and leaned back putting all his weight into the back legs of the chair and relaxed while waiting for Twyla, and he continued to explore the probably daily rutine of the humans in this apparent social place.

[Nymph and Dragon]

((No worries!:)))

Both of the men turned to Twyla, eying her half-mask curiously. At her query, the carpenter just shook his head and gulped from his cup, but the fishy one actually turned his head to spit onto the floor behind him.

“Not if I can help it,” he said in a voice gravelly enough to make Twyla think that his throat might be as calloused as his fingers.

“You’re a sailor, though, aren’t you?”

“Aye.”

Twyla’s brow lifted. “But you don’t go near water?”

“Being in a boat above the water’s a different thing from being in the water,” he said as if it were the most obvious notion in the world. “I spend most of my days on the ocean, but you couldn’t pay me well enough to get into it, especially around these parts.”

“What’s wrong with the water?” The nymph unconsciously leaned towards the sailor, who had half-turned on his stool to look at her.

“Nothing so much with the water itself, but there’s things in the water that any sensible person would do their best to avoid.”

She grimaced. “Are we talking about monsters?”

“Aye, among other things.” He eyed her solemnly and spoke with conviction. “I hear rumors of terrible sea creatures that follow ships in the form of dolphins and then eat any man who falls overboard before spitting his skeleton back onto the ship. There’re mile-long eels and giant sharks and poisonous fish . . . the water’s a dangerous place, miss.”

Twyla rolled her eyes and motioned again for the bartender to bring the sailor another drink. Her fingers itched to use her Mindwrite, but she resisted the urge. Everything he said was pure rubbish, but the fact that the man truly believed the preposterous stories was telling about the quality of his intellect. Sailors really were the epitome of humanity. Stupid, gullible, and chock-full with fear born of ignorance.

“Rumors, huh? Have you ever seen one of these terrors yourself?”

The sailor guzzled his fresh mug, but even through his bleary blinking he looked defensive. “I don’t need to see a dragon to know they really exist. You won’t ever catch me in the water, and that’s for sure! Hell, I don’t even know how to swim.”

Twyla’s lip curled scornfully. Did all sailors not know how to stay afloat without a big wooden box beneath their feet? No wonder they were so easy to kill. She stood and fished out coins to leave on the counter for his drinks. The man was too full of sand-stuffed wives’ tales to provide her with any useful information.

“Thanks for the help,” she said.

“No problem, miss.” His voice was already starting to slur. “I’d tell you to be careful out in the water, but you’re a woman so I guess you can’t swim neither, right?”

Twyla glared at him and forced herself to keep her tone civil. “No, of course not. I’m just as incompetent as you.”

She turned and looked at the table where she’d directed Eli in time to see the silver-haired man take his seat. Her eyes narrowed. Did it really take him that long to find the table?

The Elemental stirred beneath his chair. He went into a backroom and came out wearing different clothes.

Twyla almost laughed out loud. She hadn’t noticed the change in clothes, and she wondered if there was a naked corpse in a dark corner somewhere behind the building. Maybe he wasn’t completely helpless. Resourceful bugger, isn’t he?

Don’t jump to conclusions, Twyla.

Don’t tell me what to do. She weaved her way back to their table and sat down in the chair that had the puddle of water beneath it, crossing her arms and eying Eli as he teetered in his seat.

“Blasted idiots,” she said in a low voice as soon as she’d sat down. “That moron was a dead end, but there has to be somebody in this hellhole who doesn’t ascribe to the idiotic myths about what’s living in the ocean. Nothing really dangerous would be stupid enough to stick around such a well-populated area. You’d have to go leagues out just to find a shark big enough to bite off your hand.” She paused to take a breath, then continued in a less passionate voice, her eyes roving the tavern for her next informant. “I’m not going to ask about the new outfit, but you should be careful on that chair. The Salty Maid isn’t exactly known for its high-quality furniture.”

[Melancor]

Twyla’s words pounded in Eli’s head. What does she mean anyways? Eli’s streak of confidence had been reassured by finding himself comfortable; he now addressed her with all security, something that before he would have considered impertinence.

“Well that man over there does not seem to know that.”
He pointed to a young man in the crowd, probably not old enough to have felt the warmth of a woman, leaning back and balancing in his chair. Probably having fun in his drunken state, slurring and waving his mug up in the air. His honest indication answered his query, the chair cracked and rocked violently. With a smile of embarrassment, he placed the chair back into its original form.

The constant laughter of those men was bothering him. Even though not weary of his past he knew what he could do. Leaning his elbow in the table, he directly pointed to the glass of one of the man, cause of his annoyance. Focusing his mind the beer inside the glass started rotating, faster, faster, and faster, until the glass broke. Then man believing that it had been a product of his delusion just asked for another glass, and another serving.

Eli was growing impatient, he consternated more, and the glass, was covered by condensation, seeing how he could not sip anything out of the cold glass, he rose it in the air and opened his mouth, and a piece of frozen beer fell in his nose hurting him. The man shook his head, and left the tavern rocking and mumbling in his state.

Eli came out of his wondering.

“Oh, yes, Twyla, could you tell me what these things are” He showed Twyla the quiver with the arrows

“I rather not take them out of there” Eli showed Twyla his hand, his wound was already closing.

“And this instrument does not seem to make that much of a melody” Eli took in hand the bow in hand, pulled and released the string, hoping that it would make some kind of pleasant chime, but no such thing happened. The bow was a strong wooden one, with iron horn like garnishments that covered extended over the handle of the bow.

“Its missing some strings, I was thinking it may be a lyre but I am not sure…”

Eli realized that he was talking too much… He was being overconfident for some reason.

[Nymph and Dragon]

Twyla was proud of herself for not getting angry at Eli’s babbling. It might have been the smug satisfaction she got at seeing him heed her warning; it wasn’t often that a man took her wisdom for what it was worth. She had actually almost smiled back, even though he wouldn’t have seen it under her scarf, but then he’d done one of those staring-at-nothing tricks that were already starting to irritate the crap out of her and that urge had quickly faded. What was he thinking about when his brain drifted away? She wanted to ask the Elemental to read his little mind tell her, but she had the feeling that it wouldn't be too keen on that idea.

She’d opened her mouth to snap him back to the present when he’d suddenly started talking again as if nothing had happened. The man didn’t make a shred of sense. Instrument? Lyre? Why the hell was the halfwit trying to strum a bow? With an annoyed huff she leaned over and snatched the weapon out of his hands and set it roughly back onto the table.

“It’s a bow, brilliant one,” she said caustically, “and those are arrows. You use them together to kill people, and it isn’t smart to wave them around indoors. It makes others nervous when people start pulling out weapons and playing around with them.”

If he didn't even know what they were, why'd he taken them? As much as his ignorance exasperated her, Twyla was surprised at how talkative he was and how not-hysterical his speech was. She couldn’t smell ale on him, so it wasn’t alcohol that was loosening his tongue. She looked down at the weapons on the table and frowned, shaking her head as she turned her gaze to the room around her. As expected, several of the less-drunk men were watching them warily. Twyla scowled and cursed under her breath. She hated unwanted attention.

Snake, distract those guys over there.

She felt a ripple of indignation across their bond. And how would I do that?

I don’t know; be creative. Make them think about beautiful women or piles of gold or something.

Don’t mind them, they’re not worried about you yet. But you should be careful with this one.

Which one? The stubbly visage of a green-eyed man popped into her head, and Twyla scanned the tables until she saw a face that matched. He had been watching her, and when their eyes met the man rose and began to make his way towards their table.

Oh, great. Twyla groaned silently, watching him approach. Now he’s coming over here. Way to go, viper.

Just be careful. He’s . . . restless.

“Eli,” Twyla turned to her companion and met his eyes sternly. “Don’t say anything stupid. Or weird.”

The man was shorter than she was and had long, spindly fingers that he kept curling and uncurling at his sides. He walked with a slight limp and smiled with a double row of rotten teeth.

“Hello, friends,” he said with a quick wave, his eyes darting from Twyla to Eli and back again. His voice was creepily low and artificially smooth, as though he were imitating a prostitute’s husky call. “I couldn’t help but overhearing your conversation with old Jarbok. Is it true that you’re looking for a way across the ocean? I’m a dealer in ships and can sell you one of my finest vessels for a fair price that you won’t find—”

“Not interested,” Twyla interrupted curtly.

“Then you’re not looking for an escort into the deep?” He leered at her, green eyes flashing. “I hear that ocean-hunting is the best for lusty young adventurers.”

Lusty? She wanted to smack him. “We’re not looking for monsters, we’re looking for information.”

“Ah, I peddle in that ware as well.” The man sat down gingerly on the remaining chair, setting his elbows onto the table and grinning fearsomely. “What is it you want to know about?”

Twyla eyed the man mistrustfully, keeping her lips tightly pressed together. She didn't like lucky coincidences, and the way he kept eying Eli appraisingly made her wonder what he was really after. As much as she wanted to believe in the helpfulness of mankind, humans never did things for one another without expecting something in return. She didn’t like the way he smiled, and she certainly didn’t like the way he smelled.

"What can you tell me about the oceans around here?" It was a vague question, but Twyla wanted to at least establish a basis of knowledge before she gave away her true objective.

“Same as anybody else. It’s pretty salty, suffers from storms every now and then, carries ships from one land to another . . .”

“Don’t give me that crap. You know what I mean.” She took out a gold piece and set in on the table between them. The man’s eyes flickered down to the coin and then resettled on her face, his smile growing.

“There’s rumors, of course,” he drawled, fingering his stubble-covered cheek, “but from what I hear you’re not interested in sailor’s gossip.”

“That’s right. I want facts. I want real sightings.” Actually, she had no idea of what she was looking for. All she had to go on was the questionable testimony of a water-logged weirdo who probably couldn't tell the difference between a fish and his foot. Snake, does this guy know anything useful? I don’t want to waste my money on a dead end.

I’d just keep him talking for a while.

“Well, I myself haven’t seen anything lately,” the man confessed with an obnoxious wink, “since I haven’t been to sea in a good while, so you’ll have to take the word of the men who work for me.”

Twyla wordlessly put another coin onto the table. The man’s tongue lashed out to lick his lips in what appeared to be an attempt at seduction, then leaned forward and spoke in a low, secretive tone.

“I hear there’s a man out there, living in the water, but he ain’t a normal man. He’s part monster.”

“A man living in the water?” Twyla repeated skeptically, but her heart suddenly began to race. What if it was possible? What if there really were sentient beings in the water around this gods-forsaken island?

“That’s right,” he nodded, his eyes jumping again to Eli. “He’s got green skin and white hair, they say, and long, webbed fingers, and when my men saw him, he was jumping out of the water, stealing fish out of the boat. He had sharp fangs and big black eyes and he spat acid out of his mouth.”

Twyla almost visibly drooped in disappointment. Just another stupid rumor. “And I suppose he was wearing a seashell bikini?”

“No, ma’am, he wasn’t,” the man said, a bit defensively. “He wasn’t wearing nothing at all, because he didn’t have nothing to cover. See, everything from the waist down was like a fish!”

You’ve got to be kidding me. Twyla kept her voice patronizing. “Are we talking about a mermaid?”

“Mer-man, lady, a merman!” His eyes glinted intensely, and if the nymph had been inclined to trust human earnestness she would have given his words more credence. “And as soon as he noticed that he’d been spotted he made a huge wave wash over the ship and knock all the men overboard. We lost the whole cargo.”

“And your men blamed mermaids?”

The man glowered at her. “Them’s the facts, lady. And to tell the truth the reason I came over here was to ask about this fellow you’re sitting with. The men at my table swear that your man here bears an uncanny resemblance to the monster that attacked them.”

Twyla’s eyes narrowed. “What are you saying, little man? That this halfwit stole your fish? He doesn’t even know which end of a bow to point at an enemy.”

Twyla, maybe you should be polite, The dragon suggested hesitantly.

She ignored him. “I resent your surreptitious efforts at undercover investigation into my affairs. What gives you the right to walk your smelly self over to my table and inquire after my companions when you can’t even find workers who won’t lie about ridiculous mermen and sea monsters to save their asses? You, sir, are a bad judge of character, which, though a perfectly common human fallacy, makes you a bad candidate as a knowledgeable informant.” She crisply swiped her coins off the table and tucked them back into her money purse. There was no way in hell she was going to pay someone for shoddy information.

The man’s face went red, his lips tightening over his rotten teeth with barely concealed rage. “We know you're hiding something, and I can promise you one thing: secrets don’t stay hidden for long in Scara Brae, ‘specially if they’re as dangerous as yours seems to be.”

Twyla answered with a scoffing snort of laughter and then pointedly turned her body away from the man, looking at Eli as though the table’s other occupant didn’t exist.

“Didn’t I tell you to get something to drink?” She demanded of the silver-haired man. “The mead here’s reputedly sour, but I hear they have wines that don’t quite kick quite as viciously.”

The man slammed his fists down onto the table and opened his mouth, but nothing came out. A moment later he shot Eli a menacing glare and stormed back to his table, slamming himself into his seat and hunching towards the other men.

That was a bad move, Twyla, The Elemental said in a worried voice.

So bite me, she thought snidely back, motioning for the waitress with imperious negligence.

[Melancor]

A cold chill ran down Eli’s spine. His eyes grew gray and large and his mouth slightly opened by listening to these tales of the sailor. As much fabricated sections there may had been, in the dimness of his memory he knew he was related to them somehow, the memories of horrified faces, anger, and rushing water. He taped the leg of the dirty table with his boot in his distress.
Seeing how Twyla handled such a man, that though small, he did not look like an innocent individual, it was almost inspiring as well as amusing, the guts in this woman, was a familiar wind to it.
He was surprised by the man’s discrete threat but the little man did not intimidate him.

“….Well if I am anything like them” Eli pointed to the sloppy crowd “I will start diluting; I don’t suppose that they feed any ambrosia in this… place…..”

Woris in his mind where overwhelming him, a cold aura started frosting the air around them, his eyes slowly changed into an even more pure gray. He fixed his coat and accommodated himself.
There was a lot of talk on the other side of the tavern; Eli dismissed their murmur about, and fixated his eyes in Twyla, in search for some of her wise words.
Eli looked down to the scratched table, his voice hind in his neck and stealthy Eli spoke.

“Twyla… what do you think of what that man said?... I know you think its all rubbish, but even rubbish is based on something”

[Nymph and Dragon]

Ambrosia? Where the crap is this guy from? Twyla didn’t listen for the dragon’s answer because she was too busy watching her strange companion. She hadn’t taken much time to really study his appearance, but she would have sworn a moment ago that his eyes had been blue. Her sisters had always made much of the way her own eyes changed hues based on the temperature of the water and her mood, but her variations didn't even compare to such a drastic change in color. Viper, what’s going on?

He’s . . . thinking.

Yeah, right.

The things Hark was saying really agitated him.

Hark?

Twyla almost heard the dragon’s grin as he flashed a picture of the rotten-toothed mis-informant in her head. Your new boyfriend.

I hadn’t realized that you thought yourself to be clever. She sent a wave of irritated disapproval over their bond. Agitated how?

Eli’s hesitant voice pulled her attention away from the dragon before it could answer, but she eyed him wordlessly for a few seconds before she answered him.

“It’s . . . possible,” she conceded. She’d never met a mermaid in her time underwater, but then again she hadn’t done very much traveling or socializing. She actually hadn’t met many sentient ocean-dwellers outside of her own race at all. Sirens were territorial; her sisters would have ripped off the head of anyone who dared intrude on their waters. There was dreamy talk, of course, of the possibility of ocean-dwelling men who were even more appetizing than humans, but none of her Sirens would ever have left the company of her sisters for the rumor of a man, waterproof or not, and Twyla had never given the gossip a second thought.

A burst of loud voices that were quickly repressed came from across the room and almost made Twyla turn, but she forced herself to hold Eli’s gaze. What’s happening?

Nothing yet. They’re discussing whether or not the two of you pose a threat.

You can’t be serious. I’m unarmed and wearing a dress and Captain Odd here probably couldn't hurt a fly unless it ran into him.

There’s something different about the two of you. Even when you’re alone people have a hard time trusting you, but you and Eli together make a worrisome couple. Maybe you've both just spent too much time around water. The dragon’s voice changed, becoming curious. If you’ve heard of water-men before, Twyla, why were you so adamantly skeptical towards that guy? You know he wasn’t trying to deceive you.

“The truth,” Twyla said aloud, answering both Eli and the dragon, “is that human testimony should always be taken with a very generous grain of salt. Give a human more credence than he’s worked for and he’ll inevitably start lying to you. I’m not opposed to the idea that there are beings who can live indefinitely in the water—it’d just be stupid to assume that everyone is inhibited by the same limitations as humans—but I am saying that I think rumors of such fanciful ideas as water-dwelling men should be met with harsh skepticism until someone can provide verifiable evidence.”

The Elemental’s smooth voice floated into her head on waves of mirth. Oh, I get it now.

Get what?

This has nothing to with finding proof or evidence.

What are you talking about?

You knew Hark wasn’t lying to you.

Twyla bristled. What are you trying to imply?

You know what it was that really got you mad while he was talking, the dragon chuckled with vindictive relish. You don’t want to listen to him because you’re incensed by the thought that this water-man might actually be real. You just can’t stand the idea of there being MEN in the ocean who’re as dangerous as you were.

[Melancor]

One again Twyla’s worlds echoed in his mind. a Water man.
Then Eli’s memories stormed through his head, he saw the underwater temple in his head, six brothers, their tremendous powers they used in causing storms, monster waves. The horror of men by witnessing their shabby ship about to be devoured by his giant whirlpool in the tempest of an angry storm.
His eyes turned blue in a flash and the seal in his back began to remake its presence with scorching pain, he closed his eyes and moaned violently, he reached for his back, trying to ease the pain. It was useless; he lost his balance and almost fell from his seat. His head was spinning, he leaned on the table and he was submerged by silence. Then he heard it, a voice oh so familiar that spoke to him, mocking him.

Hmhmhmhmhmhm, it appears you have made it to my shores.

It was not his mind that was talking to him, Some one had made its way inside his head. abruply disturving all of his brain activity, and that one stealth conection he had ignored long ago.

… Who are you?

Hmhmhmhmhmhm, Oh, have you forgotten Neratheo so soon brother?

… Brother?

Have you been quarreling with Cozrhyael, brother? Hmhmhmhmhmhm, I knew it would not be late until he evicted you from your own sea.

The sea…

I have to admit though, that it was not easy for us three gods to send you into exile. Yet, you allowed a petulant old fool to evict you from the Oceans of Althanas, how pathetic.
Hmhmhmhmhmhm, I pity you brother, look at you, among mortals, besides that poor excuse of a siren, Twyla. She has to live tied to that lizard, once dared to carry the title of Siren Leader, and now she cannot even compile herself to take a breath under the ocean water, Ha! Such a useless woman, such a waste of a pretty face. Hmhmhmhmhmhmhm.

All he could see was darkness, he felt threatened by this precedence claiming to be his brother. The voice was intimidating, but he did not hesitated.

…Twyla... What do you want with me?

Nothing but to deliver a message brother. Stay away from my sea, Melancor. Dare not to return to the ocean, or any of our seven seas, or we shall drown and the ocen that saw you born, will see you dead. You shall not have peace, nor at land or sea. We will know if you approach our shores, and we will be waiting for you brother…
Hmhmhmhm, farewell, Melancor!

Melancor…


A heavy feeling inundated the tavern. The liquid in the numerous glasses began to stir slowly. With all his strength he lifted up his face from the table, His energy had inexplicably banished, and his body was weak. As his vision settled, Twyla’s silhouette faded in, and it was then when he finally remembered.

“Twyla…” He said in a dragged, silent tone, “you are Twyla from the sirens… I remember you… I never met you, but you where well known…. Yes I know all about the sirens…. Ty’Alken…”

[Nymph and Dragon]

You are so lucky we’re not alone. She kept her mental voice as calm as she could, but it still screamed her ire across their bond.

I’m just bringing the truth to light. Knowledge is power, they say.

The urge to throttle his gloating neck almost made Twyla reach down for the dragon, but she instead sat up in alarm as Eli began to squirm and thrash before her. He seemed to be reaching for his back, groaning as if there was something biting its way through his spine. She looked around with a frown, worried that some of the men around might notice his odd behavior. Unfortunately, Hark and the other men at his table were already looking their way, and their whispering doubled in intensity at the man’s antics.

I’ll deal with you later, worm. What’s going on?

A lot . . . on every front. I think you two should leave; Hark’s going to be mobilizing soon.

Ignore them, they’re probably too drunk to pose a threat. What’s Eli doing?

He’s . . . preoccupied with something, and he’s confused by something else. I don’t know, I can’t tell for sure. The Elemental’s voice was troubled.

You useless snake, what do you mean you can’t tell? If you can’t even read the halfwit’s head—

It’s dangerous in there, Twyla, the dragon interrupted, his focus still on something beyond the nymph’s comprehension. There’s something there that’s not—

Twyla blocked the dragon out suddenly as her attention was drawn to the freshly-drawn mugs of ale on the table next to hers. Amber liquid in every cup was swirling gently against the rim, sloshing foam over the sides as the fluid spun in its container.

Is that . . . him?

The Elemental’s voice was almost afraid. I don’t know.

Twyla looked quickly back at the man beside her, her voice warning and curious as she said, “Eli, are you—”

But he interrupted her, saying her name with more familiarity than he ever had before in a voice that made her think of a whale’s mournful moan. The words that followed her name made her blood run cold. In his new eerie voice, it seemed to Twyla that Eli spoke with more confidence than even the change of clothes hadn’t imparted. He spoke with something like authority, certainty, perhaps even condescension.

Ty’Alken.

Just the mention of the demoness’ name was enough. Twyla’s eyes widened, her throat constricted, and every inch of her skin went icily cold. An identical wave of shock and fear swept from the Elemental’s mind, making her feel as if she were twice as scared as she actually was. How could he have known? How had he figured out that she was a Siren? Who the hell had told him about Ty’Alken?

Hearing the name of the demoness who had bonded them together had shaken Twyla badly, but her disorientation was nothing compared to the reaction of the Elemental. The mental barrier that he normally used to keep Twyla from knowing his thoughts was shattered, exposing Twyla fully to a mind that she had only encountered as completely once before, when they had first been linked.

The Elemental’s mind was a mind-bogglingly complex compilation of emotions, thoughts, memories, and feelings, all more intense and vibrant than any thought that he had ever sent her way before, all powerful and brutally concentrated, but neatly organized and filed away like cages of rabid beasts stacked on a shelf. She caught a glimpse of his memories, a quick peek that showed just a glimmer of an indeterminably long existance, a life that had charted the forming of the current world and lands from the long-forgotten ones that had preceded them. Flashes of fear and remembered pain darted across their link, filling Twyla’s mind with images and memories from the centuries that he had spent as the demoness’ slave, the torture that she had gleefully employed to force him to obey her . . .

Get your stupid little head under control, she snapped viciously, mentally shoving him as far away from herself as she could. How the hell did he find out?

I swear I’ve never communicated with him,the dragon’s voice shook. His barrier slammed back into place, effectively blocking Twyla out of his head, though emotions and images were still occasionally jumping across their link.

Then how the hell—

I don’t know, Twyla! I can’t see what’s going on in his head anymore. Something or someone else was there, and now he’s . . . different.

Well, at least stop with the gory images! Your torture seems a fascinating thing to watch, but now isn’t the time for fun and games.

The dragon was still too shaken to reply. The barrier between their minds was thicker than usual, as if he was preparing himself for another surprise attack – or just making sure that she stayed out.

Twyla forced herself to stay composed. She lifted one hand and casually pushed her hair back from her face, leaning back in her chair and eying Eli as neutrally as she could.

Stop screaming, the dragon ordered plaintively.

I’m not making any noise, she snapped back.

Tell that to your subconscious. You’re about ready to jump up and run away.

At least I’m not the one who nearly jumped out of my shell when he mentioned . . . her. Twyla settled herself firmly into her chair and tightened her hands into fists beneath the table. As much as she disliked being bonded to the dragon, she was thankful for the speediness of their communication, which allowed whole sentences and complete thoughts to be conveyed instantly,giving her a perfect opportunity to vent her anger on the dragon in the seconds that she had to respond to an external conversant.

Can you read him again yet?

I can't see everything, but yes. Some of his memories are still foggy, but I think they’re being intentionally blocked.

From you?

I don’t know. Maybe from him.

Does he really know all about me? Would there be any use in playing dumb?

No, he knows a lot more than he did five minutes ago.

Damn. “You’re right, we haven’t ever met.” She kept her voice low and cool, keeping her blue eyes fixed unwaveringly on Eli, whose eyes were once again of the same hue as her own. There really was something strange about him. Was he even safe to be around? He didn’t seem dangerous, but then again he hadn’t seemed to be the kind of person who’d recognize her from her old life. “I hadn’t realized that my reputation was so well-known. I’d be inclined to ask as to why you would automatically associate Ty’Alken with me, but it seems that this sudden revelation harkens the fortuitous arrival of a long-awaited guest; your memory. Is your empty head refilled with the things you lost, or is my identity the only thing that’s serendipitously occurred to you?”

[Melancor]

He picked up his still shifting head, placed his hand on his forrhead and placed his weight on the table.
“I am not sure…” he panted “… I can remember me… I am the fifth brother of seven sons… I can’t remember much other than I guess I used to live in the ocean… and apparently my name is Melancor… ” There was sertanly more to what he knew that what he was really revealing. Now he remembered most almost all, there where just small portions, key memories that remained missing in the shadows of his mind.


Melancor saw himself as one of the rulers of only one of the seven seas, he had 6 other brothers each who controlled their praised body of water, he did not remember their names, but he knew well the marine route to each one of their seas. The family of the demigods, who ruled as gods over the ocean due to their amazing powers, are called the Aegean, and always have been since the creation of Atlthanas, when they where all seven created by his Poseidon the earth shaker, out of the water of the ocean with lavished gold and silver armors. They where all powerful, no one would be foolish enough and dare to defy their place. Only amongst themselves there where battles over who was the real leader of the Aegean. Senseless battles since the outcome was always the same; the eldest of the brothers was always the head Aegean, Am'aleh. That was… until recently.

The Aegean had always fought against each other in a melee, or usually in isolated places of the ocean where they would casually find themselves after centuries and fight themselves until either’s tides backed down. The Aegean where territorial, much like the sirens, but there was no such thing as a sense of fraternity. However, this finally brought chaos to their hierarchy. He remembers being summoned to an unorthodox and unusual reunion. To the ancient underwater temple of Poseidon, a marvelous building, made out of limestone by the ancient inhabitants of Althanas, it was splendidly decorated with marble columns where long segments of lush see weed stretched. A place where the most exotic fish of the ocean lived and where various treasures from all parts of the ocean where kept jealously. It was there where three of his brothers, Neratheo the sixth, Cozrhyel the Forth, and Eldraiel the second, openly defied the authority of the head Aegean, that who’s name he did not remembered, but who’s strong imposing figure was burned in his memory.

The way they decided to take possession over the seas of Althanas was by the the top ranking Aegeans, the rest of his brothers who unlike them, did not formed an alliance in order to retaliate. They all fought the alliance, separately, and it was Melancor, who by being the third in line was the most imminent threat and was hit with the force of the three seas.

Melancor remembered his eviction from his sea, which went to Eldraiel’s hands. Melancor was now sentenced ever to roam guest into his brother’s waters, usually violently persecuted by the host, to which he did not submit. Until Eldraiel decided that he was no good alive and sent Cozrhyael to finish his miserable existence. Melancor fought fiercely creating storms and whirlpools the two brothers fought in an ominous sea, leaving both brothers badly hurt, it was when Cozrhyael backed off that he escaped to Neratheo’s sea and was sealed from his powers a priest.

The memories passed so fast and vividly on Melancor head that he though his brother had been playing tricks on his mind again. However, slowly his head went back to normal, but his body was still weak, this stressed him even more; he was vulnerable, like his brothers who struggled to maintain power against the trio. His blood was running fast, cold sweat dripped down his cheek and he sat in silence looking the clueless Siren, The seas where now divided, merged in war and he was loosing the battle.

[Nymph and Dragon]

“Melancor, eh?” Twyla eyed the troubled man with wary disdain. “Can’t say I’ve heard of you.”

I have, the Elemental said somberly. And you really have fallen into unusual company.

Tell me something I don’t know, the nymph snorted. Who is he? Should I know him?

You would if you had ever stuck your nose out of your little killing zone while you were in the ocean. He’s a demigod, Twyla.

Surely you jest. What’s a demigod doing as a halfwit amnesiac on some tiny island in the middle of nowhere?

Call it politics, the dragon said with a grim mental shrug, Some kind of family feud that left him homeless and alone.

Twyla grimaced. She knew plenty about sibling rivalry. It had been decades since any of her sisters had tried to challenge her authority, but there had always the looming possibility of finding oneself with a stolen human dagger in the back and a gloating sister nearby. Not to mention that the idea of being kicked out of the ocean wasn't an unfamiliar topic to the ex-Siren.

“Wait a second, El- Melancor.” Twyla raised a hand, glad to see that her fingers were no longer trembling. “Are your brothers still after you?”

You’ve got another problem, Twyla.

Don’t tell me, she answered sarcastically. He’s got a jealous wife who’s going to kill me for being such a temptation to her wayward and forgetful husband.

Not quite. Hark’s amassing the other men in the bar.

And that concerns me how?

What odd couple do you think they’re getting ready to lynch?

Twyla grimaced. “Never mind. You can answer later. For the moment, we have a more immediate problem.” She jerked her head back towards where Hark had been sitting, where a low grumble of whispers was accompanied by the grating of wooden chairs on the floor as furniture moved to make way for moving men. She sat up straighter in her seat and drummed her fingers against the table. “I think we should continue this conversation outdoors.”

Wise decision, the Elemental murmured dryly.

[Melancor]

Melancor could feel tension in the room. He realized that there must have been some kind of intrusion, and most surely, he had caused it. He gave Twyla a scrutinizing glance from the table.

"Are my brothers still after me?" This woman keeps getting keener. Alternatively, that elemental is still around.
Now he remembered well Twyla’s story. He finally recognized that presence that he had long ignored but was there as a relaxed, silence in his mind.

"They won't rest until I am dead"

He looked over his shoulder, and witnessed the cause of the agitation. Damn, those humans are a pain, and look at me here stuck in this useless mortal state.

Melancor stood up, and accommodated his chair back into place. He rested the quiver on his back, fixed his cape, placed the hood over his head, and took bow in hand hiding it under the heavy cape. He had remembered they way he taught himself to use the bow, and pitied himself forever thinking on it as a Lyre.

He looked back at Twyla and nodded with a serious stare. “Let’s go”

[Nymph and Dragon]

Twyla’s eyebrows rose. Gone was the confused and ineffectual wretch who’d accompanied her into the tavern; the man standing now had the confidence of a trained fighter or a rich noble. It was eerie, to think of how much he had changed in the time it would have taken to down a few drinks. He was living proof that walking into a bar could change a man’s life for the better. Of course, having to remember the existence of six brothers who were intent on his demise couldn’t have been a very heartening part of the change.

Why are you still sitting there? The Elemental demanded, his voice accompanied by a wave of impatience. You two need to go before people get hurt.

Did you hear the way he just spoke to me? Demigod or not, Twyla answered hotly, nobody tells me what to do.

She met Melancor’s eyes with a cool stare, then dropped her gaze mistrustfully to the weapon in his hand. How did a man who grew up in the ocean know how to shoot a bow? “I certainly hope you’ve learned how to use that and aren’t just going to carry it for show.”

Twyla, come on!

With an imperious toss of her hair, Twyla rose from her seat and unnecessarily adjusted the hem of the scarf on the bridge of her nose. Her eyes darted to the other side of the bar, catching sight of a large group of men who stood beside their seats with various implements of battery in hand and fearfully malicious expressions on their faces.

That Hark must have been spreading some dirty rumors, she observed as she casually brushed at the skirt of her dress.

All kinds of nasty gossip, the dragon agreed. She felt rather than saw him move, sliding across the floor in an aqueous sheet as he slipped beneath the table and then weaved his way discreetly along the wall opposite where the men were, heading towards the door.

Finishing her little show with a delicate run of fingers through her hair, Twyla glanced again at Eli – Melancor – and nodded once in return.

“Do let’s,” she replied, taking a step away from her seat and towards the door. Despite her show of confidence, the nymph was a little tense, and she watched the clump of men out of the corner of her eye, wondering if they were incensed enough to make a move.

You'd have to risk your life to protect me if they did, she thought with a mental snicker.

My life'll be in danger even if I don't, he answered snidely. Accompanying you is a hazard even without angry humans added into the mix.

Watch it, lizard, Twyla sent sourly as she strode with forced laxity towards the exit. Eli may be the one with the bow, but I don't need a weapon to whip your ass.

[Melancor]

Melancor set foot outside the tavern and immediately a violent cold breeze hit his face. In the horizon, the dying star was dim and red, as it made its slow journey over the trees.
The heard the door close behind them, closely followed by the ruckus of moving chairs, dropping glasses and what pretended to be stealth steps.

Feisty humans are more annoying than rats

“Twyla, you ought to cover yourself and not let those humans see you, Its not like you can kill stupid sailors here inland” he looked back at Twyla with an evil smirk.

He gave a calculating stare to the crowd and rushed through hoping that Twyla was following behind along with that one odd creature from the gossip about.

If we can make it back to make it back to the plaza without them noticing we will be well off.

Melancor discretely looked back into the distance to the tavern, and there, in the entrance, where the group of men with sticks and such brute weapons in their hands, looking around scanning for the mysterious woman, and the silver haired dude. Then, it happened, one of the men, a tall and heavy one, looked their way.
Melancor cursed as the time seemed to slow down in his panic. Had he seen him he wasn’t sure, but he was certainly not going to stand there and figure it out. He hurried his pase and without changing his course.

“I think they’ve spotted us, hurry up woman.”

[Nymph and Dragon]

She had forgotten how cold it was outdoors. The first step outdoors sent an icy shiver from her uncovered toes to the top of her head, making her draw in a sharp breath and draw her cloak tightly across her front. Eli was just in front of her, his back straight and his head held high as he led the way onto the street. She’d been a little surprised when the men in the bar had merely watched them leave, but the ruckus that kicked up immediately after their exit made her think that they weren’t as forgiving as they seemed.

The nymph’s attention snapped back to Eli as he spoke, her eyes darkening at the sharp derision in his voice. His words stung, and the truth of them kept her silent, but it was the outright nastiness of the comment that surprised her the most. A pang of indignation went through her mind at his audacity, but even she wasn’t aware of the deep hurt that eked into the Elemental’s mind at the reminder of her powerlessness.

Tell me he did not just say what I think he did, she ordered the dragon, her voice brimming with outrage that drowned the ache of memories. When did the twerp decide that he was my intellectual superior?

He’s changed a lot, the dragon replied, stating the obvious in the hope that Twyla would catch his implied drift. He didn’t feel justified in telling her all that he could see in the silver-haired man’s mind, but he did want to make sure that she didn’t do something that would end up getting her killed. The man before them now wasn’t the same one who she’d picked off the street a short while ago.

“Actually, Eli,” she said with forced indifference, “I don’t have to resort to barbaric slaughtering the way you males always do. I have other means of getting my way.”

But the man wasn’t listening to her, and had already rushed off into the street, leaving a wake of disgruntled pedestrians behind him. Twyla stormed after him, fuming at the slight.

Watch out, Twyla, they’re coming after you, the dragon warned as he followed behind her in transparent dragon form.

Me? Why are they after me?

Well, you and Eli, the Elemental conceded, but you’re the one who’s moving more slowly.

Twyla glanced behind her and saw the tavern door thrown open and Hark at the head of an angry, armed, and inebriated crowd. She increased her pace, gaining ground on the silver-haired head that bobbed through the crowd ahead of her.

Damn. His blasted hair is so conspicuous!

The dragon sent her an image of herself from his point of view behind her, highlighting the violently purple cloak that billowed flamboyantly in the chilly wind and the wavy cascade of long, sun-bleached hair that swept out behind her as she went. Look who’s talking.

Twyla was almost panting by the time she caught up with Melancor, her mood darkening further when he merely turned to her and ordered a faster pace as though she were his roadside charity project.

“No, actually, I don’t think I will,” she snapped, barely managing to keep up the pace that he had set before. Her legs weren’t as long as his, and the skirt of her robe only impeded her movement further. As much as she didn’t enjoy the undignified racing down the street, however, she did her best to keep up with Melancor as she spoke. “There’s more intelligent ways of handling this kind of situation!”

Really? the dragon questioned from behind her. There’s a better means of running away than running away?

Shut up. “The men won’t be mad forever,” she continued. “We just need to find someplace to wait out their drunkenness.”

[Melancor]

Melancor slowed down his pase to allow Twyla to catch up with him. The wind had picked up and black clouds where setting in the sky over the picturesque city. He continued walking never the less, without looking back he waited until they reached the next interception, he turned right and now keenly covered by the buildings he peeked into the busy street. The men where walking in their direction. They had not seen them Melancor guessed, as the walked down the street shoving people in the street, checking in any of them where the silver-haired man.

He took a moment, frowned and opened his mouth to say something in retaliation to Twyla's words. Then his vision started to fade. His energy was adjusting after the tiring chat with his brother, and after the sudden burst he was feeling odd.

He kept staring at Twyla when a sudden breeze hit malevolently as if it had been someone is doing, taking the hood off his head and allowing his silver hair to shine in the gray light of the tempest sky. For a moment, there was an eerie silence in the streets.

There was a slight smell of ozone in the air. He focused back on Twyla, his mouth was slightly open and color had faded from his lips. Melancor was experiencing a serene comfort as he waiter for what was to come. In a flash his eyes turned from blue into silver gray, he closed his eyes passively and Twyla’s image faded out.

In a comotion lightning struck, outshining all the lights of the street, only the dark silhouettes of the pedestrians where visible for the fraction of a second and instantly the roar of thunder hit with a violent tremble felt thought-out Scare Brae. It had landed near, and as such it was expected for rain to fall down and punish ravenously the chaotic mass that had been frightened by the dangerously close lighting.

Strangely enough the wind that had so cruelly hunted Melancor since he arrived the city stopped. It seemed that whatever presence that had provoked the volt had been interrupted of it’s doing by a much greater power.

Amdaleh… Melancor whispered to himself

Melancor leaned his head down, he slowly opened his deep gray eyes to see the bottom of Twyla’s coat covered in mud besides her feet. A soft rain began to pour almost like a mist. Am’aleh had reached him, and he finally had a sence of security in all the time he had been in Scara Brae.

With his heavy-lidded eyes, he raised his view and again gazed at Twyla.

“You have a point… I guess it’s true, never doubt the ways of a siren”

[Nymph and Dragon]

“Got that right,” Twyla muttered, smoothing down her hair as she caught her breath after their hurried escape. She kept her eyes on Melancor, watching him in case he decided to pull more odd little tricks out of his bag. There had been that weird pause, a kind of limbo during which the Elemental’s mind had reeked wariness across their link and Eli had just stared at her like the half-witted numbskull she remembered and liked best, and then the lightning had struck, brilliant and stunning like the flash of a god’s smile. Or was it a demigod that was doing the smiling? The intensity of the bolt had seemed more malicious than a smile . . . perhaps it was the snap of a demigod’s fingers as something happened, as something changed that would have repercussions for which the haplessly involved nymph would have to suffer.

But then the wind had stopped abruptly, almost as if someone had slammed a wall down between the sea and the land, cutting the wind off before it could finish. Twyla frowned and turned her gaze to the sky overhead as rain began to softly fall.

Snake, how much control do the demigods have over weather?

Enough, the Elemental replied grimly, coming to stand beside Twyla in its transparent form. But at least the drunks are gone.

Gone? The nymph hopefully pictured a pile of mutilated corpses.

Diverted, the dragon amended disapprovingly. I suggested a few alternative streets that they’re probably going to go check out.

Twyla snorted. I thought you didn’t do the whole mind-control thing.

I didn’t make them do anything, it replied indignantly. I just suggested that they turn the other way and try another part of town.

Twyla was about to reply when the rain minutely increased, pattering against the cobbled street with tiny plinking noises. She pulled her hood up over her hair. Hey, you’re a water-witch. Make it stop raining.

It’s good to see that the weather hasn’t affected your ability to amuse yourself, he remarked drily. But I couldn’t do anything even if I wanted to. It’s not a natural rain.

You mean it’s . . . she glanced at Eli, whose murky eyes were looking back at her.

Not him.

Twyla shuddered. How could the weirdo switch faces so quickly? One minute he was being rude and bossy and calling her a “woman,” and then in the next he looked pensive and confused, once again submitting to her decisions and seeming barely able to remain upright. She was quickly becoming convinced that it was safer to be far away from him . . . as soon as she figured out exactly what was going on.

“And while we’re still in agreement of my superiority,” she said in a crisp voice, hunching slightly to keep the rain off her dress, “let’s try to find someplace where we can find people who don’t want you- and me by association- dead.”

[Melancor]

Melancor gave Twyla one of his most malevolent gazes and opened his mouth to say something in retaliation of her claimed intellectual superiority, how dared she compare herself to the gods? It was beyond doubt that mortals had become more proud during the years, something that the gods despised more than anything in a mortal. Nevertheless he never did say anything.

Melancor looked into the tumultuous street again, it seemed like they had lost the men. He was relieved, as he loosened his coat and allowed the rain to fill him.

“Well they are not on our tail anymore, but they are certainly around. We should flee-… walk to the port; I think there is more that can be done about them there than there is here in the streets”
Melancor spoke in a passive almost laid-back tone, the tensions of that day where quickly fading away, as Am’aleh’s presence reassured him that he was not alone. His brothers would rather help aid him to oppose the revelious trio than allow Neratheo to have the satisfaction of killing one of their own.

One of their own… he laughed in distress. I ridded the waves, governed a sea, shook earth, stired wirlpools, and agitated skies. How was it possible for me to reduce to such insignificant existence! I, created by Poseidon and blessed by Suravani herself, now walk in the mud of a human street. If he would ever return to power, he would make sure to take revenge against these hordes of humans that claimed to be anglers. He didn't expect that to come any time soon. Melacor knew about the power of some particula priests, and aparently that one old fool was not ordinary.

Melancor sighed, he fastened his bow on his back, his long parka-like cape was thrown far in his back, barely hanging from his shoulders ,revealing the end of the dark and discrete armor plate, scratching the wet floor picking up mud on its heavy black surface.

Melancor began to walk slowly in the almost empty street they had found some cover on. Much slimmer than the main street, where probably illegal practices where undergo. There was a sleek blue fume with the rain and the puddles in the stone pavement reflected the orange light of the setting. Melancor took another deep breath, he was now nothing but a speck of dirt like all the others walking in the streets, depression mellowed his rage.


He tilted his head as he talked, “If Scara Brae has not changed too much in the last decades... or a storm of Neratheo’s destroyed the port already, I know a fast way to find it…” Looking back at his day, he inquired. “If you don’t mind me asking… what has it been out of Twyla of the Sirens, after such long time off my sea?”

High in the sky a far in the horizon a black storm approached seaway. Lighting and thunder where fierce against the ocean. It seemed like the interrupted presence was fast to retaliate the un-impressed rain, and was now war dancing against Scara Brae.

[Nymph and Dragon]

Twyla didn’t notice his angry look, but she did observe the strange armor that he was wearing on his back that hadn’t previously caught her attention. She opened her mouth to ask him about it, but he spoke before she could.

“How is going to the docks going to help us get out of the rain?” she demanded, but she didn’t speak quite loudly enough for Eli to hear. Despite her assertive statements and unaffected air, the truth was that she was somewhat tentative around this new Eli, and he seemed volatile enough to warrant care. At the moment he seemed fully in possession of his thoughts, but she knew well how quickly a brooding mood could become a wrathful one, so she held her tongue and followed him down the muddy street.

I hope you continue to show this kind of self-control in future circumstances of peril, the dragon said sardonically from her side.

If I ever have to work around half-crazy demigods again, maybe I will, she answered evenly. Besides, he doesn’t seem clever enough to understand the bulk of what I say anyway.

Are you sure that going to the port is a good idea?

What, are you afraid that he’ll try to feed me to his pet whale?

No, but don’t forget that you and salt water aren’t exactly compatible.

Thanks for the obvious, viper. Why don’t you save your next big revelation for something that I don’t already know, like why Eli thinks his murderous brothers are going to let him get anywhere near “their” ocean.

Melancor spoke before the Elemental could reply, and Twyla darted him a narrow-eyed glance, wondering at his suddenly civil tone. She ignored the reference to his oceans, deciding that a disagreement over possessive pronouns wasn’t worth another bout of verbal sparring. But why was he asking about her affairs? Did he have an ulterior motive, or was it simply innocent curiosity?

Twyla almost snorted aloud. Curiosity was never innocent.

“Oh, a little of this, a little of that,” she said loftily. “I’m a researcher now. I study humans in all their varying degrees of repulsiveness.” She shrugged sourly. “It doesn’t provide quite the same rush as causing their deaths, but it’s better than wallowing aimlessly in shallow creeks with just the snake for company.”

The rain kept falling, and Twyla pulled her hood farther over her head, cloaking her face in shadows. Despite the bravado she’d shown the dragon, she was a little worried about going with Melancor to the sea. It was fine for traveling when she could be sure that she came into contact with the water as little as possible, but going to the docks with a person whom water-dwelling demigods trying to kill . . .

"And what exactly," she said in as conciliatory a voice as she could manage, "do you hope you hope to accomplish by going to the docks?"

[Melancor]

Twyla’s question fell in hollow ears, he did not pay much particular attention to her inquiry as he his head stormed for a mental map of Sacra Brae.

“I understand your situation... don’t worry Amdaleh does not allow anything to happen to exiled brethren” He continued in a more appetent tone “What he considers betheren, anything intelligent coming out of the sea, just another rule that Eldraiel defies. If they could they would have sunken this island already…” Melancor then realized that he had been ranting aloud again over an unrelated topic. He looked back a Twyla as for expecting for some kind of odd disposition. “Don’t worry… I know it’s not the easiest thing but trust me”

These odd displays of randomness where now annoying Melancor, as if he was still confused after such ungraceful experience with the priest.

“I must say I have to say that there is something we both can agree in, Humans are more useful dead then they are alive, The ports shouldn’t be far”
As they moved further in the street at the end, a once small light began to grow larger and larger as they approached it; Melancor could hear the thunder far in the sea and after crossing the ever-growing light a salty breeze hit Melancor’s face. He suddenly felt at home, but the spectacle of the tempest sea approaching made it short lived.

There was pandemonium among the few angler that where left after a prolific day of work harvesting the sea. “A STURM IS COMIN’! HER MEH A STURM IS COMIN’!”
They firmly tied they boats to the docks and carried their equipment back to the many storehouses, nearby business tightly closed their doors and windows as the first foreshadowing gust violated the parameter of the rain.

The rain finally submitted, it was calm before the storm and Scara Bare was ominous that the titans where about to collide.

[Nymph and Dragon]

Why does he keep doing that? No amount of replaying and contextualizing could help Twyla decipher what he was saying. Who the heck was Amdaleh? And what did he mean, “trust him”? Since when did she look stupid enough to start trusting a man who was obviously suffering from pure, unadulterated insanity?

The Elemental could feel her frustration, but he didn’t sympathize. He had an inkling of what was going on, one of the many perks of being telepathic. But Melancor’s mind had changed since the bar, had grown tangled and full of memory and motives and opinions that had all once been forgotten. The dragon remembered the cool, fog-like simplicity that had ruled his thoughts when he was still under the effects of the amnesia. What would the world be like if everyone’s head stayed so blissfully uncomplicated?

He didn’t get the chance to dwell on this thought, for a moment later a sharp gasp of pain echoed both aloud and in his mind. Twyla’s mental voice was even louder than her audible one, and the wave of pain that accompanied the noise felt like a slap of a hundred needles across his face.

Twyla had stopped walking, turning her back to the sea and hunching her shoulders to keep the salt-laced drops of water from hitting her bare skin. The ocean was roiling, and the sky overhead darkened with it. Hurrying sailors and fishermen rushed past them, scurrying to the safety of their homes before the impending tempest. The dragon could feel the change in pressure as the air around him prepared itself for the coming storm. But this was no freak gale, for Melancor’s mind was far from surprised. If anything, he was expectant, ready for what was coming next.

Twyla, this really doesn’t seem to be a good idea. It was as least worth a try.

Shut up, the nymph snapped back, whirling back around to face the coming wind and throwing back her shoulders. More droplets splashed against the exposed skin above her mask, sending more darts of pain through the upper part of the dragon’s own face. I think we can both tolerate a little bit of discomfort. I’m not leaving until I see what Eli is doing.

The Elemental bared his teeth hissing silently at the nymph and carefully shielding his mind so that Twyla wouldn’t detect his frustration. Her curiosity was out of control! What was the use in putting them both in danger just to quell her insatiable appetite for knowledge?

Twyla, if for any reason you go into the water, I don’t think I’ll be able to save you, the dragon warned. I have no power over saltwater; you know that!

Twyla kept walking, refusing to acknowledge both him and the worried humans who scrambled about to escape the unexpected storm. The cool rain had stopped falling; the only water that splashed them now was that which was hurled from the sea. The Elemental followed her, his tail lashing as he crawled across the slick stones of the street. Jabs of pain pricked his shoulders and back as salt-laden water soaked through Twyla’s cloak and gown, but still she followed Melancor.

Don’t worry, viper, the nymph said in a drawling voice that belied the pain he knew she was feeling. I won’t let this get out of hand. I’m not leaving until I see what these retarded demigods are cooking up with their sibling rivalry, but I can promise you one thing: I definitely won’t need you to save me.

The Elemental, following silently in her wake, wasn’t so sure. The minds of the people around him were mostly filled with fear and confusion at the storm, but a few hundred yards away he caught a drift of a group of minds that were unfortunately familiar. They were still angry, still determinedly searching for the strange couple that had intruded so unthreateningly on their drunken complacency.

Look sharp, Twyla, he sent urgently. Hark and company are on the prowl.

The nymph stopped and looked back, frowning with annoyance. I thought you sent them off the other way? Why can't you do anything right?

I told you. It was a suggestion. They decided to check the wharf because they figured you're both monsters from the sea anyway and that this is where you'd go to escape them.

Wait, why would they be stupid enough to follow monsters back to their lair? She paused and the dragon felt a wave of snide amusement float across their link. Oh wait, they're humans. Never mind.

They want to try to catch the two of you before you leave your human forms to reassume your deep-sea shapes, he told her, his attention focused on the minds that drew steadily nearer.

Well, isn't that just clever. The nymph turned back and stepped quickly after Eli, tapping his arm to get his attention before she started talking. "The men at the bar are coming. They think we're going to escape into the ocean and they want to make sure that doesn't happen. I'm thinking we might want to vacate the premises."

I don't know if you'll be fast enough, the dragon said worriedly, his head moving as he listened to thoughts from minds all over the dock. The people are already tense, and Hark's getting everyone riled up for a monster-slaying. He's got men all over.

"Damn." Twyla looked around, trying to see if she could spot murderous intent in the eyes of the people around them. Could they try to escape with the crowd? A glance at her companion convinced her of otherwise. "Eli, if your stupid hair gets me killed, I'm going to feed your liver to my dragon."

[Melancor]

Those pesky humans again… He sighed.

Under his heavy coat Melancor stealthy reached for his bow and graved it tightly. His pupils dilated, as he saw a wave of men and some sharp women pour from the streets into the small dock-plaza.

Melancor snorted at the ever-growing threat of rioting men storming in a rampage against them. Men of all shapes and sizes came out of the shadows of all the streets connecting to the docks. For them, there was no way out.

"Does that lizard of yours eat other than liver?”

Melancor replied ludicrously, his vision of the humans was much below those of worms, even in large, menacing numbers. He would not allow a couple of worms rock his foundation of hierarchy.

“It is them!”
A sour voice emerged from the back of the tumultuous crowd slowly closing down on them. An arched scrubby figure came upfront, this red eyes and his erratic movements revealed a life of self-abuse and constant viciousness. It was the same man from the bar, Hark.

The crowd roared as if it where an arranged beast. Melancor was driven by his broken pride, he unwillingly accepted the spectacle as intimidating, there wasn’t much he could do now. A cold drop of sweat ran down his forehead as he diligently calculated a solution to avoid their death.

He made an aggressive movement as he dragged his bow out. There was a fast gasp in the crowd as he sharply placed the arrow, never the less the man continued slowly walking towards them with weapons much more precise and powerful than his. Slowly backing into one of the stationary docks, without lifting a finger off the arrow and slightly changing target to the most apparently bold man, he lowered his shoulders and allowed his heavy coat to drop. Although the metal on his plate was dark, the remaining sunrays made it shine. There where small fishing boats tied to the tall poles, rocking with the angry sea and the gray sky.

“Twyla, gets in that boat, and keep that lizard of yours astray”

Melancor released the arrow and saw chaos brake. The man who hours ago had been playing with his chair, fell backwards into the people, where he was rapidly covered by people who offered assistance, others rushed to the aqueous couple and Melancor ran towards the sea.

His body broke a wave that impacted the docks and rocked the entire port. A shimmering light illuminated the sea and a gust of wind swept through Scara Brae. A long scaled tail rose from the tempest sea, towering over the boats and coiling in the wooden poles. Melancor emerged from the bubbling water; his eyes dripping plasma reflected his anger. He listed his arms, then violently two slim columns of water erected from the sea and made the threatening sight ever more impressive.

Melancor's intent of intimidation provoked paniquing screams in the lines, though it was fastly followed by an agitated roar of men and a fading "See! it's them!"

A small earthquake shook the island, and in the horizon, thunder shattered the sky, now the storm was ramming against the city. Neratheo was ready to embroil in war.

[Nymph and Dragon]

“Not a chance in hell,” Twyla said vehemently, but Eli had already disappeared beneath the tumultuous surface of the ocean and didn’t acknowledge her refusal. She had only to take one look at the dilapidated vessel he’d indicated before deciding with complete and unwavering surety that she was not going anywhere near the ocean in it. Every exposed inch of her skin was stinging as the salt in the air was hurled against her, and she certainly didn’t trust that pathetic boat to carry her safely across the blustering tide.

And yet, the other option was hardly preferable. She turned back to the crowd that had grown into a multitude of fear-driven mindless idiots bent on the destruction of the serendipitous innocent who was - in their minds - linked to the true source of their distress, the blasted weirdo who had so inconveniently departed. They weren’t advancing anymore and were merely shouting and waving weapons, shaking their fists at the rippling circles that were all that was left of the silver-haired stranger. Humans were always afraid to be the first one to make a move; they were all probably just waiting to see if Eli would kill somebody else. It was fortunate that they weren’t trying to kill her just yet, but she doubted they’d be sympathetic even if she did explain that she really wasn’t 'with' him. It wasn’t her fault that Eli and his mad brothers had decided to have a family tussle just when she happened to be in town and in a charitable mood! She wished now that she had just laughed at the sucker when she’d seen him squatting in the middle of the street and walked on.

No good deed goes unpunished, she thought sourly, tucking the thought away for later application. There was no way she was ever going to help someone again!

Now’s not the best time to plan for the future, Twyla, the Elemental snapped. He was standing sideways in front of her in a transparent form, but he’d grown to a size that, from snout to tail, measured about the same length as Twyla’s height. His head turned slowly as he directed his ears towards various parts of the crowd; even when transparent his eyes seemed to glow as he sorted through the many voices that poured into his skull, trying to concentrate on the ones that posed a threat.

What do you want me to do, she demanded, whip out a sword and go berserker on them? Eli’s the one who shoots and leaves. You’d think they’d be happier now that he’s gone.

He’s not gone. The dragon’s voice was distracted.

Where’d he— Her thought broke off as a flicker of movement caught her eye from the sky behind her. She whirled and froze, aghast at the sight of the monstrous creature that rose from the water like a corrupted Venus from some dark, hell-founded oyster.

Twyla groaned silently, her eyes fixed on the monster before her. Please don’t tell me that’s—

It’s him.

“Damn!” The crowd had drawn back at the sight of him, their angry shouts turning into terrified shrieks. Some dropped their weapons and did their best to push their way through the crowd, trying to flee but unable to get through the mass of panicked individuals who were nearly paralyzed with fear.

I think now would be a good time for me to make my stealthy exit, Twyla decided, ripping her gaze away from the columns of water that had risen into the air beside Eli.

You won’t make it off the dock, the dragon replied. Hark’s men are pretty angry, especially since Melancor killed him, and I doubt they’d let you just walk away.

There’s a giant MONSTER in the water who’s probably about to EAT them and they’re worried about ME?

Stop yelling. They think you two are connected. He paused and listened for a few seconds, then continued, They’re considering killing you in the hopes that it will kill him too.

Twyla almost smiled at the irony.

Maybe you should get into the boat.

The nymph glanced down at the dragon, who was watching Melancor with his ears laid back.

“Oh, now you want me to get into the water?” There was too much commotion and noise and distraction for her to bother with speaking telepathically.

He doesn’t seem to want to kill you, so you may be safer with him. The dragon’s voice was dubious, but he was already looking towards the fishing boat.

“His brothers are probably about to start a war out there! How could that possibly be safer than facing a bunch of moody humans?”

The dragon only answered with a growl, jumping suddenly past her towards the crowd. Twyla took a startled step forward and turned to see that the dragon was now in solid form, his green scales seeming almost black in the murky light of the storm. He was standing protectively between her and three men who had charged forward with long knives, his teeth bared and his tail lashing.

Good idea, moron, Twyla exploded, her heart racing from the panic of the dragon’s sudden movement. Scare me to death before anyone else gets the privilege of killing me!

You need to get moving, he answered. I’m not going to hurt them; they’re more afraid of Melancor than they are of you. They’re just trying to protect themselves and their families, so if you leave and he leaves, everybody can go home alive.

You’re such a bleeding heart, she complained. Ripping off a few heads will scare them off faster than flexing your puny claws.

More are coming, Twyla! the dragon's voice had increased in urgency and he took a step back from the men as one of the men swung his weapon at the dragon's head.

Maybe you should bark some, the nymph suggested, That’d REALLY intimidate them.

The Elemental sent her a wave of his exasperation. Twyla, please just get in the boat.

Two more men were drawing nearer, and the three remaining were getting ready to swipe again with their rusty tools. Considering that they did have the advantage of numbers, she could see the wisdom of the dragon's request, and he had said ‘please’ . . .

With a huff of displeasure the nymph turned back to the sea and crossed the rough wooden planks of the dock to the fishing boat. She paused at the edge and took a moment to steel herself before she clambered into the vessel, trying not to wince at the puddles of salt water that burnt at her skin. A moment after she had sat herself on one of the two benches, the one closest to the bow, the Elemental snaked in after her and whirled to face the rear of the boat. He bit off the rope that kept the narrow vessel tied to the dock and stood with his forelimbs on the back of the twelve-foot craft, watching to make sure that none of the fishermen followed.

Twyla was too busy fighting nausea to communicate, and she glared with undisguised ire at the source and cause of her discomfort as they floated adrift and without oars on a raging grey sea.

[Melancor]

Not by humans! He would rather take his chances, against wind and thunder, be a feast to the angry sea, fight until death against the great Leviathan, or be killed by the swords of the six Aegean fists. He would remain as the late exiled Demi-god who defied his family and struggled against the fates until finally surrendering to the grim drip of Hades.
He saw it coming, human fear, that which drives them to do bold things. Fear that overtakes their minds and their sense of pride and reveals their greed. He saw it on the tavern, strong faces with anger, anger to the unknown, fear; He saw this coming. He refused to die on the hands of humans; he was a god, a god nonetheless mortal. He had seen the rise of the same ground they stood, and the fall of their empires; He refused to die and remain in the stories of sailors, told to their children on how they killed a fish monster with a plank, and become a trophy to human superiority. He would not allow their brother to launch ever taunting laughs to his memory Not-by-them!

The water columns collapsed as Melancor submerged under the gray sea, the long slate, scaled tail released the steady poles. A moment of eerie silence, it seemed as if the beast had perished under the small waves. The sky was made of cinder, and the dark ocean kept quiet.

“THE BEAST IS GONE!” The crowd roared and in a flash of cloth and quick feet they ran to the dock, and some others hurried to prepare their ships and recapture their vigilanted fugitives. In anguish they began to throw whatever they could to the small vessel leaving their grasp. Near the vessel, Melancor again rose from the debts of the sea with a clashing force in a cloud of water that was suspended in the air before endangering its passengers. Melancor forced his tail against the rocky bottom and elevated himself, towering over the tumultuous crowd now petrified.

Melancor set his thunder eyes on a man, and spoke with the roar of a hundred lions.
“The sea shall expel you if you dare to defile the waters with your ships, it is not you place, and if you do not comply the judgment of the Aegean shall be passed on you!”
Melancor rage boiled his senses, his quick temper got the best on him but he was not over reacting; he had hijacked divine edict. the water cloud collapsed.

he threw body backwards and was lowered to water level, he placed his arms around the rear of the boat and with a slash of his tail they left with a splash of watter.

“That monster! That sea demon! He dares steal the world of Am’aleh!” a voice called in the crowd “We have to avenge him or the harvest of the sea will not be good anymore!” another distressed man called. “Undock the ships!”

Many man followed their speech leader, but many other where reluctant to act against the edict of Melancor. Those where shunned a cowards, but only the small gang of the tavern and twenty more men that complied. The largest ship in the dock, a great and old wooden mistress sailed away against the small boat almost in the horizon, fleeing land.
Dressed with all the paraphernalia of fishing and with the fllash of a heavy sail the men proudly rode toward a shabby wooden box, and a great crown of black clouds.

[Nymph and Dragon]

“What the hell are you doing?”

Twyla’s panicked shriek flew across the water, aimed at the monster-like creature that was propelling their boat from behind but piercing the ears of the dragon that sat between them. Their frenetic pace sent waves of icy salt water splashing over the bow, drenching the skirt of Twyla’s dress and burning her sandaled feet like acid. The force of Eli’s propulsion had sent her flying off her seat and onto the floor of the vessel, where her hands were doused in the layer of unsurprisingly briny water that sloshed against the sides.

Twyla gritted her teeth against the stinging of her skin and hauled herself back onto her seat, pulling her legs up against her chest and gripping the edge of the wooden bench beneath her with a white-knuckled grasp. Her gown hung from her in a heavy, sopping mess, and if it hadn't been the only thing that came anywhere close to protecting her from the ocean water, she would have torn it off and hurled it at Eli's stupid head. She watched in mounting horror as the dock seemed to drift away, the angry humans who jumped around the dock shrinking and shrinking as they fell away from view.

“Where are we going?” Her voice didn’t seem to carry much over the wind. Snake! What’s that idiot doing?

The dragon’s claws were clenched into the wood of the boat, his ears laid back and his tail wrapped around the rear bench. Every particle of emotion was kept firmly in his head, and his voice came clipped and tinged with a residue of the pain that she was passing on to him. Just hold on.

Twyla would have shouted back, but the pain-inducing wetness of an especially large wave distracted her. What had she been thinking, to get into a boat at the bidding of a crazy merman? She didn’t understand half of what he said, with his weird loud voice and archaic phrasing and inability to control his crazy demigod side. She wished she’d decided to take her chances with the murderous fishermen, because her current company was about as unappreciable as they came. If he ever changed back into a normal being and stopped spouting self-righteous drivel about his ownership of the world for long enough to let her get her hands around his neck . . .

“Eli! Answer me, damnit! Where the hell are we going?”

[Melancor]

How dared she raise her voice? Had she not been a late siren she would be helplessly floating at sea with a tail-whip mark on her face and back.

“Twyla, it would make no difference risking your existence in land, I am most sorry you have been involved in this situation, but you must know, that, for you or I to stay in Scara Brae. Neratheo has more than the power to create a wave to swallow the Coronean city of Radasanth. On sea, storm is still a dangerous factor, but now I am able to repel any of Neratheo’s waves. The only reasonable thing to do is try to move south on sea. I will not be able to keep this form for too long, we can only hope that it’s enough time for Zerqamel to control Neratheo. I am sure that he was encouraged by Amdaleh to attack Neratheo; hopefully he will not harm us. Amdaleh may be able to bend any lightning, nevertheless we are not safe, and the storms will role above us at any second. Twyla, I understand your situation, and I will try to get you safely out of it. Please respect my judgment; it’s the best for everyone.”

There was a mysterious peace in the sea. Unlike the angry waves that crashed into the ever-smaller docks, the sea set rigid on a plane, such that, to Melancor resembled, a small lagoon on a foggy morning. The sea had appeased from a clashing and maladroit monster, to a still mirror.

After channeling his distress calmly, he directed his attention to the odd dragon-like creature that had bordered the boat and now guarded it like a hound.
“And so the dragon in born!” he said loathingly “now I can tell that is a water elemental, what I can’t guess is why its hasn’t brought up itself to at least get the human pest off our shoulders-”
Thunder broke the cry of the wind.

[Nymph and Dragon]

The weather eased unexpectedly, and though she was grateful for the improved conditions, Twyla was far from content. Aside from the fact that she was in a dinky little boat that was being pushed by a merman, the hurling storm had suddenly stilled, going from a raging squall to a murmuring standstill within the space of a few seconds. She’d lived in the ocean a long time— more time under it than on its surface, granted— but she’d never seen weather quite like this. Storms didn’t pop up out of nowhere, no matter what ignorant sailors thought minutes before their deaths, and there were always . . . usually . . . signs when they were going to ease. Only she could see that at the docks, the clouds were still as grey and threatening as ever. But she dismissed her questions about the weather, because the demigod at the rudder’s words had left her even more flabbergasted.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Twyla, you’re getting repetitive, the Elemental complained. His eyes were fixed on the ship that sailed behind them, watching as it rocked gently on the water. Even in the sudden lull, the sailors were in motion, scurrying across the deck. Oars were beginning to poke out from the sides. They weren’t giving up the chase.

“Who is Neratheo? What’s an Amdelah? Are those more of your crazy siblings?”

Hate to be a nag, the dragon said, swiveling his head to look at her with what looked like a grimace, but there’s a time for talking and a time for silence. I’m thinking you should look into the latter.

Twyla sent him a mental wave of hatred, but there was no way she was going to give Eli the satisfaction of seeing her condescend to yell at the dragon. She didn’t have to worry, though, because a moment later Eli did it for her. She felt a twinge of something in her chest at his words, a kind of possessive protectiveness that she quickly stifled as soon as it arose.

Maybe he has a point, snake, she chimed in. Why aren’t you off killing humans for us?

The dragon wasn’t amused. They’re just sailors.

They’re would-be murderers, she corrected, or have you forgotten that they’re trying to kill me?

They’re protecting their livelihoods from a perceived menace, he contradicted, his eyes still on the following ship. What would you do if a monster and his crony attacked your home?

Twyla’s temper flared. Who are you calling a crony?

The Elemental changed the subject without a reply. He somehow knows what I am, and he wants an explanation.

Give him one, then.

The dragon’s tail flicked. I don’t think he knows that I’m telepathic. I’d rather keep it that way.

Twyla rolled her eyes and spoke with blithe nonchalance, determined to not let Eli see how bothered she was by the whole situation. “Sorry, Eli, the lizard doesn’t massacre rampaging mobs anymore. He’s retired from the slaughtering business . . . something of a pacifist.”

[Melancor]

The clouds smoothly rolling over them at an almost unrecognizable pace seemed to gloat in their paused apogee. The sun in the horizon was setting, and illuminated the cinder clouds with the blush, red-orange that announced it’s imminent and death. The only sound to be heard was that of the wind, of the sails it propelled, the eco of the sailors’ cries and the soft tricking water off Melancor’s tail.
In other circumstances Melancor would have jolted at Twyla’s inquiry, he understood that she may not recognize six of the lesser Aegean, and even if he hated to recognize it, Amdaleh was an icon of oceans and seas alike.

Melancor rolled his neck backwards giving him a view of Twyla and the sky above. Water has infiltrated the meager vessel leaving a decadent appearance on the small box, and on Twyla, she was clearly stressed. Melancor blinked once… twice… and then placed his head back into his original position.

It had begun… he had done it hundreds of times in open sea. More by entertainment than by territorialism, he would allow angler to acquire feeling of safety against a stalling storm and then, cruelly crush their hopes and lives with a spectacle only witnessed by creatures of the deep and sole survivors.

He would be proud to see it unfold, a mimicked battle stance of Melancor’s creation.
How poetical, kill the brother with the sword of his own hand Melancor thought loathingly. Neratheo was near, underneath the blue preparing to kill Melancor in the most humiliating way as possible. Melancor snapped, inside, his mind began to panic and he sensed Neratheo’s presence move swiftly below the slick water.

“Shit!”

Melancor stretched three small extremities that since the beginning had been occult, parallel to his long tail. These rapidly stretched like wings, revealing long ray fins. The small boat rocked as Melancor let go of the boat to reposition himself. He wraped his arms around the boat and began to propel the boat forward. If what he thought was really coming, then there was only one chance to escape, getting the most distance possible from Neratheo at a fast rate.

“Hold on”

Neratheo’s presence stopped abruptly below them. The shockingly fast movement of his brother paralyzed Melancor. With a violent splash, he broke of his delusion and threw the boat into a fast motion.
The fast trust raced the boat slickly though the waves lifting screens of water behind them, stroking the shabby vessel’s planks that integrated it. For a second Melancor felt that the entire boat had began to disintegrate, but it quickly regained a stable structure.
There was a furious sound of thunder; the storm had detected their escaped and collapsed from its frigid still onto the seafloor with a violent roar. And began to cover the skies and the sea roof like a mist with the speed of galloping stallions. The storm covered the triumphantly, corrupting the warm light and the serene calm. This was the Armageddon of the sea.

Behind them the sea shook, as if something had broken under the water.

[Nymph and Dragon]

Eli’s sudden profanity made Twyla jump, forcing her to admit to herself that she was a lot tenser than she wanted to be. If she’d been in this same boat just a few years ago—however unlikely that would ever have been—it might have been pleasant to float on the ocean for a while in weather like this, with a relatively attractive human on the other bench, completely smitten by her Allure and just waiting for her to take him on a deep-sea diving trip from which he’d never resurface.

She almost smiled, but then she caught a trickle of amusement from the mind of the Elemental and remembered that he was constantly eavesdropping on her thoughts. At her glance, it took him less than a second to morph from solid scales into the aqueous form of a human man in a translucent wide-brimmed hat, lounging on the back of the boat with lips pursed as if waiting for a kiss.

Twyla’s cheeks went red beneath her scarf. You little piece of—

The boat suddenly started rocking, and the Elemental was instantly back in dragon form, his eyes on Eli as the strange water-man began to sprout new appendages and released the boat only to grab it again and mutter a clipped warning before propelling them speedily forward.

Twyla swore loudly as she fell again into the bottom of the boat, their sudden velocity making her hair fly around her head as if it were the tresses of Medusa. The dragon had apparently been aware of Eli’s intentions, because his claws were sunk even deeper into the wood of the vessel, his head tucked low and his tail wrapped around the seat. Twyla winced at the sting of the water, trying to push herself into an at least semi-dignified and moderately less painful position on her hands and knees instead of plastered against the bottom of the boat like a suffocating fish. She was facing the rear and gaped at the walls of water that shot from behind them. How fast were they going?

Her eyes dropped to the dragon, whose teeth were slightly bared at her. Was he laughing?

Why didn’t you warn me, you little monster?

Complacency breeds sloth, he replied with a nearly visible smirk. I just want to make sure you stay on your toes. Who knows what’ll happen next?

I do, she snapped back, impulsively reaching out to swat him across the eye. Given that he could read her mind and undoubtedly knew her intended actions before they were conscious decision, she had expected him to duck out of the way.

He didn’t.

The dragon pulled his head back just enough so that the blow landed on the side of his snout. It wasn’t a hard hit, but as soon as her hand hit him she felt the slap on her own face, and her head jerked sideways in surprise. She embarrassedly glared at him, but the dragon just stared innocently back, his green eyes gleaming.

His voice oozed pedantically into her mind. See, Twyla? Haven’t I told you that your uncontrolled anger is just making you hurt yourself?

I hate you, she replied sourly.

No, you don’t, he crooned. Your actions indicate that you really just hate yourself.

I swear I’m going to burn down an orphanage in your honor when we get back to land.

It’s great that you’re so optimistic about our chances of survival.

Twyla resisted the urge to smack him again. What’s going on down there, lizard-breath?

The Elemental let the insult slide, his mood sombering as he spoke. One of Eli’s brothers is below the boat. They’re fighting . . . or they will be soon. There's no love lost between these two.

I know why I’m pissed as hell at him, Twyla thought complainingly, but why does everybody else want him dead?

The dragon shrugged. If we live, maybe we’ll find out.

[Melancor]

He had just propelled the boat for a few minutes; his tail was already hurting, apparently some people in the boat where way to heavy to push without panting. But it had been worth it, they had gained a good distance from the epicenter. He reassumed his later position as he knew his tail would wore off soon. And in the middle of the raging seas and the furious storms in the distance the proud vessel of sailors struggled to maintain their old ship floating, as it rocked violently from side to side allowing the waves to filter in like a malevolent plague. But Melancor knew for sure that they sailor’s life would be impaired as they dubiously approached the site Melancor was so anxious about abandoning.
And all order broke loose as the sea went in disarray. Melancor had never felt so vulnerable. I the distance the waters began to swirl slowly, and with the hit of lightning its center began to grow and disappear beneath the water. With amusement Melancor witnessed the old sailor ship engulf in a spiraling travel and it tried to change it’s course in a hopeless struggle.
But it wasn’t late until the reaction of collapsing water approached them. And began to move them slowly. The epicenter of the massive whirlpool was now about then meter below, it was growing fast.

“ Twyla, if you have any aces under your sleeve this is the time to use it” Melancor spoke with all severity as he struggled to maintain the small wooden box against the current.

A bestial roar stood up from among the chaos, an abhorred monster or probably a dying beast. A goose bump ran down Melancor’s snipe, he had done this but now he would be the victim.

[Nymph and Dragon]

Twyla’s seasickness had her on the edge of retching by the time they slowed down again, the quieter rocking of the boat like a mocking punch in the stomach. Every shred of instinct in her body was telling her to get off the ship, to dive into the water and to swim down until she was below the brouhaha, until all the silly mermen and humans were left behind on the surface to settle their petty squabbles. None of their problems mattered at the bottom of the ocean, where everything was a slowly-drifting plane of chilly darkness, where years could pass unnoticed as she swam along the floors of the world, oblivious to the havoc that raged far above her.

NO!

The shout thundered in her head, accompanied by an unbridled wave of anguished distress. Twyla’s hands flew ineffectually to her ears, but in a second the mental scream was gone, leaving only the echo of pain that throbbed from the Elemental’s head across their link.

She didn’t have the concentration to yell telepathically, so she shouted over the noise of the storm aloud. “What the hell’s the matter with you?”

A flash of light from behind the boat caught her attention, and she looked up just in time to see the pursuing ship get swallowed in a swirling vortex that had sprang up like the sucking mouth of some vicious and hungry monster. Twyla felt a small twinge of jealous enjoyment at the sound of wood crunching, the screams of sailors that carried even to them. It was a beautiful sight, but it was also so overly dramatic. She didn’t need a big theatrical vortex to destroy ships.

But the dragon wasn’t sharing any of her amusement. He stared with as much rapture as she did, but his claws were flexing into the wood, his eyes glinted with empathy, and his ears were laid as far back against his head as they could go. Twyla didn’t need to hear his thoughts to know what he was thinking. He could probably hear the fear of the men even from this far away, he was probably sharing their pain and letting their terror-struck suffering wash over him, drowning him as punishment for his inability to save them. She pushed away the hint of guilt that tried to burrow its way into her head. True, he couldn’t save them because he couldn’t leave her side, but it wasn’t as if that had been her decision.

Eli’s voice came from below, and she tore her eyes away from the gory spectacle to glare as best she could at the merman. What did he think she was, his fairy godmother? She didn’t want to be like a baby sea lion in the middle of a shark nest during mating season; he was the one who’d forced her into it!

“I don’t play stupid human games, Eli,” She shouted waspishly back. “The only things I keep under my sleeves are the arms I’m going to use to strangle you if I ever get back on land!”

Still with the empty threats, Twyla? The Elemental had regained his composure, but his mind gave off no sign of the earlier joviality that had tempered his anxiety. His crimson eyes burnt with . . . she couldn’t tell what the emotion was, but it was definitely intense, and his mind was so completely closed to her that she couldn’t pick up even a hint of what he was feeling. It was if he were the non-sentient monster that she so often accused him of being, completely devoid of emotion, driven by some inner instinct that refused to be ignored.

She opened her mouth to retort, but a loud and eerie bellow echoed up from the depths of the churning water, and she closed her mouth and spoke telepathically instead. Is there an evil monster below our boat or was that just your stomach?

Cute, Twyla, he said without a speck of mirth. We have a problem.

Oh, really?

Eli’s brother’s coming for him, and I can’t say for sure if Eli’s strong enough to beat him on his own.

Well, here, let me wave my magic wand and banish the baddie to another realm, she thought sarcastically.

Stop that, Twyla, he chided. I’m going to talk to Eli and offer him my help.

Twlya blinked. She hadn’t expected that. You’re going to fight for him?

I’m going to try to save whomever I can.

Are you stronger than a demigod?

The dragon’s eyes gleamed. I guess we’ll just have to find out.

It had been a long time since he had communicated with anyone other than the sarcastic nymph, but it didn’t take any effort for him to project his thoughts into Eli’s mind, making sure that the temporary link between them was one way to keep the silver-haired man out of his head. He sheathed his claws and slithered over the edge of the boat, growing as he did so that he reached his full ten-foot length by the time his body was submerged. He bared his teeth at the mistrustfully-staring nymph and ducked below the surface, hovering in the water just below the boat.

Eli, he said into the man’s head, hoping the demigod wouldn’t react violently to the intrusion. I can help you, but I can’t go far from Twyla, so you’ll have to draw him closer. I'm not sure of how much help I'll be in a fight, but I'm at your service. And if your brother has any weaknesses that he doesn’t know about, now would be a good time to tell me about them.

[Melancor]

In the middle of Melancor’s internal panic, he felt a familiar presence, one such delicate as a thin string connected somehow to his mind. It was unlike the brutal torrent Neratheo used to communicate with. It was something much more subtitle, lacking of the aggressive rants he was used to. He had already identified the source of the intrusions long ago, Demi-gods, even as mortals where not nearly as ignorant as humans, much less with the many years of encountering the countless creatures of the sea. It brought an air of melancholy. It did not resembled his brothers, but it did to a much more feeble portion of his family. This elemental lizard provoked a rush of memories.

“It was about time you talked” he replied loathingly.

I am afraid the Aegean are not nearly as weak as other kinds of demi-gods, we are gods, and we have no real weaknesses… none you can reach non the less.
Melancor was in distress, now that he had proven his theory, that this lizard was a water elemental, he was disappointed. All of your attacks, or techniques, are useless against a Demi-god, your mind control will prove feeble against Neratheo, it would probably only result in the disablement of your mental abilities. Not even demi-gods can kill themselves. Unless that is, if the fates decide to turn them into mortals- then they can be easily sailed!. Truth is… Neratheo is only toying with us; there is only one thing that can be done-

Melancor paused abruptly. The could feel the presence of a long forgotten entity, rushing towards them trough the water like a ballistic fish engaged in a vicious hunt. A presence magnified by anger, one of such magnitude that impacted Melancor in the chest. Energy approached, displaying as an invisible wave, that intimidated any sensible living being on the vast sea. His eyes grew larger, and his voice muttered, he was overwelmed.

It was Prehaeyl, his lesser brother. This was shockingly ironic for him, Melancor had many times fought Prehaeyl, and all of the times Melancor had won, reducing Prehaeyl’s, or Per’eil in ancient myths, sea nearly by half. And now Amdaleh had sent him in his aid. It was obious that to the Aegean eyes Melancor had lost all status in their hierarchy, and become an guest of their charity. Jealousy burned in his chest, but he would have to condone it, otherwise all his chances of survival would be exterminated.

The Massive void grew larger and began to spin faster, the creature below, Neratheo, had felt that same presence approaching and it was time to end his charade diligently.
The boat shook as it began to descend into the ominous void. Melancor’s strength was being tested as he tried to deflect the strong currents with the sheer muscle of his scaled tail. At the bottom there rested a great mouth adorned with a series of sharp ochre teeth. It exhaled hot vapor from as it swallowed the tempest waters.

A wave rushed into the boat, and Melancor let go of one hand to stop the salty waters from touching Twyla’s fine skin, and the small boat began to gyrate out of control.

It is true we cannot kill each other, but the only thing that can stop and Aegean is another Aegean. As you might have sensed another one is coming, he is the youngest, and his pathetic self wont be able to do anything to Neratheo unless we can shift his attention, you know, give him discomfort

Melancor allowed the lizard to analyze the options he had laid out in his mind, something should be done fast, his triton self would not last any longer under these strong currents.

[Nymph and Dragon]

The Elemental was almost surprised at Melancor’s response. Speaking to him telepathically hadn’t even made the man pause, but the rush of emotions and memories that followed gave the Elemental much insight into the world and minds of demigods, beings he had thought were no more than petty, ever-squabbling siblings with too much power in their hands. Elementals made it a race-wide goal to remain as unobstrusive as possible, to not interfere in the happenings of the world so that even their existence would be credited only as rumors and wistful thinking. Melancor’s assumption of his inaptitude was a comforting contradiction of his mental presumption that he knew the extent of the Elemental’s capacities. Obviously, the Elementals had been doing their job well.

Another mind was approaching, one that the Elemental identified through Melancor as yet another angry brother out to do him in. The waves grew in size and intensity as the third being approached, and when Melancor moved to hold the waves back from the boat, the dragon was touched by the uncharacteristically caring sentiment that motivated the gesture. It was thoughtful, but he might as well have spared himself the effort because it went unappreciated.

“What the hell are you idiots doing?!”

Twyla’s shriek rivaled the roar of the wind as the waves tossed the boat around. The nymph was on the bottom of the vessel again, arms wrapped around one of the benches as if it could save her from the angry sea. The dragon’s own scales were stinging from the unavoidable brine that soaked her, slicking her hair to her face and making her dress cling wetly to her frame. She was doing her best to hide her fear beneath the angry thoughts she kept throwing at him, but even a desire for respite from her terror was only a secondary motivation for his involvement.Perhaps it was a way of denying his own responsibility for the destruction of the human ship that the Aegean brother had so remorselessly caused. He knew there was nothing he could have done to save them without putting his own life and Twyla’s life in danger, but the justification was little comfort when he remembered the pain and terror that had drowned his mind at their deaths. The only one left to save was the ungrateful nymph, but at least he could help in avenging the humans’ deaths.

Melancor started speaking to him telepathically again, and his controlled volume was a relief after the constant screeching of Twyla’s mental communication. He thought- quickly and clearly, and at the end of his spiel the Elemental sent him a wave of acknowledgement and turned head-first into the spiraling vortex. His descent was gradual as he followed the swirling whirlpool in diminishing circles, trusting Melancor to handle the boat while he kept his attention on the double row of fangs that awaited him below.

Twyla, I’m going to need to ask you a favor.

Whatever it is, the answer’s no.

I need you to stay as quiet as possible—mentally, I mean – even if things are happening that you don’t like.

Wary mistrust colored her words. What are you doing?

But the teeth were close enough that the Elemental could see chips in the yellowing enamel, and his next task would require all the concentration that he could muster.

Trust me. The Elemental pulled his focus away from her mind, dimming his link to Melancor as well until he had the bulk of his concentration at his disposal. He focused not on the gaping maw of the monster below him, but he instead put all his thoughts into himself, heightening his self-awareness until he could sense each part of his translucent body, saving only a small fraction of concentration for the mind of the monster whose mouth he then threw himself into.

If Twyla hadn’t been fighting to keep herself from throwing up, she would have been more insistent in her demand for a reply, but as it was her energy was focused on keeping her mouth shut and her arms wrapped as tightly around the scratchy wood as they could go. Every glance over the side of the boat showed her a pit lined by a wall of foaming water, a pit that ended abruptly at the mouth of the kind of deep-sea monster that she hadn’t played chicken with since she was young, boastful, and stupid. The salty water burned on her skin, but she had the uncanny idea that the feel of those teeth on her delicate flesh would be even worse.

A moment later, she had the fortuitous opportunity to vicariously find the truth of that hypothesis for certain. The Elemental’s consciousness in her mind withdrew, dimming as it did when he was on his home plane and unreachable by telepathy. A second later, she felt something large and sharp stab into her back, and a moment later there was a flash of pain along the side of her neck.

“Oh, no, he didn’t!”

The boat hit a wave and twisted in the air, nearly resting on the surf on its edge for a moment before slamming bottom-first again into the water, letting a deluge of water pour over the sides. The airborne moment had given Twyla a panoramic view of the ocean around her, the floating chunks of wood and flesh that dotted the churning grey swells, the portentously large wave that was approaching at a direction perpendicular to that of the rest of the water, the incisor-lined orifice that gnashed menacingly below, the not quite visible form of the ten-foot dragon caught between the rows of mashing teeth and thrashing furiously in its grasp. . .

Twyla was so shocked and petrified that she didn’t have the wits to scream at him. She loosened her grip on the bench to stick her head out far enough to see what he was doing, trying to wrap her head around the stupidity of his actions. He had the ability to instantly morph his aqueous form into whatever shape it needed to be, and it seemed that that ability was the basis of his idiotic quest for self-inflicted mutilation. He thrashed in the mouth’s grip, twisting and contorting the shape of his body to avoid the teeth as best he could, molding his liquid form around the teeth when they sank into him and melting away when the teeth got too close to avoid.

Of course, there were too many teeth for him to dodge them all. Another flash of pain echoed in Twyla’s side as a tooth caught the dragon off guard, but the nymph kept her mouth shut with effort and even clamped down as best she could on her thoughts. Who knew what kind of agony she’d have to endure if he got bitten in half by the fiend. What a moron! Whose idea had it been to throw her dragon to Eli's evil older brother as a snack? Twyla’s eyes narrowed dangerously as she glared at the demigod by her boat. That was her soul he was gambling with!

[Melancor]

As Melancor tried to keep the boat away from its ever-close demise, he could not stop appreciating such audacity from the Elementa’s side. As a swift and agile dance of gliding, water that spiraled Neratheo’s incredible jaw with a skillful movement. Coiling its scaled body rising and then falling again as water, he had yet not seen such a thing.

In his foolish distraction a wave impacted the boat with enough force to lift it into the air for some seconds. Melancor almost lost its grip as the boat rose, splinters buried in his fingers and his body toppled the sea floor, but it came down soon with a violent thud. After those terrifying seconds Melancor quickly regained the control of the boat. The sea still raged turbulently but the swift spiral of water began to grow oval in a slow, almost unnoticeable pace.

Until the Elemental stuck something which Melancor knew had irritated Neratheo greatly, and the massive vortex began loosing its force and the percent circular shape was finally corrupted. The currents fell in disarray. With the last of his power, he pushed the small boat forth away from the ever-weakening currents, he had succeeded to take advantage of the situation, but his strength was gone. The clouds above began to grow darker with Neratheo’s discomfort until what they had hoped for to happen finally occurred.

In a cloud of water and a violent splash the monster disappeared, and Melancor observed as the silhouette of the huge creature morphed into something more slender and human. With a flash of light Neratheo transformed to his natural form:

A handsome craved face rose from the apex of the dissolving whirlpool, still loosing the color of its previous form. A silver ancient chest plate rose from above the foam; accompanied by his muscular arms that carried the symbols of the Aegean. A single golden ring that crowned his pale blue hair and deep, red-blood eyes colored with rage.

“And thus rise Neratheo” Melancor replied Loathingly.

Neratheo frowned at this once-was daring. This just added to rushing his inquisition, he rose his arm loosely to the tempest heavens. The vertical wave grew closer like a furious torpedo ready for impact, when light began to shine below Melancor, His tail grew thin, the scales retrieved to reveal is long invisible pants, filled with holes from where the scales had grown from and covered the cloth below. And his eyes grew blue in a flash. The light grew stronger and he sunk under the agitated sea, only to rise again as nothing more than a feeble human, he starched his arms and held to an edge of the weak vessel before the currents, that had again began their spiral movement, could strip him from his defenseless companion.

“….And so, Falls The Great Melancor!”

Neratheo’s voice rose from his mouth with the roar of a hundred lions. And the sky vault cracked. In a matter of seconds static pressured the boat, swiftly Melancor rose his vision to the angry sky, It’s illuminated with a thunderous roar, once, twice, three times, and Melancor eyes grew Wide.

Thunder. A bolt of lightning descended abruptly, the sky illuminated malevolently and the water below them sunk as if a large object from above had impacted it, a gust of wind pressured the vessel and just above Melancor’s head the lightning halted momentarily, just to wrap around a spherical perimeter that engulfed the vessel, and then slashed the water below in a luminous dance. The vessel shook violently as the strong force took them from assault. A blue frosted light ran trough the tangible force, after which with a terrible crack it faintly collapsed into the air.

Adrenaline was rushing trough Melancor’s body, the feeling of cold water had disappeared, his eyes where still oven wise to the skies. His spine shook and she sighed with a tremor. He was still to realize such close encounter with death, and his fast, automatic reaction of a weakened barrier he had believed had disappeared with the rest of his holy powers. Only for a moment, the sea was quiet, and sleek vapor escaped Melancor’s delicate mouth, the silver had returned.

[Nymph and Dragon]

Twyla became aware the change in Eli’s form when his anchoring hold on her boat suddenly disappeared and the tiny vessel was tossed violently as wave after wave slammed unopposed into its weathered wooden side.

“Eli!” Her scream didn’t come close to rising over the din of the wind and the roaring voices of the squabbling brothers, but there was no one else to whom she could call for help. She lost her hold on the bench as another wave slammed into the vessel and she smacked into the bottom of the boat, her arms flailing to hook over a side to keep herself from flopping out at the next crash of waves. Her new location gave her a view of the tail end of the vessel, and she saw with a sinking heart that Eli was clinging to the boat as if to save his life, just as weak and powerless as the humans that he had so recently been lording over.

“Way to go and lose what little usefulness you had,” she shouted at him, disregarding the fact that she had yet to do anything useful at all. Why did he have to choose now to return to a boring, generically human form? The sky overhead crackled with thunder, and a moment later a bolt of lightning shot down from the clouds and exploded in the air over her head, branching into rushing trickles of electricity that flowed down the sides of an invisible dome. They struck the water in rivulets that dissipated upon contact, scattering to leap like fleas across the water to land on her skin in tiny, tingling shocks.

Snake! She could feel the Elemental’s mind distantly still, but there were no longer flashes of pain stabbing through her body and the huge mouth and the vortex it had resided in were gone, which certainly boded well for the foolhardy dragon. But where was it? And where was the monster? Somebody was still making the ocean go crazy, and considering that Eli didn’t seem to have the strength even to pull himself into the measly boat, it couldn’t be him doing the trouble-making. Another wave smashed against the boat, shoving it closer to the locus of the action. The boat was sucked once again into the swirling waters, this time without the demi-god’s scaled tail to keep it from being pulled down.

“Do something, Eli!” She knew her orders were useless, but it felt better to pretend to be doing something productive than to sit there screaming like a damsel in distress. The fact that such a correlation could even be suggested made her wish she had some kind of long sharp object to stab into the face of . . . who was that?

A handsome man was standing in the whirlpool, his features vaguely similar to Eli’s but older and sharper. Neratheo, she unexpectedly remembered. He was in the same place where the over-toothed monster had been not long ago, but it didn’t seem likely that that relatively normal-looking person could be the same entity as the hungry maw that had so recently been chomping on the Elemental. Then again, Eli had seemed pretty normal when she’d first seen him squatting in the road, and he’d had a tail not five minutes ago . . .

Twyla’s stomach knotted with worry as the boat spiraled nearer and nearer to the daunting figure at the center of the vortex. She’d only ever had to use her Allure on human men so she really didn’t know what it could do to the mind of a demi-god, but if Eli continued being a useless deadweight and the Elemental stayed MIA, the only person she could turn to for saving was herself. Getting him to fall in love with her wasn't quite the tactical strike that she would have wished for, but she certainly wasn’t going to go down without giving the bastard at least a small piece of her mind.

[Melancor]

What to do what to do?!

Melancor was growing desperate as the small vessel began to be drawn into the vortex once again. Two factors spelled his demise, if they would be able to once more escape the violent whirlpool, surely the lighting would kill them instantaneously. He was furious at himself, now his legs where almost useless, he had just discovered how much strain he had put on them while they fused into a tail. They ached horridly as violent cramps struck them each time he’d try to move them.

He had not seen the elemental return, another anguishing sign, he felt alone, he could no longer see Twyla, and the daunting figure of Neratheo grew closer. He felt his body being ripped from the boat; he should do something now, or perish below the sea that saw him born.

Again the sky began to crackle, and again he felt static running through his heart. The sleek sound of a torrent of water delivered the violent song of the whirlpool. For the two second that Neratheo was distracted with the elementals vicious attack, Prehaeyl had infiltrated his whirlpool. A slender scaled figure raced against the rush of the water, and as if in retaliation the water began growing faster.

The sky cracked a third time, and a second bolt hit the water. Neratheo was enraged, and began hunting the large sea serpent that orbited his vortex. Lighting raced across the whirlpool, impacting the water with a wondrous roar, injuring Melancor with the echo if electricity, weakened after traveling through the fast moving water.

A different set of thunder, one lusher in color began hitting the vortex, followed by Neratheo’s voice of wrath; they where diverted in the air, and impacted the edges of the ellipse. Neratheo had grown weary of such pathetic charade. He stretched his arms, and lowered them abruptly, after which the water followed and the walls of the whirlpool grew steeper.

The sky roared, and gave a malevolent frown and another bolt descended on their direction. The bold decent made Melancor panic, he rose his hand and froze the water around the small boat, securing himself with a belt of ice to the wooden box, the slash of water of impacting thunder imtruded the noise, a long tail of light shifted from the small boat and was shot back to the sky. Lightning had been shifted away effectively by Neratheo, if Melancor could get Neratheo distracted for a few seconds it would be enough for Prehaeyl to provide an diversion for their escape.

Both brothers where equailly matched by their avility to cotrol lightning, and had engulfed in a tug-of-war. diverting eachother's bolts to avoild a hard retaliation.

They approached the vertex at a very fast speed; his belt of ice was not slowing the Bessel, or was securing it from disintegrating. The wooden box began to shift on its foundation from side to side. It was about to fall apart. Melancor knew that this was the end of his ordeal.

“Twyla!” he screamed, trying to rise his voice above the roaring water, “hold on!”
he warned Twyla of their imminent death, and he immediately repented dragging her into such dangerous position. For Melancor, the third of the Aegean, the show was over.

[Nymph and Dragon]

“What the hell do you think I’m doing?” She shouted back. She had the side of the boat clutched so tightly that she was almost afraid that the plank would snap off in her hands. But the boat was shooting towards the vortex, already beginning to twist as it was caught in the swirling waters.

A wave of dizziness swept over Twyla, and she realized with chagrin that the noxious salt water was beginning to affect her. She'd never experimented with the limits of her tolerance, but her cloak had long ago been rendered useless against the onslaught of waves, and she was soaked to the skin with brine that burned like acid. One would think she hadn’t spent the first centuries of her life at the bottom of the ocean considering how much the salt water hurt her now. And it was all thanks to that currently absent snake of an Elemental . . .

The boat hurtled closer to the demigod at the center of the vortex, and Twyla forced herself to unclench her fingers so that she could use one hand to pull her scarf down from around her face to rest on her neck, exposing her nose and mouth to the harsh weather. She had considered singing since her voice was the more powerful weapon in her mind-affecting arsenal, but with the winds howling and the waves crashing and without the backup of her sisters, she doubted that the evil older brother would be able to hear her. She might be able to affect him with Allure, but how was she going to get his attention?

“Don’t do anything stupid, Eli,” Twyla yelled over her shoulder in farewell. She pulled her legs beneath her and pushed herself to her feet, tottering pathetically even though she was still holding onto the edge. When the boat swirled again to the side of vortex that the man in the middle was facing, she peeled her fingers off the wood and threw her hands into the air, arms windmilling wildly as she tried to keep her balance on the bucking vessel.

“Hey . . . ugly!” It was hard to come up with good insults when it took all her concentration just to keep herself upright. But the demigod’s head was turning, his face was pointed in her direction. She put a sultry smile on her face, lifting one eyebrow in a questioning challenge. “You don’t really want to kill a pretty thing like me, do you?”

The boat swept past him, but a thrill of triumph went through the nymph as the demigod at the center of the vortex turned slowly, his head rotating first and his body shifting to keep her in sight. She had his attention, but now what was she supposed to do with him?

A particularly vicious jolt of the boat answered that question for her. With a small squeak Twyla was knocked off her feet and thrown backwards into the waiting arms of water. She slammed into a wall of cool liquid and, shutting her mouth and eyes, waited for the dreaded submersion. Only . . . after a few seconds without having to breathe in salt water, she realized that she wasn’t dead yet, and that she wasn't even fully horizontal.

Weren’t you supposed to do your best to stay inside the boat and OUT of the water? The dragon’s voice slid dryly into her skull and his mental presence reawakened in her mind as if it had never left. Twyla looked over her shoulder and realized that the wall of water she’d hit was the aqueous Elemental, who had watery tendrils hanging onto the seats in the boat for support as he held her just a few feet above the deadly water. It was like lying against a slanted wall, only the wall was constantly squirming beneath her and could communicate telepathically.

Took you long enough, she grumbled at him waspishly. What were you doing down there, visiting relatives?

The Elemental ignored her as he pushed her back into the boat. You need to get down. Your Allure distracted Neratheo—

Who?

The older brother. Prehaeyl’s not going to let the opportunity go to waste, but we’ll be lucky if he doesn’t kill us taking care of him.

What? Twyla’s confused question went unanswered as she fell once again to the bottom of the boat. The formless Elemental imitated Menalcor's means of atachment, encircling her waist and the bench before he hardened into a thick cord of ice that numbled Twyla’s midriff. What are you—

Just hold on!

[Melancor]

Having Twyla warned him “not to do something stupid” Melancor looked away, almost predicting what she was about to do. Water rushed violently beneath him, cold and heavy, a glacier crushing him, and extracting his the very last of his energy. The source of what helped him hold on to the shabby structure was unknown, but he was determined not to die in the hands of, while in divinity, an inferior brother of his.

He heard Twyla shout a few words from above the tumult of the water. What is she thinking? No Siren has ever been able to champion a demigod. Sirens had in their grasp mortals (reason he hurried to look away), the sailors of the oceans, the kings of the empires, and even some of the most powerful beasts, wanderers of land, sea and sky. Never has it been heard of a god falling under such vicious spell of a siren. He was not sure, nevertheless, on the effects they would have on a demigod.

But his thoughts where interrupted by the horrible thud sound and the a sudden absence of pressure on the vessel. He glanced through the old boat, only the gray water shaking inside, the ancient wood now rotting, and before him, the great mouth, the dark hole of the gigantic whirlpool. Neratheo stood on it, crowning it proud, suspended by no tangible force. His face was stiff, seeming to hide a mute expression of horror, a miscalculation or the realization of an exaggerated deed. He stared at Melancor now, with his cold eyes, lacking of emotion or expression, a light frown and only but his natural character. Melancor had not seen him this calm before. The Siren had done some to him.

The sound of the rushing water faded away as he gazed into his eyes, he could no longer feel the wind, nor the chill of the water or his splintering fingers. Neratheo was violating his most routinely character. The Brothers had began to engage (or Neratheo had provoked) on one of the most secretive rituals of the Aegean. The Aegean shared a common bond since their creation. Through this mental or spiritual bond, one that connects their existence, that same mainstream Neratheo had used to threaten him on their sacred tongue while Melancor and Twyla where still land locked, was connecting them both on a trance not preformed since they where children.

There was a short period of time, not long after they where born, when all of the seven Aegean where nothing more that mortals, their flesh was liable to injury, they depended upon food and could not morph into any of the creatures they desired. They where young and not mature, the appearance of human teenagers. Dim memories had began to make their presence through Melancor’s head, of a regal island where they lived seemeaming to have its own white atmosphere, always quiet; a place where one else was to be seen, only him, his older brothers and furtive mistical creatures. Beautiful figures of water would care for them, spirits of the ponds and streams, those who would later teach them mastery over water and the oceans themselves. The purpose for the momentary annulment of their demigod status he could not remember. During those days, however, he and his brothers had been instructed by the spirits to undergo a ritual where they could easily connect their minds after entering another realm. The oceans, their tides, their currents, the temperature of the maritime wind and the water, all of those peculiarities which made the strict boundaries between seas, where forged by this small and simple lining. In command of their father their powers where assigned to them, the oldest the strangest and the youngest, the most feeble of them all.

Apparently this ritual could only practiced by a mortal of holy decent, And it could, in its potential, reroute all of the marine environment when used properly. Humans are oblique to the effect that the Aegean had on their land. Such primordial ritual had been established to create a balance upon their amazing powers. Supposedly the domain over the designed sea was not irrevocable, but in theory the Aegean could take by force some of their brothers seas and fuse them together. This seemingly useless process can have devastating effects upon the ecosystem. It is belived that a demigod draws its power from the energy of its sea, the take-over of a sea could slightly boost the conqueror’s power but never weaken the victim.

This had most probably been the final end of his ancient Sea. Melancor had taken Neratheo’s pursuit as a pathetic assassination attempt carried by hatred, taken an unfair advantage in this movement of weakness. But what if it was something more than that?

A demigod is more complicated in existence than a mortal, their minds are so complexly connected ,and mostly synchronized with their surroundings, a kind of mystical machine, and one liable to error. Twyla’s face had should have caused an effect almost directly unnoticeable to the demigod: but in this extreme display of energy and the constant interfering of Prehaeyl’s own large mental aura had caused the Allure to completely disrupt his reasoning temporarily, having in mind this ritual as the reason for his killing it was probable that he had initiated it involuntarily.

Melancor had not spent more than a few seconds on this peaceful trance when. A Wall of water elevated from a side of the whirlpool on a spherical fashion. Prehaeyl rose from the currents and threw himself into the vortex, a long serpent tail followed the higher half of his body, accompanied by great and sharp claws sprouting from his elbows.

Neratheo quickly paused the trance and regained his almost regal posture. On a swift move he thre his back aside to avoid the violent attack. Before Prehaeyl had a chance to react he grabbed him by his arm and threw him down with great force into the mouth of the whirlpool. Prehaeyl disappeared with a screech of pain under the water.

At last Twyla rose from the waters after some moments of anguish, her clothes where soaked wet, and her hair rested flat down her head. It was a comforting sign that she was not screaming with pain, Melancor had been ready to leave the vessel for her aid but such weird experience with Neratheo had distracted him horribly. For a moment he though she had perished under the salty water, but she showed no signs of agony. But his preoccupation was interrupted violently, as he set his eyes upon her face. She rose like the Venus from the foam, probably the most beautiful creatures in this world. Melancor had left the trance with Neratheo to enter one of delusion over Twyla’s persona. His Eyes slowly turned blue.

He had been paralyzed by this beautiful spectacle when he felt the Whirlpool slow down, he rose his glaze to Neratheo, the boat was almost at the abiss, the black vertex and the crushing point of the whirlpool. The clouds lowered its darkened tone, but it did not leave the sky. Like a slow and peaceful sigh from the sea the whirlpool slowed hesitantly, It had not its swift rate but it had become irregular. And as fast as it had broken out the whirlpool completely stopped, but it did not loose its cone shape. The water was still, like if it had been frozen but it still conserved its liquid state. A long water crater defiled the surface of the ocean. The walls had already reach an incredible height and it had grown steep. Neratheo was againg captivated.

”… come” Neratheo instructed. But Melancor was completely paralyzed. His soul hanged from a thread as he witnessed the sudden halt of the water. The sun had just died and the moon began to emanate its radiant message.

In a swift move he stretched his arm and opened his hand in embrace. A thick crack rose from the wood of the now still boat, and this began to slowly move towards Neratheo. The ice Melancor had added to the boat's primeter melted immediately into the oceam, and the boat rolled on its axis, Twyla first, before Neratheo.

”You,” Spoke Neratheo, the boat still some distance away from him. “It is true I do not wish to kill you” his voice had left his peaceful tone, he spoke with a slow and sourly, until only a whisper left his mouth.
“And such pretty thing belongs in the sea. You shall come with me, and I shall give you his sea and make you it's queen.”
He set his eyes deeply on Twyla, and the boat was almost into grabbing range. He stretched his hand and reach for Twyla. His figure stood tall above them, and the moon poured trough his silver hair, there was no expression in his face, but his usual cold semblant.

A violent roar rose from the Horizon. Melancor was still paralyzed, and Neratheo seemed to be as well, distracted with Twyla’s beautiful presence. A giant sea serpent emerged from the sea, Its body was covered in gray scales. His mouth was decorated with long sharp fangs and big yellow eyes illuminated its deformed face.
Neratheo was still tranquil, seemingly ignoring the tumult around him. The sky regained its dark mask and the white moon drowned under its malevolent presence.

The sky crackled, once, twice. Melancor’s heart razed. The sky was illuminated with a bright light and there was a moment of silence, the wind blew slowly, the sky yawned and then, without any hesitation, released a luminous bolt which Impacted Neratheo’s head. He, was violently thrown into the ocean in a cloud of water and the stillness of the sea ceased.
The small boat was thrown a long distance from the impact, and the enormous walls of water began to collapse into the place Neratheo had disappeared. A large column of water rose where the center of the Whirlpool had bed and the water rapidly rushed down. Melancor was stripped from the boat and was pulled down the surface.

The great Serpent went head first after Neratheo, and with another roar ambushed the water and disappeared under the surface. Now it was their opportunity to flee from their grasp, melancor thought, but he had been separated from the boat and was violently thrown side to side by the strong currents caused by the sudden collapse of such massive spectacle.

Melancor could hear the battle roaring under water and almost see the shallow figures of the massive creatures. He could see the unsteady surface above him and he quickly rose through the dark waters from the abyss. He glazed and looked for the ship. He saw it far in the horizon.

[Nymph and Dragon]

Twyla’s head was beginning to throb. Salty water leeched at her skin, sucking away her energy with its constant stinging chill. The Elemental in frozen seat belt form was still wrapped around her waist, and she sucked in her stomach in an attempt to break contact with the cold ice.

Would you get off me? You’re cold!

Keep watching Neratheo, he answered.

Get your own eyes, she retorted, but her gaze didn’t waver. He probably didn’t need a visible ocular orifice to see, but the side of the boat stood between him and the vortex and he was relying upon Twyla’s vision to stay abreast of the action. Why's the dimwad staring at Melancor? He CAN’T be better looking than me.

The Elemental didn’t answer, and he withdrew from the brothers’ minds as soon as he’d glimpsed what was going on in their heads. He didn’t know what would happen if he managed to interject himself into their mental headlock, but he had already discovered that the demigods’ immortal minds were dangerous even for one as skilled in telepathy as he was, and he doubted that accidentally linking to the demigods’ brains would be good for his—and by extension, Twyla’s—sanity. He couldn’t read what they were thinking, but he could still sense their presence, and he saw that Prehaeyl was making his way through the foaming water and would be springing up out of the waves in three, two, one . . .

“Damn! How the hell did he miss?” Twyla slammed a fist onto the Elemental’s icy side as the younger brother disappeared into the yawning whirlpool, wincing as the punch echoed on her own ribs. “His aim sure sucks for a demigod.”

The Elemental’s mind was awash with frustration. What was going on? He didn’t know how to proceed without mental cues from his adversary. The water was still roiling, but things felt different somehow, and when he glanced at Melancor’s mind he saw that the strange connection the brothers had had was gone. But what was coming next? As much as he wanted to protect Twyla from the mind of the demigod, he needed to know what to expect. He habitually kept a mental barrier between his own mind and the nymph’s- more to keep her out of his head than out of any concern for her safety- but now he strengthened the wall and tentatively sent his consciousness towards Neratheo, pushing in and then jumping out of the demigod’s head as quickly as he could. He only caught a snapshot of thought and even that was enough to jolt his brain, but what he had seen was very disturbing. He tightened his noose around Twyla’s waist, ignoring the waves of outraged discomfort and pain that she sent flowing into his head.

It was then that the ocean fell still. It was as if someone had frozen time, for all the frothing energy that had just been ripping through the waters of the sea was gone, leaving water that seemed as malleable as the sentient water from which the Elemental was made. The vortex wasn’t sucking, the waves weren’t pounding, the boat wasn’t . . .

Twyla, I think we’re in trou— He cut himself off as Neratheo spoke. The negative vibes from the nymph stopped as the boat began to glide, her thoughts stilling almost as instantaneously as the water around them had as her attention turned to her new admirer, whom they were slowly approaching across the glasslike surface of the sea. A thread of triumphant pleasure at the success of her Allure wormed its way into the Elemental’s head from Twlya, followed shortly by a moment of longing for the sea that was quickly covered in disgust and indignation at the demigod's invitation.

“Do I look like I'd be interested in a mermaid?” She shouted across the eerily still sea. “Go hump a porpoise!”

Twyla never found out whether or not the demigod heard her. Her words were barely out of her mouth when a head broke through the water behind Neratheo, an ugly head that was attached to a huge and dangerous body.

So you DO have family around— Even the amusement accompanying Twyla’s snide thought was cut off as the sky lit up in a flash of burning white light. She didn’t see the lightning bolt hit the demigod, but when the water resumed its frenetic dance seconds after the impact she was made well aware of the change in authority. She didn’t realize she was screaming as the boat hurtled through the water, borne on a tidal wave of epic proportion that seemed to be the ocean's attempt to regain its dignity after Neratheo’s embarrassing paralysis. The only thing that kept her from flying off the back of the boat was the Elemental, and a glance back told her that Eli hadn’t been so lucky at staying connected.

There’s nothing we can do for him now, The Elemental said, picking up on her train of thought. Even if the boat stops, I couldn’t—

“Who said anything about rescuing him?” Twyla demanded. “It was his sorry butt that got me into this mess in the first place.”

The Elemental didn’t reply, and he refrained from commenting on the twinge of guilt that belied the nymph’s nonchalant dismissal of the silver-haired demigod. The wave eventually lost power and the boat’s bolting pace slowed to a drift. The sky was still grey and murmuring overhead, but the sea was far calmer than it had been around the brothers’ whirlpool. When Twyla craned her neck to peer at the horizon behind them, there was no sign of movement among the waves. How far had they gone?

The Elemental switched to his solid dragon form and uncoiled from Twyla's waist to climb to the prow of the boat, resting his clawed forelegs on the bow as he looked ahead. Twyla shakily climbed out of the puddle at the bottom of the boat and sat gingerly on the backmost bench, unable to resist casting an occasional glance in the direction from which they’d come, just in case one of the demigods had decided to follow them.

Land ahoy, the dragon said quietly.

Twyla followed his line of vision and frowned. “You’re crazy, snake, there’s nothing out there. And what makes you think we got shoved off in the right direction? We’re probably halfway to Corone by now.”

It’s Scara Brae, he insisted. I can hear them.

[Melancor]

Melancor was violently sunk again into the cold waters after another large wave raided the sea. It may have been Prehaeyl’s attempt to get him farther away from the battle, or just the remainders of strong and agile movements of the contenders.

Melancor had never felt more pathetic in his long life. He was struggling to keep up with the strong currents, his human legs where not nearly as powerful as his serpent-like triton tail, his pants had been tore to pieces by the large scales and where now getting on the way. It was useless to fight with the waves, even if he had swam for fourteen thousand years, legs ,and un-accustomed arms where not going to making him any favors. Ironically, his movements underwater where as pathetic as those of a fish outside the same.

It took a violent intrusion of salty water through his nostrils to realize that he was still dependant on air. He felt his skull compress and his ears sigh as he frenetically tried to swim to the surface.

He emerged, he could not tell how far way he had been pushed from the small vessel. Waves from the angry sea rose before his eyes like mountains, carrying him to and fro with the current, the sky cried relentlessly as silver tears provoked the dark waters. Lightning crackled violently in the distance, and revealed the pale white and horrid faces on the foam.

There was no land on sight, no bird on sky nor even the most vain of hopes in his heart, he would drawn incapable of controlling his own limbs properly, and against the wrath of the demi-gods. Exhausted, he could no longer hold the battle.

But like a protector of the gods the white moon emerged from the dark void that was the sky, as if expelling the clouds from the heavens demanding its proper place.
Melancor felt his limp body be refreshed, a slight jolt of energy ran through his spine.
But as much aid Suravani could offer was not enough to recuperate the energy needed to successfully escape his spiraling decline. As quick as it came the moon hid again. and the clouds devoured its essence from the heavens.

Another dark wave rammed Melancor, and all hopes he might have acquired from the swift appearance of the moon where crushed immediately. Rage boiled inside him as he witnessed Suravani’s beautiful treason.
“I Loath you Suravani!” Melancor implored to the heavens, denouncing the cruel bearer of false hopes.

Like if his blasphemy had brought reprimands, the sea grew violent and again he was sunk beneath the waves. But this time he could not fight it, this time he could not correct not void then forces of nature which worked against him. his body was numb and his mind was falling out of consciousness as the salt water again moved like a poison through his lips.

Melancor made extreme efforts to scream, but he now was trapped in the silent void of the sea, where nothing has been heard, where no mutter has ever meat its suicidal end, or chime escaped a the bell of a sinking ship. There was no one to hear him, no one to expect, he had before relied on his holy state, but now he was alone in the mortal world where he was forever vulnerable.

And as he disappeared under the surf, his eyes gleamed silver and escaped beneath their lids. His face grew pale, and his senses failed. He descended until the vain light of the storm slowly faded, until Melancor had become a part of the dark face of the mute abyss.

[Nymph and Dragon]

It took all of Twyla’s self-control not to throw herself over the edge of the boat and attempt to swim the last few meters that separated her from safety. The waves toyed with her boat, pushing it towards the sandy shore and then immediately pulling it back away and the nymph sat at the edge of her seat, fingers clutching the sides of the boat as she fought the nausea of seasickness and the lingering pain from the saltwater and the desperation to be out that clouded her senses. She sat in vocal and mental silence, her teeth tightly clenched and every muscle in her body tense. The Elemental at the bow wisely remained silent and scanned the beach as they approached it to ensure that there were no residually upset fishermen waiting for them to arrive. The golden shore was empty of life, fortunately, and their boat had drifted far enough down the current that they were well outside the limits of the city’s public fishing zone.

Minutes passed in what felt like hours to Twyla before their ship bumped lightly against a rock and then gratingly slid into a tenable spot on land. The Elemental morphed into a humanoid figure and tried to pull the boat out of the water as quickly as possible, but the waves were still calf deep when Twyla sprang from the vessel and sprinted out of the water, hiking up her skirt as she ran for the shore.

The Elemental winced at the echoing pain in his own rear limbs and released the boat with a sigh when it was safely settled on dry land. He was about to reprimand her for her carelessness, but the waves of sincere happiness that washed from her mind made him hold his tongue. She wouldn’t have listened to him anyway. He heard a girlish giggle and turned to see the nymph lying on the sand, her dress, cloak, and scarf scattered haphazardly on the ground around her. Thick grey clouds still floated industriously through the sky, but Twyla lay on the sand as if it were a cushioned chaise in the sun, her arms stretched out in the sand as if to hug the whole earth.

The Elemental morphed into his solid dragon form and crawled closer, sending a thread of disapproval to snake through the bliss of her mind. Shouldn’t you be trying to find a pool or something?

“I can wait.”

You’re just going to make it worse, he persisted. His own scaled skin was still stinging from her lengthy contact with salt water, and if he was still feeling it then she was undoubtedly suffering the same or worse.

Twyla lifted her head off the ground to glare at him. “What, are you going to roll over and offer me a teat next? Bugger off.”

The Elemental shrugged resignedly and lay down a few feet away from her. Fine. Just don’t expect me to listen to your complaints when the sand painfully rubs off all your salt-burned skin.

Twyla growled and pushed herself to her feet. “You are a nagging little pain in the ass. Did you know that?”

You've mentioned it before, he answered mildly. Then again, I'm probably nothing compared to what you're going to feel once that sand starts chafing.

“Shut up and find me water.”

There’s a big body of it right behind you, he answered snidely.

The nymph gave him a withering look. “Why does a being of my mental aptitude have to put up with deadweight like you?”

You may pride yourself on intelligence, he thought back at her, but you certainly make up for that surplus in the maturity department.

“Nonsense,” Twyla said mildly as she picked up her clothes and folded them over her arm. Her clothes were going to be stiff and grimy if she had to put them on before she could rinse them out, but the feel of the cool air on her hurting skin made the possibility of being seen by and having to deal with an obnoxiously smitten man entirely worthwhile. “I’m the soul of wisdom.”

You’re selfish and egocentric. When was the last time you did something for somebody other than yourself?

“What are you talking about?” she rejoined loftily. “I helped Eli, didn't I? If not for me, he'd probably still be sitting there in the middle of the street, wondering who his family was and hoping that someone would explain the drool running down the side of his chin.” She grimaced. “Okay, so maybe he ended up dead. Death is better than lonely boredom, isn’t it?”

The dragon scoffed. You certainly seem happy enough to be alive, despite the “lonely boredom” that was making you so miserable this morning.

Twyla bristled. “If I were the religious sort, I’d be sacrificing you on an altar of gratitude right now to whichever deity was responsible for saving my life. Would that make you happy?”

What if it was someone a lot more tangible who deserved the credit?

Twyla glared down at him, her good mood replaced entirely by angry indignation. “Don't give me that 'worship the martyr' crap. It wasn’t my fault he got left out there. Hell, it wasn’t my fault that we were out there in the first place!”

But you have no intention whatsoever to do what you can to help him.

Twlya opened her mouth, then shut it with a sneering shrug. He knew her mind better than she did; there was no point to objecting to what they both knew was true. It had been an unprecedented act of benevolence that had gotten her involved with Melancor in the first place, and she had already reassured herself with the comforting admission that she couldn’t be blamed for the way the ordeal had ended. In any case, if he was dead then there was one less weird demigod to terrorize the oceans. Even if she was in some small way responsible, she'd done the rest of the world a service.

“There’s not much that I could do anyway,” she said in her best defense. “Neratheo was head-over-heels for me; going back would just have ended up in my being forced to marry some infantile quasi-deity with major self-confidence issues. My hands are tied.”

By the bonds of your self-centeredness, the dragon shot back.

Twyla snorted and started walking. As long as she stayed away from the docks, the death-hungry townspeople couldn’t pose any threat to her. Despite the trauma of the day's events, there weren’t any charges that could be brought against her beside boat-stealing, but hopefully her minor burglary would be forgiven in the brouhaha that would undoubtedly arise over the mysterious destruction of that shipload of angry men. And even if someone did bring charges against her, nobody took fishermen very seriously anyway. All she had to do was give the officials a few days to conduct their perfunctory investigations, and then Scara Brae would once again be the fertile information field that warranted her presence. And if Eli’s bloated silver-haired corpse ever floated in to shore . . . well, he wasn’t her problem anymore.

The nymph’s eyes narrowed as she looked up at the sky, judging the amount of time she had before nightfall. She’d probably have to stay in the freshwater for a longer than usual time to make up for the seared condition of her still hurting skin, but she didn’t have any obligations to hurry off to anytime soon, and although the Elemental was sulkily not speaking to her, he was still leading the way across the shifting sand, which meant that she would soon be comfortably submerged in some kind of mercifully clean water.

Twyla shifted her clothes to the crook of her other arm and ran a hand through her hair, grimacing at the gritty residue of salt. She rested her free hand on her forehead to block light from the lightening sky as she idly surveyed her surroundings. A high wall of jagged rock bordered the shore on her side, effectively blocking her view from the boring landscape that spread out beyond it, but Twyla was confident that the ground would even out somewhere nearby, probably right next to a babbling creek that would be completely undisturbed by humans. It was a lot to hope for, but the nymph's lips were curled in a smile as she sauntered after the dragon. She was alive, wasn’t she? This was obviously her lucky day.




((No spoils.))

[Melancor]

A deep and uninterrupted sigh escaped his mouth, slow but yet deeper than the whistle, the song, of leaves clashing against the temperate wind. Like a smoke, his senses moved back into their necessary position. Submerged under an intangible darkness he could smell the florid wind of the coastal vegetation, and taste the salt water on his lips. Melancor tightened his hands, and was quickly struck by a sharp pail, but he could feel the miniscule pebbles that made up the hard sand. He could hear the indifferent calls of the seagulls in the distance, and the soothing cry of the rolling waves. It was a sensation far too familiar. He had awakened at the shore, hadn’t he? It could not have been a dream, it is not possible.

Melancor had not open his eyes, but the emotion of such hope, that it had all been just a dream, filled him with a gloating feeling against the fates. He could feel he was in Istraloth, resting upon the sand as he had done so many times before. He was still a god, he was still divine, and he was still strong. No imminent sea-war loomed in the horizon, Neratheo was still well below him, and his vague living style, one he enjoyed vastly, was still untouched by unbreakable sea boundaries.

He could almost laugh in his victory, and punish himself for ever falling under such mental treachery. But the victorious momentum hid fast beneath the breath of his heart. He heard the sound, a whisper, the only one voice he had ever feared enough to shake him through his core. It was deep, but kind with the slight air of nobility. It could be no other than the voice of a god. Why was he fearing his voice, why did the sole intonation of his moth made him panic, why did the voice of this being, one who he had managed with in the past, haunted him oh so horridly. Until, his mind unraveled the message it delivered, and all such illusion of hope where broken with the cold breeze of the Coronean Sea.

“That who ‘so won’t realize that a blind judge among wises, has been wrecked by the knowledge of the gods, shall be dazzled by the light of this very same…”

And his eyes sighed open. They where no longer the fine, white sands of Istraloth, nor was there a warmth coming from the cinder skies, his mental treachery, only but a true messenger, had been falsely accused; but instead of recognition, Melancor’s mind began to collapse. It had all happened, it was all true. His eyes opened wide and nimble, desperately waiting, hoping, to see a spectacle that would prove his mind wrong, before breaking into tears of the cruel realization of his agony.

He slowly stood on his shaking feet, and he felt the sharp pain he had long forgotten strike his back. Melancor's clothes where in shambles, and his bow had been striped from its cord, his quiver was no way on sight, nor was his cape. All things he had abandoned at the sea for near the port, but only one had returned to his persona. He opened his hand, and there rested a small, blue, vitriol shard, covered in the deep dark blood of his hand. His wound had reopened.

His scenes had just recently awakened but now they where facing a total collapse as Melancor was slow to realize what had, what was, happening. His vision panned to the horizon, the sea was slowly murmuring, but the remainders of great storm clouds still covered the sky’s face, just as if the sea where recovering from a traumatic event on her life. The announcement of the rebirth of the sun loomed over the sea’s immaculate wall. And much more fiercely than the moon it commanded it rightful place in the sky and scared the clouds away, who fled, ever less dark and angry, to the inland paradise, where no sea lives to oppose their careless travel.

Melancor backed up as he witnessed the beautiful yet a monument of what had happened.
He felt the cold and sharp surface of rock and he turned to face a tall wall of tropical vegetation, lush-green and still holding the beads of life after the storm. And before him, the cause of his distraction. An archaic stone sculpture, standing over a pedestal of a figure, much less recognizable, of a man with a fish-like helmet and oars of little, eroded, fish. Deep blue and white flowers surrounded the proud figure, almost devoured by the vegetation surrounding it. Below this, it stood a small rock surface, and altar, where the remaining of a long-gone offering of perfumed oil remained, and in it, pale pebbles of what once used to be a large blue crystal.

Melancor was invaded by discuss and fury, after the reality of him never had, and never would, acquire such human devotion for himself, settled in. He had never been a benevolent divinity, he had never had the need to humans, he never had needed to help them, they had needed him, and he had always ignored their prayers. And now, he was reminding him so. He was no longer a god, he would no longer avoid his path, and taking the opportunity, he would teach him by dragging Melancor through the roughest and most humiliating existences of a mortal being. Now he would rather die, it was sickening, and he could not bare it. He was not a god, he was useless.

“How dare you..." He muttered as the tears rolled for the first time over his cold check, “How dare you to interfere with the fates! It was the time for me to die! It was my moment! But you sought to drag my name through the mud before killing me! Let me die with pride! Let me die with Honor!” Melancor stretched his arms, the sea ceased it murmur and it shook behind him. A column of water elevated like a serpent and with the violent joining of his hands he shouted, the water ambushed the sculpture as a bullet, and it crumbled into rubble. “How dare you take it away from me! How dare you pity me Am’aleh!”

Melancor left bitter, leabing behind the bloddy shard and taking only but with his broken pride. Until his silver figure disappeared in the horizon of the black shore, the sea dared not to murmur, and the coast was silent.


~The End~

[Call me J]

Well this was somewhat of a challenge to judge because it had two very differently skilled players in it. Poseidon, as a relative newcomer had a number of issues that relate to being a new player and needing practice, whereas Nymph and Dragon showed a very strong performance. As such, even though I don’t like to single out individuals too much, this thread makes it a necessity.

Total Score- 59 This score is more the amalgamation of how both of your performances combined to make the story. It is not an average of your individual scores.

• STORY ~ 18/30

Continuity (7) ~ This was by far the strongest area of the quest. There was an elaborate backstory and a lot of details at the beginning and throughout the story, and Poseidon did a good job in giving me an impression that there would be more to come.

Setting (6) ~ The setting here seemed to be focused exclusively on the land/sea dichotomy, but only in terms of how the sea was better. I would have liked to see more of stuff on adjustment, especially from Poseidon, on what it meant just to be on land. Twyla, while seemingly more accustomed to the land than either Eli or Melancor, still should have had other areas for comparison other than that land people were stupid.

Pacing (5) ~ You guys did a really good job near the end, but for the longest point in time, I didn’t get the impression this thread was going anywhere.

• CHARACTER ~ 16/30

Dialogue (6) ~ Nymph and Dragon’s dialogue is great, though I would have liked to see a bit more humor. I’ll get at why in persona, but as it is, your dialogue practically bleeds character. As for Poseidon, at times your dialogue could become a bit clichéd, but I didn’t mind it too much in scenarios where clichéd, dramatic dialogue was appropriate, as it was a few times in this quest. However, I would urge you that in general, verisimilitude is preferable to theatrics.

Action (4) ~ A great deal of this has to do with the point I already made in setting. Unlike some other judges on this site, I’m less picky about things conforming to the rules of physics (except in battles), but I do expect that settings should alter the way that characters behave. Outside of misanthropy here, I saw very little.

Persona (6) ~ The big problem I have here with Twyla is while she is played very well, she really doesn’t come across as much, if any, of a protagonist. I know you’re trying to go for an anti-hero vibe, but it seems that practically every time she does something likeable enough to be a protagonist, I’m reminded why I don’t like her in the first place. The only times I actually found myself rooting for (as opposed to against) her were the cases where you brought humor in. Keep in mind, even though an anti-hero character doesn’t have to be a good guy in the classical sense, they still have to be liked.

• WRITING STYLE ~ 15/30

Mechanics (5) ~ Poseidon, some of your problems may emerge from English being your second language, but there are others I’m sure you’ll be able to catch just by reading over your posts once or twice. Also, you should feel free to use the help of your fellow questers for the purpose of peer editing. It will help your scores increase.

Technique (4) ~ Poseidon, you need to be careful about repeating the same words over and over so many times in the same sentence. I know English is not your native language, but there are still resources such as a thesaurus which you can use. Of course, my technique, if writing in your native language would also be poor, but I can’t judge on the basis of that.

Clarity (6) ~ There were a few points of this thread that really seemed to jump all over the place.

• Wild Card (10) ~ Both of you showed a great deal of dedication in completing this thread over time, and I congratulate you for that. Well done both of you.

Spoils
Nymph and Dragon receives 1050 EXP and 443 GP
Poseidon receives 985 EXP and 460 GP

[Karuka]

EXP/GP added. Nymph and Dragon levels up!