The Peregrine Bout

[Rajani Aishwara]

This battle is now Open.
Rajani Aishwara softly closed the door behind him and started down a corridor of the Peregrine, but suddenly stopped as the ship began to rock. Never had he possessed a sea sickness like this before, and strangely the ship was stationary at the docks just outside Radasanth. A strange case of vertigo was the least of his worries. It seemed as though everything in his life was no longer moving in the direction he intended to take. First came Corone's civil war, which effectively halted his plans of building a resort in Radasanth, then the advent of the Illicit Entrepreneurs which forced him to prematurely found the firm named after this ship. The Entrepreneurs were short lived thanks to his tongue and a few dedicated individuals, but so was the Peregrine Group. Its active membership sank to two members, him and Lillian Sesthal. But then came Seti Dylan and the House of Sora, who pulled them out of oblivion by annexing the Peregrine Group. It was a move that injected Rajani's heart with a substance completely alien to him. Humility.

Now the entrepreneur found a unique opportunity in the House of Sora's current situation. If they were to lead the world with progress they needed a force to fight against those who worked against them. The House of Sora desperately needed to train a fighting force to work its will if need be, and although Rajani was not a man of war and tactics he had an invaluable asset for the House. Just beyond that mahogany door sat a mute Ai'Bron monk of the Citadel complete with powers of resurrection, illusion, and years of experience as a spectator in the Citadel. He had been in their custody for weeks as the Illicit Entrepreneurs continued to threaten Radasanth and as all of Rajani's plans came tumbling down around him. As the threat lessened he intended on presenting the monk as a consultant to Alberdyne Cormyr, the Patriarch of the new Lodge Bladestorm. She would be heading up the House's tactical development, and he was sure his presence would make a great asset to any tactical endeavor. The problem lay in the monk's absolute refusal to cooperate with Rajani. His resolve was impressive, his commitment was admirable, but Rajani needed him. The House of Sora needed him, but for the first time Rajani's charisma failed to win one's loyalty.

Every day for the past twenty one days the captain would enter the chambers where the monk meditated and would speak to the monk about his cause. He soon came to realize that the monk refused to communicate to him as he did with the other crew members. Although he was mute, he used something similar to telepathy to communicate, but Rajani never heard a voice in his head like the Helmswoman, or the First Mate, or even the ever irritable Head Chef did. He simply sat on his knees on the floor with his eyes closed ignoring the Captain of the Peregrine.

His heart jumped at the realization that he had failed yet again. His hand slammed against the wall not in anger, but in desperation. He was loosing balance. Just then he heard the slow footsteps of the First Mate, Aton Mira. The middle aged crew mate stepped with vigor. “Good Afternoon to you, Captain. Is the monk available for consultation at the moment?”

Rajani raised his head and attempted to speak, but not even a squeal managed to exit his mouth. He sufficed with a simple nod and returned his eyes to the ground.

“Hey... Kid.” Aton stepped forward and bent over to try to get a look at Rajani's face. “Are you alright?”

From what the First Mate saw it looked something like sea sickness, but if it was that the captain would have gotten it the first day they were out to sea. This day marked the middle of the second month. His sixth sense told him that something was rotten in the Captain's heart. Aton laid a hand on his shoulder. “Go talk to the monk. I know he won't talk back, but that may just be exactly what you need.”

And so there Rajani stood in front of the monk, just as he had moments before attempting to convince him to help them. And there sat the monk contently on the floor of the cabin at the foot of a perfectly made bed.

“The road to oblivion is paved with good intentions. I give you my sincerest apology for forcing you into my custody. We managed to prevent the Illicit Entrepreneurs from taking the Citadel or the Bazaar. In fact it is likely that the group no longer exists so you may walk out of the door whenever you please. That is my sole success on Althanas so far. I have failed to establish a resort, I have failed to win a battle, and I have failed to maintain a legitimate business. None of this should come as astonishment to me because I left my home because of a failure. I failed to win someone's heart, therefore I ran away.”

”Welcome to Althanas. A land where failure is a fact of life.” The monk's voice rang through Rajani's ears from inside his mind. ”Failure plagues all people's minds, even the mind of a monk. There are no tricks to getting around failure, only to getting past it. When you fail you must absolve your mind of thoughts of limitation, and never compromise the objective of your next endeavor.”

“That seems almost elementary.” Rajani said as he shrugged his shoulders. “I assumed your advice would be more...”

”You sought the formula for success with every nominal, variable and constant value handed to you on a silver platter. But there is no uniform formula because we are all the formulas to our own success. The only two variables usually missing are perseverance and desire. How many times are you willing to fail before you give up, and will you be truly happy if you are successful? Judging from your past you're much more than just a fancy merchant and captain. Are you certain that what you have been pursuing is what you truly want?”

“Yes.”

”Then let’s take a walk.” Rajani nodded and opened the door for the monk. They made their way down the same corridor in which Rajani had just made his tragic halt only moments ago. The main deck was on the other side, and Rajani could only guess that this was where the monk was headed after being cooped up in that cabin for so long. ”This crew of your is something of a pleasantly strange phenomenon to me, Rajani.”

“And why is that?” Rajani asked with a smile.

”I haven’t been on many ships in my short lifetime, but your crew has developed a bond unlike any other, and in an astonishingly short amount of time. Souls must fit together like puzzle pieces, and sometimes when they are forced together they must mold into the right shapes. In less than three months you seem to have a perfectly fitting work of art.

“Those are the first words of kindness you’ve uttered about me in all your days on my ship.”

”It’s more so an observation about your crew, which happens to include you. Although they do take a great liking to you.” Rajani opened the door for the monk and they emerged on deck.

It was a leisurely time for the crew. At least thirty of the seventy man and woman crew made the decision to bask in the dim light of the retreating sun. A line of lamps hanging from the sails had already been lit in the advent of the night. Under one of them a group of crewmen were playing cards. A few others lay in their hammocks in a dark corner, conversing as they enjoyed the Head Cook’s delectable finger food, chocolates cheeses and cherries. Other, more active crew swung on the slack rope of the sails like monkeys under a canopy of cotton candy colored clouds. Despite a large portion of the crew occupying the deck it was still very spacious, and Rajani was always compelled to stretch his arms out every time he arrived.

”Is your sword ready?”

Rajani pulled up the side of his white silk tunic and nodded as he exposed the black scabbard of the tai chi model blade. “Am I to have a bout with you?”

”No. You are to have a bout with whomever steps through that door next. Did you know that there is a battle fought in the Citadel every two minutes? That is quite a few don’t you think? Well within two minutes a warrior from the Citadel is going to step across the threshold of an arena door. Instead of stepping into the arena, he will be stepping onto the main deck of the Peregrine. Prepare yourself.

[Tamara Roth]

Continuity Note: Takes place about a week after Haven From the Rain and after any noted (mis)adventures in Underwood.

The Citadel.

I’m not actually doing this, am I?

I think I might be.

I’m insane.

…Ayep. Insane.

She’d heard plenty about the Citadel. Some of Istien’s students had actually been there, and returned to relate tales of fantastic settings and duels to the death, all facilitated by the Ai’Brone order. With the rest of the students, Tamara had listened in disbelief as these tales were spun -- such magic of illusion and healing defied belief even among those who studied both trades on a daily basis.

Now that she stood near the top step of the long stair leading up to the Citadel, with the imposing structure looming in front of her, rock and stone and solidity, she could scarcely discount what she had heard. The structure was large, yes, but imposing beyond what size alone would imply. Untrained as she was, she could feel the power contained within -- not the wild, untrained energy of a rogue mage or a bonfire, but a more controlled expression of power as stable as the rock upon which the fortress of Ai’Brone stood. The concept of willpower strong enough to bend the edges of reality was more impressive -- and frightening -- to Tamara than any number of firestorms or untamed expressions of might.

As her professors had stressed to her repeatedly, calling lightning was one thing… but being able to leash it when it came was something else.

She placed her boot on the final step. As she pulled herself up onto the landing, the clink and rustle of armor seemed to hang in the air; the footfalls of her weight on leather soles echoed oddly, even though there were no walls immediately apparent. What was apparent to Tamara was that she’d set foot somewhere else… somewhere that wasn’t precisely Radasanth. Somewhere that recognized her as an outsider.

The thundering of her own blood in her ears briefly drowned out the sounds of her boots on the stone as she continued into the Citadel; she did her best to steady her breathing, but it was not easy. In some ways, the times that she had fought outside in the world had been easier to bear. There was little anticipation, little time to mull over the thoughts and implications of a battle to the death. Now, she found herself walking into one, and willingly…

For the song, Tamara reminded herself. Her left hand clenched into a fist. Always for the song. If I must overcome my own fear to find it, then I will.

“May I help you, child?”

The voice came from nowhere. Tamara stopped in her tracks, eyes flicking from left to right; she found herself in a great hall with marble pillars, lit dimly by the sun streaming in the doorway she’d just passed through.

She swallowed, finding her throat suddenly dry. “I seek a battle.”

“Of course you do.” A robed shape stepped forward from behind one of the pillars. Tamara couldn’t tell whether it was male or female at first, and the hood shadowed the monk’s face, preventing her from seeing whether their lips were actually doing. “And you fear.”

“Should I not?” she countered, her voice sharp before she blew out a sigh. Too tense, she was too tense… easy… “I have never been here before--“

The figure nodded. “Apparent. You fear for your life.” With a swirl of robes, the monk spun on his feet -- Tamara was reasonably sure he was male now, perhaps in his late thirties to judge from the voice. Then again, who was to say he’d been talking at all? What if this monk was himself an illusion? There was no way to tell.

“I do…” No point in lying to him, whoever or whatever he was; he seemed to know her inside and out already, which further prickled her skin with unease.

“Fear of death is common to all that lives. It is part of what allows a creature to continue living.” The words met Tamara’s ears with the same clarity as they had when the monk had been directly facing her as the monk padded noiselessly towards a corridor, Tamara trailing behind. “And yet there are those who seek to overcome, to transcend it. You find yourself among them, for you have come here.”

Tamara stared at the back of his hood as they entered the passageway. “I have no choice--“

“No, child.” The monk stopped suddenly and spun on his heel; Tamara barely pulled up short of bumping into him. She caught the glimpse of studying eyes under the hood. “You always have a choice. Those who deny choice deny who they are.”

A robed arm waved languidly to the corridor. Several doors appeared on either side.

“Choose for yourself any of these doors. You will find your battle waiting. And perhaps you will find what you truly seek as well. That depends on you…”

Tamara took a cautious step past the monk, peering at each door as though she could divine some clue as to what lay beyond. But there was nothing, no hint of sound or flash of light from underneath the perfectly flush sill.

“Vara’amin tuulo’in’altamada, Khal’jaren’en noldoath,”[1] Tamara murmured, touching a finger to her forehead before she took one of the doors and opened it inwards.

As she stole one backwards glance through the closing door, Tamara glimpsed what might have been a smile on the monk’s shadowed face…

====

The ground under her feet swayed. A seagull cried out. Sun beat down on her face.

As Tamara squinted at the sudden light and tried to center herself from the rapid shift in apparent location, she found that she was standing on the deck of a ship. The second mast, in fact, was right behind her; she could feel a rope from the rigging scraping against the back of her head as the ship swayed.

“…and this is an illusion? Magnificent.” She blew out a breath.

It was at about this point that Tamara realized that she was not alone on this simalcrum of a boat -- which, part of her brain noted and filed off to the side, seemed to be moored to a perfect replica of the Radasanth city docks. Her eyes wandered to a man standing some distance away on the deck, of moderate build and black hair and an unsheathed sword. He didn’t seem to be wearing armor, though, and the gentle rolling of the ship didn’t seem to discomfort him at all. Perhaps he was part of some illusory crew?

“Ah. Hello, sir,” Tamara ventured, her eyes still flicking around as she took a step forward. “You’re, ahhhh, not an illusion, are you?”

[1]: Roughly translated, "Protect me from my own idiocy, Sage of Wisdom."

[Rajani Aishwara]

Rajani’s eyes slowly ascended the rugged boots, the clouded greaves, and the muted silver reptilian fashion armor to top off with the smooth crème face and midnight blue eyes of a woman, whose hair of raven spider silk was wrapped neatly behind her head. It was astonishment to Rajani, although this explained the slight protrusion around the bust of the scale clad torso. Rajani never considered himself to be a traditional man although he was opposed to striking a woman. He never doubted in his mind the tactical abilities of a woman. In fact, judging by first glance, this woman had a considerable chance of winning the battle. Despite all this he had to fight the urge to smile. The muscles in his face ached as they fought against his mind, who demanded that they keep still. He knew that if he allowed himself to smile she would take it the wrong way, but he didn’t want to smile because she was a warrior. He wanted to smile because she was pretty.

While Rajani was caught up with his internal monologue, the monk clarified the situation for the crew and the challenger, ”For those of you present. The Peregrine is now a Citadel arena, and your Captain will be in the first match. Although you are welcome to be spectators to the event, this is his battle. Do not interfere, even if he falls.” The crew halted their relaxed activities as the monk’s inner voice rang in their heads. They began to put down their food, rose from their hammocks, and descended from the five mast playground to gather around. The monk turned to the silver clad Valkyrie with a haphazard smile on his porcelain pale face. He opened a hand to Rajani and spoke once more. ”To answer your question, this is no illusion. You are on board the luxury vessel Peregrine you your opponent is the Captain Rajani Aishwara.”

Hearing his own name in his head Rajani was cued to extend his hand. It was second nature and only when the hand shake was complete did he realize the risk behind it. He now thought it polite to let his smile emerge as he spoke. “’Tis a pleasure to be honored by your presence. I hope this duel will be a fruitful one for us both.”

“Cap’n… Psst! Cap’n.” Rajani heard the hissing voice of his youngest crew member, Gaius Dove, but didn’t turn to look at him as it would have been an unwise tactical decision to turn his back on his opponent. Gaius’ shaggy brown hair and big sky blue eyes did well to symbolize the naïveté that dominated his demeanor on their maiden voyage. It was now only a veil of deception. He had blossomed into a headstrong man of the sea, complete with an unwavering sense of humor and a sailor’s dialect. “She’s got a pretty face. I know the monk’s here to heal and all, but mind not hittin’ her there? And not the breasts. I can tell, even from under that armor, those are pretty breasts. Basically hit something that aint pretty. Maybe her feet?”

A wave of nervous laughter traveled through the main deck. Rajani rolled his eyes as he chuckled along with them and drew his sword. He took a quick second to marvel at the mirror finish blade. It would soon be tarnished by battle so it would be best to look now. The reflection in the blade was not of himself, but of an angelic woman of picturesque straight black hair, sky blue eyes, and skin as dark as his own. She was Rajani’s late grandmother, Sitara, and her spirit possessed the blade. Sitara gave a hesitant nod. She didn’t take a liking to her grandson striking a woman down, but understood that he had been caught in the quicksand of circumstance. If Rajani had a chance to win, it would have to be decisive and quick for Sitara’s sake.

“Forgive me. I do not underestimate your combat abilities, but I will not find it in my heart to initiate the battle. You will have to strike first.” With his grandmother’s approval Rajani went into his battle stance, standing on the balls of his pacing feet, knees slightly flexed, right shoulder leaned towards his target and Sitara in his right hand. “Your name, Madame?”

[Tamara Roth]

Permission to NPC parts of the crew granted in advance.

“Y’think she’ll take ‘im, sir?”

“Nah. Not a chance. I know our captain too well.”

Two men leaned on the foredeck railing, peering down at the unfolding spectacle below them. One of them had a face as rough and weathered as the Peregrine’s canvas sails; the other one couldn’t have been much older than eighteen or nineteen. ‘Baby-face’, he was commonly called, though in formality he was Deckhand Gannon Lathenson. The man of more experience was only called “yes, sir” among the deckhands to his face, and significantly more colorful things to his back. Lars Heindall, the Peregrine’s boatswain, had been sailing since his abrupt departure from home at fourteen.

And while Lars had seen a lot of things, he had to admit to himself that the spectacle of a single warrior -- a woman, at that! -- facing down the captain of the Peregrine on his own ship was something that was new to him. Bloody Ai’Brone monks, stupid kidnapping schemes, idiot honor duels with swords…

Gannon glanced aside to the boatswain almost furtively. “Ten gold that she’ll kick ‘is arse, sir?”

“Twenty,” Lars replied as a grin cracked his face. “And I’ll give you two-to-one odds, too. This ship is his playground. He knows the deck, he knows the rigging. Look at her… she’s not entirely steady on her feet even now.”

“But lookit that armor! An’ look how she’s advancin’… she’s seen some fightin’ in her time. Prolly been trained, too…”

The boatswain shook his head. “Training on a mat in some… dodo? Dogo? N’matter… that doesn’t matter out here.

“This is the ocean. This is the Peregrine. They take care of their own.”

===

Also without thinking, Tamara stepped forward and accepted his hand, returning his shake firmly -- though not too firmly, she was all too aware of how her gauntlets could dull her sensitivity to pressure. “Tamara tinu ‘en Garidas Roth, of… Raiaera,” she hurried through the mention of her homeland, hoping not to draw notice to the lump in her throat as she mentioned it. “Ahh, an honor to fight you, sir -- Rajani, was it?… Thaynes look after you.”

It felt odd to be wishing the blessing of the gods on a stranger that she was about to duel to the death, but… could she do any less? This man had committed no crime that she knew, and in all ways seemed honorable and respectful. Handsome, too, part of her brain supplied, and she hit that part with the mental equivalent of a blackjack. There would be time to ogle after the fight. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder whether what she was about to do was moral in any way.

Tamara turned her back and paced away about five steps, once stumbling with a shift of the deck. A blush came to her cheeks at that, only further deepened by half-heard comments regarding her face and… assets. She visibly twitched, even as her cheeks burned. Oh, Haidia below… if I had wanted to be ogled, I’d have gone to a tavern! Or at least worn something revealing… I think I need a set of platemail. And maybe a helmet. No, I hate helmets.

As she turned on her heel to face back in the direction of the ship’s captain, her blush deepened as she realized that the ship’s entire crew was now looking on. Whispered comments flew back and forth; she heard the rustle of shifting feet, and the clink of gold laid down. The whispering lingered around her, a mist of half-heard accusations fabricated by her mind. ”She’s so young… she’s just a woman… look at those breasts… I’d take her in my hammock sooner than stick a sword in her belly… I’d do both…”

And Rajani’s lips moved in something only half-heard above the thunder of the blood in her ears and the murmurs of doubt. Her eyes focused on him; the curve of his lips, the intensity of his eyes, the untrained but determined stance that he slid into by degrees even as he finished ceding her the initiative… and oh, gods, but his skin was the perfect color…

So Tamara lifted her head and began to sing. Her voice rolled out over the deck of the ship, and the whispering -- imaginary or real -- stopped dead.

”Sing, oh, ye sailors and ye sailors’ kin,
sing of the wall that keeps the sea hemmed in…”

Shimmering force exploded into being, a curved shield that hugged close to her body, visible only where edges of it sparkled and refracted the sunlight.

”Sing of the storms, of the lightning and the rain,
Swept loved ones overboard, cause great loss, caused all pain…”

Electricity in the air crackled and condensed into her left hand, a ball of lightning. Her right drew Decision in a fluid move that left a ring of steel in the air, harmonizing with her last lingering note; she ran her finger up and down the blade, and the glimmering steel crackled with energy barely contained.

”But sing most of all, of the monks of Ai’Brone,
shadowy, deceptive even in the morning sun,
and sing of what they wrought, what they brought together now,
a girl and a song, and a captain and his scow.
Sing aidee-aidee-kay-nai together one and all,
a song that will not end ‘till one of us does fall!”

As she sang, Tamara began to stalk forward, first a few tentative steps, then the confident and regular pace of a leashed killer, the doubt and confusion vanished from her head. There was only a vaguely-felt hum that resonated in her bones, lightening every movement and buttressing her heart.

The tip of her sword came up as she stepped close; Decision remained in a close guard across the length of her body. The song changed into High Elven; she did not fully have control over the words, but they posseessed her voice even as they possessed her hands. As she stepped within reach, she dropped the tip of her greatsword and thrust forward and up, encouraging him to back away and duck. She wasn’t expecting to hit, she merely wanted to put him on the defensive and set him up for her recovery back into her guard stance -- an immediate stroke downwards from her momentary overhand position. All quick, all successively followed, and none of them especially forceful -- after all, Tamara held four and a half feet of sharpened steel in her hands, and Decision could provide the needed force.

Whatever the outcome of the initial survey of his defense, she recovered into her defensive stance and edged towards his right, even the tilt of the ship’s deck caused her to stumble a step backwards.

[Rajani Aishwara]

Tamara tinu ‘en Garidas Roth, Rajani thought to himself as he nodded to the warrior woman. He repeated it twice more in his head in order to commit it to memory. His muted lips moved as he did so. It was something he did to remember the names those he met. He recalled his first day as captain on this vessel. He had already memorized nearly half of the seventy names using the vessel roster, but when they became matched up with faces he had to start all over again. So as everyone introduced themselves he made sure to find some way to say their names three times in conversation before moving on to the next person. Rajani couldn’t do that here. This was ner the time for conversation. In fact, Tamara decided to waste no more time and began the battle with a song.

Rajani had seen that body language and heard that tone before. It was futile to mask it in a sailor’s chant and lyrics. Out of the many peoples and cultures in Althanas, who else but one of Istien skill would start singing a son in the middle, or worse, the beginning of a duel? Tamara had given up a vital piece of information while Rajani waited to see what the song would conjure up. With a blast Tamara’s silhouette was glazed over in a layer of translucent substance. Her curves were now accentuated in the reflection of the white hot deck lamps. He tilted his head in curiosity, but refocused when she began to sing again. By allowing the lady the first strike Rajani had given her a distinct advantage on which she was banking. Tamara was also granting him an advantage.

The platinum woman’s lyrics were telling clues of the spell in progress and she now spoke of lighting and rain. She wouldn’t dare conjure the two of them together. Water conducted electricity, and self electrocution was just preposterous. Less than a few seconds later the spell was revealed, and Tamara’s left hand scooped a sphere of the lightning atmosphere. She drew a long blade at least one foot longer than his own. With a graceful wave she sheathed it in the summoned lightning, and began to sing again. How many spells would she evoke before she struck? With a four foot sword enchanted with electricity Tamara wouldn’t have to even touch Rajani to harm him. Electricity had a mind of its own and it would reach out and grab the Captain with its nerve sucking fingers if it could. There had to be a way to counteract that element.

Lighting is electricity… electricity has the potential of conduction… conducting substances… water, to dangerous. The thought of one of his crewmates dieing because they were wet was too much for him. iron, nickel, copper… The ship’s edge is lined with a bronze rail, a copper alloy! The ship was styled after the falcon of the same name, which was white with brown spots. Pearl, white wash and marble represented the white. Mahogany, dark oak, and bronze represented the brown. If Rajani couls lead Tamara to strike the bronze railing that lined the edge of the ship’s deck, her lighting enchantment would be properly diffused.

Tamara stepped forward chanting obvious Raiaeran. Instead of holding his ground Rajani bounced back and kept a distance well beyond the tip of her longsword. His placement almost mirrored hers as if they were performing the basic step to a warrior’s Rumba. The crackling tip of Tamara’s weapon bolted towards Rajani in a low stab, its tiny electric tentacles reaching out to touch any object within reach. That object was Sitara, and those blue hot limbs embraced her blade with acutely angled joints. Guilt plagued his mind for a moment, but he put Sitara through far worse and her spirit enchanted a sword for a reason. Rajani used the contact to push himself off to his left side where he continued to sidestep until the auburn rail was at his back.

Then it came! An opening. Just as Tamara returned to her battle stance she began to stumble back. She wasn’t used to the rocking of the ship. His left hand opened up and gathered the invisible potential energy, but before he released it as kinetic energy upon his opponent he hesitated. That glass layer wasn’t for nothing, and if it was strong enough to dispel his kinetic energy it would have been a waste and the element of surprise would no longer be his. Instead of attacking with his kinetic energy Rajani balled up his left hand and felt the heat squeeze between his fingers. There was nothing else to do, once again but wait for her to make her move again.

= = =

Across the deck a pair of double doors burst open and two women with the heads of silver plates strutted through.

“Cold kabobs for all!” Mohana Colville shouted as she and her assistant each placed a large silver plate of fresh fruits and vegetables on a table. They were riddled with every color of the rainbow, asparagus and zucchini as green as Mohana’s eyes, tomatoes and cherries as red as the setting sun, blueberries and grapes as deep as the ocean blue. The men and women around scrambled to get their share of cold snack and return as spectators to the bout.

“Come to see the fight, Chef?” Gaius said as he plucked a wooden lance and stabbed at a few tasty morsels.

“You know me too well, young Dove. I thought it appropriate to have something to nibble on as we enjoy the event.” Gaius, with inflated cheeks, pointed down the distance of the deck. Mohana repositioned herself just in time to see her Captain and his opponent battling at the edge of the ship three masts down. His back was almost at the rail. She narrowed her eyes to make sure she knew what she was seeing. “Methinks that is…”

“A woman…”

Mohana’s eyes widened and her cheeks went red as they curled up in an ear to ear smile. She unraveled her cinnamon hair and leaned over the edge to watch. “This shall be one for the book, ladies and gentlemen.”

“Her name’s Tamara Roth. I think she was raised by Elves. She be doin’ all that song magic stuff. I don’t get the tactical value in all that singin’. I could tell exactly what spell she was about to pull off by listening to the lyrics.” Gaius said all of this as a considerable portion of the food he ad put in his mouth came right back out as a fountain of saliva and chunks of food. “Case in point: Yer a ninja from Akashima, and not one of those flashy ninja’s that forgot the meaning of their own name. I’m talkin’ bout a real ninja, an assassin all about stealth. What kind of stealth spells you got from Raiaera that don’t give you away? ‘Oh who’s singin’ that pretty song? Oh it’s the invisible ninja that we can hear!’”

“I’ll have you know that most Raiaerans are fairly well rounded in their arsenal of music. Yes, the song based Istien is the signature magic of the High Elves, but it isn’t their only magic.” Mohana said as she tossed him a napkin.

[Tamara Roth]

The overhand blow struck the deck rail cleanly, discharging the lightning in a flare of tiny blue tendrils that snaked along the the length of the railing for a moment. As Tamara wrenched her blade free and attempted to recover from her stumble, she braced herself for the impact of the blade on her shield...

Nothing.

Odd.

Her quick turn and step to rebalance herself swept her gaze back to Rajani, and she realized that he had done nothing to take advantage of the opening; indeed, he was still seemingly on the defensive. Either he is waiting for my song of shielding to wear away, or he is a good deal less confident than I'd made him out to be. Dismissing her musings, Tamara stepped forwards again, her blade singing as it cut through the air.

The power of Agarlin burned in her veins, and even as the song continued it whispered in her ear. Don't hold back, it murmured. Win or lose, this is a chance for glory, win or lose this is a chance to participate in something beautiful. Drive him back, Tamara, drive him back into the ocean!

A right-to-left diagonal overhand stroke followed into a flat swing at her waist level, which in turn brought the sword back close to her for another thrust. Each stroke was aimed for his center of mass. Her vision narrowed and centered on him, on the glimmering length of steel that he held, as she pressed her advantage. She wasn't looking to do anything fancy, just draw blood and test the full range of his guard. Tamara paid almost no mind to defending herself; the shielding would last for only another moment, and if this Rajani was so intent on serving the initiative up to her on a silver platter with a garnish of kelp...

...who was she to deny him?

===

"Woo-ooo! Go nutso, sword-chick! Get'im! Get'im!"

Lars rolled his eyes as he licked the last traces of cherry juice from his fingers. "Quiet, boy, you'll strain something. 'N thanks, Chef, you're the best." The bosun's eyes remained fixed on the fight even as he reached for another kabob.

"Oh, yeah, that's it!" Gannon let out another wild whoop.

"That mean you're taking the odds, boy?" The boatswain raised an eyebrow as he nibbled a cube of cheese off the end. Damn, this was good food. While he hated being moored, there were a lot of things to be said for being so close to a line of supply.

The deckhand nodded with a great deal of enthusiasm -- and, Lars thought sourly to himself, probably a decent serving of rum, too. He needed to have a word with the Mate about open barrel nights. "You betcha! Oh, man, this is good stuff... look at 'em go!"

[Rajani Aishwara]

Rajani took a large step to the side and Tamara’s blade made contact with the rail with a cacophonous ring that plagued his eardrums. He couldn’t tend to his ears by sticking his fingers into them like he wanted to. Nor could he make an overdramatic reaction to it like his crew did. Several of them covered their ears with faces of agony while others rolled on the wood planked floor and kicked at the ever darkening sky. It was as dark a blue as Tamara’s eyes now. Had it not been for the lamps all around he would not have noticed that, but he had to stay focused. He had to stay on the move.

Tamara only allowed a few seconds for him to make distance as she recovered from the recoil, and she was back on the incursion with a quick ringing swing. Rajani took two quick steps back to avoid it with ease. Now she pursued him advancing parallel to the bronze boundary of the ship as it rocked up and down.

Rajani turned Sitara down so that the blade was inverted, and kept his feet at a boxer’s pace. On any other day he would have had planted feet like Tamara, but given that he had been stricken with sea sickness no more than a few minutes earlier, he was forced to utilize a boxer’s pace to better allow him to give way to the sway of the ship.

Tamara took her overhead swing and Rajani ducked with ease. He had to get past that blade. It would be easier said than done, but Sitara was likely much lighter than the resplendent Amazon’s heavy blade, and she was clad in armor while the captain was in nothing more than thick silk. His agility would be the deciding factor. Their blades met for a second time as Tamara attempted a thrust at his core.

Using speed and flexibility that she could not, Rajani slightly pushed Tamara’s blade to her left side and stepped over to her right shoulder, which was closed to him. Whether he was successful in moving the great sword or not, Rajani was out of its path of death. Knowing it wouldn’t be long before Tamara would do something about this predicament Rajani ran to her other side.

As he passed he raised his blade, hoping to make contact with her head. Screams of excitement and aversion passed through the crowd. The crew knew if a strike hadn’t fallen it was mighty close.

[Tamara Roth]

As Tamara recovered for another strike, Rajani pushed her sword aside -- and given her planted feet and heavier blade, it worked only because Tamara was not expecting such a sudden and risky move. Nor did she expect the blade that clipped at her temple, a blur of silver that she barely sensed from the corner of an eye--

KYESSSH.

The shield imploded under the possessed sword's edge into a thousand insubstantial glittering shards, deflecting its path aside. Tamara's song had been on the brink of depleting itself, so the very tip of the blade bit through the shield and slashed a long, shallow cut at eye level along the side of Tamara's head. Silver stars exploded in her eyes as she cried out, the song interrupted, staggering backwards against the rail as Rajani made his getaway. Her sword swung after him, but too slowly to catch the edge of his garment. The swing went wild, though, and with the roll of the deck she nearly lost the sword; only years' training allowed her to hold onto the thing in the wake of her slash at his departing backside.

That was not to say, though, that her blade found nothing. Almost as though it was paper instead of knotted hemp, Decision bit through one of the lines securing a boom on the second mast. A subsequent roll of the ship sent it scything in the captain's direction.

Tamara staggered back to an upright position, clutching Decision in one hand and the deck's handrail with the other. Her vision was a little red around the edges at the pain; the right side of her head throbbed, and she felt as though from a great distance the warm dampness running down the right side of her head. The magic of her song still burned strong in her veins, and she cried out with renewed fervor to the darkening skies.

"Moth le'sinome, moth le'sinome,
Aanvirna'thar i'arrnalen en'dome!
Aanvirna'thar i'sul'ar'soma en'dome!"[1]

Lightning once again condensed along Tamara's hand, gathering in her gauntlet. But this time she kept it free. Her right hand slid up the hilt of Decision, wielding it one-handed, and she dropped the blade to her left side -- arms spread almost as though in invitation for him to take a shot at her, though also in balance. The deck was beginning to roll more notably, and Tamara's head still spun from the Rajani's parting blow.

You can only stay slippery so long, you bastard, Tamara thought, her eyes narrowing once more on her quarry. Come, strike at me again. Test your luck. Flirt with the storm...

[1]Rough translation:
"Dusk has come, dusk has come.
Brace yourself against the evening's storms,
Brace yourself against the evening's wind and rain."

[Rajani Aishwara]

Rajani brought his blade back up to normal positioning, facing up from his hand. To his disappointment he found that the blade was not stained with blood. He imagined her entrails to be coated with a pretty little magenta liquid to match the rest of her appealing looks. However, he wasn’t surprised to see a powdery clear substance clinging to its edges. He shook his sword and the pixie dust dispersed. The clear layer that coated Tamara no longer added a reflective shine to her even as she swung frantically. While this would have been a proper opportunity to capitalize on her temporary shock, her sword was mighty long, and strong swings like that would have just as quickly ended the battle for Rajani.

He began to return to his battle stance just as the crew began to cry out in alarm. He looked to his left and he laid his eyes on a great wooden column turned the way of the horizon. It barreled towards him and made contact with his left side! Rajani’s internal organs stirred about. His grip loosened and Sitara dropped to the floor where her grandson once stood. If you prefer that spot, Nana Aishwara. The boom carried him to the opposite side of the deck where he tumbled to the floor along with a few other men and women. Tamara’s ambush caught them by surprise as well. The voices of the crew encouraging him to get up and fight surrounded his ears. He rose slowly, expecting the warrior woman to come and cut him down at any second.

The young captain looked up to see only his crew. He was lucky. The tie that kept the boom in place also kept it properly leveled. This was all not to mention that the breeze was not as fast as it could have been. If these factors would have been an increment different Rajani would have lost be battle on account of a concussion. That was why they named that part of the ship ‘boom’. Because it was known to go boom upon one’s skull if not dealt with caution. Something inside him had gone thump or crack, however. Rajani squinted his eyes as he painfully discovered that he could only inhale halfway. To inflate his lungs any further caused his lungs to burn like napalm so now he was reduced to smelling the saltwater fragrance of the ocean in tiny sniffs.

Tamara was still in her original location, on the other side of the deck. She had once again summoned her electricity, but left it in her hand as tumbleweed of blue hot energy. Sitara lay at her feet, waiting for him to retrieve her again, but it was best to remain in the distance, away from the longsword and away from the lightning.

“Stay clear of the railing!” Gaius Dove shouted. “Mohana got shocked by it!”

“Is she okay?” an indistinguishable voice uttered.

“That’s my bread and butter…” a female voice blurted out. “Literally!”