Dishonor Among Thieves

[Arawn]

“I have half a mind to set sail tonight myself,” a grinning boy said to his gathered peers among the high-stacked crates at the city docks.

“You’re all talk,” one of his fellows replied.

Talk was the one thing that there seemed to be no end to in Falria of late. It was a modest place whose populous was mostly comprised of simple-minded hunters who made their living from the bountiful mountain forests of the region and a few fishermen who ventured the land’s turbulent waters. However, the highly publicized execution of Ren Nocal had brought an odd assortment of outlanders to Falria. The coastal city had seldom seen such a high attendance for a public hanging before, but rumors had fueled public interest in seeing the infamous thief put to death. Tales of the riches he gathered in a prosperous life of crime grew more hyperbolic from person to person. It was said he had hidden these innumerable treasures in a private island somewhere not far off the coast. However, that was not reason enough for so many generally non-law-abiding citizens to be interested in his death.

“Do you think he was telling the truth?” people were found asking time and again after the master thief’s short drop was ended with a quick stop and the eerily satisfying sound of a broken neck.

“Why would he lie?” was the common question to answer the former.

Indeed, it seemed he had little reason to speak any falsehood so soon to meeting his maker. The reason so many gathered for Ren’s execution was because he had leaked to his guards that he wanted to reveal the exact whereabouts of his island treasury. The guards, in turn, promised to one another to keep shut about it, which meant the whole town knew before the day had passed. With so many islets near Falria and so many treacherous reefs surrounding them, no one had ever attempted to locate the crook’s gatherings before. With precise coordinates, it was a different story. Prices for ships and voyages instantly skyrocketed as almost every able-bodied individual attempted to reserve a transport for when the thief had had his last words.

Bounty hunters and bandits stared hungrily as Ren Nocal was led up the wooden steps of the gallows, a grin upon his face at the sight of them. The midday sun showed his features in clear relief. Grey hair covered most of the notorious human’s face and head. He knew he would not have a chance to enjoy his ill-gotten wealth in this lifetime, but thought it fitting he should leave this world with one last monumental joke. The audience waited with baited breath, not a soul making a sound in anticipation. Just as the noose was slipped over his head, he declared the location of his island loudly to the gathered masses and let out a bark of laughter.

“Let them kill themselves over it,” was his last thought as the ground fell away beneath him.

“He’s a bloody genius, he is,” a bald man said to his friend as the crowd dispersed in agitation, all looking to get to the docks.

“Why do you say that?” his friend inquired, leaning heavily on his cane.

“He’s bankin’ on greed, you see,” the man said looking about at all the eager and hurried faces. “All these mercenary types’ll end up killin’ each other before a one of them sees a single bit of treasure.”

“And there’s probably traps on the isle to boot,” his friend nodded in agreement.

“You won’t be catching me near that place,” the bald man said with a tone of finality, motioning for them to go home.

[Arawn]

“This will do,” the undead creature said to himself with relish.

He was standing against a wall enveloped in shadow in the captain’s chambers of the largest ship leaving Falria’s docks that afternoon, the Leviathan. It had been easy to sneak past the human guarding the door to his master’s quarters, especially with the vampire’s unique adeptness at obscuring light around others’ eyes. That, coupled with the abundance of living density upon the ship, made it mere child’s play for Arawn to acquire more luxurious accommodations than the crowded wooden bowels or deck of the ship. He knew he would remain undisturbed for the time being. It wasn’t likely the captain would retire to his suite any time before sunset with the turbulent waters, competing sea vessels and shifty-eyed passenger he had to worry about.

“Just as well…”

Arawn had first heard of Ren Nocal’s bounty from a pair of hunters that had gone too deep into the mountains surrounding Falria for their own good one night. He watched from a tree limb above them as they blathered on about it by a campfire for quite a while before his hunger overcame his interest and he decided they’d said enough. Intrigued, he decided to start hunting closer to the city and soon his curiosity was peeked from what his prey revealed. One reputed item in the thief’s hoard had drawn the creature’s attention far more than the coveted riches of gold and silver. The vampire had no use for shiny metals. Wealth and political influence were the tools of the living. For one that could not die, priorities were rearranged. The only worthy pursuit was personal power independent of others’ authority.

The Orb of Quelmarh was a famously potent relic, well known by beings of the underworld for its fabled secrets. It was said to be a sphere of black stone no larger than a marble, often overlooked by those untainted by undead or demonic powers. Such beings were unable to sense its energy and underestimated a thing of such size’s importance. It was known the orb unlocked great potential among the non-living who came in contact with it and had had a unique effect on every individual to do so. The only question now was whether old Ren Nocal had somehow acquired it in his journeys or if that had been another fanciful rumor among the talkative Falrians.

“It doesn’t matter, really,” Arawn considered with a fanged grin.

The sun would soon be setting on the west-ward bearing ship and the Leviathan was so crowded he would be able to feed without his quarry being immediately missed. It would not be easy to do so unnoticed, but he enjoyed the thrill of difficulties in a hunt. Whether the artifact was to be found on the island or not, the vampire was sure to be guaranteed more than his share of victims once they arrived. He could picture the fleet of boats he saw on the docks speeding in the same direction in his mind’s eye. They’d be at the island by midnight; it had always been ridiculously close to shore but safely hidden amongst thirty other nearly identical islands. If nothing else, the vampire could test himself with the fools whose love of fortune had brought them together. Trials such as this were known to enhance the powers of the nosferatu without the need of ancient and renowned relics. Arawn longed to act, the infected blood in his veins pumping rapidly with the mere thought of the two hundred or more souls aboard his ship alone.

“A few more hours to nightfall…”

[Izvilvin]

Not far from Arawn, near the helm of the Leviathan, sat a Drow dressed in dark clothing, a leather patch across his mouth and nose. His lavendar eyes were unfocused as they gazed across miles and miles of water. He had been in thought for some time now, not contemplating any particular thing, but many small ideas. Step had become his life. He moved only when he was told to, and travelled wherever needed. He would take any job ordered of him, all for that one chance to kill Vordutin.

The idea put a grimace on his face. The General had sent the Drow's father to his untimely death, and though it was a common occurance in Alerar back then for a young elf to lose his father, Izvilvin had never come to terms with it. They'd been close, but now the Drow could barely recall his father's face.

Had it really been more than a century since then? Even if Izvilvin had known of General Vordutin's death, would he have felt satisfied?

Step had an interest in the Orb of Quelmarh. Not in obtaining it, but having knowledge of any man who would possess it, to make sure it would not be used in malice against the Corone continent. It apparently bestowed powers to undead or demonic beings, though information on what kind of powers these were was unknown. Step needed to know things.

Given the nature, not to mention motivation of those on the boat, it was a marvel that war hadn't broken out at sea. They were all competing for the treasures rumored to be on the island, Izvilvin understood. Though he wasn't after them himself, he knew the dangers present. It almost made him want to look away from the sea.

Almost. But he had only been on a boat once besides now, and it was something he found enjoyable. A light breeeze and the salty scent of the water relaxed him. He wondered how his mother was, how she was faring back in Alerar. One day he would go back and show her he was alive.

One day soon, he hoped.

[INDK]

It had been purely on a whim that the boy had left Corone on board the Treatise to head for Lornius. The ship was mostly carrying adventurers fit for a tournament, and the boy seemed very much out of place on board a ship full of warriors with finely kept weapons, well polished armor and boastful tales of previous shows of valor. Damon almost felt obligated to manufacture a few just to fit in, but he decided that it was best that he didn’t. Given the dismissive way that most of the other passengers treated the boy, it seemed almost unlikely that they would have believed any tales. Thus, Damon mostly spent his time away from the revelry out on the deck and up with the ship’s captain. The captain was a veteran sailor, one who had claimed to have been sailing since before Damon had been born (of course, given that Damon’s birth had been just a few hours ago, that wasn’t nearly as impressive a claim as the captain had likely intended it to be). So far Damon had refrained from asking why then couldn’t the captain have gotten a bigger ship, but only because the captain had otherwise held his interest with stories of the sea. Earlier in the morning, the captain had promised a particularly jarring story, and that explained the boy’s hurry now that he had finished his meal.

“Hey!” Damon said excitedly as he entered the cockpit. He sat down upon a chest and waited for the captain to have the opportunity to pay attention to him. The seas were quite tranquil that day, and having just stopped off in Falria for supplies, there was nothing that the Treatise had left to do but make its arrival in Lornius.

The captain grinned. He was an older man with a sparse white beard, poor teeth and a merry twinkle in his eye. With a smile the captain pulled out a small piece of sugar candy for the boy, one that Damon took gladly. “Sit down there sonny, an’ I’ll tell ye what I ‘erd ‘bout a man named Ren… Ren Nocal…”

Damon nodded eagerly, especially because he remembered the name. “He was the man that was killed back in Falria… right?”

“Yes…” the captain replied with a smile. “But ye don’t know what’s got the whole boat stirrin’ now do you? Why they’re even ready to miss the LCC just fer a chance at Nocal’s treasure.”

Almost immediately, the boy’s face fell. “I- I thought I was going to the LCC… I was going to be a champion and everything…”

The captain chuckled lightly. “Oh ye will,” he assured Damon. “Ye’ll be winnin’ the tourney and not even givin’ another thought back to Captain Locke ‘ere. We’re jus’ gonna be stoppin’ shortly at an islan’ over there… its where Ren Nocal buried ‘is treasure. Some of the men, they say they’ll miss the LCC for it, but mos’ of them are hopin’ than they can’t get the treasure and then leave.”

Damon nodded solemnly. For a moment, he was also tempted by the treasure. Even though he wasn’t sure exactly what treasure was, if it was better than the LCC, the boy was certain that he would enjoy it. “What treasure is there?”

Locke’s eyes lit up. “More than you can imagine, ‘nuff gold te fill up the pockets of ev’y man on this ship and then some… more weapons than a pirate ship’d have… they say he even had a sword with a mind of its own that kept him safe when he layed himself to sleep. A thief like Nocal can’t never be too careful… no sir.”

The idea of a sword with a mind of its own seemed fascinating to the boy. While he certainly wasn’t an experienced warrior, it didn’t take much more than simple observation to realize that Althanas was dominated by swords. A sword with a mind of its own would take care of a lot of Damon’s troubles and give him time to do more important things, like participate in the LCC.

“I’m going to get that sword,” the boy decided out loud.

The captain just laughed. “Sonny… they’ll be tougher men gunnin’ for it, if I were ye, I’d jus’ as soon leave well enough alone… Lornius is enough of a challenge for ye.”

Damon bit his lip there. He wanted to say that he was up to any challenge. After all, he’d managed to emerge victorious in the Citadel, with a battle to his credit. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing he couldn’t do. However, his time on the ship had showed him that everyone else seemed to doubt his qualifications. Biting his lip, Damon just sweltered under that injustice, figuring that he would prove them all wrong when he won the LCC.

Locke let release a few more hollow chuckles before turning his attention back to the steering wheel. They were approaching the island, and the old captain was beginning to grow increasingly interested in the prizes on the island. As far as he could see, there had been no other ship that had docked at this point. Not the Timaeus, nor Confessions, not even the Leviathan had arrived before the Treatise. The Leviathan could perhaps be excused, for despite its early start the ship was big and bulky and meant for longer journeys than a simple hop between islands. However, that they had beat both Timeaus and Confessions spoke well of the fortunes of those aboard the Treatise that day.

Naturally, Locke wanted to be one of the lucky ones.

However, had Locke been paying as close attention as Damon was, the captain would have noted the pair of big black eyes just looming above the water, and the sharp rise of a tremendous neck covered in sea green scales. Stuck in its teeth was the Timaeus’ flag.

“Look,” Damon said, his eyes wide open because he had never seen so ferocious of a creature before. The boy pointed out the creature to the captain, readily before the long serpentine creature seemed readily apparent to everyone on board the Treatise.

Locke just gulped. In the kind of irony that only dims on a man slightly before an impending death, the captain mumbled something about how he was no longer glad to have beaten the Leviathan to the island.

[Komosatuo]

Komosatuo sat with his legs crossed, arms draped limply across his knees, eyes staring blankly into the calm blue scape of ocean stretching endlessly before him. He had always wondered what it would be like to stare at an ocean, bask in its unimaginable wake of raw power. He had wondered what it tasted like too, but a dry and swollen tongue afterwards told him exactly why it was everyone had given him odd looks when he poked his finger past its surface and then touched it to his lips. He could still feel the burning taste of salt on his lips, even now three hours later; never before had he tasted so much salt without the dilution of a little food. He thought that by now he had probably seen all that the sea had offered him - it wasn't drinkable, and it certainly looked beautiful, but that was all, but something deep within his chest told him that something else waited beneath those rippling waves of blue. Something sinister, something powerful.

He pulled his eyes away from the blue, lest that power awaken and swallow him whole, and twisted to watch the three men behind him, loading a small skiff full of supplies. It had been easy to convince the three to join him, fueled by rumors and thoughts of treasure had already convinced them they wanted to go, but cold steel had told them that they were going to bring Komosatuo along for the ride, as well. He smiled as he watched the three strain themselves trying to roll a barrel that sounded like water, but was probably some liquor, into the skiff. They were all good muscle fellows, each looking to weigh in at close to two hundred and fifty pounds, but each was as dumb as or dumber than the other, and Komosatuo was sure that even a child of four could outwit the three of them if their brains had been combined as one. Good muscle; they were lucky he found them when he did, they would have all died the instant they stepped foot on this Island.

He let his gaze drift to a scrawny looking fellow, all wrinkled and frail appearing, wisps of his remaining hair bleached white with age floating in the wind and smiled inwardly a second time. This would be the old man he asked to help them guide their way to the Island. Komosatuo admitted, without great reluctance, that he didn't know tit from tat when it came to sailing and was glad that the man had so readily agreed to help them. It seemed that even the elderly of this port city were getting excited about the thought of treasure. It was almost heart breaking to think that men and women of such age, and wisdom, would heedlessly throw their lives on the line, for just a few coins.

Komosatuo laughed abruptly, causing everyone to start and stare at him, when a man like he laughed out of nowhere it usually meant something bad. They quickly returned to working and let Komosatuo laugh. He was laughing mainly because the irony of the situation had come to him, here he was, nearly middle age by everyone else's standards, and he too, was throwing his life on the line for a few gold coins that he might or might not ever see, or use for that matter. Here he was berating the elderly for doing the same exact thing he himself was doing. Perhaps it was the difference in age that made it so strange. He let his laughter fade away and stood.

"That will be quite enough ale Howard," he said in his clipped tones as he dropped himself down onto the deck - he had always wanted to call it a floor, but the old man corrected him every time he did. "Don't act surprised, I watched you steal a few from that cart on the way over here. No matter, we will have plenty to celebrate with when we strike rich." The big man turned from a wide-eyed child, lifting his hands defensively, to a beaming child who turned to hug the two men next to him. They smiled drunkenly, no doubt they had already raided that stash of ale, and returned the hugs in earnest. Komosatuo smiled and turned to the old man.

"Do you have a course plotted yet, old man?"

The old man jumped and spun on his heel, turning a startled gaze on Komosatuo. "Uhhh, well, Ummm." The man had a serious problem remembering things and always stuttered by pausing mid-sentence.

"Spit it out old man," Komosatuo said with an impatient edge to his voice. The man started again and straightened his coat, and his posture.

"Yes, I believe I have a course plotted. We can start in the morning."

Komosatuo barked a laugh and gestured behind him. "Can you not see the boat? We are ready now. Board and we will be off."

"But - but, what of the sails? There is no wind. We cannot move!"

Komosatuo bent to retrieve the long stick with a flat head that they called an oar, and held it up to the old man. "We will use these then, to push ourselves in the water. These three here will be more than eager to make way, seeing as they've been promised riches. Come now, board and we will be off."

The old man grumbled as he got onto the boat, something about sailing in the dark and reefs and Komosatuo caught his arm.

"I brought you along because you said you knew how to sail. I expect you to do as you say. We will sail until midnight, at which point we will drop weight and settle in. You're the guide, you find away around the reefs. We have lamps and plenty of oil. You need not fear the night."

He pushed the man away with a gentle shove and settled down at the front of the boat. He pulled his flute from its case next to his sword and pointed to one of the men.

"You will take first row. You will each row for one hour. This leaves you two hours rest while another rows. We will make good time if we keep a steady rhythm."

He settled a little more into his sitting position, then pointed toward the old man. "You will operate the rudder, seeing as you know the place that we are going."

One of the men, bless his eternal art at observing, spoke up. "What are you gonna do, 'sides play that flute?"

Komosatuo smiled. "Why, exactly that. Just remember that I'm the brains of this operation, and I'll see you all through to the end, so long as you listen and follow orders."

The man seemed content with that response and slouched down onto the floor, a stupid smile coming across his face. One of the men grunted and heaved against the dock, sending the small boat out into the harbor and Komosatuo sighed. They were off, and soon they would be at their destination. He reached over to feel the grapple and rope he had brought along; he had a feeling that these fools weren't going to provide him enough power to get all the way there, so he planned to latch onto one of the large boats. If it came to that, that is.

Content that they would get there, about the same time as everyone else, Komosatuo placed the flute against his lips and blew into it. His fingers moved methodically back and forth along the shaft, producing a soft gentle melody as the boat slide farther from the dock, its front slicing neatly through the blue waters.

[Arawn]

“Damn it all to the fiery pits of Haidia!” the vampire cursed under his breath. “I would have had a better taste if I had known.”

He was in a dangerous mood at the moment. Once the sun had set on the red-tinged horizon, Arawn had deliberately made a noise from within the captain’s quarters. As he willed and expected, the guard assigned to watch over that chamber of the ship soon came in to investigate, his entrance announced by the loud creaking of a wooden door. He was a human of great muscular structure clothed in leather and armed with a broadsword in his right hand. He held the weapon before him in the ill-lit room as he peered about looking for what had made the disturbance. Arawn quickly enveloped the doomed creature in a cloud of black mist. Seeing the man panic as he was plunged into sudden darkness, the vampire leapt forth with one of his trademark curved daggers and plunged the small blade into the man’s gut, utilizing his free left hand to cover the human’s mouth.

What had Arawn in a foul temper was that he had opted to throw the body overboard from the captain’s window after its heart had been stilled rather than feed on it and risk rousing suspicion with the blood that would doubtless spill. He had meant to eliminate the man only so he could leave the quarters unchallenged, believing there to be more apt prey on deck. All he had savored were what few drops of the precious crimson liquid had spilled onto the blade of his knife, which he licked at before joining the other passengers of the Leviathan. Unfortunately, though he had been right to suppose the ship was crowded enough so that no one person would be quickly missed, he hadn’t imagined the large vessel would be so filled that he was never in the presence of less than ten men at any one time. As things were, he was left to stare out into a dark sea beneath a blanket of sparkling stars and glowing moon, waiting for the voyage’s end among the other sea fairing folk; his cloak billowing softly in a warm sea breeze.

“What is that?” a man near his left side shouted with a finger thrust into the air ahead of him.

“It’s another ship!” said another as the murmuring in the crowd grew frantic.

Indeed, the vampire could now see from beneath the hood of his cloak that the Treatise had seemingly been first to approach the isle, quite suspicious considering the renowned speed of the Timaeus. He began to consider that perhaps the different groups of adventurers had already begun to war with each other when a gleam of the moon reflected of the scale of a massive aquatic creature and caught the undead being’s eye. The gargantuan serpent raised its long neck high above the Leviathan’s rival boat and exposed long rows of razor-sharp teeth. With lightning speed, it struck down and quickly had one of the ship’s crewmembers in its menacing jaws. Thrashing about wildly, the beast tore the poor human to shreds and drenched his comrades with his blood like so many drizzling drops of mist.

Suddenly, the vampire’s transport came to a halt. With all the passengers enthralled by the Treatise’s plight ahead of them, no one had noticed that their own vessel was too vast to attempt an approach to the island with the shallow reef around it. The captain shouted to all who would listen that they must take to the rowboats and soon everyone was scrambling to claim a spot upon one of the dozens of wooden crafts that lined the greater ship’s deck, each one able to hold roughly fifteen individuals. Arawn broke his staring contest with the ghastly spectacle of the water fiend to board a relatively empty rowboat with two metal-clad and well-armed humans and a few other brave souls. The reason for this one boat’s lack of passengers was that the two armored men had declared that they would be heading toward the sea monster to aide their fellow treasure-seekers. The vampire, however, was not concerned for the welfare of their fellows, but thought only of how the beast was spreading blood everywhere. His primal instincts were taking over as the smell reached them.

While nearly twenty rowboats attempted a congregated migration toward the island while avoiding the beast, Arawn’s chosen craft maneuvered straight for it. They would take a few minutes to make it to the protruding green neck now striking against the Treatise’s hull and sending several men overboard as it tipped to one side. With an almighty screech than cooled even the cloaked undead warrior’s blood, the beast lifted its head high once more and smashed down on the deck of the boat, finally destroying it and leaving nothing but planks and rigging flying everywhere as the crew took to the water in hopes of swimming to safety. As they did so, the serpent ate a few more of the men by submerging itself and rising from below them with open jaws. The vampire’s own craft was now close and they all rose in anticipation.

“Pull out what men you can from the water!” one of the passengers yelled.

“Let’s spill the brute’s blood!” growled one of the armor-clad men in search of retribution.

“My thoughts exactly,” Arawn considered inwardly for his own reasons as his hands tightened around the twenty-foot length of titanium spiked chain he kept looped at his waist. “Let’s spill it all.”

[INDK]

Damon was calm before the first shake. He didn’t know why the captain had pushed him off from the chest and pulled out a prevalida harpoon, nor did he have any idea why so many alleged great warriors were now screaming out on the deck like little girls. It was the sea monster, but the boy had never seen anything like it before.

“Quick,” Locke demanded. “Get yeself to safety, do som’in’ but just don’ stand there…”

Unsure what he should be afraid of, the boy did nothing but stare blankly at the captain until the boat began to shake. Then, Damon screamed for his life. Without a second’s hesitation, the boy headed straight out for the deck and jumped right into the ocean. He hadn’t thought to check whether the captain was behind him or not, but the fact was that either way, Damon wanted sanctuary as quickly as he could get it. Locke had followed behind, throwing the harpoon straight at the serpent’s eye before jumping into the water beside Damon.

“Com’on boy,” the captain said, as he grabbed onto Damon’s shoulder. There was another ship that had just arrived. It was considerably bigger and likely would be able to hold up better against the serpent. Locke had no illusions of rescuers coming to get them, he knew that he was looking at the Leviathan, another boat carrying cutthroat criminals just as ruthless as the warriors he had on board. However, at the moment, it was either swim for the Leviathan or drown.

Though there was a worse fate. The serpent, tired of merely knocking at the boat, now wanted to eat the tasty morsels that it had knocked into the sea. While a few of the warriors that were nervous around water had been too scared to jump into the water and remained on the boat, the vast majority of the Treatise’s passengers were now into the water and fine for the picking of the greedy serpent. One by one, like it was plucking apples from a garden, the serpent dipped its scaly neck into the water and gobbled up the men who were now floundering at sea.

“Don’ worry,” Locke said to Damon, as the boy paddled along side the captain desperately. “I’d be too cunnin’ te end up livin’ fer this long.”

It was after those words that the serpent had bent down straight towards him, and gobbled up Locke in one fell swoop. Damon, very near, found himself staring right at the serpent’s eye, finding it to be black and uniform much like his own. The boy stuttered, barely treading water before he ducked underneath so as to avoid detection. Blood and guts spilled out from the serpent’s mouth, and Damon tried hard not to think of where they must have come from.

Damon had liked the captain a great deal, and the naïve boy now had no idea what had become of him. The boy had yet to experience death, though every instinct in his body told him that he would have to get to the Leviathan. It was what Locke had said, and now Damon was going to obey him. Terrified as to what would have happened, the boy tried to fight off a sinking feeling that he would never see the captain again, even though gut told him that the chances of a reunion were null.

The boy eventually made his way to one of the rowboats that had descended out from the Leviathan. Though Damon wasn’t sure why, it seemed like people were abandoning the bigger ship too.

“Please let me on…” he said, his dark black eyes wide with earnestness. Damon’s now pleaded with a tall elven warrior, one whose skin was pure white. “I don’t want to end up in the serpent’s mouth.”

(Tyler, feel free to bunny to get Damon into the boat)

[Komosatuo]

Komosatuo had long since abandoned playing his flute, it had lost its effect when one of the three men had fallen asleep. He had clocked the man squarely on the top of his head with the flute, startling him almost to the point of going overboard, and the other three got a good laugh when Komosatuo pointed out that it had been a hollow thunk, instead of a solid one. He really should have let the man sleep, they - or rather he really couldn't afford to have slack arms and dull minds once they reached the Island. Besides, almost a half hour after Komosatuo had woken the man, the wind picked up and they were able to drop their sail. This allowed for faster traveling and he should have let the men rest, but he instead placed them on a thirty-minute rotating shift instead of an hour, the extra push from the oars further increased their speed. The old man estimated their arrival at four hours, instead of the original five.

Komosatuo, content with the old mans estimation, settled in to watch the water slice neatly around the front of the ship, a bow they called it. Didn't look anything like any bow he had seen, but he took their word for it. He, being from an inland village, had never been around boats or water very often, so he was still new to the concept. Watching the water also seemed to pass time and before he knew it, it was already two hours past dusk and the water had long since turned black beneath his gaze. He blinked as he turned to gaze out across the now ink-colored surface of the ocean and then he blinked again when something about four miles away caught his attention.

It was a snake. A very large snake, to look as large as it did from this distance. And it was attacking something with tiny white squares. Another ship perhaps? Komosatuo had seen something similar to it back at the docks, but why was this one being attacked? His question was answered when one of the men spoke up.

"Look like ole Bessy's up to her no-good tricks."

Komosatuo turned and stared blankly at the man. "Bessy?"

The man nodded and pointed toward the ship and the snake. "Yeah, Bessy. I've heard rumors 'bout her, floating 'round these parts. Devouring any ship that comes to close. Ya'know, basic predator instincts along with the whole territorial get up."

Komosatuo nodded absently and turned his gaze back to the snake. "Uh-huh. And how do you know it's a she?"

The man blinked when Komosatuo confronted him with the question and scratched the underside of his chin. "Well, come to think of it, I really don't know whether she's a guy or a girl."

"It," Komosatuo corrected.

"Huh?"

"It. If you don't know what sexual preference it is, it's an it."

"Oh, right." The man was obviously confused by Komosatuo's choice of words but he let it slide. He continued to study the beast and the ship it was attacking, speaking absently to himself.

"If it's attacking that ship, then perhaps the men aboard are too busy fighting to notice . . . if they're too busy fighting . . . " Komosatuo perked up and spun on his rear to face the three. They were just switching out and he pointed to the one he had just spoken too.

"You, help him row. Change of plans. We need to go as fast as we can."

The one began to grumble but Komosatuo reinforced the point with the end of his flute against the mans head.

"If they're too busy trying to fight and run from that beast, they'll be too busy to notice us sliding in from behind. Now row."

He pointed toward the old man. "You, will we be affected by the reefs you keep speaking of?"

The man spluttered and gestured toward the boat. "Well, she has a small keel and she's pretty light. So, I don't think we might."

"Good, because I want us on the straightest course possible, right for that island."

He then pointed toward the remaining man he hadn't spoken too. "Howard, in exactly thirty minutes you and I will switch out with these two and give them a rest. We need to make good time so I expect you to be good and ready for a long powerful haul."

The man nodded and began to work the muscles in his arms loose. Komosatuo spun and considered the distance between his small ship and the island, as well as the distance between him and that other ship. They were still far from it but there was not telling how fast that snake, Bessy, could travel in water. They had to move fast, or they were dead last, and dead men.

"Aiya na y kama sayessa."

"What was that?"

"Nothing, keep rowing."

The small craft that Komosatuo and his small band of adventurers, slipped silently through the black waters and drew ever closer to the Island, and whatever treasures - or traps, waited for them there.

[Izvilvin]

Izvilvin was still staring contently at the sea when the sun descended. The island was getting bigger and bigger to him, and the Drow imagined it couldn't take any longer than another hour or two to arrive. The ship had become calmer as mercenaries napped, in preparation for the long treasure hunt that lay ahead. Izvilvin couldn't nap, though, not in the presence of so many.

Suddenly there was a commotion. People on board were yelling and moving about. In his unfocused examination of what lay ahead, Izvilvin hadn't caught sight of the ship nearby, which was just outside of his peripheral vision. He turned to watch those on deck scramble toward one side, and following their collective gaze, he finally saw the serpent. It was huge and imposing, the very figure that sailors feared seeing in the night. Its scales gleamed eerily in the moonlight as it assaulted the other boat.

The warriors onboard Leviathan were climbing into rowboats, descending quickly to the water and rowing madly for shore. The Drow figured they were trying to get to shore while the serpent was distracted, and get an edge up on everyone who was lagging behind. It was a good idea.

One rowboat was hardly occupied. Seconds before it descended, Izvilvin hopped in and took a seat across from an incredibly tall, strangely white warrior, built almost like the statues of Jya's Keep. Izvilvin deliberately kept his eyes on the serpent as they set out. Unfortunately for him, the boat he was on didn't follow the others, but made straight for the serpent, which now had a harpoon protruding from one eye.

They got closer and closer, and though he had no desire to fight the beast, the Drow was also not ambitious enough to leap ship and try to swim his way to shore. It was becoming more and more obvious that fighting was the only option. So be it.

"Usstan orn inbau usstan elggen yallt,"* he muttered, drawing his sai as they neared the remains of the other ship, the Treatise. He leapt from the rowboat to a floating piece of the deck, balancing awkwardly as he made his way across it to jump to a long stretch of the ship's lining. From there he ran along two large chunks of wood that supported his weight, and then finally leapt onto a floating chest right in front of the beast.

Jumping with all his might, Izvilvin managed to make it to the beast's neck, stabbing both sai into the tough scales and holding himself above the water. The creature dropped what it was doing and snapped down at the Drow, but he was moving quickly to the back of its neck, using the sai to climb his way upward.

A mighty roar erupted, and the sea creature thrashed violently. Izvilvin hooked one of the prongs of one sai downward under the scales, using the beast's own tough skin to hold himself up. As the creature stopped he climbed another few feet until he was half-running, half climbing on top of the thing's round head.

Tucking both sai back into his belt, Izvilvin prepared himself to drive his knife right down into the front of the sea monster's head, forcefully enough to drive right into its brain. A sudden movement from the creature sent him toppling forward however, right toward its waiting mouth. Desperately the Drow reached out, grabbing the handle of the harpoon, dangling only a few feet from the gaping maw.

He kept his composure as best as he could, considering that death was inches away. With a determined focus, Izvilvin threw his dagger into the creature's other eye. The roar was deafening to the Drow, and the force of the air behind it nearly pushed him off. The creature thrashed desperately now, tearing the harpoon from its eye and sending Izvilvin flailing through the air to plummet into the water.

*I will get myself killed today.

[Arawn]

“Grab him already,” someone said from behind Arawn.

This prompted the white-skinned warrior to let go of his chain with his right hand and lift the soaked youth into the boat. He did so with a snarl, knowing the only reason he was doing such a thing was because he didn’t want the other passengers to turn on him just yet. For a moment, their black eyes met and he felt a strange sense of remembrance, though he was quite certain he had never known the youth. A quick attempt to recover the memories of his body’s original soul bore no recollection of ever meeting the boy either. Setting him down like a sack of wet clothes, which for a good part he was, the vampire brushed off the feeling and returned his attention to the matter at hand. He barely made out a drow jumping from their boat and puncturing the remaining eye of the beast with the monster thrashing madly about, waves swelling in every direction.

“Get closer!” Arawn shouted as the monster screeched and his attacker fell into the water with a splash.

Spurred further by the blinding of the creature, the humans rowed determinately forward. With the wreckage of the Treatise all around them, including a few bits and parts of human debris, the rowboat’s adventurers were now focused more on the immediate threat of the giant serpent rather than making out which of the floating bodies still had life among the waves. As they came within throwing distance of the beast, the vampire began swinging the end of his chain with a sharp blade attached to it in circular arcs, preparing to throw. The other warriors started hurling large spears and swords, most of which glanced off the snake’s scales. These mainly succeeded in drawing its attention, along with the shouting from aboard the craft. As the mammoth reptile turned to them with bleeding sockets and a gaping mouth, the cloaked warrior finally released his bladed spiked chain, sending it flying toward the open mouth.

“No…” was the only thing the vampire had time to groan.

By reflex, the serpent snapped its jaws shut the moment it felt something brush against its sharp teeth, jamming the blade at the end of the nosferatu’s chain into the roof of its mouth. That was one injury too many for it and the snake yanked and flailed about in pain, sending Arawn flying upward as he grasped the end of the cruel device. He rose upward with the speed of a cracking whip, becoming instantly detached from the chaotic scene of waves, warriors and serpents. For a single moment, he reached the peak of his ascent where gravity seemed to stop working and he glimpsed the island well for the first time while still clutching the chain linking him to the snake, wind rushing about him.

The land mass had a shore of white sand all along its coast. Soon after the sand there began a lush green tropical forest so dense that any and all natural landmarks that Arawn might have glanced to aid him in his quest were camouflaged in a span of seemingly endless leafy canopy glinting in the moonlight. Toward the center of the isle, there was a rise in the tree-covered terrain and what appeared to be a stone stronghold covered in greenery at the top of the hill. Some of the woods were cleared around the construct, making it stand out quite a bit from the vampire’s vantage point. If Ren Nocal’s treasure was to be hidden anywhere on the island, that was the most likely spot. Arawn now had a slight advantage over the others. The white warrior had less than a second to register all this before the chain he was holding was pull taught and he slingshot back to the setting below.

As the men aboard the rowboat continued to assail the giant serpent, Arawn landed on the back of its neck, or near equivalent for a humanoid, and grabbed hard at its tough scales for handholds, releasing his chain. The sea monster was now mad with pain and blinded as well. Enraged, it lowered its head and swam in a random direction away from the rowboat. It began to scrape its belly along the island’s protective reefs and kept swimming, curving its great body as it cut through the water and Arawn held on for dear life. It was picking up speed and blindly trying to end the agony. With one last serpentine coiling and uncoiling of its body, it smashed its head against the island’s sandy coast, which it hadn’t perceived, and crushed its own skull with a deafening crack that split the air. Arawn flew from his perch and tumbled in the white sand for several yards before coming to a standstill, collapsed.

“How ironic,” he moaned as he felt his blood trickling from a thousand wounds the glass-like sand had opened on his white skin and considered how he had wanted to spill the snake’s own scarlet liquid. “I must remember to recover my chain from its teeth,” he pondered as an afterthought as he lay in the sand, hardly cogent and greatly bruised.

[INDK]

Soaking wet, Damon didn’t say anything when he first appeared into the boat. He was very confused, confused because of everything that had happened earlier, but by no means was he upset. Normally, the death of a friend, even a friend known for only a few days, would be enough to send a boy into tears. However, Damon didn’t yet understand death, though he was considerably agitated as to why Locke hadn’t climbed out of the serpent’s mouth and come to join him in the boat.

However, Damon found it even more frightening that the boat was now turning to face the serpent. Cowering, the boy looked on as the muscular man who had dragged him out of the water prepared to fight. The pale man seemed to have more confidence than anyone else Damon had ever seen. Not only was this stranger fighting the serpent, but there seemed to be an eagerness to jump onto the creature’s back. Wide eyed, Damon looked on as his rescuer left the boat being carried from a chain, just so that the battle between beast and man could be held in closer quarters. Mouth agape and wide eyed, Damon wondered if the pale man was completely impervious to pain.

The boy’s amazement was quickly interrupted by a few others on the rowboat. “He-uh,” one of them grunted, handing Damon a rather large harpoon. “Throw when you see the blood seeping out of the bastahds poahs.”

Damon nodded and accepted the weapon, his thought process too erratic and diverged for him to really ask any questions or admit that he had never thrown a harpoon before. He’d seen Locke do it, so the boy was fairly sure he knew what he was supposed to do, but there was no guarantee that he’d get it right. Deciding to wait for when the others all threw theirs, the boy bit his lip and paid careful attention to his surroundings, perhaps even more to his fellow boatmates than he did to the sea serpent.

After all, since they had rescued him from the sea, Damon knew that he couldn’t afford to make any of them angry.

Eventually, by courage or by currents, the row boat had grown so close to the serpent that Damon was just a body length’s away from reaching out and touching the monster’s scaly underbelly. Sea water and blood dripping off of the serpent now feel onto the rowboat like rain, and Damon figured it was either now or never to throw the harpoon. Everyone else had already thrown theirs, and the boy didn’t want to look like he wasn’t willing to contribute.

The boy threw it hard and upwards, right towards the serpent’s bleeding eyes. He missed, badly, instead hitting the serpent's underbelly, but not in a particularly sensitive position. No one particularly blamed the boy for his poor shot though, many of the rest of them had missed with the serpent convulsing so erratically. It was only the brave man who had been willing to climb onto the serpent's back who was succeeding at what all in the rowboat had failed to do. Destroying the serpent. Blood began to flow from the serpent's many wounds like water from a tap, the creature's eyes spewing blood as if it was crying profusely. Damon couldn't help but to feel a bit sorry for the beast, as it writhed and convulsed in pain before crashing down onto the beach.

Everyone in the rowboat began to cheer.

“We're all done, son!” said the man who had given Damon the harpoon said with a smile. With the creature having been fallen, the people in the rowboat all let out a victory cheer. They congratulated each other, even though most of the work had been done by the pale skinned vampire. It was only Damon who seemed to be concerned about the fate of the pale tall warrior who had been brave enough to climb onto the back of the serpent’s head. After all, Locke had come near the serpent's head and Damon hadn't seen him since. The boy knew he was going to have to check up on the two of them once the boat made it to land.

The warm feeling of mutual victory soon faded. As the boat now began to head for the shore, the attitudes upon the little rowboat also began to change. The fear of death that had come from the serpent had rendered all the treasure seekers, ne’er do wells and rogues as kin for a few brief moments. Now, with their common threat eliminated, every one of them wondered which one of them was going to turn on the others first. Damon could sense the tension, and he gulped insecurely, wondering what had happened to the solidarity he had witnessed just a few minutes ago. No one paid him much attention, for a soaking wet boy seemingly of fifteen hardly represented a threat to any of them. However, Damon couldn’t help but wonder if a few of the hostile eyes that were roving around the boat were going to end up being directed towards him.

By the time the boat reached shore, there had yet to be blood shed among its passengers, but now that they were on the island, it was only a matter of time.

[Komosatuo]

Komosatuo sat perched on the front most tip of the boat, watching through squinted eyelids, as the battle between the snake and the crew of the unlucky ship, unfolded before him. His small craft, light and maneuverable as it was, caught an excellent draft from the rear - he was guessing that was east, he had gotten turned around during the night - and was now making superb time towards the island. It was now only a matter of minutes before he and his men set foot on the island, and set out for the treasures that awaited them. For now however, Komosatuo concentrated on the snake and the unlucky crew and passengers of that ship.

He could barely make out the tiny figures flailing and squirming about in craft possibly twice his own crafts size, but he could clearly make out the snake and judge from its movements, what was probably happening. At first it was confident that this was going to be an easy kill, simply by the way it snapped its jaws in close to the edge of the water near the boats told Komosatuo this; it thought it had an easy kill. After a few minutes though its plan of attack changed from all out, to a more tactical and subtle approach. This motion was spearheaded when Komosatuo saw that a single brave sole had scaled the beasts head and had attempted to stab it in the head. The beast flailed wildly about when this happened, throwing the brave sole from its skin to land with a silent splash in the black water of the ocean. Komosatuo noticed then that the boats of survivors were now closing in, taking advantage of this brief respite in the snakes attack, and Komosatuo caught glimmers of steel flashing in the moonlight as they inexpertly threw harpoons at the beast. Another brave sole scaled the beasts back and the five people in the boat gave a ragged cheer when the beast suddenly roared, snapping left and right and then unceremoniously slammed itself into the Island. There was a monestrous crack as its skull smashed itself to pieces when it hit and Komosatuo could see the man who had ridden it, flung from his post atop the things head, land solidly and roll a few yards away, only to collapse in a heap of flesh on the white beach.

Komosatuo, noticing that things in the small boats were beginning to calm down, turned to his four and gestured for them to speed up. They grunted as they exerted themselves, beads of sweat forming on their heads and running down to land on the deck of the boat with small pit-pats. If they hadn't been surrounded by water, Komosatuo would have confused the sound with a soft rain. Someone tapped him on the shoulder and his moved his eyes to see who it was. It was the third big man, a grin across his face.

"Our turn," was all he said.

Komosatuo nodded and moved to the man next to him. He gestured for him to move and he did, a look of gratefulness coming across his face. He then silently pointed the other man to the back, telling them to both rest for a while. Then he grabbed a hold of the still swinging oar and smiled over at the man now next to him. The man didn't see his smile, only his eyes, and he grinned nervously back.

"Keep up," was all Komosatuo said before launching himself into the task of rowing. Even as the first down stroke was just hitting the water Komosatuo was lost to the world. He was instead deep within his mind, channeling all his Lykn into one sole portion of his body. His mouth opened slightly and his lips began to form a whispered chant on their tips.

"Jyi Na."

The oars tip hit the water and Komosatuo pulled; the boat shuddered as it speed foward. He could hear the grunting of the man next to him; he lifted the oar, brought it forward and slammed it down into the water.

"Jyi Na."

Again and again he repeated the process. Pulling the oar through the water, lifting it, pushing it forward, slamming it into the water and pulling it through once again. The boat shuddered more violently as Komosatuo worked the oar; he barely noticed the other two men grab hold of the others oar and begin to assist him in his task. His eyes were lost in the sea of his mind. The oar slammed once again into the water and the small ship sped towards the Island.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He had no recollection of time; no idea if it had been one minute, or one hour. All he had known was the oar in his hands and the shudder of the boat as he worked it in the water. He hardly noticed the hand gripping his shoulder, shaking him, trying to wake him. Komosatuo groaned and twisted his head, readying his mouth to ream into the man who had distrubed him when a slap caught him full across the face.

The world caming crashing home in that instant, the instant the hand first brushed against his skin, to the second the stining impact of the hand leaving his face first second in. He had been rowing, none stop, toward the Island. So much in fact, that the other two men had to help the first with his oar; even then, they could barely keep up. Only one man had his eye on the Island, and he didn't look up in time to yell at them to stop. The boat hit the sandy beach at full speed, sending both men and supplies flying into the air to land jumbled together in a messy pile of flesh, blood, wood, food and drink. Komosatuo was the only one not flung from the boat, and only because he still gripped the oar in a death grip.

Air rushed back into his lungs - he must have been knocked unconscious and fainted - and he sat up to stare numbly into the night sky. One of the three men was crouched in front of him, a look of great relief flooding his face. Komosatuo ignored the man for the moment and rolled to stare out at the beach, at the now empty boats of the survivors and the still body of the serpant. There was no one but the big man in sight. He rolled back over and sat up. He instantly regretted the decision, his back hurt like hell and he gasped and nearly fell backwards again but the steady hands of the other man held him upright.

"Glad to see you're alive, I thought I was the only one."

Komosatuo coughed and tried to form words on his mouth, demanding what had happened to the others, but only a struggled gasp came from his mouth.

"Come on," the big man said as he lifted Komosatuo to his feet, carful not to let the full weight of his body onto his legs. He then seemed to read his mind and answered his unspoken question. "The other two are dead and the old man is close to it. He helped me get better and he'll help you, if I can get you to him in time."

Komosatuo rolled his head toward the man in confusion but answered only with a grunt. A quick study of his body told him that he had broken both his wrists, both his arms, that his shoulders were dislocated from their sockets and that his rib-cage was in pretty bad shape. His legs were fine but he knew that if he put his full weight upon them, his entire chest would seize and he would most likely suffocate himself.

The old man wasn't far from where he was lying and on the way down from the boat he noticed that its entire underside had been sheared clean off half-way down the length of the boat. Leaving for the two of them a nice easy going ramp, one that Komosatuo was grateful to have. He also noticed that most of their supplies were missing, probably looted by the survivors when they saw his boat crash. He shook his head in dismay at such a thought and let himself be led down the ramp. Once he reached the bottom however he stopped himself dead and groaned. The man beside him paused and asked him what was wrong.

"....weapons...." Komosatuo replied weakly.

The man glanced over his person and shrugged. "Looks like you still have most of yours. Those dead bodies aren't from those other two."

Komosatuo raised a questioning eyebrow and the man laughed.

"I guess I forgot to fill in the blanks. We all survived the crash, you were knocked out almost instantly, but it was the raid by the other guys that we nearly died from. Those other two took two swords to the chest apiece, but not after they dispatched eight of their own into other mens chests." The man beamed when he said this and Komosatuo nodded.

".....good.....job..."

The man nodded and then helped him start walking again. He continued to talk as they did.

"Learned something crazy in the crash too. Seems that old man, is some sort of healer of sorts. Kept most of us alive long enough to see those dead men dead over there. Poor souls didn't know what hit them."

Komosatuo laughed with a gasping wheeze and the two of them moved to the right side of the ship, which was surprisingly, less damaged. There were also a about a dozen bodies strewn in the sand, blood staining the white sand as it ran slowly towards the ocean. He saw the two bodies of the men he had come in with, two swords a piece jutting from their chests. Komosatuo hung his head in silence in honor of the two, they died defending their lives and their comrades. Komosatuo was silently led away from the small battle and was brought before the bleeding body of the old man. Komosatuo gasped painfully as he was set down before the old man and he twitched involuntarily when the man placed his hands on his chest.

"Lie still," was all the old man said before closing his eyes. There was a soft hum in the air and Komosatuo wondered what it was the man was doing exactly, then the pain hit him. It was like a thousand needles stabbing directly into his eye, only, it wasn't his eye, it was individual pieces of flesh throughout his entire body, the size of eyes, that felt as if they were being pierced by a thousand needles. He tried to scream but it only came out as a ragged gasp and he could feel his back arching itself up off the ground. His arms, which had hung limply at his side this entire time, now flailed about uncontrollably. He could feel his arms shifting themselves back into their sockets, he even heard them pop back in. There was a steady crackling sounds as his ribs realigned themselves and grew back together. The whole ordeal lasted a matter of seconds, but to him, it felt a life time.

The old man finished with a billowing sigh and slumped back against the boat, his face pale with the loss of blood and his body limp because of it. The old man was surely finished and would probably die soon, but he surprised both Komosatuo and the other man by lifting his head and smiling.

"You two should get some rest, it's going to be a big day tomorrow."

Then, without another word, the man slouched over and died. Komosatuo lay still for a moment, staring at the dead body and then shifted his gaze out to the ocean. He could see the moon and thousands of tiny pinpoints of lights reflecting of its surface and then he smiled. He sat up, tried to anyway, his muscles didn't seem to want to work. He instead shifted to lay on his side and gaze up the beach. The other man was sitting next to him, staring in the same direction.

Komosatuo broke the momentary silence with a sigh. The other man looked back at him and smiled. Komosatuo returned the smile, but the man didn't see it. He then propped himself slowly up onto his left elbow and nodded towards the dead bodies.

"Think they'll come back?"

The man glanced out at the bodies then shook his head. "No, I'm thinking they're done for the night, much as we are."

Komosatuo chuckled and let himself flop back down onto his back. He then extended a hand weakly towards the man.

"Name's Komosatuo."

The man looked at the hand for a moment before clasping it tightly in his own.

"Name's Kyan. Nice to be acquainted with you Komosatuo."

Komosatuo chuckled and nodded. "Yeah, pleasure's all mine. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need a little rest."

Kyan nodded and released his hand. "I'll take first watch then. You had it worse than all of us. I only came out with a few scratches and a bruise. You rest up, and I'll see you when it's your turn."

Komosatuo nodded and then closed his eyes as sleep rolled over him almost instantly.

[Izvilvin]

Izvilvin couldn't hope to hold on to the valuable harpoon as he hit the water. The concussive impact was so strong his head snapped forward and all sense was knocked from his head. He lost his breath even before he began to sink down into the blue, losing his bearings as the riptide from the sea serpent's movement pulled him. He had never been underwater before, save for in Alerar's hot springs on those cool nights, when he'd drunk his head under just long enough to wet his hair.

That all felt so far away and distant now, as the Drow struggled to get 'up', wherever that was. He thrashed about as his need for air increased. He fought valiantly against the urge to gulp up the water, as one instinctively did when they were drowning. He felt himself losing strength.

But luck was on his side, or maybe it was just the sea taking pity on him. Izvilvin regained consciousness on the shore of the island, opening his eyes slowly to abruptly be reminded of the smell of the sea. The sand was rough against his face, but it was so, so refreshing warm even in the night. His clothes and hair were soaked, but as he pushed himself up to his feet, he was thankful to be alive.

He looked about. There were footprints everywhere, but no sign of anyone in the immediate area. How long had he been out? He checked himself; his sai were still on him, and there was no sign of bodily harm. His limbs were heavy and his body was sluggish, exhausted, but no permanent damage.

So Izvilvin set off into the forest, along an established path. The going was easy at first, though the Drow was forced to endure seeing several sprung traps and their victims. The first was primitive, a row of spikes along a plank of wood, sprung by a tripped string or rope. The human victim, slammed against a nearby tree with the trap still embedded in him, was foolish not to spot it.

The next was a scorched body lying right in the center of the path. A quick scan of the area didn't reveal how it had happened, which made the Drow rather nervous. Carefully he explored, either everyone else who'd taken the path had seen the trap sprung and knew how to avoid suffering the same fate, or it was a one-time deal. Izvilvin didn't really want to find out if it wasn't.

So he found the trap hidden in a tree. It was a spout, almost like the taps a barkeep would use to siphon beer from a large supply in a modern tavern. It was dangerously advanced, even frighteningly so, and Izvilvin would be sure not to rush his way through the forest any longer.

He walked a while more until he came to a fork in the road, dividing the one path into three. It made the prospect of getting to the orb even more difficult and complicated. Izvilvin chose the right path, and slowly made his way down it.

He had barely survived the serpent incident, and now there was a trap-riddled island to get through. Izvilvin's membership in Step was becoming more and more difficult to endure...

[Arawn]

“You’re insane, ya know tha’?” a gruff voice said with a guffaw. “Tha’ monster coulda used ya to pick its teeth!”

Someone’s face was staring down at Arawn as he lay on the beach, a dark silhouette before a blanket of stars. The vampire pushed the man aside as he got up and brushed himself off. He had been lying on the sand for a few minutes in a daze, allowing time for his regenerative powers to seal the small scrapes he had been coated in from his unplanned and harsh landing on the island. They were superficial and little if any evidence was left of them now on his white skin. The blood that had leaked from them was still there, however, making him seem much more harmed than he actually was, a figure doused in crimson. He wiped a section of his left forearm and saw streaks of red replace the droplets. His leather shirt, too, was torn and ragged. With the exception of his reinforced boots and sturdy cloak, his entire form was much the worse for wear from the tussle with the snake.

“Ya look like shit,” came the voice again as the human stared.

“And you are clearly a great master of all things self-evident,” Arawn retorted derisively as he stretched his aching muscles.

Ignoring the man for the moment, the vampire looked about. His slide into semi-consciousness had given the rowboats from the Leviathan just enough time to reach the shore. All along the white coast, scuffles were breaking out as momentary alliances were broken and backs were stabbed. Some of the lifeboats actually emptied peacefully enough, the passengers keeping in a tight group and venturing into the forest of the island together. Most of the crafts’ crews, however, met the sand with half of their members’ blood already staining the wood. There weren’t many among these adventurers that could be trusted. It was as Arawn had expected would happen. It was in the nature of the living to feel threatened and it was far easier for them to cope by eliminating the possible threats than by having faith in those with similar goals and safety in numbers. As the vampire turned to the beached portion of the giant snake, he noticed something wrong.

“They took your chain,” the persistent human blurted as he followed the white warrior’s gaze, pointing in the other direction to the forest.

“Who did?” Arawn spat.

“Three big chaps tha’ went into the woods there.” After a pause, he added, “Didn’ much like the look o’ them, myself.”

“And why, pray, didn’t they take my life with it?” Arawn thought it improbable that they could take the chain and miss his downed body with more weapons nearby.

“I scared them off,” the human said, beaming and raising his weapon. “I didn’ think ya oughta not be given a fightin’ chance jus’ cuz ya wanted to help them other folks. Didn’ seem right.”

At this, the vampire gave his full attention to the human. He was a rather round man of not much height, probably incapable of much physical exertion. The grey of his beard and baldness of his head disclosed that he was getting on in his short lifespan. The weapon he had raised so proudly before was nothing more than a heavy section of wood he was now leaning on as a cane. One could venture that he had only come to the island in search of some adventure that had been so greatly lacking from his days. All in all, he was not very intimidating and the vampire thought it more likely that those who took his chain took pity on such a sight as he defending a fallen and bruised warrior than that they actually feared him. The sad pair mustn’t have seemed a great menace to their plans, so they satisfied themselves with a plundered weapon of titanium.

“I’m thankful,” Arawn managed.

“It was my pleasure,” the human said, sarcasm clearly beyond his scope of understanding. “The name’s Korin; Korin Summersfeld.”

“I’m Gren Noctis,” Arawn lied. No man yet knew his name and this ineffectual delegate of the species wouldn’t be the first.

“Well, Gren, I think we should stick together. Not much folks is gonna stay alive without at least a partner in this race.”

“That’s very astute of you,” the vampire said with a smile as a thought came to him. “Let’s head out.”

The pair quickly began their trek into the forested island along with dozens of others on the coast, staying apart and to themselves. After several unhindered minutes of walking, they seemed alone enough in the thick brush and dense foliage for the vampyr’s purposes. While Korin was ambling ahead of him at a maddeningly slow pace, Arawn pounced from behind and drove his long fangs into the right side of his aged neck. A startled gasp escaped the portly human’s lips as the vampire sucked mightily, willing the blood to flow out in great surges from the artery he had been fortunate to strike. Korin made no other sound as his elderly bulk was quickly drained, Arawn’s eyes rolling back in ecstasy. It had been a while since he had fed properly and the blood he shed on the beach had left him weak. Now, as he held Korin’s limp body in his arms and drank vigorously, he sensed his strength returning and felt slightly giddy from the act.

“It’s shocking his extraordinary powers of deduction didn’t see this coming!” Arawn thought humorously.

[INDK]

It hadn’t taken long for the passengers to make an exit off the boat. Damon was one of the last, having been pushed and shoved for leverage by people far more greedy than he. The boy was just confused, though now he had a sore shoulder to boot. What had happened to Locke was bad enough, but the boy also feared for the tall white skinned man who had been nice enough to help him into the boat. Guiltily, the boy couldn’t help but wonder if it wasn’t a case where everyone who was nice to him wouldn’t disappear soon after. As all the treasure seekers headed off into the forest to try their luck, Damon began to make his way over towards the sea serpent that had washed up on the shore.

The boy was tentative, because he didn’t know that the creature was dead. The fact that the serpent wasn’t moving made Damon believe that the creature had fallen asleep. Thus, Damon moved forward cautiously, hoping that the screams that had begun to emanate from the forest wouldn’t be enough to wake up the sleeping beast.

Eventually, he was but a few steps from the dead carcass. “Locke?” he ventured tentatively, hoping that the captain might climb out of the serpent’s body now that the creature was asleep. Getting no answer, the boy asked again. “Locke?” Soon, he was getting impatient. “Come out NOW!” he demanded, his hands clenched in a childlike fury as he was seconds away from a temper tantrum. He wanted the captain with him, the island was confusing and scary and in the distance Damon could hear the cries of people shouting in pain. He didn’t know what was happening to them, but it scared the boy none the less.

“Locke! Come out! I need you,” Damon pleaded, completely forgetting about the fact that he wasn’t supposed to wake the serpent. The tall warrior was no where to be seen either. Frustrated, he began to kick the creature petulantly, doing very little to move the heavy beast. While there was no way of knowing for certain, the feeling in the back of Damon’s mind that Locke was gone from him forever seemed more and more likely.

However, Damon was yet to give up hope. He had no where else to go, so he sat down at the shore, cross legged and with his hands folded over his chest. If Locke wasn’t going to come immediately, Damon was going to wait for him. Soon, the scavengers arrived, first small nocturnal mammals that were tempted to venture out towarsd the sea just because such a good meal had arrived. Soon, they were followed by a large bird of prey looking for something to eat tonight. The serpent was acceptable for a meal, but the fact was live food always tasted better than a dead serpent. When it found a boy that would fit easily in one of its talons sitting motionlessly, the huge bird could barely help but to snatch up Damon into its talon.

The boy screamed in shock, his eyes open wide and entire body paralyzed with fear. “What… but… I… what???” he stammered, sweat beginning to pour profusely off his face as he rose farther and farther from the ground. He tried to struggle a bit, but the giant bird was far too strong. It was to no avail anyways, the higher they rose up into the air, the farther the fall would be for Damon if the bird was to let go. They now were rising above the trees, and Damon had no idea where they were going.

[Izvilvin]

The going was slow now, as Izvilvin was on the watch for well-hidden traps. Judging by how quickly one could get killed in these woods, the Drow had learned not to take these traps lightly. Already two bodies had been found, one completely irrecognizable due to the severity of its burns, and one nailed to a tree. Each step was followed by a slow, deliberate scan of the area, a search for a wire, and an inspection of nearby trees. It was slow, but safe.

Finally he came to a place in the road where he could see someone in the distance, moving at about the same pace as him. Considering the area between himself and the man ahead safe, Izvilvin walked quickly over. The man, a human somewhere between adulthood and elderly, with leathery skin and thick black hair, turned to look at the Drow as he approached. Normally a human would be intimidated or shocked at his appearance, but the man simply continued on his pace.

Without a word (as if one would have helped), Izvilvin stayed by his side as they carried on their snail pace. They both stopped a few moments later, as they came across a spiderweb like series of wires that blocked the way. Izvilvin didn't understand the concept at first, until the human threw a rock into the thing. As the rock hit a thread, the web somehow came together and tightened around it, squeezing the tiny rock that Izvilvin had assumed would just pass on through.

The man grabbed his arm and pulled him under the web, which had left them an opening. As they passed it, the web opened up and went back to its original shape. Izvilvin looked back at the trap and let his eyes fall over it, learning the trap for any future time he'd see one. He patted the human on the back and they were on their way.

A bird flew overhead, carrying a screaming child of some sort. The sight shocked Izvilvin; it seemed even the young were not spared on this nefarious island. It broke his heart, but deep inside he held some hope the boy would be okay.

Moments later, a scream unlike anything Izvilvin had ever heard erupted. Looking far into the distance, he could see the image of a human struggling against some kind of contraption. The human man by the Drow's side broke into a run, so Izvilvin followed him at a distance, so any trap sprung by their dash would not effect him. Had to be safe.

The man was still screaming as the two companions came upon him. He was stuck between two spiked walls that appeared to have sprung up from the ground. The sight was gruesome, a spike had penetrated the man's chest, another pair were in his legs, and another was midway through his eye. He was screaming words now, at the leathery human. They each took a side, Izvilvin and the human, and began to pull.

The man's scream was even more blood-curdling now, the kind that makes a man cringe when he hears it. Izvilvin wouldn't wish anything--not even on Vordutin--upon an enemy that could produce such a painful wail. Despite being able to pull the walls back a little, there was no room for the human to hope to escape without first removing his legs from his torso.

With a look of pain to his human companion, Izvilvin drew one of his sai. The leathery man nodded in understanding, and a quick moment later, the trapped human's screams stopped. A moment of silence passed between the two companions before they carried on moving.

The human mumbled something when they started to walk. Izvilvin wished that he could understand.

[Arawn]

Arawn reluctantly let Korin’s corpse slump to the ground when little more could be extracted from it. It fell lifelessly and made a dull thump at the white warrior’s feet. The body had been sucked dry, the vampyr having taken his time about enjoying the meal. His face was covered in the blood that had gushed from the human’s neck, so he wiped himself off unceremoniously with his hand and took a deep breath of cold night air. Every sound of the woods’ rustling leaves seemed clearer and the air carried the scent of a thousand stories to the nosferatu. He sniffed at it and sensed several other beings in the forest some distance away in various directions. The vampire only ever felt so truly invigorated when he had fed or was hunting, linking with some instinctively predatory part of his being. He was beside himself, smiling up at the stars twinkling through the canopy above. His body felt stronger and the ache from his violent landing onshore was a quickly fading memory. Arawn flexed his muscles eagerly and began his tentative march toward where he best guessed the hill he had glimpsed before would be found.

He quickly learned it was unwise to trek so head-strongly in Ren Nocal’s woods. Arawn came upon a ten-foot deep, thirty-foot diameter pit filled with steel spikes directly blocking his impromptu path. To its left, the brush was too thick for him to continue. To its right, there was a thin trail of well-trodden grass right next to the edge. Choosing the latter, the white warrior pulled his cloak about him and put his hood up. He stared at the spikes as he skirted the pit, wondering how the renowned thief ever expected anyone to fall into a hazard in such plain sight. When he was halfway around it, however, he got his answer. A tripped wire on the path triggered a burst of flame in the bushes across the pit. Pained by it, Arawn instantly turned away from the hole, his skin hissing in protest as smoke rose from it in thin curls. It was this aversion to light that saved him a good deal of pain, for he saw a log swinging lengthwise at him on a vine from the right side of the path, meaning to shove him onto the spikes. He leapt away just in time to have it swing harmlessly by.

“Smart man, that Ren,” the vampire considered when he got up and brushed himself off. “He trusted to others’ curiosity making them stare toward the fire while their dooms would come from behind. I like how his mind worked.”

As he looked, the small fire was already dying down; its kindling too green to sustain it long. Arawn then cocked his head in the direction of a scream not far off. It sounded like someone was in unceasing and excruciating agony. The thought made the vampire smirk as he started to venture through the woods in the direction of the cry, since it was not greatly diverted from his original destination. He kept an eye out for more of Ren Nocal’s tricks and made sure to avoid anything that resembled a path, lest he fail to learn his lesson. He soon came upon a middle-aged human and a drow with sharp features that had attempted to pry open what seemed like metallic jaws that sprung from the earth and snapped shut on an unlucky adventurer. The drow, having given up, drew out a weapon and put the man out of his misery.

“It’s no good feeling sorry for him,” the leathery man said mournfully as they started to walk away.

“He’s right, you know,” Arawn called to the dark elf in its native tongue, suspecting from his lack of reaction that he didn’t understand his companion. “You’re wasting energy if you spare time to pity every fallen soul you come across in these woods.”

“What’s that you said?” the man inquired with a furrowed brow, turning to face the cloaked and hooded creature that had sprung up among them, obviously startled.

“I was just translating for you, my good sir,” the vampire answered with mock courtesy.

It was then that Arawn’s keen hearing picked up the sound of heavy footsteps heading their way. Instantly, his hands went to the curved daggers at his waist, unsheathing them quickly and further startling the human by the drow. Using some quick suggestive hypnotism, aided by the fact that the human was making eye contact with the vampire, Arawn made it seem best for the human that he take a breath and calm down rather than feel threatened. The group headed their way sounded like it was aggressively pushing aside what bits of nature got in their way, a sure sign of hostile individuals. There could be no more than three, the white warrior deduced, and he found he was right. From the other side of the trapped corpse impaled with spikes there emerged three well-built and well-armed men who stopped at the sight of the opposing trio. The one to the left of the other two was the only one Arawn had eyes for. This man had a bearded face and sported a menacing smile. He wore a suit of steel armor and was holding a very familiar titanium bladed chain.

“Where’s you old, fat defender now?” he said with a laugh, recognizing Arawn from the beach. His companions quickly joined in as they got the reference.

“I believe you have something of mine,” the vampire’s voice came from within the dark hood of his cloak as the curved daggers were tightly grasped in each hand.

“Law of the jungle, mate,” the man retorted with a wide grin, showing black gaps between yellowing teeth. “You only got to keep what you defend properly.”

“The same will go for your life, then,” said Arawn slowly and deliberately. “You’ll only get to keep it if you defend it properly.”

At this, the smiles vanished and the tension became palpable among those around the now-decaying trapped adventurer as the sky lightened slightly, sunrise only a few hours away.

[INDK]

Whether it was a vampire grabbing a meal or a drow reaching the shore, it didn’t register with the boy who had been caught up in the air. He struggled a bit more, even though he knew it was in vain. He screamed desperately for help, even though he knew that it likely wouldn’t come to much avail. “Please, please…” he squirmed, trying to pull at the scaly talons of the bird.

The bird just continued to fly, eventually dropping off the boy into a nest full of hatchlings. They cackled eagerly, anticipating their meal. Damon, who’d landed with a thud only broken by the softness of the nest, looked up upon the hatchlings with a forboding sense of doom. The birds had begun to rush at him, pecking as they grabbed at his body. The boy thought to reach for his machete, but with the entire chorus of little beaks there was no way with which he could reach it. The hatchlings, though much smaller than their mother, were still much stronger than the boy. Few feathers coating their bodies, they began to snip at the boy, tearing flesh off from his frame. Damon tried to get up, only to feel the strength in the thin little legs of the hatchlings.

“Come on… come on,” Damon thought as he squirmed in pain and uneventful struggle. At the very least, he was managing to delay the birds from getting at him. Fortunately, the hatchlings weren’t working as a team, and instead were squabbling amongst each other for what they viewed as the prime pieces of meat. There was still enough sniping at him and kicks with their feet, but at least the boy had managed to survive long enough to think of a solution with only a few nicks and cuts to show for his troubles.

The boy began to roll, simply because every attempt he had to get up had lead to the birds pushing his body back down. However, the squabbling among the hatchlings had left him with an opening, one that Damon knew he was going to need to exploit. He began to roll across the twigs, snapping them as he went through and even breaking out over the edge of the nest before he realized that he was now beginning to roll down a steep hill. The hatchlings yelled and began to run after him, and their mother, enlightened of the situation by the cries of her young, was also looking to recapture her prey.

Damon had no choice but to continue rolling. It didn’t matter where he ended up.

Thus he closed his eyes and continued his way down the mountain, cringing with every uneven bump or rock that got in his way. The boy inhaled deeply, trying to ford the difficulties as best as he could, but he took a few sharp hits to the ribs and just narrowly avoided the mother bird trying to grab him again. Eventually, Damon rolled down the end of the hill and into the jungle, the heavy fronds of leaves serving as a barrier between himself and the mother bird. Grunting, the boy then picked himself up, tried his best to suck up the pain but ended up clutching his ribs gingerly as he moved forward.

He was in the jungle now. The very same jungle from which he had heard all the screams earlier. Damon had never remembered feeling as frightened as he did now. The boy was lost, lost in the middle of the wilderness and desperately in need of help. He gulped, knowing that he had no choice but to proceed. The only other option was becoming bird fodder. Still, Damon supressed a tear. He badly needed sympathy.

[Komosatuo]

"Uhhhhgmmnnn."

Komosatuo winced as his eyes slide slowly open. He didn't recall the sun ever being so bright, or this close for that matter. Instinctively he lifted his hand to cover his eyes only to have his hand disappear behind the light, instead of covering it. He groaned again as he let his hand fall across his eyes, blanketing his field of vision in a partial darkness that seemed heavenly compared to what he had first seen. The groan turned into a sigh as this took place and he rolled to lay on his right side, arm reaching out to feel at the ground around him.

As he scrounged about blindly, Komosatuo tried to gather his thoughts and memories about what had happened before he had awoken. He found that it was like trying to catch mice in a dark room, blind-folded with his feet tied together. After he had exhausted his arms effective range laying on his side Komosatuo pulled himself up onto his knees, squinted his eyes shut as tightly as he could, and continued moving with both his eyes closed. Slowly, almost as fast as a snail in mud, he gathered his thoughts and memories before his awakening. And just as, slowly he began to come to some sort of idea as to where he was.

He found out the hard way that he was next to a ship, the small lump forming on his head was testament to his adventures on his hands and knees with his eyes closed. He could also tell that it was beached. The sound of moving water, which had to be the ocean, was too far off to keep the boat afloat. There were a few dozen various nick-knacks strewn across the ground around him, ranging from small bits of rope and tackle, to the sharpened edges of steel or glass. It felt almost as if the place was just picked up, jostled together and tossed like a salad, then dropped down upon the ground where he was now moving around. Something about that thought tickled at the back of his head but when he reached for it, it ran and buried itself deep into his mind, lost for the time being. He shook his head and pressed on, still feeling about with his hands, his eyes squeezed shut.

As he crawled forward memories of what had happened prior to his awakening slowly began to resurface in his mind, and he watched in silence as they played back piecemeal in him. He could recall hearing about a treasure on a distant island, but not from whom or from where. He could remember sitting on a dock, staring at the ocean and then getting into a boat, but nothing in between. He could remember playing his flute on that boat, then suddenly standing, staring off at something in the distance while urging someone on behind him. He then remembered the coarse feeling of an oar beneath his hands and the forward and backward pumping motion of him using it. That was when it went blank up until the point where he woke up, laying on his back with that blinding white light in his eyes. His hands closed around a small round object and he stopped moving, sat back on his heels and held the object close to his face.

It was smooth on three sides, while the fourth and fifth edges were jagged and rough, as if they had been broken or sheered away from the whole. It was heavy for its size and Komosatuo juggled it absently in one hand, testing it. He then brought it up to his face and sniffed it. It smelled like something metallic. He then placed it into his mouth and bit down on it. It folded easily beneath his teeth and he pulled it out and felt along its edges once again. There were now a series of bite marks in its surface and he smiled. It was gold. At least, it felt like it. He cupped the small nugget close to his chest and stood slowly. The light in his eyes was beginning to diminish, it was now reduced to a faint pulse behind his closed eyelids. He opened his eyes. . .

And almost immediately closed them again when the blinding white light returned, but instead settled with a heavy wince and a hand raised to cover his eyes. It seemed to help, he could now look down at the ground without being blinded to much, just so long as he didn’t focus on it. He sniffed loudly then, rubbed his nose with the hand clutching the nugget and then stumbled a few steps forward. He could see then that he was standing beside a ship, a rather small looking one, perhaps fit for a medium sized crew of eight to twelve, but still sea worthy with a smaller outfit of three or five. And it was beached, its front end cut clean from it to leave its deck laying at an odd angle against the sandy beach. It also looked as though its entire hold of contents had been picked up and thrown about in a haphazard fashion. It also looked to have been looted recently, and fought over multiple times. There were bodies in a number of places, each side looking to either be attacking at one point, or running away. He sniffed again as he trudged forward but only stopped short after a few feet to stare down at a rather beaten looking corpse. It was holding something that looked familiar. He bent and reached out for it and was almost touching it when he remembered.

The corpse was holding his sword and flute, clutched tightly in the death grip of its left hand. As he bent closer Komosatuo could see that the man was a muscled man of about thirty-five or so, brown hair, brown eyes, rather unnoticeable and bland in appearance; your average guy. What really caught Komosatuo’s attention though, was that the man looked somehow, oddly familiar. He didn’t place the mans face as he wrapped his fingers around the scabbard of his sword and pulled it free of the man. The flute followed shortly afterwards and Komosatuo stood and looked down at the man. The memory of the face was lost in his mind and soon was the thought of why he needed to remember this man. Komosatuo turned from the corpse and stumbled on.

*****

He didn’t know how long he had been walking, it felt like a few hours but judging from how far the moon had moved from its place in the sky, Komosatuo guessed that it hadn’t been more than a half hour. It hadn’t surprised him that it was still night, that white light must have been a side effect for that healing the old man performed on him. He had remembered that little tid-bit almost as soon as he was out of sight of the wrecked ship, along with a few dozen other piecemeal memories about what had happened to him before he reawakened. He was on the Island, shipwrecked with no way off so far as he knew. Alone, technically lost, although he couldn’t see how you could get lost on an Island, and slowly dying from thirst and hunger. Most of the food and water him and his now dead companions had brought with them had been looted or burned long since, he had given up on looking for any when he had found the first cask and fire. He was on an island full of cut throats and thugs, out for their own good with no real regard to anyone else. There was no real hope.

At least he had his sword and flute, he thought as he pulled himself up over another large jagged boulder. He was now armed, and he could entertain himself as he died, at least until he couldn’t blow into the flute that was. It was a small comfort amidst the misery that was the present. As he hoped down off the boulder Komosatuo glanced around him, gathering his relative bearings and location, as he tried to figure out a safe path to take towards the center of the island. Not that that was where he was heading now, he had mainly been skirting the coast, trying to get his head straight and figure out a plan of attack. He had to find some kind of back way in. He had decided upon that strategy almost from the get go, either that or it was follow in someone else’s footsteps. He had heard rumors of this place being riddled with traps; following someone would have been his best bet in avoiding most of those traps. Something inside him told him however, that that wasn’t such a good idea, so he settled for a back way, thinking that whomever it was that originally inhabited this island must’ve had some kind of back way in free of traps, making it easy to come and go as they pleased. It seemed a simple enough plan in the beginning, but as time dragged on and sand being all that he could find, Komosatuo was beginning to doubt his own ingenuity, as well as the thought that there was a back way in. He sniffed and rubbed at his nose through his scarf and looked around him again.

He was smack in the middle of a very large boulder field, just about the crashing waves of the ocean and as far as he could see, in both directions, it stretched on endlessly until it disappeared around the bend in the island. He turned to face towards the left, stared off in that direction for a moment, then turned to the right, staring in that direction for a few moments before finally facing inward. He had reached a portion of the island that was a massive cliff face, the small white flecks that were the sea gulls dotting its face or flying about above his head, the face stretching upwards for a good two miles before ending in a gentle slope upwards towards the peak of a rather nice looking mountain. There were about a thousand different caves in the face of that cliff, but Komosatuo knew that almost each and every one was probably just a big trap, designed to lure someone in then crush them as effectively as a falling rock or ceiling. Which was probably what happened. There was however, at least one cave here that had to be some kind of entrance, and all he had to do was pick it out from about a thousand others. Yup, that was all.

He sighed dejectedly and began to turn away from the cliff face. He was almost there when by chance he looked up and noticed something about a small grouping of caves near the base of the cliff, off to his left and set back into a small alcove. There was something odd about those caves, something just wasn’t quite the same as the rest of them. A sea gull screamed in the distance and Komosatuo’s eyes widened in understanding. Of course, there were no gulls in or near them. He pulled himself up onto the nearest rock and squinted towards the caves. He was right, there were none to be seen. He nearly jumped with joy but instead settled for a clenched fist and a small grunt of approval as he readied himself to half sprint, half leap his way towards the caves.

Back door, here I come. He then began to hop lightly from one boulder to the next, weaving and leaping his way closer to the back door cave, as well as some unknown treasure that awaited for him beyond it.

[Izvilvin]

"Good to hear the old tongue again. It feels like a century has passed since I last heard such fond fluidity," Izvilvin contentedly sighed. Though it felt refreshing to converse so effectively, the event did nothing to re-energize the worn Drow.

"I only pity him for dying so young," he added. It wasn't a necessary thing to say, but the urge to speak, to finally communicate... It was powerful. The years since leaving Ettermire and living in Kachuk's Mines had done nothing to dull his hold over the Drow language, and he had longed to explore words again.

He had rushed the words in after the leathery human and the newcomer had spoken, yet more volumes of sounds Izvilvin couldn't hope to understand. Before Arawn had even a chance to respond, the three humans had arrived. So sluggish from his battle with the serpent, Izvilvin had let his guard down enough to let three heavy-footed fools sneak up on him.

The chain seemed deadly, but the eyes of the man holding it were not on Izvilvin, but on the other, less-looking-like-a-drow drow. The other two held more basic weapons, a sword for each and a dagger in the opposite hand of one of them. They seemed simple foes, but after some words passed, the humans came on strong and fast.

The one with the chain passed right by him, making a straight line for the newcomer. The other two split, the sword/dagger wielding one attacking Izvilvin and the second going for the feeblish-looking human.

Despite being exhausted, Izvilvin's first parry was quick and well executed, pushing the sword of the human far wide. The dagger came in after the long blade, but missed tearing the Drow's flesh as he stepped to the side. He used a sai the keep the dagger from cutting back to gash his side, and a foot came up to slam the human's chest and knock him back a few paces.

He said some words Izvilvin didn't understand, and came on again more defensively, slashing with the sword but wisely keeping his distance. The Drow had gained some amount of respect, he knew. Parrying the strikes, he slowly backed up to create more distance between his own battle and the one the old man was waging. In old hands the man held a long, impossibly thin cane that he used to parry the mercenary's blows. Despite being old, the leathery man seemed more than capable of defending himself.

Finally, Izvilvin spotted an opening. A slash had come in too wide, and the Drow wasted no time whatsoever in stepping into the attack and eliminating the threat of the sword. The long center prong of one of his sai was in the man's throat. With a quick twist and a yank, the human was downed.

The old man was pressed now, for despite his skill, he could not mount an offense against the energy of the younger man attacking him. When it seemed that the final blow was coming, he simply lowered his cane to accept it. Naturally, Izvilvin was there before the fatal attack could come, sai driven deep into the back of the attacker's neck.

The man fell dramatically to the ground; it was remarkable how final a falling man could seem. Izvilvin thought about how fast the whole thing had happened, how quickly he had killed another person. With a disturbing feeling in his gut, he wondered why he didn't feel bad at killing a man, yet he felt pity for someone foolish enough to find himself in a trap.

With a pat on the Drow's arm, the old man thanked him. Words wouldn't have worked, but the gesture did much more than words could have, anyway.

[Arawn]

The nosferatu flicked his dual daggers in the air before him, beckoning the human to come forward. The thick-limbed man rushed headlong for the slender vampire, launching the bladed end of the chain at his cloaked adversary. It cut through the air like a metallic tongue. With quick reflexes, Arawn spun on the spot, having the titanium device scratch only small length of his left forearm as his vlince garb billow behind his whirling form. As the steel-encased individual came closer in his dash, the white warrior leapt into the air and landed just behind his attacker, the two back to back for an instant. He then jabbed an elbow between the man’s armored shoulder blades. The dig was more infuriating than painful, making the human stumble over himself and fall forward on his palms with his momentum, releasing the titanium chain as he clanged to the ground. With a short curse, he raised himself up again and unsheathed a great bastard sword. He held the massive blade before him at an angle from his waist in an attempt to intimidate Arawn with its sheer size.

“Compensating, are we?” the vampire chuckled as he caught sight of this over his shoulder.

The human’s face flushed, but he did not make any aggressive move. The white drow had proven to be quick, so he’d wait for him to make a move, standing less than ten feet away. Arawn was content with doing just that. As he turned to face the bearded rogue, he raised his daggers in the air again once more, causing the man to clench the hilt of his massive sword tighter. From both the curved daggers’ tips, black clouds began to grow and spread between the combatants. They stretched and fused together seamlessly in the air. No light seemed to pierce the mass-less shadow as it grew still greater. When it came close to the human who had stolen the vampire’s chain, the man began to slash at it in vain. They were both quickly engulfed in a dome of complete darkness, neither able to discern anything with their eyes. It was then that Arawn’s predatory senses became his greatest advantage.

He began to distinguish the individual signals flooding his sensory receptors. He caught the scent of pristine sweat coming profusely from the human’s skin, barely noticeable over the stench of years of bad hygiene. His ears could tell the man’s heart was racing frantically, as most individuals’ hearts did when they feared unseen threats. Panic was quickly taking hold of the blinded man, his bastard sword starting to swing ineffectually at the air about him where he thought the vampire should be, groaning coming from his direction with every slash that failed to connect with the white warrior. The truth was, the undead creature was allowing his foe time to tire himself out, ducking away from the blows he heard coming long before contact. He was biding his time. It was when the human let his sword tip hit the forest floor with a grunt that the vampire took his chance.

With the two fighters still hidden from sight within the black bubble, Arawn swiftly advanced to within inches of the man and thrust his daggers into where he had deduced the human’s eyes to be. The globes provided little resistance as the curved blades sliced through with a squelch. The human let out a chilling cry of agony from the depths of the dark dome, muffling the sound of his dropped bastard sword clanging to the ground as he lifted his hands in pain. With an unobserved grin, the vampire twisted both daggers in different directions within the man’s bleeding sockets, ripping at concealed flesh with their unique curvature. With a last shove of the daggers inward, the human’s screams were silenced as the mythril blades traversed grey matter. Pulling them out and hearing the thief fall limply, he banished the black cloud around him. As the wisps of darkness were dispersed in the night air, he was shown wiping his twin weapons on the edge of his vlince cloak.

“It seems we both fared well, comrade,” he said to the drow after looking around in the very model of composure, seemingly unaware to the marked mutilation of his own victim.

“What happened to his eyes?” the old man inquired in disgust as he caught sight of Arawn’s handiwork.

“A regrettable inevitability of the confrontation, I assure you,” the vampire said dismissively. He then went on addressing the dark elf as he sheathed his daggers at last, satisfied by their renewed silvery gleam.

“This dead weight of a man, however, we can do without,” he declared with a sarcastic smile to the oblivious human. “I think it wise we abandon him and move on alone. What do you think?”

The white warrior went over to pick up his stolen chain some feet away and began coiling it as he awaited the dark elf’s answer.

[INDK]

With no real sense of direction, Damon had decided that it would be best for him to listen for sounds. The forest was deep and dangerous, but the roaring sounds of the ocean were not too far off. Of course, Damon knew that he risked meeting the giant bird again, but if he were to stay in the borders of the woods long enough, the boy figured he’d be able to quell both threats.

Otherwise, Damon was lost for ideas. The sea was potentially his only savior now. This island scared him, and the boy had heard too many cries of pain and seen too much bloodshed already. All he had wanted was to get to Lornius, but now it seemed that he was shipwrecked here. The boy suppressed a tear, knowing that he was going to need to keep his wits about him, but he was otherwise very frustrated. It had been quite a difficult day so far, but it was only going to get worse. His ribs were severely wounded and there were numerous cuts and bruises all along his body.

The boy continued onwards, walking just deep enough into the woods so that he was still protected from another attack of the bird. Damon didn’t even know if the mother hadn’t turned her attention towards some other kind of food for her children, but it really didn’t matter at the moment. The experience with the bird had shaken the boy enough that he was probably going to spend the rest of his stay on the island just trying to avoid suffering that fate again.

However, the sounds of the forest soon betrayed another threat. This time it was a man, bloodied and raggedy, his teeth knocked out and with nothing more than a battered flint lock pistol in his hand. The man also carried a shiny black box strapped upon his back, a long thin one that seemed completely out of place given everything else about the man. The stranger’s eyes were even bloodshot, and pieces of his hair had been pulled out. Damon wasn’t sure as to whether he should have been frightened or nauseated.

Soon enough, the stranger accosted the boy. Flintlock pistol aimed at Damon’s head, the weapon was brandished as if the man was reluctant to shoot, but was willing to anyways if he didn’t get what it was he wanted. “Where… where is it?” the man demanded. “I’ve been searching… I have to get it out of my head.”

Damon just stammered, unsure of how to respond. “It… it? Wh-wh-what it? I do-”

The stranger’s eyes now flashed an even more violent red. “DON’T TELL ME YOU DON’T KNOW” he shrieked, waving the pistol more intently.

Damon cringed. “I- I swear I don’t.” A vision popped into the boy’s head of the man firing the gun. Even though Damon had never seen the weapon before, his vision told him that the bullet would cause even more severe pain than what he had suffered. “Just- just tell me what you want…”

“I’m TIRED of people not knowing,” the stranger replied through gritted teeth, before raising up the gun so as to aim towards Damon’s head.

With no other option, Damon began to run. He headed straight out towards the coast, even though he wasn’t all too far from the bird and its cliff. However, the situation left him with no other option. He just had to hope that the mother bird had found something else to eat, and would choose to leave him alone. Thus, Damon ran out towards the beach, eyeing a small group of caves and a man dressed in black.

The boy contemplated calling out to this new stranger, but he was naturally reluctant. With the last person he had met seemingly insane and still chasing after him, Damon knew that he couldn’t afford to make any more enemies now. He was already forced to choose between a gun toting madman and a large bird of prey. Another enemy was something Damon could ill afford.

However, the boy knew that he was so desperately in need of an ally that he would have to accept the risk. Even though his wounded ribs ached to shout and were doing all they could just to support his running, Damon forced out a single shout of “Help!”

[Komosatuo]

"Help!"

Komosatuo jerked visibly upright when the shout of distress echoed across the rocks, amplifying itself as it bounced from each hard surface, finally reaching his ears as if the person crying it was standing right beside him. Standing right beside him, but in every direction. While the rocks carried and amplified the sound quite well, they also seemed to ricocheted and split the sound as well. Where it began as one, it ended as multiple dozens, coming from every known direction and giving no sense of bearing. With this loss of direction held firmly in mind as he straightened quickly from his crouching position, Komosatuo did the next best thing he could think of.

He spun in circles.

He spun so fast that by the time he finally spotted the person, running for all their worth it seemed, he had made four complete revolutions and was thoroughly dizzy. He had to plant his left foot firmly against the stone to keep himself from falling backwards off its top and squinted off towards the approaching person. That was when he noticed the second, running just as hard, if not more sloppily, fast on the heels of the first, waving some blunt looking object in the air. Komosatuo noted that they were still a good fifty yards out and quickly assessed the situation.

One man, running for his life, screaming for help, while a second man, running for what appeared his life, screaming for something besides good Samaritan help. Komosatuo rapidly tapped his chin with one finger and glared again off at the approaching men. The range had closed to about thirty yards and he saw now that the first man, was no more than a boy, and the second, had to be at least in his late forties, early fifties.

Spry for an old man Komosatuo thought as he again thought of what to do. He had been standing on the rock, trying to think of something to do, all the while the two were gaining on him, and all he could come up with was the two's relative age and possible danger. Perhaps the boy held something of value, that the man wanted? Like a sack of gold perhaps? Or a prized jewel? This island was full of treasure, perhaps the kid had stolen some of the old mans.

There was a loud crash as someone, probably from running so far and for so long, suffered the fat due to them for running through so many rocks and slammed hard into a very large rock with a fleshy crunch. Komosatuo looked up in surprise, he hadn't expected on of them to fall, and saw that it was the old man who had lost his footing; the boy still running hard forward. The old man almost immediately started pushing himself to his feet, his face quite bloodied from where he had fallen against a smooth rock, and leveled his blunt looking object at the back of the running boy. Who, as it were, was running straight for Komosatuo, which meant. . .

There was a loud crack, like the kind you would expect to hear from a rock falling into a ravine from a tall cliff, and a puff of smoke emerged from the blunt object. Komosatuo had only enough time to hear a shrill whistling noise as something skimmed through the air only to exploded in a shower of sparks and rock debris, right in front of his planted left foot. A split second later, if such a short time was possible for what happened next, there was another whistling noise, this time right next to his face. In an instant the whistle was gone and in its placed was a sharp stinging sensation that was seeping its way slowly across his face, from a newly formed gash in his left cheek.

Komosatuo suffered from a classical delayed reaction as he threw his head aside to avoid something that had already hit him and was thus rewarded for his actions by a near fall off the top of the boulder which he was standing. He managed to save himself from such an embarrassing fate by using his left foot again to stop his fall, planting it firmly behind him and bending it to absorb his fall.

The whole sequence of the man leveling the object, the crack and puff of smoke, the explosion of rock and sparks, the scratch and his delayed reaction, had lasted less than one second. Komosatuo was only just beginning to hear the mans cackling laughter as he lifted his hand to feel the side of his face. He could feel the blood slowly seeping through his cut and burned flesh - he could now feel another sting that told him of a first degree burn, and when he pulled his hand away, it came away tainted red. This wasn't for his own self-reassurance, and it was proven with the mans laughter died away suddenly. Komosatuo regained his former position slowly and glared down at the man. The man glared back accordingly, but more out of primal rage and fear, than out of shock or dismay at having missed. Komosatuo could almost hear his snarl as he abruptly began clawing at something at his waist; a small wooden box. Komosatuo didn't give him a chance to even open it.

In his wounded state the man was slightly delirious, this would probably explain his miss, but it also explained why he was fumbling with the box so much. Komosatuo had only to walk the short distance between them, about fifteen yards or so, and stand in front of him for a full six seconds before the man finally found his fingers to work properly enough to open the boxes lid. Then he renewed his fumbling when he tried to grasp, with suddenly thick, unresponsive fingers, a very small ball of lead, as well as a small bundle of rolled paper. The ball bounced free of the box to land with a clatter amongst the rocks and the man made another delirious mistake. He abandoned the box and bent to retrieve the ball. He was on his hands and knees then, fumbling futilely about amongst the rocks, and only when he heard the soft click and ringing noise of steel sliding free of a scabbard did he take pause. He then gave a sheepish laugh and lifted his bloody face and hands up towards Komosatuo, speaking for the first time.

"Parlay?"

Komosatuo growled and whisked his sword down in a flash of steel. The man jerked in surprise when seemingly nothing happened. Staring first from Komosatuo's face, then to the blade that was now resting just beyond the right side of his face and then back to his face. He then chuckled and made to rise but stopped short as a small line of blood formed from the top of his left ear, down through his lower face to just right and above his chin. His mouth opened in surprise as the top and lower portion of his face peeled backwards to reveal the inner workings of his bone, tendons and muscle. His scream gurgled loudly in his throat as he toppled to the right where he lay with his body propped against a rock so that it looked as though he had lain down to rest, instead of die.

There was a whisking noise as Komosatuo deftly wiped his blade on the mans grimy coat then a soft click as he slid it smoothly back into his scabbard. He didn't even bother to loot the mans body, instead bending for the object the man carried. Pulling it free from the death grip that now held it, Komosatuo studied it casually as he turned it over in his hand. He had no idea how it worked, but he did know that it shot something from the smooth barrel that made of more than half its construction. He shrugged his shoulders and shoved the device down between his pants and silk suit. He then topped a near by boulder and looked around him, searching for the second man, the boy, whom he had somehow neglected to keep track of following his run in with the now dead man.

He squinted into the distance, trying to remember how fast the boy had been running, and if he was still around to question.

[Izvilvin]

Izvilvin nodded to his new companion, also noting that they had both done well in their respective situations. The battle capability of the Drow was something that Izvilvin was always proud of, though he couldn't tell for sure whether or not Arawn was Drow. He was white, after all. Then again, there were wonders outside of Alerar that Izvilvin was completely ignorant of, so he chalked it up to that.

Despite their mutual skill in battle, the Drow knew there was a distinct difference between them. Arawn struck him as cold, less caring of life than he, which was probably a result of a long life full of difficulty. While Izvilvin had no problem with killing a man who was in his way, simply disposing of an elderly one who might hinder their speed of movement was something he wasn't comfortable with. Perhaps it was because of his upbringing in Ettermire, where the elder Drow were always revered and respected, walking with a sense of pride and accomplishment at all times.

So in response to Arawn, Izvilvin moved between him and the human, leveling his eyes. "No, he stays with us," was all he said. He kept his tone high so that it would not seem like a threat, but simply a statement of his stance.

He wandered forward, keeping close to the human and trying to keep an ear on his Drow-speaking companion. He didn't know his intentions, and although they spoke the same language, Izvilvin couldn't be sure that Arawn wouldn't simply gut him from behind. The island was beginning to feel even more dangerous than before.

++

Some time passed before Izvilvin began to feel something. "Do you feel that rumbling?" he asked of the one who could understand him, since wondering aloud to the human would have been stupid.

The ground was indeed rumbling, although faintly. If it was another trap, and it almost surely was, Izvilvin couldn't begin to figure out where it was coming from. He needn't worry about it, though, as the rumbling's source soon revealed itself to be a mechanical golem of sorts. Coming up from the ground ahead of them, thrashing its arms to break free of the prison of earth, the creature (if it could even be called that) made a plethora of strange sounds as it moved.

Being from Alerar, Izvilvin had some idea of what technology could do. This, however, was world beyond anything he'd ever seen. The golem was three or four feet taller than him and was covered in wires and circuits, along with a thousand different lights and details, ranging from bolts to plates of armor. Glowing orbs of light in its humanoid-type head flashed in their direction, and suddenly its arm shot forth, releasing a strange cord.

Izvilvin dove to the side as it passed him, wrapping tightly around a tree that was behind him. A surge of electricity passed through the golem's cord into the unfortunate flora, frying it in a display that truly frightened the Drow.

Nevertheless, he got up and got the old man's attention, pointing back to demand that he find safety away from the mechanical device. The human obeyed, but only went some distance behind their mutual companion, the vampire Drow Arawn.

Izvilvin looked carefully at him, wondering if Arawn's callous nature would lead to his undoing. Right now wasn't the time to distrust him, however, and so the Drow raised an arm. "Let us once again display our prowess," he declared.

In one swift movement, Izvilvin drew his sai and rushed at the golem, forcing his exhausted body to once again face the test of battle. The machine threw another strange cord his way, but a quick leap over it brought Izvilvin into close quarters. He drove both of his weapons forward in a quick assault, slashing four times as quickly as he could, exposing wires and destroying small parts. The golem seemed unharmed and came forward, forcing the Drow back a few steps.

A slow, heavy punch came his way, but Izvilvin ducked it and stabbed twice into the arm, once again accomplishing little. Using his speed to outmaneuver the machine, Izvilvin went to its back and slashed more, but the armor there repelled all but one attack, which once again did nothing to help. The golem's upper half spun surprisingly fast, turning to face the Drow without moving its legs at all. Pivoting on its own torso, the golem delivered a punch to the smaller foe, knocking the weapons from Izvilvin's hands and bringing him to the ground at the edge of the tree line.

[Arawn]

The construct challenging the trio was naught but metal, wires and lights. Nevertheless, it was proving quite an obstacle, somehow animated to combat Ren Nocal’s enemies on the island. It had a few feet on the extraordinarily tall vampire, who looked on as his dark-skinned companion assailed it to no avail. The headstrong drow was disarmed and thrown off the golem. Nevertheless, his attack had shown Arawn a little of what the golem was capable of. It would not be an easy foe to surprise, apparently. It had spun with incredible speed, as if its upper body was attached to its legs by no more than a pivot. Its arms also appeared to be detachable and capable of sending strong surges of electricity. The vampire was most cautious about this detail, having jumped far back when the creation had electrocuted a tree nearby.

“First fire and now lightning,” he whispered under his breath. “It seems this island’s obstacles are almost intent on passing control onto Hikari.”

He was referring to the being originally inhabiting the body he now used to his own ends. Normally, vampiric infection entailed the end of an individual’s consciousness, allowing the vampire a rebirth of sorts and uninhibited control of the contaminated body. Unfortunately for Arawn, however, Hikari no Ashigaru’s transformation had not been as uneventful as one might have expected. Hikari, as far as Arawn had come to learn from what others told him, was a light mage, constantly needing to absorb light unless he wished to endure great pain. This had somehow hampered the vampire’s attempt to take control of the mage’s body in its entirety. As things were, they both had control of the same form at different moments. As might be expected, Hikari relinquished control of his sovereign shape when deprived of his so coveted light. Arawn lost his dominance when forced to endure too much direct illumination or when shocked.

This left the vampire in quite a quandary regarding the golem. A single shock from the metallic invention might mean a forced slumber in the recesses of his own mind. There was perhaps no more difficult psychological instance to confront than the loss of one’s own ability to dictate the actions their body performs. If forced to pass the torch on to Hikari once more, he would be unable to say what he wished or look where he wanted. He would bear mute witness to whatever actions the warrior of light decided were best for his own reasons, becoming a prisoner in his brain. It was a dilemma few ever came to face. Arawn feared death, perhaps more than a mortal due to his plausible chance at immortality but for a few weaknesses. At times, however, he believed he feared this form of stasis, of total loss of himself, more than being lost to oblivion. So many took for granted their self-government. The vampire did not wish to lose his again.

“I can’t fight,” Arawn said, not realizing he was speaking out loud as he gazed at the golem, his blank stare displaying fear for the first time.

“What do you mean, you can’t fight?” the old man shouted. “That’s our mate who just got thrown off that thing!”

With a look of irritation at the pale being, the human charged their common adversary. The vampire was jealous of his ability to do so. Arawn felt a creeping sense of impotence as he backed away from the battle slightly, shading himself under the boughs of large trees and observing the scene. He was disgusted by his frailty. He wished to destroy his combating spirit, to end his shared control of their body. In moments like this, he was never more bent on gaining more supremacy of his vampiric powers, establishing greater control. He already took hold of the white warrior for more time than not, but the mere threat of losing his hold at any moment made him shudder. This was why he was on Ren Nocal’s isle. This was why he sought the Orb. He was not power-hungry; he had no time to be between stretches of consciousness. For the moment, he wanted nothing but sovereignty. He would worry of other things later.

Slowly, as the vampire powerlessly watched his allies from his shaded patch, the sun began to rise on the forested island.

[INDK]

Since he had no way of knowing how the battle was going, Damon had continued to run, only stopping when he’d heard the sound of a body hitting the sand. He stopped then, his head swimming with a lack of oxygen and lungs struggling to suck in the air that he craved. However, the boy sighed weakly in relief. Sweat caked and wounded, he could barely utter a word. He mouthed a grateful thank you to the man dressed in black and stood back as the stranger now took his spoils from the fallen madman. “That was a close escape,” the boy thought, knowing that he would have to get into the caves soon. While the giant bird hadn’t seemed to have followed him out into the open here, Damon was certainly nervous that the creature would return.

“We should move away from here,” the boy said tentatively, unsure as to whether or not this black clad man was a friend. Normally, Damon would have been prone to give a stranger the benefit of the doubt, but on this island the boy was naturally suspicious. Everything had taken a sinister bent to it. Perhaps it was the kind of people who would come to an island to seek a dead pirate’s treasure, or perhaps it was just the circumstances. Being surrounded by so much death and danger would naturally leave even the most altruistic person on the defensive.

However, despite everything that told him that he should run into the cave immediately and try to avoid what could be yet another foe, Damon decided that he was going to have to try and make friends. He couldn’t afford not to. He didn’t know his way around the island, save for his machete he was otherwise unarmed, and perhaps most importantly, the boy wanted to know if there was still some kind of a way that he would have been able to save Locke.

Thus, he moved on over towards his former assailant, analyzing the body carefully to make sure that the madman wouldn’t rise up and grab him. Curiously, Damon looked at the man’s tattered clothes and bloodshot eyes, averting away from the man’s substantial wounds. “Looks like he took a beating, huh?” the boy asked, trying to make conversation with the stranger. Damon also grabbed the thin black box that had been draped around the mad man’s back. It was wide enough to contain a sword, but substantially longer, at least three and a half feet in length. If it was a weapon, like Damon suspected, it would do him well on this strange island.

Damon chose not to investigate it for the moment, for fear that it would create a rift between himself and his potential ally. After all, it had been the black clad stranger who had rescued him, so Damon supposed that brought with it an entitlement to the spoils. “He’s already got the noise maker stick though,” Damon noticed. “The one that fires metal balls.”

The boy figured that was enough compensation for the work that had been done, and given his need for a weapon of sorts, he was deserving enough of the contents of the black box.

“Lets head for the caves,” the boy said. He hoped this stranger agreed.

[Komosatuo]

Komosatuo gave the boy a reserved glance from the corner of his eye and smiled beneath the veil that covered his mouth. The boy looked almost as haggard as the dead man lying before them, but he could see in the child’s eyes that he was far more intelligent and beyond his years in wisdom. He could also tell from the boy’s stance that he was very scared, and very nervous. Komosatuo could not blame the boy; deserted island, full of cutthroat bandits, each out for his own good, there could not be a more perfect combination of filth, death and danger. It was a vast showing of the boy’s character to have survived this long. Komosatuo's smile grew slightly as he turned to face the boy.

"My name is Komosatuo Isachi Satuo; it was an honor to save a life such as yours."

Komosatuo made a quick bow, his arms clasped firmly at his sides, bending at the waist while keeping his upper body stiff and straight. His eyes never left the boy as he bent at an almost perfect forty-five degree angle, paused for a few moments and then straightened. Once he had reasserted his upright posture Komosatuo pulled the strange metal object he had taken from the dead man from his pants and held it up to study it.

It was shaped almost like an elongated J, with the curve at the bottom of the J less defined, almost as if it was being stretched. At the end of the curved bottom was a metal plate, shaped in a curved triangle with a bubble like bottom, and from this triangle a thin stretch of metal ran up a dirt brown, wooden section. The thin stretch ended in a small lifted plate of steel from which protruded an S curved piece of metal with another triangle like head. This head rested in a sort of pan that was sitting next to a small hole in the side of the plate. Closer examination revealed that the hole went through the plate and into the center of the object, but what it was there for, Komosatuo did not know, at least, not yet. Below this strange assembly was a thin piece of metal that formed a sort of semi-circle along the bottom of the object. In the center of the semi-circle was another thin piece of metal but was not connected to anything that Komosatuo could see. He puzzled over that for a few moments before continuing onto the other portions of the object.

About halfway down the wooden straight portion of the J, and almost dead center of the plate, a small metal tube began and extended past the end of the wooden J portion, continuing for little less than half an inch. Komosatuo flipped the object in his hand to stare down the tube, but he could not see inside it. He squinted and twisted so that some light could get into the tube, but it was to no avail. Something was coating the inside of the tube and now that he was holding it up above his face, he could see that it was a powder of sorts. It smelled like something burning. It strangely reminding him of the sulfur burning lamps back on the enclave, but he let the thought go. It did not make sense; this thing had exploded and launched something from the tube, sulfur only burned. It did not explode.

He dropped the object from above his head, stuffed it back into its place, and looked down at the boy. The inspection had not taken more than a few minutes but Komosatuo thought he had learned a little more of the object, other than it made lots of noise and shot things from the tube. He straightened his armbands and pants and then smiled, although the boy could not see any of it. He then gesture towards the caves.

"Yes, that sounds like an excellent idea. If you do not mind, I will lead. Unless you wish to walk beside me, though I warn you, the birds look a bit restless after all the noise."

It was true. Their screeching and strange calls had increased since the object exploded and Komosatuo could see that it would be a long while before they calmed. Once one started, they all followed suit, and until a significant portion lost interest and stopped, they would continue to call until they either lost their calling ability, or fell over dead. There was too many to kill, and Komosatuo did not think their 'voices' died easily.

He gave the boy a quick nod and then started off, giving the boy only a moments chance to either fall in beside him, or trail behind him. The caves that the birds had left alone stood naked against the cliff face. Had Komosatuo been another man he would have left these caves be, but he was not, and he was not one to take his chances with the traps that lay in the other parts of the island.

He wove his way between the rocks, climbing a few where necessary. All the while keeping his eyes fixated on the caves, and the birds.

[Izvilvin]

Oblivious to the fear Arawn was feeling behind him, the old man went at the golem with all his force, driving his thin blade forward toward the golem's figure. The steel weapon tore through the powerful machine's front plate, but did little to slow the device's movements, actually not hindering it in any way. The golem reacted in kind, stepping forward and delivering a crushing punch to the old man with it's iron limb.

The human stumbled back in a mixture of pain and shock. His breath was labored and thin, and he dropped his weapon to clutch at his gut. Many of his ribs were shattered in his own body, but giving up was not an option. The human fought past the pain, but couldn't hope to defend himself as the golem lumbered forward, bringing one of his two iron limbs back to prepare a strike.

But like a sudden flash of darkness, Izvilvin exploded out of the treeline and onto the golem's shoulder, driving both sai simultaneously into the upper area of what could be considered the golem's neck. Again, the damage seemed to make no impact on the golem's movement, since machines felt no pain, but it certainly took notice of the Drow, thrashing wildly in a vain attempt to shake him off.

Izvilvin's determination far outweighed his exhaustion, however, and holding onto the deeply embedded sai kept him on the machine. At last there was a pause in the thrashing and the golem calculated other measures it could use to remove the creature. The Drow pulled both sai from the metal armor, and with a great roar, drove them down with all his might, puncturing the armor once again in a place just behind the golem's 'head'.

The machine's rotating movement came too suddenly for Izvilvin to stay on again, so he hit the ground in a roll, avoiding a stomp from a great iron leg, stopping just a few inches from a large trunked tree. He'd managed to hold on to one of his sai, but the other was deeply buried in the golem's armor. Quickly his eyes darted to where the old man lay, clutching his gut or chest, Izvilvin couldn't tell.

A moment to catch his breath later, one of the golem's hands fired out, that strange chain once again trailing. Determination once again defeated his physical state, and Izvilvin dove through the pathway to the opposite treeline, as the golem's chain wrapped around the trunk several times.

The Drow was upon the golem yet again, but this time he was at the tree where the golem's chain was. Putting both hands on his sai, Izvilvin took careful aim and drove his sai though the chainlinks and into the bark of the tree. He backed off and delivered his strongest kick to the butt of the weapon, forcing all three prongs deep into the wood, pinning the chain there.

The golem tried to pull it's strange mechanical hand back, but for all it's power, the chain would not retract. Izvilvin darted around the machine like a cat, ducking the other limb and climbing onto the golem's back once again. The Drow pulled his sai out of the iron armor, and put his hand into the machine's wirings, pulling and tugging at anything his fingers came into contact with. He disconnected wires, pulled strange plugs, did whatever he could until the golem's lights dimmed and it's struggles ceased. It was dead, if a machine could die.

He slid off the golem's body, landing on both feet and making his way to the tree where his sai was. It took a great effort, but all of Izvilvin's strength managed to tear the weapon free. A quick inspection showed him that the weapon was undamaged, so he put both back into his belt.

"Why didn't you help us?" Izvilvin demanded to know as he knelt to inspect the old man. Arawn was beyond them, watching from some shade. "I don't think he is too badly hurt," he continued, almost seeming to forget his original question now that the old man appeared to be out of danger of dying.

Izvilvin helped him up, but the old man was moving slowly. The Drow could hear the strange sounds in his breathing, a deep wheezing noise. "We need to get him to help. Help me take him deeper, maybe we can find someone who can heal him, or maybe an artifact of some sort."

The idea that anyone on the island would help them was a far cry, and Izvilvin knew that. But the old man didn't deserve to die just yet, not for his courage, which seemed to outweigh the much stronger Arawn. In truth, Izvilvin had lost a bit of respect for the massive creature who spoke his language. Of course, there was kindred in their shared Drow tongue, so Arawn was still in his high regards.

The possibility of finding a way to save the man was there, though, and as long as it was, Izvilvin would not simply leave him to die.

[Arawn]

Arawn was most impressed with the dexterity and skill of the dark elven creature. His body was beaten and bruised, but he persisted in assailing the motorized machination impeding their advancement. Arawn felt fortunate to have come across such a being. He would prove useful in this forsaken jungle. It was as he dealt the golem a final fatal tug of its wires that the nosferatu recognized him for the one who had leapt to attack the serpent when their lifeboat came close to it. Grinning malevolently at the coincidence, the white warrior’s eyes turned to the human as the dark elf began to speak, their mutual foe defeated.

The vampire had no reply to his companion’s first question and thus remained silent, newly infuriated by his own impotence. He then noted that the human traveling with them was incapable of advancing by his own will, now truly becoming the dead weight Arawn had predicted when first encountering the pair. For Izvilvin’s second statement, the dark one did indeed have a response. Pulling out one of his daggers with his right hand and advancing from his patch of shade, his dark eyes began to grin, though his jaw was set. His pale hand rose ever so slowly, so coldly, as he came upon the dark elf carrying the frail human. Aged and injured, the leathery man’s face became contorted with fear. He did not know what had been spoken in Drow, but was suddenly panicking, clutching at his defender tightly while the cloaked vampyr advanced.

“Wha- what are ya doin’!” he stammered with eyes opened wide.

“Lightening the load, old man,” Arawn replied in Tradespeak, disdain obvious in his voice.

With a horizontal slash, the man’s throat was spilt open, crimson liquid spewing from a slit vein with the pace of slowing heartbeats. Copious amounts of blood quickly found itself drenching the dark elves as the man coughed and sputtered, his grip on Izvilvin tightening in vain dreams of deliverance. Quickly, and more abruptly than one might expect, his grasp slackened and he fell to rest in the forest ground between Arawn and his companion, a final death rattle issuing ominously from his tattered throat. Fighting the impulse to consume the blood fervently, Arawn closed his eyes in consternation. It could almost be misinterpreted as remorse for his act. After a second or two, he reopened his eyes and turned to his residual ally. A validation would be in order for the drow.

“It had to be done,” he spoke with feigned pain in his voice to the drow. “Would you have had us carry him around in slim hopes of his recovery? It was folly to hold such hope. You show potential, but you value worthless life at your expense. Learn from nature, if you will. Survival is not a gift, but a right earned by those willing to strive for it. His continued existence would have clouded your priorities. If we come upon another challenge, would you have endangered yourself for his survival when he was so close to death already?”

The vampire’s validation was then interrupted by a burst of smoke and the loud sound of crackling. The sun had risen over the horizon and a single ray had found his exposed hand, making him drop the dagger in agony. His hand felt as if it were on fire, pain beyond pain shooting from it as its skin seemed incinerated. Tucking it within his cloak, it continued to sear and hiss in complaint of the celestial titan’s luminescence. It was finally hushed as the white warrior seemed to recede into the folds of his garb, hunched over and breathing heavily. Cursing his oversight, Arawn attempted to raise himself up once more.

“We should go on,” he said to Izvilvin, not a word of explanation for his aversion to light as he picked up his fallen dagger with his uninjured hand and began walking away, sweat pouring in thick beads from his face.

[INDK]

(bunny approved)

As Komosatuo spoke to him, the boy looked on with wide eyed gratitude. For most, the act of protection would have been paramount, but after everything he’d been through on the island, Damon was just glad that someone was nice to him. It was like a refreshing drink of water after a long swim. Had it not been for the fact that the birds were growing restless and the boy being so deathly afraid of being out in the open, he might have hugged the black clad warrior right there. “You can go first,” Damon replied gratefully. The boy didn’t know his way around the island, and he assumed that his newfound partner did.

Thus, Damon strapped the black case on his back and began to move forwards, following Komosatuo through the maze of rocks that they were forced to navigate. Most of them were small enough, in a higher tide they would likely be washed out to sea. However, many of the bigger ones were a bit more jagged, the result of the continued wear of the ebbs and tides of the waves.

“Maybe we shouldn’t even go in the caves,” the boy thought for a moment. “It might not be safe when high tide comes.” However, Damon dismissed it as a needless worry. He was with Komosatuo now, a black clad warrior capable of defending him from a madman with an exotic weapon. Certainly someone like that would know the risks of getting into the caves.

Plus, Damon was just glad to be done with the birds.

One of the birds had begun to swoop down, though she was clearly more interested in eating the dead madman than the two live ones that were perilously close to jagged rocks. Still, that didn’t make Damon feel any better, and if it wasn’t for how painful it was to speak, then the boy would have made some kind of comment about how they should hurry up into the cave.

However, they had both entered into the cave before the bird could have returned. It was dark and just a bit damp, but it was a welcome change for the boy. The entire island had been hot and humid, and given the blood that the boy had lost, it was beginning to make him dizzy. Now, in the cave, it felt like he could catch his breath for a bit.

“You don’t have any kind of healing drink or bandage, do you?” the boy asked of Komosatuo. HE remembered now that he had never introduced himself. “I’m Damon Kaosi,” the boy explained. “And I didn’t mean to come to the island. I just kinda ended up here…” Damon figured it was important that he make that clear. If Komosatuo was seeking Ren Nocal’s treasure, the boy would just as soon let his new ally have it.

The boy would have said a bit more, but he was sore and tired. Plus, he wanted to keep his ears open. While he wasn’t sure if it wasn’t just his imagination and fear getting the best of him, Damon couldn’t help but to feel that he and Komosatuo were alone there in the cave.

[Komosatuo]

The cave was narrow, only about half again his shoulder width and it only cleared his head by a few inches, Damon would have a very easy time navigating his cave. Komosatuo on the other hand, would have to remain constantly alert. He ground his teeth together at the thought of this but none-the-less, forced himself to continue walking forward. If he was right about this cave then a bump or two on his head wouldn't be that much of a problem. It would be the look of surprise on everyone else’s faces, as well as their immediate anger, when he came upon the treasure first that would be the problem. Albeit it would be very entertaining, it would also probably cost him his life, or at least a limb or two, not to mention Damon. He continued to grind his teeth together as he walked deeper into the cave with Damon trailing behind him.

At first, Komosatuo was surprised that the cave didn't suddenly narrow or shrink like most caves did. In fact, after his immediate surprise had faded, he noticed that the cave got larger. This was odd, considering most natural caves didn't do this, then again, Komosatuo hadn't really expected this cave to be all that natural in the first place. He guessed it was just a prejudice belief on his part that caves narrowed gradually as they neared their end. But by the time he actually noticed the cave becoming larger, the walls had moved a good two feet farther apart, and the ceiling had lifted a good eight or so inches above his head. Instead of constantly having to duck slightly, Komosatuo found that he could walk rather comfortably at his full height. Definitely a plus.

Another feature that caught Komosatuo‘s attention, was the fact that he could still see, quite clearly in fact. He paused for a moment to study the walls of the caves, wondering why it was that he could still see. Much to his surprised, not the first time since entering the cave, he found that the cave walls glistened with a silvery sheen. He bent further to study the walls more closely and found that they were sprayed with small pieces of glass. He tilted his head to the side in concentration and reached out to pluck a small piece of the substance off the wall and was still further surprised to see that they were all very tiny mirrors.

"Genius," he said softly to himself after a few moments. As he let the tiny mirror fall to the ground, he noticed the entire cave was covered in the material, lighting the way with a soft white glow. Komosatuo gave whomever had constructed this place a silent nod of respect and gratitude, for it meant that he wouldn't have to worry about hitting himself against a wall or low over hang, or tripping over a rock his didn't see on the ground, should the cave change abruptly back to its original state.

Which in turn, brought another feature about the cave to his attention. The ground, was unnaturally smooth. After crouching to rest on his heels Komosatuo found that the floor had been chiseled into a rough, flat surface, most commonly associated with small town cobble stone streets or the outskirts of most major cities. After a quick rub of the ground with his two exposed fingers tips Komosatuo was able to determine at the cave was indeed well used and that all the tidy and convenient features it possessed wasn’t a clever ruse to lure unsuspecting persons into a deadly trap. He stood, dusted off his hands and knocked his knuckles against the closest wall.

"Guess we picked the right one," he said to no one particular and started walking forward once more. “We had a one in five chance really, twenty-five percent.” He chuckled and glanced back over his shoulder at Damon, a smile splaying across his unseen lips. “Lucky guess, aye?”

He chuckled again and turned to face forward only to stop short, again and stare at a fuzzy shadow standing about waist height in the center of the walkway, completely blocking Komosatuo’s path into the cave beyond.

“Now, what the --” He was abruptly cut short when the shadow shifted, obliterating the small pin points of light flashing off the mirrors around it. Whatever it was, it was alive. A low, menacing growl came from beyond the shadow and Komosatuo suddenly found himself reaching frantically for his sword. The cave was still a tight squeeze, despite the few inches he had gained, not exactly what he was used to back outside and he cursed his unfortunate luck when his upraised fist slammed hard into the ceiling above his head. He had only a moment to drop his bloodied fist back to his chest when the shadow moved with a frightening speed and leapt into the air.

Komosatuo was left standing stunned as the shadow shifted through the air and had only enough breath left in his lungs to grunt when whatever it was that was behind the shadow, slammed hard into his chest. It felt like he was being hit across the stomach with a two by four and he instantly saw spots form in his vision. So powerful was the punch, that his feet hadn’t even finished leaving the ground when the blackness of unconsciousness rolled over him. His limp, dead weight body flew six feet backwards and bounced off the right wall, landing in a heap on the floor beside it. He didn't move and the shadow ghosted to a halt just beyond his body and turned back to growl at the only thing remaining upright in the cave.

[Izvilvin]

So focused on helping the man along, so intent on moving forward through the forest was Izvilvin, that he barely noticed Arawn approaching with a maddened gleam in his eye. The old man stammered in a fearful voice, forcing Izvilvin's attention, but when he turned he was met with blood, the blood of the human as it sputtered from his slashed throat. Arawn was holding a newly bloodied dagger. It had happened so fast, Izvilvin felt foolish for not seeing the movement.

The old human slacked, but his grip was growing ever tighter on the cloth of Izvilvin's shirt. His slender, strong fingers gripped the human's white sleeve in return, but those lavendar eyes looked upon the dying man without any strong emotion. Mostly, he was confused. He'd wanted to protect the human, keep him from dying, yet as he struggled for breath now, Izvilvin felt no true loss.

Why, he wondered, did he feel this way? Yet again Izvilvin was exposed to death, and for the second time he did not feel effected by it. Not strongly. The man slacked and went limp, but the Drow's iron grip on his shirt kept the old man's hand suspended.

Arawn's words came to his ears then, as the strange white creature explained himself. Logic was the key, and Izvilvin found that no matter what counterpoint came to mind, he could not deny it. It simply would not have made sense to drag the man along in the vain hope that he could be saved. And what would that be for, anyway? He was an old human, likely beyond the age humans tend to live. How many months more could he have lasted?

Izvilvin released the shirt and allowed the man's arm to fall down next to his body, about as lifeless as a fish in a desert. He felt conflicted, despite how logical and undeniably true Arawn's statements were. To kill so thoughtlessly, it just didn't seem right... And yet Izvilvin had done the same during his brief time in Scara Brae, dethroating guards without a care.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sudden movement of his now lone ally, as he pulled back for some reason. Izvilvin feared it was an attack and was beginning to adjust accordingly, but Arawn did not move any further than back a step. He suggested they move on. Izvilvin agreed, though he did not say so with words. The Drow did not know what to say anymore. How far away from his love for dialogue was he, now.

He walked alongside Arawn from then on, as the pathway they walked was large enough to accomidate both of them comfortably. Also, given Arawn's nature, and Izvilvin's current condition, it was not a smart idea to expose his back to the huge hooded one. As it was, Izvilvin was sluggish, exhausted and brutally hurt. He had cracked ribs, at the least, but there was no choice for him now but to press onward.

The Drow did walk with a slight limp, the result of his impact with the tree earlier, but he did not feel hindered by it. If need be he could fight through the limp. Izvilvin only hoped the journey would not test him any more, for his skill and luck could only take him so far on this hostile island.

He stopped suddenly. He'd no way of knowing, but compared to Arawn his eyesight was incredibly limited, so the vampire probably would have noticed the building in the distance first. At least, it looked like a building. For the first time in a few minutes, Izvilvin spoke up. "Do you see that? It looks like a temple, but I can hardly tell from this distance. We're almost there."

How fortunate for him that they had almost arrived. Izvilvin's body was running on determination and heart, nothing more. The sooner they reached the Orb, and the sooner Izvilvin could figure out who would claim it and get back to Step with the information of who possessed the relic, the better. He needed a good rest, and hadn't even considered what the journey back off the island was going to be like, let alone how he would get back to Corone without a ship.

But now, there was only the temple in the distance, and their need to get there before one of the other adventurers did.

[Arawn]

“Yes, I saw it,” Arawn allowed ungenerously.

Their trek in the sun had been most taxing on the undead creature. He kept his body hidden within the folds of his cloak to avoid further incineration, his hand still a charred and aching reminder of his folly, but the daylight reflecting from every green leaf and budding blade of new grass was enough to leave him considerably weakened. He was not in so bad a shape as his chance companion, but his breathing was labored and his shape begged for rest. It was not common for his kind to travel by day, the reasons being plainer than the color of blood. Still, he trudged through the greenery with his quarry in sight. That was indeed the stronghold he had glimpsed hours ago, in a moment of suspended flight courtesy of the island’s welcoming committee. From this distance, many more details were noticeable.

The fortress was no more than a mile off. It had been hidden from their sight by a knoll that, once they passed, gave way to the breathtaking sight of Ren Nocal’s treasury, or so one would suppose the stone construct was. Its stone parapets stood three stories tall with no evidence of windows along its imposing walls. Vegetation had crawled its way up the side of this thirty-foot stone edifice, covering it in a shade of natural green. The area around it, as the vampire had noted before, was devoid of any trees or shrubbery, leaving the stronghold surrounded by a repellent ring of infertile earth and making the building itself seem an oasis in a desert of death a hundred feet in every direction. They would soon be reaching the edge of this boundary, a strange smell reaching their nostrils.

“Be prepared for anything,” the vampire spoke to his dark elven pawn. “I wouldn’t put it past our host to have saved the best of his traps for last.”

Soon coming to the edge of the dead area, the pair was met by a gruesome sight that stopped them in their tracks. All number of animals lay piled at its edge, disfigured beyond the normal bounds of torture. Several of them were already well into the later stages of their decomposition. However, the newer corpses were mostly human, scavengers out for Ren Nocal’s treasure, as the dark elven pair was. Something had pulled back the arms of these men to the point of dislocation, tearing them apart horridly. Yet, the vampire could not perceive anything living within the dead ring of earth around the stronghold. It was then he noticed how eerily quiet the forest had become around them. He was frustrated, confronted with an undeniable but unseen obstacle. What on earth had killed those creatures? Whatever it was did not allow anything that crossed the darkened earth’s threshold to continue a step further, an unnatural trench of carcasses about it.

“Damn…”

It was at this point that the vampire had to question his motives and weigh his options. With the sun warming the area, his body felt weakened and worn. He would be wise to simply turn back and leave the isle by taking one of the boats that waited onshore. All he had lost thus far was time and what was that to one such as he? His wounds would heal and he could put this whole situation behind him. He had once considered that the Orb of Quelmarh might not even have been in Ren Nocal’s possession and argued to himself that at least he’d have ample prey. The sun was now rising and the vampire had neither his coveted artifact nor the plentiful victims he’d predicted. He could always turn on the dark elf, he considered, knowing there wasn’t much left in Izvilvin to put up any valid resistance, but the spilt blood of a single drow hardly seemed to balance out the nuisance of Arawn’s journey. Resolute, he took a step forward.

“Let’s press onward,” he managed before his foot touched the dead earth, stepping over a rotting human.

The next instant, he was transport to a world of agony. From the point touching the darkened ground, a surge of pain snaked its way up his body, wracking his legs, chest and head in torture. His joints were being pulled at odd angles, sending jabs of electricity to his tormented mind. The vampire would have screamed if his voice weren’t caught behind a strangled throat, invisible hands ripping him apart. Was this Ren Nocal’s idea of a final obstacle? Then, mutely suspended in the air at the border of the dark earth, he felt the unmistakable sense of someone invading his brain. An unseen invader perused his thoughts and secrets shamelessly. Subsequently, a resounding, dark voice began to speak to the undead creature from within, his body still being pulled and torn, fit to break.

“A vampire, I see,” the disembodied presence intoned from within his skull. “I shall pose you a suiting query.”

Arawn groaned in ceaseless pain.

“Whoever makes me sells me. Whoever purchases me, has no need of me. Whoever needs me, does not buy me. What am I?”

His body feeling as if on fire, the vampire couldn’t think of anything to say. His suspended form was suddenly spread-eagled as he felt himself being quartered by the innumerable concealed hands. Izvilvin was some feet away, beside himself on what to do. His ally was being assailed by an imperceptible threat in midair. What could he do? In the silence, the voice spoke again to Arawn.

“Speak your answer soon while you still draw breath or keep your silence and meet your death.”

Random neurons were firing in his head now, impossible solutions posed to stop the anguish. Knowing he could not last much longer, he just burst out with the only thought that made sense to him at that instant.

“A COFFIN!”

At this moment, two things happened. Izvilvin’s indecision gave way to rash action, the dark elf leaping over the ring of death to grab a tight hold of his comrade. The second was that they were propelled at the speed of arrows toward the stone fort in the center of the lifeless desert, air roaring by them mightily. With a crash of crumpled bodies, they landed sprawled before the tall oak doors of the stronghold. The bizarre force at last released the vampire, his response to its ironic questioning correct. The pairing had been spared the fate of their fellows, but their forms were now further beaten by what Ren had believed a most important obstacle to include in his island, one of wit. The nosferatu did not flatter himself. The only reason he had survived long enought to answer and the others hadn't was his undeath.

For a time, Arawn could not move.

[INDK]

As Komosatuo was attacked, Damon had looked on wide eyed. Battered to the point where it hurt to scream, the boy didn’t know how to react. By the time he had opened with the box he’d taken from the stranger, Komosatuo had been knocked down to the ground. Now, the vile beast looked on towards Damon, eyeing the boy ferociously. The creature was the size of a wolf, with longer hair throughout its face and spikes all down its back. Caught somewhat between a mammal and a lizard, scaly hide and a forked tongue intermingled with long hair in the most prevalent places. With black eyes the same color and shape as Damon’s the creature was no kindred spirit of the boy, but a villain seeking to destroy not for meat, but for the pure sport of death.

Damon shuddered, unable to scream and soaked with sweat. He grabbed onto the weapon contained within the box without getting a proper look at it. “Think…” the boy thought desperately. “If I don’t do anything, we’re both going to be dead.” Damon looked over towards Komosatuo, the black clad hero who had rescued him earlier. There would be no way that Damon would be able to get any help from his ally again. This time, Komosatuo was going to have to rely on Damon.

The injustice of it was so severe that the boy found himself suppressing a tear as the carnivorous fiend charged forwards. He hadn’t intended to come to this island, he had never been persuaded by Ren Nocal’s greed. And now, it seemed that everyone who had helped him had been bound to suffer. First was Captain Locke who had never emerged from the belly of the sea serpent, then the brave white warrior who had taken on the sea serpent all by himself, and now Komosatuo. When the first two of them had needed Damon’s help, the boy had failed. He had been too clueless to help Locke, and too paralyzed by fear to help the white warror. Now, he couldn’t afford to be too injured to help Komosatuo.

With a ferocious roar, the beast surged forwards, claws glancing against Damon’s chest as it slid past the boy. Damon had twisted away, and the rends into his body seemed almost painless now. With his other wounds, adrenaline and regret, he was anesthetized to anything new. Plus, these wounds were shallow, the kind that even mediocre armor might have saved him from.

Thus, the boy striked back, surprised that the blade of his sword enveloped in flame as he struck forwards. The creature dropped back, hissing violently as the flame singed its hairs. “Komosatuo… get up,” Damon managed, half croaking out the words as he choked them out through his tears. He began to swing the blade wildly, hoping at the very least he would be able to deter the beast with its flames. The singed hair and flesh of the carnivore was now filling up the cave. The beast still circled around opportunistically, figuring that the boy heaving violently and coated with sweat would soon let down his guard.

Eventually, the beast found its moment. Damon had been so involved in the violent strikes that he hadn’t been able to guard his flank. The mess of flames hanging off the sword had made it so the boy could barely see in the dark cave, and as the giant beast shot forward, it was just a quick vision that popped into the boy’s head that allowed him to bring the blade straight in front as some hope of defense.

However, the roaring beast had got too great of a jump. The fiend’s claw’s passed underneath Damon’s blade and now dug into Damon’s chest again, pushing the boy down to the ground. He was loosing his feet, unable to stand. Damon needed to do something, and the momentum from his strike now would be his very last chance.

He swung forwards bravely, hitting the creature straight into its neck. The beast screamed in pain. Boiling blood hissed out from the new wound, and the carnivore barely had the chance to take one more snap at Damon before collapsing down to death against him.

Soaked in sweat and blood, Damon heaved a sigh of relief caring little for the think green vines that were creeping up towards him.

With everything else that had transpired, Damon was willing to sleep in the cave. It was a dangerous place, but there was only so far that adrenaline could carry the boy.

Little active vines could wait for later.

[Komosatuo]

(bunny approved)

It was hard to recall what happened while he was knocked out, but from the little he had heard through the veil of darkness and from what he saw when he woke up, he was able to piece together a semblance of what might have happened.

First there was the beast, which despite it's speed and snarling ferociousness, the young boy Damon was able to defeat. It must have been a stunning battle to witness. Not because of its quickness or because of its luck, but because of the true underdog story surrounding it. Damon, a beaten and battered boy, defeating a beast in the prime of its life. Fit and able, hungry and enraged; still, it was unable to defeat a wounded foe. Stunning, absolutely stunning.

Secondly were the small vines, growing from the walls of the cave. Komosatuo hadn’t noticed them when he had first entered the cave, probably because they were so small, but now that he was laying on the ground, he could see their small pointed tips protruding from the walls. As he watched them, the sudden thought occurred to him that they were growing, right before his very eyes. It was a stupid thought to say the least, no plant grew so fast that the eye could watch it but, even as he watched, the vines grew.

Komosatuo sat up with a start, instantly regretting it as dizziness washed over him. He swayed considerably before he was able to steady himself with a hand against the ground. It was at that point, that he felt the still warm flesh and fur of the dead beast. That also happened to be when the smell of burning fur came to him and he flinched away from the dead beast, backing his way away from it on his hands and knees. He had only gone a few feet when he bumped into something soft behind him. He heard something groan and he spun, suddenly remembering the boy, Damon who was still in the cave with him.

The instant his eyes found the boy Komosatuo was overwhelmed with sorrow. The boy looked even worse than he had when Komosatuo first met him. Blood flowed freely from new wounds across his upper body, and Komosatuo noticed blood seeping from old wounds, some of which had just begun to clot up and seal. The boy was a mess, to say the least and Komosatuo knew that part of it was his fault. He should have been more alert, that beast should have been dead before it even thought of attacking him.

Something popped on the wall and when Komosatuo turned he saw that the vines were now a few inches long, and getting longer. He also noticed that they were growing some very nasty looking spikes. They filled the walls and some were even beginning to emerge from the ground. This was not the place to be and Damon didn’t look like he was in any condition to move, much less walk. Komosatuo had limited time, and limited resources; if he was to act, he had to do it now.

And he did.

First things first, he had to bandage Damon up enough to stop the bleeding. Since he didn’t have much in the way of bandages, he used the next best thing. He grabbed hold of Damon’s already ruined shirt and ripped if free of the boys limp body. Pulling one of his many concealed knives from their resting places he quickly cut the shirt into as many strips as he could. He then tied about a dozen of them into one long string and proceeded to wrap the boy’s torso. He heard Damon grunt as he did so and loosened the bandage a bit, no use in killing the lad due to lack of oxygen even as he tried to save him. After this was complete, the blood had almost instantly seeped through the cloth, but Komosatuo could see that the flow of blood was ebbing, Komosatuo began to patch up the boys remaining wounds with the remaining cloth. He even used a small piece to wrap up his face, sealing the wound on his cheek.

As he worked, he kept his eyes on the vine, watching it as it grew. He noticed something about its growth patterns as it did so, something that startled him and chilled him to the bone at the same time. The vines were growing toward him and Damon. True, some were growing toward the dead animal, but most were growing toward him and the boy. It was as if the vines were attracted to flesh, living more so than dead. The thought of a vine, growing this fast and acting as though it were “aware” of flesh . . . the thought left Komosatuo paralyzed with fear for a few moments. And then he was moving again, this time with a little more vigor than before.

He finished tying off the bandage around his face and bent to scoop Damon up into his arms. He looked almost as if he were asleep, but Komosatuo could hear him mumbling about something, possibly something about the vines. Komosatuo didn’t catch it, nor did he want to dwell on it, the vines were growing larger and if anything, faster now that he had stood up. Were they attracted to movement as well? That could explain their sudden growth, that small battle must have involved quite a lot of movement. He didn’t dwell. He bent to retrieve Damon’s blade, oddly enough the vines seemed to avoid that, and turned to face deeper into the cave. There was no sense in going back. They were too far along now, best keep going. Perhaps he could out run the vines. He started forward, walking at a brisk pace, trying hard not to step on the vines as they grew up out of the ground and soon the cave swallowed him and Damon, leaving the dead beast to the will of the vines.

***

He was wrong.

He couldn’t out run the vines.

It was soon very apparent that he couldn’t and he was beginning to regret his decision to go deeper. Soon, he knew that he wouldn’t have the option of turning back. But he had come so far now and was too close to just back out now. True he didn’t know how long this cave stretched on for, but he could feel something in his gut that told him that he was closer than he was when he first entered the cave. And he was getting closer.

One of the first things he learned about the vines was that their vines were covered in a very sticky goo like substance. Probably some sort of Venus Trap mechanism that held its prey still while it ate it. How it did that Komosatuo didn’t know, nor did he want to remain still enough to find out. Those spines were over an inch long, very thick and very, very sharp. He learned that the hard way when his foot came down atop one of them.

He learned another thing then, about the vine and it being alive; it seemed to grow even more alive when it touched flesh, because the moment his foot came down on it, it writhed and kicked so hard that he nearly stumbled. He barely managed not too, but only just, and in the process almost stepped on another vine that came up out of nowhere.

The vine was writhing freely now, reaching for his legs, his arms, his face, his chest, anything it could grab for. Oddly enough the vines seemed to avoid Damon but Komosatuo couldn’t think about it long, another vine snapping for his face diverged his attention back to staying alive, rather than wondering about odd behaviors.

Another vine snapped forward and Komosatuo had had enough. The sword that was in his free hand, his left as it was, his right holding Damon over his shoulder, zipped forward and cut the vine neatly in half. The half that was attached to the ground twisted and shrank back suddenly, leaving its other half to writhe and ‘kick’ itself around on the ground. If it had a mouth, Komosatuo would have said it screamed bloody murder. Komosatuo didn’t have much time to think about it further when another vine lashed out from the wall. This time it went for his legs. It too fell to the ground, cleaved in half.

Then the vines got really angry.

It was like a mob. One or two of its number goes down and the rest enter a sort of blood rage. The vines acted much the same way and as one, instantly lashed out.

Had it not been for his years of training at the compound, Komosatuo would have been overwhelmed in a matter of seconds. The onslaught was uncomprehensible. He had heard once, somewhere after he journeyed out of the compound, that there was a thought pattern called ‘Hive.’ It was when there really was no coherent thought process, but a synapse of random nerve firings that took place in a basic intelligence that acted toward a greater goal. Much like ants or termites. Neither possessed a complex brain, but somehow, together and working as one in a ‘Hive’ state of mind, they were able to build complex structures, both above and below ground. It baffled anyone who saw them.

The vines were now acting in much the same pattern. They were all acting as a ‘Hive’, striving for a greater goal. The avenging stroke of their fallen comrades, as well as the consumption of the flesh that was walking amongst them. Komosatuo never felt more afraid for his life.

The blade was a wall of steel around him, flashing dully in the remaining light from the tiny mirrors. All around him vines writhed and snapped, stretching their sticky arms toward him, brandishing their inch spines like claws on some beasts paw and all around him, vines that ventured too close lay cleaved in half, writhing on the ground or up against the walls. But for every vine Komosatuo cut, two more replaced it in the deadly dance of his life, and his flesh. If this kept up for very long Komosatuo knew that he would die, dragging Damon, an innocent boy in a hellish place, down with him.

He gritted his teeth and fought back harder.

But it was to no avail. The vines were just too numerous and grew to fast. Even as he cut them, he could see the halved stumps regrowing and rejoining the fight. His wall of steel was beginning to fail and the vines knew it. Against all odds about intelligence and plant behavior, they knew, and they began to press harder.

A hole formed on his left side when he reached around to slice at a vine reaching for his foot and he was instantly attacked by four vines at once. Three were cut in half before they reached his flesh but the fourth curled around his stroke and latched firmly onto his hip. He screamed in pain and fury as the vine grew around his waist and tightened. He snapped the blade down on its main shaft and it writhed away, leaving the half still attached to him around his waist, pulsing painfully as the spines on its trunk dug deep into his flesh. They had struck a serious blow for now every time he moved. Komosatuo felt the spines burrow further into his gut, bringing stinging pain to his whole body.

Another vine lashed out and snapped itself against the small of his back. He would have ignored this blow, but because it hit just below where his leather jerkin was placed it was hard too. He arched his back and screamed; the vines took full advantage of his moment’s lapse in defense. Two were instantly around his legs, holding him painfully fast to the ground, and three more lashed themselves against his stomach, doubling him over and tripling the pain that was already there. Two others reached out and latched onto his shoulders, pushing him down by their sheer weight alone. He could feel his legs beginning to buckle and he tried to stand, tried to fight back, but four vines came from behind him and swept his feet from beneath him in a painful shove.

He was airborne for only a few seconds before his hit the ground with a thud and there was a moment’s rest as the vines swarmed around above him. It was in this moment that he saw his life flash before his eyes. He was going to die, Damon along with him. He couldn’t fight back, there were too many, and they grew too fast. He was going to die. He closed his eyes and waited for the end.

He felt rather than saw the vines begin to descend. He heard rather than felt the sound of their spines pierce his flesh. He smelled rather than heard the sounds of the acidic juices burning at his flesh. He felt the heat of the burning rather than saw the flames of pain against his flesh. He heard . . .

Searing hot pain exploded in his right hand and Komosatuo surprised himself with a scream and despite the crushing weight of the vines on his body, turned his head to look at his right hand. It was on fire. Or rather, the sword was.

The vines, screamed.

If it could have even been called a scream. If they had a mouth they would have screamed, that was for sure.

Instead the vines, jumped. Away from the flame and slithered rapidly away from the sword. Komosatuo was all around puzzled by this behavior and for a moment lay still, confused and dazed before it clicked. The vines were afraid of flame!

He had a weapon. He could win!

With a guttural yell of rage and fear, mostly fear, Komosatuo swung the flaming blade over this chest and slammed it into the mast of vines just beyond his left shoulder. Four instantly caught flame, writhing away from the blade, and in the process caught more on fire. Chaos spread through the vine ranks and the acrid smell of burning plant flesh and the goo substance filled the cave.

Seeing their comrades burning, and the ‘Hive’ thought process kicking in again, the vines tried to mount another assault at Komosatuo’s exposed rear, but they too were sent reeling back in a mass of flame.

He had a weapon.

Pain exploded throughout his body has he rose to his feet but he ignored it, instead focusing on the joy of still being alive, and being able to fight back. He began to swing the flaming blade back and forth in front of him and the vines retreated. Every so often he spun to catch those behind him alight, buying him more time to stumble forward, deeper into the cave.

He didn’t know how long he had walked for, how long he had beat back the vines, kept them from his battered and bleeding flesh. He thought perhaps a few minutes, or maybe a few hours. He wasn’t for sure but for however long it took him, when he finally found the room without a single vine in it, he honestly thought he had died and gone to heaven.

He didn’t take the time to stop and think of why there were no vines in the great room; he didn’t have it. He set foot in the room, deliriously noticed there were no vines, flicked the sword around once more and then collapsed on the floor in a heap of blood, torn black clothing, and a small boy named Damon.

Exhaustion and sleep overwhelmed him in a matter of moments and he was once again plunged deep into the depths of unconsciousness.

[Izvilvin]

((That bunny was approved))

The rank stench of rotting boddies was not far from the smell of Alerar's mines, Izvilvin noted with unfond rememberance of his time living there. It was a harsh century of living in dirt, eating vermin and occasionally sneaking into town, so desperate for water and food that he'd risked his life to travel among the dwarves, mortal enemy to the Drow people. Perhaps the smell in the mines was also laced with death, as this strange aroma was, as Izvilvin followed Arawn right up to the ring of dead.

He did not cringe as he observed the rotting bodies, but there was a pang of feeling in his heart that went to the unfortunate people. Succumbing to their greed, many of these men might have simply charged forward over the other bodies, anxious to be the first to the treasure rumored to be at the island's core.

Izvilvin remained silent as Arawn decided they should press onward, but a gasp escaped him as his ally was suddenly sucked into the air by some invisible force. The pale man seemed to be in incredible pain, but Izvilvin could not think of a thing to do about it.

A moment passed as Izvilvin's mind raced, until finally he braced himself, and with all his might leapt at his companion and gripped onto his being. Almost instantly they were whisked away, soaring toward the fortress so far from where they'd been.

The Drow hit the ground hard and bounced. The wind was knocked from his lungs and he felt burning pain in his side as he skidded to a stop, somewhere between the great crevice and the large doors into the fortress.

Although they were now closer than ever to their destination, Izvilvin struggled greatly to get up. Even the excitement of being so close to the center of the island did not give him the energy needed to rise. Through sheer force of will, Izvilvin struggled against his bodily limitations and stood, leaning heavily to one side. As he tried to walk, the Drow felt a great stabbing pain in his side, and examining his own ribs, decided that two of them were broken so completely that the jagged bone was stabbing him with every step he took.

It was a horrible wound, and one Izvilvin knew could kill him if it wasn't treated soon. But where to go but forward? Making his way back was impossible. His only hope was to press forward with Arawn and hope for the best.

So Izvilvin went to his fallen ally and fell to his knees beside him. "Rise, we are at the fortress."

He shook the man with one of his hands, and even that small movement sent shocks of firey pain through him. Arawn stirred and began to rise, so the Drow did the same, though much slower. Hurt as he was, Izvilvin would not allow himself to slow down their progress as he made his way to the massive wooden doors.

Though he dared not try to pull them. He looked to Arawn, stifling the need to groan in pain that seemed to press at him. "We are close, so very close, but I can't open these doors right now."

He felt a fool for admitting his weakness. After all, Arawn had shown himself to be the type of man who did not tolerate allies who were not strong. But there was no denying his current injury. To strain himself while opening the doors was simply not an option.

[Letho]

GENERAL NOTES: I have to admit that I have divided opinions on this quest. At first, I thought it had a potential to be a great one, but the further it went, the more it became an attempt to create a hybrid between Althanas Indiana Jones and Althanas Road to El Dorado or something. I enjoy action packed quest as the next guy, but when there is nothing in the quest but action, it becomes a little tiresome. Had it been finished, it would probably score significantly higher then it will now, but I believe that there were some flaws that wouldn’t be corrected no matter how long this quest was. I’ll try to address them now, but given the fact that this was an unfinished quest and that the three out of four participants are inactive, I probably won’t be as elaborate as usual.


CONTINUITY – 7

This was done rather well. Each of you had a rather unique approach to the matter at hand, together with specific reasons. The part I liked the most here were the NPCs though, and their usage that turned the start of this quest into a start of this cutthroat race for the treasure where everything went. Also, Damon’s wide-eyed I-don’t-want-to-be-here approach was a welcome refreshment from all the treasure hunters that raided the island. All in all, you all established the story early on and presented it rather well, despite the fact that you jumped from one trap to the next. Too bad the departure of some members prevented this story from unfolding.

SETTING – 5

I think this is where the first crucial mistake is and you all managed to somehow make it. All the ships approached the island during the night, and yet I could scarcely find a spot where either of you even mentioned the fact that there was darkness all around you. Even with a full moon (and I’m not certain that there was one), sailing and fighting leviathans and avoiding traps would’ve been damn near impossible at worst or really difficult at best. And yet you all disregarded this huge piece of information, even Arawn whose race is directly affected by the day/night. Only when the sun finally came up did I find any kind of mention of the illumination of the environment. So while all of you did a pretty decent work at describing the setting and interacting with it and the numerous traps, this one mistake throws a taint on the entire performance. Still, I liked the entire atmosphere. Reminded me of one of the old movies, where the protagonist looked for a lost city or something.

PACING – 4

I thought of putting a zero here because the quest wasn’t finished, but I figured the lack of conclusion or even a climax would hurt you substantially in other categories as well, so no point doing it here as well. The general pacing in the thread was good... while it lasted. Even after a crashing start with the introduction of the sea serpent, you all managed to maintain a certain level of tension, especially Damon whose troubles I found most interesting to read about. What killed the momentum were some of Komosauto’s post. Arawn, Izvilvin and Damon would heat up the situation in their posts and them there would be a long-winded post that failed to fit in the general idea. In fact, several times I was tempted to skip over certain paragraphs because twenty feet from the rather cozy ninja and his skiff, all hell was breaking loose. Sometimes this kind of contrast can create suspense. Sometimes it can irk the reader. It irked me so I’m mentioning it. It the end though, without a proper ending, I felt like I was watching a movie that missed the finishing 30 minutes.

DIALOGUE – 7,5

I liked the dialogue in this quest. Whether it was interaction between PCs or conversations with NPCs, most of it really fit the profiles of those involved. Given the fact that Damon and Komo joined up a bit later then Arawn and Izvilvin, I got a better feeling from the latter pair and I liked their exchanges. Arawn managed to display the level-headed, icy demeanor just as Izvilvin managed to depict a different kind of cool, more checkered with doubts and introspections as it fits a character that mostly doesn’t understand others. All in all, possible the best part of this quest. Kudos for using the different font for different language.

ACTION – 7

There was a lot of action and it was generally very finely done. Not only did most of your action seem tactically wise, but the traps and obstacles themselves were rather well thought off. On top of that, most of what your characters did went hand in hand with their characters, whether it was Damon’s helplessness and naivety, Arawn’s “survival of the fittest” method or Izvilvin’s kindness. I had a problem with Komosauto and it was the fact that there was very little display of Komo’s character in this quest. For the first two pages, he seemed like a regular run-off-the-mill ninja in search of treasure and thus his actions and motives were difficult to decipher. This is something that influenced both the action and the persona category.

PERSONA – 5

First off, let me say that none of you were bad here. In fact, I would commend you all for acting very much within what was expected from your characters, whether it was Arawn’s emotionlessness, Izvilvin’s courage, Damon’s naivety or Komosauto’s measured and wise approach. The reason I didn’t score this higher because... well, because this quest didn’t reach its climax. It would be at the climax, when all of you reached the treasure or whatever, that the true faces would be seen. Would Arawn kill everybody present, would Izvilvin satisfy himself with just being an observer for Step, would Damon change his mind when he stepped into the treasury and decide to get as much as possible, those are just some of the possible situations that could’ve happened at the end. And because you failed to provide the answers to them, I can’t score this category higher.

MECHANICS – 8

All four of you are really good writers and all four of you have four very different styled (for more, check Technique). I have to admit that usually, with longer quest with a greater amount of participants, the quality and the concentration has a tendency of decreasing the longer the quest gets, but it was not the case here. Komosauto does suffer from occasional mistakes, but I think this is mostly because he writes an awful lot. Other then that, I can’t find any major flaws in this portion. Technique, though, is a whole new ballgame.

TECHNIQUE – 5

As I mentioned before, all of you have significantly different styles. None is perfect, but I think this is an opportunity for all of you to learn something from each other. Arawn’s style, though technically almost flawless, suffers from being too verbose from time to time. Having a broad dictionary is a great asset, but when that dictionary becomes more important then the flow of writing, then you’re doing something wrong. The most complex word isn’t always the best choice. Izvilvin, on the other hand, has a very clean, very simple style, that maybe misses a touch of what Arawn has too much. Then there’s Damon, whose writing seems like a perfect balance. Only in that attempt to balance things out, he sometimes seems uninspired and lacking the flair that would make his writing alive. Komosauto makes the usual mistake of overwriting himself, forgetting that quantity and quality aren’t one and the same thing. Sometimes you don’t need two paragraphs to describe something; sometimes a gun is just a gun, and it helps the story if you don’t spend a lot of time focusing on it instead of the story. I think if each one of you took a bit from the other, you’d all advance yourself as writers.

CLARITY – 6,5

Not much to say about this. Mostly it was done well and I seldom had to return to re-read some stuff. Mostly it was when Arawn got caught in his introspective moments or when Komo went on one of his four-page long posts, but other then that, you all did well.

WILD CARD – 4

It’s sad to see a potential squandered and it’s even sadder when I spend an afternoon on a story that has no ending.



TOTAL SCORE – 59

Congratulations!!!


SPOILS:

INDK receives 2500 EXP and 50 GP
Arawn receives 1700 EXP and 50 GP
Izvilvin receives 1400 EXP and 50 GP
Komosauto receives 700 EXP and 50 GP

[Cyrus the virus]

EXP added! Arawn levels up, INDK breaks 100,000 EXP... Wow.