AC 2021 Round One: Team Two

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

Round one will begin at 6pm EST on 3rd December 2021.

Team 2

1. Storm Veritas (C)
2. Elite Optic
3. Emi
4. Leoric

[Preston]

Challenges for Round 1:
Your group is heading to Alerar, making their way to these newly discovered ruins. The purpose is up to you, as well as how you interact with the environment (to include factions of the Alerar Guilds, Alerar Army, Tular Plains Demons, or Northern Alerar Dwarves). The following challenges are for use in the thread, and you must include at least one but can incorporate as much as you would like beyond that (it does reflect in the Wild Card and Story section)

Challenge 1: Interact with at least one faction, either as an ally or enemy - or create your own and that faction must interact with the others somehow
Challenge 2: Overcome one “political” obstacle
Challenge 3: Due to the hurried nature of everyone scrambling to get to the new discovery, your characters are not fully stocked/prepared in some way

[Elite Optic]

It had been some time since Sorian and Elite had actually left Corone. It had forced some serious thought about whether Sorian had finally run out of ventures. He was now far from a fit young man, his skin wrinkled and scarred with history, his agility hindered by frailty and his mind occasionally forgetting to impress upon him his own wisdom. He had always envisioned dying in battle, being slain by a worthy foe of considerable skill and yet he had in fact survived again and again. It was not that he wished death to become him, and it was never his intent to become a pitied old man who longed for his youth but as time passed that's exactly what he appeared to be aging into.

His cloak billowed in the wind as he wandered the dock. The creeks of the boardwalk hidden beneath the wailing of the seaside wind. The docks in Radasanth were commonly hit by bustling winds and today was like many before it, but in these days Sorian’s joints did not appreciate the cold like they used to. Before him sat docked the large and somewhat intimidating Golden Swift VI, the sixth in its generation and well known to the docks of Radasanth. Here he hoped for safe travel as he had done in the past. Though this time he had a much larger and less friendly looking companion who was proving particularly difficult to find passage for.

“Greetings Hefton!” Sorian waved in greeting in his approach, the sailor while short of being a friend had known him for some time and was usually receptive to helping. “I was hoping you had managed to reach an agreement with your superior to get me and my companion a ride to Alerar?”

He shook his head before Sorian had even finished his sentence. “I told you it was unlikely, I figured you’d assume I’d say no.”

Sorian sighed deeply. Had he really made the mistake in assuming that Hefton would make such an effort to accommodate him? The cold air forced another cough out of him, one large enough that even his hand could not mask.

“Let’s be honest, old man.” He felt a little mean, but as a sailor he had to protect his trade. “While we have the space, THAT thing scares the rest of the guests on board and we’d lose money for that. You don’t have enough to compensate for such a gap in finance.”

“I assured you he was perfectly safe to be around.” Sorian tried not to raise his voice.

“Sorry Sorian. You’ll have to find someone else.”

Sorian glanced over at the lightly rocking mountain of a ship, watching the many armed people wandering up and down its deck, and realised there was no real point in arguing about it. There was no favourable outcome from this situation and he knew it was time to call it quits. Sorian turned away without another word, disappointed and now lost for ideas. Even worse he had almost guaranteed Elite a spot on this ship - what was he going to think?

As intimidating as the large ship may have been, Elite was equally as intimidating. His twelve foot stance would normally be enough but the fact he was a skeleton meant that few people approached him willingly and even worse, many civilians simply ran upon his sight. Sorian chuckled at memories of women fainting before him, the fear of such a rare creature appearing before them was often more than enough. This time however, it could be the first time that Sorian actually felt nervous approaching him, he’d not failed at such a task before and his reaction would be a new one for him.

Standing under the shadow of the dock warehouse Elite looked like a spider waiting patiently for its prey. His glowing eyes now more prominent as he lurked in the shadows just off the main boardwalk.

“Your face is full of failure.” The deep rough voice echoed out to Sorian.

“Yes.” Sorian responded nervously, his eyes dropping to the floor for the briefest of moments.

“It looks like your influence on the local population has finally collapsed into nothing. Have you finally given up?” Elite slowly crouched and leaned towards Sorian, leaning over him like a God peering down on its minions below.

“No!” He snapped and flung his hand into the air dismissively.

“Your eyes betray you Sorian. You have never felt fearful before… Not towards me, not towards this arrangement we have together. Can you no longer venture any further?”

Sorian turned back to Elite with a furious glare, his eyes firmly meeting the burning flame of Elites, and once again showed no fear or doubt. His stance stood straight and confident and his frame appeared not so elderly as he did before. “Look into my eyes, beast! Tell me what you see?”

Elite stood back up to his twelve foot frame. Knocking a few specs of dust from his boney skull and then turned to scan the line of docks before them. It was huge and many ships of various sizes sat before them in the water, choice was readily available. “We’ll have to find another boat… but I’m sick of waiting here out of sight for fear of scaring yet another member of the populace.”

“My disappointment aside, we will have to just start nagging random sailors for passage. There will be more than one boat heading out to Alerar.”

Elite had enjoyed Sorian’s company, even in his old age this man had a fire inside of him that had driven him to succeed in life as a warrior. Yet these past few weeks he had finally started to see Sorian’s flame dwindle. He moved slower and his recovery from injuries was much longer, even the people who knew him finally began to see him for the old man he was.

“When we find a ship… you understand that this venture will not be easy for you to undertake. We have a lot of ground to cover.”

Sorians eyebrow raised, he had been questioned many times by this giant, but he had never been doubted. He looked down at his tired hands again reminding himself of his lost youth and waning influence on this world.

Elite looked down at him, and bluntly continued. “You and I both know you are nearing the end. You may not survive this time.”

“Do you think anyone will attend my funeral?”

“In this world… out there? No. I think you passed the time for an honoured death many years ago. Yet you have surpassed your family, your true friends and colleagues from the wars of the past. Whatever happens, whenever your end comes. Your true funeral will be in the afterlife where they await you.”

“I do not desire death. Not since I met you.” Sorian paused as yet another cough overcame him. He was never sure exactly what Elite really thought of him. Maybe he was just a puppet for his entertainment, maybe he was just a tool, a guide for this knowledge, but with such a comment about the afterlife, maybe he was a friend. “Yet I do desire a worthy one.”

Elite did not respond as he began to walk out into the many boardwalks and jetty’s of the large Radasanthian docks. This area was a world of wood and water, the boardwalk and ships a barrier to the surrounding sea water, but there was no bigger barrier than the sea itself and the only question Elite had for this trip was which piece of wood would help him pass this great watery barrier. Passing others here was unavoidable and with the unusual instance that Sorian was wandering behind him a wide berth was given to him by the locals. The shock and surprise was always amusing to him and occasionally a somewhat cheeky and sinister laugh erupted from him as he passed by.

Sorian soon regained his composure from the conversation and dashed back in front, guiding Elite up an alternate pier that was less crowded but still full of ships and their sailors. A few guards stood protecting the empty ones, unwilling to discuss passage as it wasn't their ship, but Sorian was not willing to wait for their owners' return while other ships looked to be leaving soon.

Before them were two ships of two completely different sizes, the first a large yacht stood prominently at the end of the dock, its masts so large they rivalled the Golden Swift VI, though not quite as big it was definitely a vessel that would cover for Elite’s size. The Ironfair Guardian proudly displayed itself in gold painted writing and it was visually capable of carrying both large amounts of cargo and defending itself in a fight. Yet again the owners did not appear present and its sails were not even being prepared. Then to their right a much smaller but beautiful looking boat floated in the shadow of the much larger yacht to their left.

“Interesting modern design here…I’ve not seen one quite like this before.” Sorian’s face rose with intrigue as he scratched his chin involuntarily.

“It’s a catamaran…” Elite’s voice droned with disappointment. “Modern or not it’s too small. I’ll look like a mast just standing on it.”

“And what a fine mast you’ll be!” Sorian quickly witnessed the young lady upon it and began to wander away from Elite.

“You cannot expect me to get upon this rowing boat when this real sea faring vessel exists.” Elite pointed angrily towards the much larger yacht before them. Yet Sorian ignored the grunts of his Skeletal friend and walked with vigour as he approached the Catamaran. This was his time to try to redeem his failure and while on the smaller size this appeared a perfectly capable vessel. Unaware if the woman had noticed his approach he held his positive strides in place for the duration until within ears reach. She stood in a large heavy coat up to protect from the wind, her hood hung astray showing her long braided hair that flickered in the wind. She was quite beautiful and youthful with much darker skin than Sorian, and unlike himself currently preoccupied with boat duties.

“Greetings!” Sorian called out from the jetty as he rubbed his cold pale hands as he was struck with yet another blast of cold sea wind. “I was wondering if there was any chance that you might be willing to do myself and my interesting looking colleague here a favour in passage?”

[Storm Veritas]

“Forty-thousand, kind sirs.”

The request sent a roar of laughter amongst the large room. The city council meeting room in Radasanth was a gorgeous marble amphitheatre, recently reconstructed while sparing no expense in the wake of Radasanth’s siege. Eight elegantly dressed men of varying ages were bookended by two intimidating knights. An audience of some two hundred had gathered to boo and torment the man who led the charge against the city, although security ensured his (and their) collective safety.

“Forty-thousand crowns!? The offer was for -five- thousand! Do we need to call the guards!?”

Storm Veritas had expected an unpleasant response to his demands from Sir David Jacobsen, a half-witted Radasanthian councilor who held elected office more for his thick black hair than the dim bulb burning beneath it. Jacobsen looked about the hemisphere table to other councilors, a mixture of interest and scorn amongst them as they considered the circumstance. With a velvet voice, the aging diplomat began to plead his case, erstwhile fixing his cufflinks and keeping his collar razor-straight. He smiled, thinking of his last note exchanges with Shinsou, and considered how easy they both knew this negotiation would be.

“I understand, your budget is limited and you need to appease the masses.” Storm’s gleaming white teeth contrasted from his evenly tanned skin, giving the well-traveled adventurer a phony sheen of youth.

“I needn’t remind you that a year ago you’d have put my head on a pike before hearing me out. But if the rumors are true, and a Demon Gate has opened in Alerar, you need it closed and you need the key artifact - which appears to be some silly sword. Is letting it fall into the hands of Ettermire Leadership, or some red-skinned demonic abomination pulling down that prize and sticking it in their collective pockets your best bet? How would that fare amongst your constituents come election day?”

A droll murmur rolled about the audience; fear was the easiest motivator amongst cowards.

“And besides…” the dapper gentleman continued. “Would you prefer to send either of these incompetent fools as your champions? I’m sure they’d ride cheap, but you get what you pay for.” Storm gestured to the two distinguished knights on either side of the large table.

Without missing a beat, the knights strode forward swiftly, reaching for their swords with a rumble-clang. Their metal breastplates made them swimmingly perfect demonstrations, and with a wave of each hand Storm had the two large men floating harmlessly in the air, their feet flailing and shrieks echoing across the large, filled room. A loud mixture of gasps, shrieks, and laughter filled the busy room as guards rushed the stage to prevent a melee.

--------------

The sun shined brightly on Storm’s face the following morning, and with good reason. Pinching a small leather flask between his fingers, he took a slow draw of warm honey-mead. It was heavy, with a sweet aftertaste that danced about his tongue. A few pulls from the bottle would loosen him up, relaxing him before he could re-find his sea legs.

The council had conceded to his demand of forty-thousand crowns to destroy the portal and return the artifact sword, while sponsoring him with a ten-percent in kind donation to fund his efforts. This came in the shape of a large chartered vessel, ensuring safe, quick, and smooth travel across the sea for him, his three favorite Radasanthian prostitutes, a plentiful stock of food and more ale than even they could drink.

And no one drinks more than a Radasanth whore on shore leave.

Storm smiled into the eastern seas as he heard clamoring on the dock. The salty air had a fresh, healing scent that imbued a sense of immortality, as if the brine could heal all wounds. A few deckhands would shephard him across; good men well worth their salt that he’d sailed with before. They worked their checklist to ensure mast integrity, sail health, and hull condition.

A clambor had erupted behind him, and Storm spied an entirely average older man walking alongside an unmistakably massive pile of bones. Turning to whisper, Storm spoke quickly.

“Go. Go. Gotta go. Go go go go go go go. GO!”

It was almost too late; Connor Smithson had been scrambling at the tethers when the familiar face (face?) of Elite Optic and his human familiar was sighted at the bow of the next boat down. Storm presumed safely there was only one fifteen-foot skeleton traipsing about Althanas, and remembered this lethal atrocity from battle in the Lornius Corporate Challenge, years ago. The monster was actually noble, and more than capable, but was an absolute guarantee to sour the mood with the hired help waiting in Storm’s quarters below.

He must be going to collect the FIVE thousand crown prize. Let these folks pack up and I’ll catch them in Alerar. Be a real shame if he helped us do the heavy lifting and fall overboard on the way back. Do bones float?

Moving with the stealth of a lightly intoxicated ninja, Storm swiftly helped unravel the last rope from the metal cleat hitching the sprawling vessel to the dock. By lowering his body flat to the deck, he was able to use a very mild electromagnetic pulse upon the cleat to give himself and the crew a nice kick out into the calm waters.

Storm Veritas began to sail out upon his own vessel, laughing behind his teeth at the rabble behind him, scrambling to determine how best to pack an enormous undead animation into their tiny dingy.

Real shame, but I’ve got guests to attend to. I’ll see you folks soon enough, I’m sure.

[Leoric]

“But why do you have to go?” Kylie cried out as Leo was sorting out his various packs for travel.

“Because, There is not many capable people out there to deal with something like this.” He put down a pack on the shelf next to his adopted daughter. “Plus, I have a bad feeling about this, I don't trust anyone else to deal with this. If it is what the rumors say, then imagine if an enemy nation gets a hold of it and now we are under attack by demons?”

He sighed and turned to face Kylie, holding the sides of her face with his hands. “Sometimes, for the greater good one must make sacrifices, even if that sacrifice is a few weeks away from you.” With a quick sigh he grabbed the rest of his satchels and connected them to his belt loops.

“You are going to become one of them!” she cried out with tears starting to stream down her face. “I just found you, I don't want to lose you!”

“Hey, don’t worry, if you had a dream, it’s just a bad dream. I promise I will be back, and until then you will be staying with Miss Ruby okay?” At those final words Leoric did a quick glance around the tiny hovel they called home before he was off. He had passage to Radasanth acquired but once there he would have to find his way across the ocean.

—-----------

It was busier than usual at the Radasanth docks this day, or at least busier than Leoric had ever seen them. In the chaos of trying to get to the port as quickly as possible, he had forgotten his coin purse, which now that he thought back, was placed next to Kylie. He would have to find a way on a ship for cheap or services rendered. He figured his best luck would be a small trade vessel, something that was already heading in that direction and one extra body wouldn’t be a problem. He was getting ready to start appraising the ships that were already docked when an old familiar voice called out to him.

“Leoric Blackwell, I thought you weren’t coming back to Radasanth if you could help it?” A sultry feminine voice called out from behind him.

“Well, then I guess I can't help it if I am here.” Leoric said as he turned on his heel and did a deep bow. “Madame Siloque, how are you on this fine day? And may I inquire as to why you are at the docks with the common riff-raff?”

“Oh, even after all these months you still remember your manners.” She mocked as Leoric looked up at her finally to see her attire. She was evidently getting ready for travel, she didn’t have on her obnoxiously large dress but instead wore a plain one, at least plain for her standards. It was a gorgeous red dress that was form fitting at the top and hung off her hips as she walked forward. “I am about to go for a little bit of a sail, nothing that would require your protection unfortunately. What about yourself?”

“Heading to Alerar, I am going to investigate the recent rumors. If you wish, I can grab a souvenir on my way back.”Leoric could not hold back the sneer as he tried to behave. He couldn’t deny she was a great lay, but everything beyond that was a real pain in the ass.

“That won’t be necessary darling, but I must be off, I have spent enough time chit-chatting with the riff-raff.” With that, herself and her two companions who were carrying her trunks of belongings left. Leoric sighed before heading to the docks where the common folk or smaller trade vessels would be tied up when he saw a most peculiar sight. From behind they would be a little unassuming if it wasn't for one of the figures being well over twice his own height. As he got close he heard a few keywords that peaked his interest. They were looking for passage, if they were heading the same direction as he, he may be able to acquire passage with them. Granted the vessel was smaller than what he was accustomed to for long sea travels, but from what he could see behind the giant hulk in front of him it would at least be comfortable.

“Well hello there, you wouldn’t happen to be looking for passage to Alerar would you? I need to be heading that way myself and wouldn't mind tagging along.”

[Emi]

It had been an interesting six months since the hurricane had nearly sunk Wavedancer. In her grace, X’eana, goddess of the sea, had even seen fit to place her within range of a port where she could resupply and begin her new life. Over those six months, she’d been to a number of places. Starting with Dheathain, she’d also been to Moriah, Fallien, Scara Brae and to various parts of Corone. Each land had been interesting in its own right, but she had yet to decide on a place to call “home.”

To her surprise, her ship seemed to be far ahead of most other ships she’d seen here. First, hers was the only one she’d seen that had an engine. It was also the only one with a depth meter that was mechanical in nature. She’d seen sailors using long lines and weights at the bows of their ships to test depth. Such a method was not unknown to her, just not commonly used. In some places, the unique nature of Wavedancer had allowed her to show off her workmanship with pride. In others, it was simply too different, requiring that she leave quickly before the people could work themselves up into a harmful mob. Emi did her best to take it all in stride. X’eana had warned her that this world would be incredibly different. Thus far, that had proven to be an understatement.

As fall continued to get steadily cooler, Emi began to think of warmer climes. Her homeland was warm year round. These northern latitudes were much colder than the island girl was accustomed to. Back home, her heavy sea coat was for wearing during storms more to keep her dry than to keep her warm. Here in Corone, she’d been wearing it nearly every day and still found herself shivering on occasion. It was aggravating to work her ship in boots and coat, but it was easier than trying to do so while shivering so hard her hands shook like she had the tremors.

No matter. Just a week or so south and I can put this thing away.

On this particular morning, Emi had been delighted to find that the odd shore jobs she’d been doing had finally led to her having enough supplies to sail elsewhere for the coming winter. She thought of a few places, like Fallien. She could do well enough in the Foreigner’s Quarter or whatever they called it. She might even be able to do some small work moving people or small cargo up and down the central channel between the two islands. If not there, then Moriah would also do well. There, she wouldn’t have to worry about the winter storms. Moriah’s bay was well protected by high cliffs and she could hire herself out to the nobility for jaunts around the bay. She wasn’t overly worried about exactly where she was going, so long as it was warm.

The beads at the ends of her dark braids clicked softly as yet another cold breeze moved through the harbor. Focused as she was on her preparations, she almost didn’t respond to the sound of a voice calling out to her. People didn’t usually approach her, so she assumed the greetings were for the large yacht beside her.

“Passage you say,” she called back in a light, almost musical voice. “Aye, I can do passage for one. . . . or two. . . . people. . . .” her voice slowed and trailed off as she turned from her finished task and looked, up, up, up. Her jaw slowly fell open as her eyes blinked rapidly in disbelief at what appeared to be a giant, walking and talking!? (she was almost certain she’d heard a rumble that did not match the voice that had called out to her) skeleton with spikes protruding in various places and flames for eyes.

Sorian looked at her expectantly, apparently unfazed by the giant mass of bones behind him. The bearded man before her seemed older than she expected. Most people that approached her for passage were younger thrill seekers. Still, she had learned long ago not to make assumptions based on appearance.

“Um, well, I can certainly take you, sir. I’m not so sure about your friend. Wavedancer is not a big ship.”

She glanced over at the yacht pushing off beside her. A ship that size could probably handle Sorian’s friend. Does he float? Perhaps we could rig a netting hammock and tow him?


As she stood considering how she might arrange transporting Sorian’s colleague, a tall, heavily built man with dark hair and light eyes approached, also asking about passage. The sea breeze ruffling the fur of his coat along with the man’s confident air gave him a slightly imposing presence. The kind of presence that said this was not a man to be trifled with.

“Alerar? You are wishing to go to Alerar? Is that not further north?”

She was still learning the geography of this part of the world, but she was fairly certain that she’d seen everything that was south of Corone and Alerar was not not a place she’d been to, yet.

Sorian cleared his throat delicately, “Ah, yes and yes.”

Emi crossed her arms, “No. It is cold enough already here. Why Alerar anyway?”

The second man stepped a little further forward to answer her.

“Checking out some rumors. A demon gate might be forming and it seems an ancient sword is the key to the whole thing. Could be bad, could be good depending on who gets control of it.”

Emi raised an eyebrow skeptically, she’d heard a little about this. She’d also heard about the Radasanthian government offering a reward concerning this phenomenon in Alerar. On the one hand, it sounded like a fun thing. On the other hand, it was also inland, which would mean leaving her beloved Wavedancer in the care of others, something she was always loath to do.

“Assuming I can be convinced to go to Alerar, how are you planning to pay?”

“With gold, of course,” Sorian assured her.


Emi paused a moment longer. She was still learning the different coin bases in each country. She wasn’t sure how much she should charge for such a journey.

“Alright, for three hundred crowns, I’ll take you to Alerar.” She turned her full attention to the second man that had approached, “Same for you. Though I only have one berth, so you gentlemen will have to sleep on deck.”

She looked up at the massive skeleton once more, “As for this guy, I think I can get him on deck, but ‘Dancer will sit low in the water. She won’t be as fast as she usually is, but nothing short of that yacht that is pulling away is gonna handle him with ease anyway. Come aboard, gentlemen.”

[Elite Optic]

Elite watched disgruntled as the large yacht left the jetty. The sudden shift from sails up and docked to open sails and lifting off was dramatic to say the least. Elite considered his appearance gave them a fright as it wouldn’t be the first time, but even then this was a little odd. He watched the rudder adjust as it turned out into the open water, the slow but accurate arc of the ship just emphasized its impressive size, and furthermore made Elite wish he was on there.

Sorian clambered onto the boat with a confident little jump and smiled. “Yes. This is more than capable of achieving travel across the waves.” He wandered up and down the small deck proudly for a moment and then paused as he stared out into the horizon of waves. The cold sea air crept into his cloak and he shivered rather violently; he couldn’t help but fear this was a bad sign of what was to come, or was it simply that the wind was cold? He wrapped his cloak up tight and adjusted the toggles to hold it still.

A gentleman? I’ve not been called that since I was human. A deep sigh groaned from the skull of Elite. “Of all the great ideas you have provided… This is by far the worst Sorian…” He stamped his foot onto the boat and felt the entire catamaran shift ever so slightly, then hesitantly took his second foot onto the deck. The entire catamaran jolted to a tilt in Elites direction and Elites inner expression was one of embarrassment. Thankfully without any facial muscles he could hide this but for the continual sign that echoed out involuntarily. He marched into the center of the boat and felt it stabilize for a brief moment, but it was hard to drop the ridiculousness of being such a large skeleton on such a small craft.

“Maybe we really can stick a sail on you and gain more wind power?” Sorian attempted briefly to mock the moment. “Haha. On a serious note, it would appear you do hinder this boat maybe a little bit more than I thought you would.”

“We must find another more capable boat. The speed advantage to this vessel is surely lost if it cannot raise itself out of the water to benefit from its design…” Elite was not a master boatman but he knew enough to know when something was a waste of time. He walked carefully back across the boat, holding out his sword as a sort of balance pole. Just as the catamaran appeared to want to tilt too far, he stepped back onto the safer, more sturdy wooden jetty.

Sorian looked around for a solution. He wasn’t sure exactly what he could do about this, but he didn’t want to go searching for yet another seafaring vessel. He rubbed his thumb and middle finger into his eyes in a frustrated manner and took a deep breath. Then in a bizarre moment of clarity as his eyes focused upon the pile of ropes and netting an idea sprung to him.

This old noggin isn’t quite senile just yet. “WE CAN DRAG YOU!”

Elite paused in his exit and turned his head back to Sorian and the two other confused humans.

Sorian skipped across to the netting and took a hold of a line in his old, but steady, hand and held it somewhat triumphantly above his head. “You collapse your body into this net and we’ll throw you overboard, dragging your body behind the boat… This will put the weight into nothing more than a bit of drag while the boat still powers away like its usual self!”

Elite stood silent for several moments, trying to take in the idea that he would let his body be dragged through the waters like a buoy marking the rocky outcrop of the shoreline.

“Think about it, Elite. Your head can remain here on deck with us and your body remains out of the way. It’s ingenious I tell you!” Sorian turned to the owner of the ship. “Can we use this?”

Twiddling with her hair braid ever so slightly Emi smiled an amused smile. “Honestly, I think that’s a great idea. It’ll be easier on ’Dancer and gives us more space on deck. I’m curious to see how this… separating of the head thing works…”

“Elite come here and step in this netting.” Sorian almost excitedly began spreading the net out, asking for his new associates' help. “I guess this is a great time to introduce ourselves properly. My name is Sorian… Just Sorian, and my compatriot here is Elite.”

Sorian began handing out the netting, a little ignorant of whatever else they were doing. “If you can help me with this net please… Both of you!”

“Emi,” she supplied as she moved forward to help get the netting arranged.

"Leoric," the second added with a friendly nod of the head.

The boat rocked once more as Elite stepped back onto the deck. Then standing over the gaping hole of the net he held out his large sword towards Sorian. He had come to trust him over the years of working together, so as vulnerable as this potentially left him there was no concern as to Sorian’s motives.

Sorian took a hold of the unique blade, so large and heavy he carried it across both forearms and placed it down on the deck behind him. Knocking the rusty flakes of metal off his cloak sleeves he watched the closed eye on the hilt, feeling like it could open at any moment and stare devilishly at him. Elite had never explained the true power of such a blade and while Sorian had not witnessed anything spectacular the fact it shed rusty metal, but never diminished, said that something more than just being scary looking was going on.

“Sorian!” Elite called him back to reality and handed the netting over to him. “Let’s get this over with.”

Elite's body collapsed to the floor, the bones no longer joined and now becoming a clumsy pile of what appeared to be discarded giant bones. His head floated about a meter off the ground and moved away from the netting to let them close it up. It wasn’t often he ever did this and it felt somewhat weird to be separated from his body, moving around just by thought and slower than he would walk meant a bit of patience was in order.

Working as a team the group pushed and carried the netting to the edge of the boat, tying up the ropes they secured Elites body before dropping it into the water. Sorian watched as the bones slowly sank beneath the water, not floating as well as he predicted as they disappeared into the darkness beneath them.

He coughed again, covering his mouth as he heaved hard from the chest. The land before him had been his home for so long and while he had travelled to other continents before he had built his life here in Radasanth, Corone. It was only a couple of steps to his left to get back off the boat and back onto the jetty to his homeland. The smell of the salty sea was a nostalgic sign that he was leaving home, something he had not smelt in a long time. The underlying fear of death returned to him, and it was hard to shake the feeling that this could be his last time at home.

“The only one who should be depressed about my body going under water is me.”

Sorian didn’t break from his trance, his eyes locked onto the Radasanth Docks as if he was looking beyond its wood and walls. “I can’t help but feel that I’m leaving it all behind for the last time. Everything. What if I have forgotten something? Forgotten to say goodbye to a friend? Forgotten to return a book to the library?”

“No one is ever prepared for death, Sorian. The rewards at the end are all you need to worry about.” Elite paused as he looked behind himself to ensure the others were not within ears length, and lowered his voice. “The Penumbra Syndicate are expecting us to deliver, if you don’t believe in yourself then you’re already losing the battle.”

—----------

“If not for the skeleton standing behind you, I’d not have the faith in you that we’ve had in the past. You are coughing as if you are ill.” The syndicate's contact stood boldly before them both, concerned that he was handing off a task to the wrong person.

“Have I failed you before?” Sorian questioned, keeping his voice low so as to avoid an echo from the arched alleyway.

“No.”

“Then ignore my age and give me this opportunity once more. I am fine, it’s just a little cough. We will retrieve the sword and return it to yourselves in due course.”

“Remember, there are not just people going for this, there are armies…” He held his hands behind his back and walked closer to Sorian. “We cannot afford for the other agents of Radasanth to get it first. It must be us. The effects on the future are limitless, and this will truly get us noticed by the rest of the world.”

“I understand.” Sorian folded the message and slipped it into his pocket. “Just have the payment ready for when we return.”

Sorian turned away without another word. Leaving the shadows of the alley and stepping out from under the archway of the old building. Elite waited effectively guarding the entrance to the alley way by just leaving his presence by the entrance.

“It’s done. We head out immediately.”

“I hate politics… it’s what got me murdered all those years ago.” Elite gripped his sword and placed it up and over his shoulders. “Let us do the murdering this time.”

[Storm Veritas]

The distractions transpiring behind Storm on the dock were a welcome clutter; the mayhem ensured him safe departure alongside his escorts, both the seamen attendees and…

“Are we far enough from the port to play yet?” His train of thought was interrupted by his personal favorite, a thirty-ish brunette who went only by “Concordia” and had a wit as sharp as the dimples on her heart-shaped face. Her sarcastic tone was matched by her blouse, which she playfully tossed across the face of the wizard; it smelled of honey and lavender.

“I’d love to see someone try and stop us!” The grayed wizard still had falcon keen focus in his gray blue eyes, and a confident swagger that reverberated across the brightly shining cedar wood deck, which was sun bleached to a near impossible white. The metal soles on his shoes clacked loudly and caught the attention of the crew, all happy to catch eyefuls of the beautiful topless maiden on their vessel. Storm unbuttoned a few cold, tiny brass buttons from the front of his own dress shirt as he strode at Concordia, which opened enough for her to slide her hands in as he moved to kiss her.

“When I get too old to enjoy you, promise to throw me overboard.” Storm’s grin was knowing as his lovely prostitute continued to kiss and tease him, her fingernails gently dragging across his back beneath his shirt.

The heavens must include a place with warm waters, cold ale and willing women. If the Leviathan wants to take us, now’s his time to feast in peace.

Their stupid smiles lay plastered as they traded kisses, Storm hoisting her into his arms by scooping his arm swiftly behind her hamstrings. He quickly took inventory of his situation; some four hundred yards from shore and no other boats within shouting distance on calm, sunkissed waters that gently clapped as the great ship forged ahead behind a slow, strong, steady easterly wind. Beneath the deck, stairs led down to quarters where a second lady peeked her head out at the tandem from behind a heavy oaken port. Storm could only see her lovely mocha skin, midnight hair and bare shoulder from behind the door.

Concordia dragged her hands across the wooden walls to stabilize balance and the magician carried them down the stairs, disappearing behind walls where the sights, sounds, and scents of typical ocean transit was about to pivot rapidly.


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

Some two or three hours later, Storm emerged from below deck once more, a boyish smile across his face as Connor greeted him with a jeering, jealous laugh. Veritas was once more meticulously dressed; his gleaming white dress shirt and hardened leather overcoat only betrayed by the sultry odors of a brothel and a grin that would refuse to abate.

“Sir, some of us have the life!” Connor half-teased, manning the wheel of the ship with a large, blazing cigar between his teeth. The thick, stout, beast of a man looked carved from wood behind the helm. Storm had approached him while taking another long pull from his flask; he offered it to the captain who dutifully took a simple polite sip before returning the drink to his seemingly spoiled Veritas. Dropping his flask back into a hip pocket, the adventurer patted Connor firmly on the shoulder and spoke plainly.

“Relax, my friend. Once we land in Alerar I’ll need a ride home, as you damned-well know. I can take care of business in a week: ten days, tops. I’ll need a trusted hand to help watch these simply ravenous ladies. I’m sure you and your best mate can help keep them satisfied on my dime until I get back?”

Connor grew silent at the offer, the brain in his head and pants both venturing into fantasies the likes of which he normally dare not tread. Hitting shore in Alerar was usually a thankless task; the ports there were full of elves that looked down their noses at human folk, regardless of how shiny their crowns were. His entire month had just been made.

Storm hoisted himself onto the starboard side edge of the great ship, holding the thick oaken mast for balance as he began to urinate into the water. It came as no surprise that this emptying was accompanied by a familiar burn; he’d spent a week with Concordia before departure and her blessings came with an itchy price. Scratching at his groin as he drunkenly stumbled atop the side of the ship, he smiled foolishly as he spelled his name in cursive across the moving seas beneath.

Enjoy all of my gifts, you filthy sailor.

[Leoric]

Once the large skeletal man had been deboned, they were underway. Most of the grunt work had already been done by Emi before they had even approached the boat. Leoric had been silent or just did what was told so far. He really didn’t want to bring too much attention to himself at present. After all, they had been given a price and he didn’t exactly have his coin purse on him to pay it. He was hoping that by the time they were underway and had distanced themselves from shore it would only then be noticed, or better yet they could pay upon his safe return. If they werent going to say anything, he wasn’t either; he wasn’t stupid.

“Alright, I guess this is where I come in handy.” Leoric said as the last of the ropes were untied and they shoved off to set sail. His eyes flashed a glistening grey color as the wind around the small craft seemed to circle them before coming to rest perfectly at their stern. “I can keep the wind direction and speed as whatever we require for the quickest voyage possible. Just with full sail, I doubt the mast could take my full power.”

It wasn’t long before the small craft had begun to catch up to the large vessel that had shoved off just before them. With the drag of a bone ball carried behind them and the power of the inshore current against them it felt like they were at a slow crawl until they hit the open sea.

—--------------------------

“But Leo, what happens if you don’t come back?” Ruby said with a sigh as she leaned against her kitchen counter. It was a small kitchen but it did well enough for the three of them, her grandad, her four year old son and herself.

“Look, if anything happens and I don't come back, then when Felicity shows up again, either talk to her to go find me, or get her to take Kylie. I promise I won't be gone long, just enough time to end this before it starts.” Leo said with a sigh, he was starting to get annoyed at everyone second guessing him.

“It’s not Kylie I am worried about, we can take care of her. But what about you? Who is going to take care of you?” Her face softened as she crossed her arms in an attempt to hold herself back from just holding Leo. Ever since Felicity had shown up Ruby had found herself getting more attached to Leoric, but never knew what to say.

“I appreciate the concern, but have I ever given anyone in this town reason to doubt me before? Every time I have said I will be back, I have come back, have I not?”

“No, you haven’t given us any reason to doubt you, and you have always been a man of your word with us. But…” She was cut off as Leo had wandered close and put his finger on her lips to shush her.

“I told you I will be back, so therefore I will be back. Don’t second guess it, I have said it so therefore I must do it.” Leo said as he dropped a heavy satchel of coins on her counter, placing them just behind her as he snuck in a kiss on the forehead. “Take care of the old man and the kids. I will be back, hopefully mostly intact.”

“Leo!” She called out in shock as he let out an evil sounding little giggle and took off outside the house.

“Don’t worry, Kylie will pop by once I leave!” Leoric had a few minutes before he was in town and on the cart heading towards the Radasanth Docks, and he couldn’t help but feel guilty. He was falling for Felicity. While Ruby was always a fling, they established that pretty early on. However, he promised her late husband he would take care of them, complicating things. He wasn’t sure how she felt anymore, or himself for that matter. But he knew he couldn’t hurt either her or Felicity, at least not again. It was a complex life he was living, but regardless of his complex home life, he needed to focus and think of plans and strategies for the tough mission ahead.

—------------------------

Leoric was shook slightly back to his current state as the small craft started bobbing over the wake of the larger vessel ahead of them, he let out a sigh of effort and picked up the wind against their sails to try and get them over the wake as quickly as possible and hopefully past the vessel. So far it looked like it was heading the same direction as them, it was either someone heading that way for noble deeds, or someone going for selfish deeds. Chivalry was mostly dead in this day and age, so he expected the latter more than the former.

He sighed and found a safe spot on top of the deck, and entered his first stance, the stance that was drilled into him by his master, and that he drilled into Felicity. Everything from his magic, to his martial abilities were launched from this stance when it came to offense or defense. But as he looked over he saw a man standing on the side of the ship peeing.
Sure it wasn’t odd in its own right, but surely a ship that size had buckets for you to use then throw overboard? Leoric chuckled as he remembered his last journey via ship, several of the crewmen would pee over the side of the ship, but the hilarious part of that was when they got sprayed with freezing sea water all over their ‘hardware’.

With a quick flash he stuck out two fingers on his right arm, swirled them in place and then brought it straight up. Wind gathered at the base of the large ship and swirled amongst itself, collecting sea spray and whatever liquid that was currently being poured into it, before spraying upwards in a fantastic fashion. He was hoping to catch the man with the mixture of sea spray and his own fluids. Leo couldn't help but chuckle as he went back to his first stance and entered a meditative trance to focus on the journey ahead. With a stiff wind at their back and clear skies ahead, they should make great time.

[Emi]

Once they were well settled and on their way, Emi took the time to think about how quickly her plans had changed. One minute she’d been planning to sail for warmer weather, the next she was on her way northwest to a new place. She still wasn’t sure why this sword and demon gate were such a big deal, but as long as her passengers paid, it didn’t really matter that much to her. Speaking of whom, her passengers were certainly out of the ordinary.

She glanced at the floating skull out of the corner of her eye and suppressed a shudder. As interesting as his disassembly may have been, it was still a little disturbing. She had thought the weight of the skeleton would slow them dramatically. After all, just getting on the small catamaran had been an exercise in extreme caution to keep from capsizing. Still pondering her unusual passengers, her glance fell over Sorian. He seemed tired in a way that no amount of rest could cure. Based on the color of his beard and lack of hair, she judged him to be an older man. Perhaps that was the reason behind his tired demeanor: he was just old and tired the way those that live longer than they expect to get tired.

Then there was Leoric. Much younger than Sorian, he seemed to be around her age. She watched him for a moment. Controlling the wind through magic was an ability she’d only ever heard of in the ancient stories of times long past. Her great grandfather had told stories of people who could pull up wind out of dead calm. It was awe-inspiring to see such a feat in person. At first she had been wary about human-controlled wind, but as the days went by and Leoric kept them at the speedy pace, she came to appreciate it quite a bit. It was many times better than being at the mercy of nature. She turned her eyes forward again, keeping a steady hand on the wheel. Between Wavedancer’s light design and Leoric’s steady control of the wind, they were making better time than she’d ever dreamed.

Before she realized it, they had caught up to and were passing the much larger yacht that had been docked beside her at the Radasanth docks. She rolled her eyes as she noticed the man relieving himself off the side of the ship. Men! Then burst into lilting laughter as a “sudden” gust of wind blew spray back up into the man’s face. She doubted that would go over well and steered a bit further away from the yacht. You could never tell how much range someone’s magic abilities had and she didn’t want to be too close should he figure out the source of the sudden updraft.

Once they were safely away from the yacht, she set a hold on the steering wheel and turned around to study her many maps of the Althanas. They had been among the first things she’d purchased when she found a port. Carefully she measured the distance between the corner of Corone to the coast of Alerar. There was a river that appeared to be a natural boundary between Alerar and Raiaera. At the mouth of that river lay a port city called Etherea. Further inland, a city called Ettermire was placed on the river.

A city on such a large river will have a port if we need to go further inland. Otherwise, that Etherea place is probably the best place to put them ashore.

Nodding to herself, she went back to the wheel, adjusted their course slightly, and reset the hold on the steering wheel. It would take several days to make the crossing, maybe even less than she expected with Leoric controlling the wind.

“It will be a few days before we get to the Aleraran shore,” She called out as she came out of the cockpit hut. “There’s a port city called Etherea. I’ll put you ashore there unless someone has a better suggestion.”

With the course set, there was little left to do except make sure they didn’t go off course and hope for no storms. She had plenty of food stores, so they ate well on their journey. Though for the return, she’d need to resupply in Alerar. Leoric kept the wind at their stern strong and steady. Aside from the waves, it was the smoothest sailing she’d had in a long time. At night, when he needed to sleep, she dropped the sails, set the steering wheel and let Elite’s skeletal mass act as a sea anchor to keep them from drifting off course.

As they journeyed she questioned them about Alerar and what was so special about this alleged sword. What were Demon gates? Over the course of the next few days, between Sorian and Leoric she learned quite a bit about the Demon War, the country and the various factions that ran it. The conversations had helped pass the time and before long, they came within sight of the coast and the mouth of the Glaith River.

“Land ho!” she called out. “Leoric, let up a bit. We don’t need to rush. We’ll put in at Etherea and decide from there if that is far enough or if we need to go further inland.”

The depth meter made a soft whirring noise as she flipped it on and carefully guided Wavedancer through to an empty dock space. With practiced ease, she quickly had her ship secured. Remembering how much ’Dancer had shifted with Elite’s full body on board she looked around for a different way to get him ashore.

“Sorian, Elite, let’s pull that net up directly to the dock. I think that’d be a better place for Elite to reassemble himself than my deck. Then I need to find the harbormaster and find out how much it will cost to leave Wavedancer here for a bit.”

“Why would you need to do that?” Sorian asked.

“Because I’m coming with you. From the sound of everything you guys told me over the last few days, this is something that needs to be dealt with and I want to help.”

[Elite Optic]

What could Sorian say? It’s not like they were the only ones heading this way. Leoric was heading that way himself, other ships had already left with groups of people aboard all wanting to find this sword. As far as Sorian was aware there were going to be entire armies coming for this thing, could one person make a difference? They had already agreed during their journey across the sea to travel with Leoric, but Emi had not been interested at that point. Whatever had changed her mind now was unclear.

Elite resisted the urge to moan. He didn’t want Leoric to join them once they made land, he didn’t want Emi joining them either, and yet here they were becoming a larger group by the minute. The way this was going they were going to take in the Harbour Master next.

As the catamaran pushed up against the jetty he floated across to await his body's retrieval. The ship they passed on the way had trailed them all the way to Etherea and it now sailed towards the larger side of port. Elite gazed down as the group began to pull in the rope, and Leoric showcased yet another useful trait as he clearly out-pulled both Sorian and Emi. Soon he was the only one pulling as he dragged the netting back to the surface and then onto the boards of the jetty with surprising ease.

“Stand back!” Elite floated across as Sorian opened the netting.

The bones rumbled as the netting shifted, shaking and vibrating as they lifted and connected as they merged back together. Slowly they formed back into the large but recognisable frame of a skeleton. Elite adjusted and stretched himself as if to ensure he was connected properly, then Sorian stepped back and carefully handed over his sword.

He gripped it tightly and appreciated its unorthodox beauty, a rusty masterpiece that sliced like it was newly sharpened. That’s much better.

Looking up at the harbour the hillside slanted settlement was almost on full view. Like the docks of Radasanth this town was designed off its shipping capabilities and the many cargo cranes, piers and warehouses were clear evidence of this. The large warehouse at the bottom of this maze of jetty’s was booming with people in the light of day, and Elite could see from here that their arrival had been noticed. The typical confused look at Elite’s appearance came first but even with his arrival being with that of a group of humans the harbour guards looked nervous.

A sole Dark Elf began making his way towards them and Sorian quickly made his way into the front to greet. Elite for the first time considered that being with a group of humans was a good thing, if there were demons walking in this realm besides himself then for once he was not an anomaly. The Elf’s steel toe capped boots clinked with each step and the scabbard of his sword swayed lightly in his wake before he stopped before them. He held up his clipboard and pen and while looking at Sorian his eyes glanced up at Elite and his impressive figure. Given confidence only by the fact several armed and ready men stood not too far behind him.

“Welcome to Etherea, in the lower docks you pay at the ticket office at the top of the dock, just follow the boardwalk around.” He guided Sorian’s eyes to the path behind him. “For now I need to know your name, your boat’s name, how long you plan to stay, how many passengers you have and your reason for coming?”

“Well I believe you should be talking to this lady over here.” Sorian gave a polite smile. “You seem a little nervous? Please, he’s harmless.”

“Yes, harmless.” Elite added as he lifted and placed his giant blade up onto the skullrack on his shoulders. Several skulls of his victims sat impaled upon bone spikes in a terrifying display - a display that was hard to ignore and the Elf’s eyes widened at the sight. “I assure you, they had it coming.”

“Right…” The Dark Elf responded rather sheepishly.

Sorian clicked his fingers to draw back attention to himself. “I know he’s not exactly your typical sailor to arrive here, but he’s my…Bodyguard.”

“I suggest you keep him close and in check. The army is on high guard right now, and that means we are too.”

“You have my word. Should he break any rules I’ll gladly go to prison myself.” Sorian gave a slight bow and invited the Elf to pass towards Emi.

Elite stepped towards Sorian who raised his eyebrow skeptically at him. “You could try harder.”

“I tried to smile… But I’m not sure it showed on my face.”

[Storm Veritas]

The juvenile maneuver of one of the denizens of the paltry little dingy he had avoided at the docks left Storm feeling in a sour mood. It quickly dampened the spirits that started so high from his extended rendezvous and nap with his lovely traveling companions. One of the little rubes had taken it upon themselves to splash the wizard as he urinated, sending a cold, briny solution of seawater, krill and piss onto his top coat and traveling suit. It seemed to be the swordsman, since the skeleton was being dragged behind the sad little floating closet like a package of slow-release chum.

I should blow their shitty little boat to hell and back. See how much you’re giggling when you’re struggling to hold onto a floating door in the deep waters.

The magician was literally steaming. Electric energy pulsed across his skin, sizzling and rapidly evaporating water from his clothes. He was so saturated that the scent of fire began to fill his nostrils, alerting him that his absent-minded fury was actually close to burning a shirt. Slowly peeling the heavy coat and seemingly glued-on shirt from his skin, turning to the deckhands, many with faces red to stifle uproarious laughter.

“Very good. Cute, yes; its fucking adorable. TOWEL!.” Storm traded his wet shirt to a dutiful young dark-skinned sailor, a boy who kept his eyes low to avoid laughing further. “Dry the shirt; take your time; keep it safe but out of your way.”

Pulling another long tug from his flask, Veritas felt the last few drops of the good stuff burn delightfully on his tongue. There was plenty more down below, he reasoned. Speaking of which, it was high time for some food to fill his belly and more time with the girls to empty his testosterone reserves. Gratification went a long way to stem the growing tide of anger within him; that swell of rage would enjoy a lot of work to stifle.

It was several days of otherwise simple transit that the adventurer enjoyed before reaching the port at Etherea; the large port was simple enough to enter, and full of plentiful travelers coming in no doubt to seek the Demon Gate as well. Smiling at this notion, Storm Veritas waved politely from the deck of his vessel at a dark elf taking inventory of his ship. This wasn’t the rogue elf envoy arranged to meet him; each of the boats seemed to be greeted by one of two or three clerks that would check passengers, offloaded inventory, and arrange dock fees. Storm quickly over-tipped the clerk to dispatch them, requesting two weeks stay for the boat with plenty extra leavings to ensure the sailors and the professional ladies that now stood more tanned and content atop the deck were left undisturbed.

“Judging by the size of your ship, I presume you are Storm Veritas?” The soft female voice behind him as he disembarked sounded annoyed.

“If you think it’s big, my dear, you should see how I use i…” Storm’s thought was interrupted as he turned to face the woman who simply had to be Cazri. The beautiful shock of golden hair contrasted strikingly from her dark skin and shimmering silver eyes. The corners of her mouth turned up in betrayal of her annoyed tone; the elegant alchemist had some sense of humor to her.

It’s almost too bad; I usually enjoy annoying these humorless bores. Perhaps she’ll bring something helpful to the table more than what those silver-spoon fed assholes in Radasanth suggested.

“My apologies, my dear. You must be Cazri, correct? The council of Radasanth spoke highly of you, which means you politically can’t be the most popular gal in town. They told me you were brilliant and experienced, but never mentioned how beautiful you are. We have a lot to do; let’s race to town and grab a drink.”

“Not so fast, sir. I’ve received a wire that there is a second group to accompany us. Apparently the Crown’s council has identified a second group of gifted people sailing with a course to Etherea heading out of the same dock. They asked I keep an eye on them, which I vowed to do. Perhaps these are friends?”

You’ve got to be shitting me.

[Leoric]

As the paperwork was sorted Leoric rolled his shoulders and bounced on his feet, throwing mock punches at the air. After being so long at sea and not getting a chance to really use his muscles, it felt good hauling the bone ball out of the water. Everything just felt right when he was using his muscles for something. As Emi finished sorting out paperwork the group started to move on before they were approached by yet another Dark Elf.

“Gold hair, silver eyes, and a dark complexion, if her hair was slightly more white she would be the epitome of Ebony and Ivory.” Leo mumbled to himself as she stopped just before his troop. His butt puckered in panic as he considered she may have overheard his mumbling.

“Leoric Blackwell, Hero of New Brookeshaven, pleasure to have you here. A mutual contact said you would be coming, glad to have someone with your capabilities on our side in case things go a little more south then we are expecting.” She spoke with a grace that Leoric would naturally assume to make you lower your guard before she stole everything from under you.

Leoric was slightly confused but was courteous back. Hero of Brookeshaven? He never would call himself such a word, all he did was to try and make the town a better place. Although, some people in town said he should make a plan to become the lord or mayor of the town. But that was too much bureaucracy for his liking. Did his contact really tell them he was a hero?

Leoric looked past the blond bombshell that had approached the group and recognized the man standing behind them. He smirked as he remembered spraying the man with his own fluids as he relieved themself off the side of his ship. Their informant also seemed to know two of his other travel companions. She turned and addressed them. Then turned to leave as they stopped and looked back at Leoric.

“Oh, and Mr. Blackwell. I also know of your other side, please keep that in check while you are in town, we don’t need trouble or a nuisance running amok during these trying times.”

Leoric didn’t know how to feel, someone finally put his actions outside of continental Corone together with how he behaved inside the territory. He thought the actions would be such polar opposites that people would think they were separate people with similar names. But apparently this individual did their homework. That made them a threat, Leoric was going to have to keep a close eye on them, and now a close eye on his companions now that they knew as well. He wouldn’t accept any threat or harm coming to New Brookeshaven, especially because someone learned something they shouldn't have.

[Emi]

Turning to Emi, the dark elf moved a bit further away from Elite, trying and failing to hide his nervousness. “Same questions, Miss. Name, boat name-”

“Emi Seafarer,” she answered promptly. “This is Wavedancer. I’m not sure how long we’ll be here, two weeks is probably enough time. At least, I hope it is. Three passengers, though I don’t know if they’re returning to Corone with me. Haven’t really planned that far ahead, yet. I’m just transporting them here. Maybe I’ll go check out this Demon Gate thing I keep hearing about. That sounds like it’d be quite the sight to see.”

The dark elf’s pen scratched quickly across the parchment on his clipboard as Emi rattled off the information. She was eager to get her affairs in order. She wasn’t really sure what help she could be on this mission, but if she was going to be a citizen of this new-to-her part of the world, then she would do what she could to keep it together.

“I see,” he muttered to himself as he finished. “Thank you, as I said a moment ago, you can pay your fees at the ticket office at the end of this boardwalk. Good day.”

Emi watched bemusedly as the dark elf went on about his business. She’d somewhat forgotten Elite’s height, but quickly readjusted. Most harbormaster’s staff were a tad self important. She always liked seeing such a person second-guessing themself.

She turned and realized that the group had moved a little and hurried to catch up. Aside from her passengers, another man stood with them. Uh oh, I think that might be the man we passed a few days ago. That’s certainly the same yacht.

“Well, I don't know about the rest of you, but I’d like to get some proper food and drink. Let’s go find a tavern. We can talk there about what we’re going to do next.”

Cazri glanced over the young woman with one eyebrow arched. The way this girl used “we” suggested she intended to join them. That had not been a part of the plan, but it could be workable.

“Yes,” Cazri agreed, “Let us depart.”

Cazri led the way to a tavern a few blocks away from the water’s edge. The typical seamen’s dive bars were no place to have the kind of discussion the group needed to have. Once inside, they took a table in a small section that was partially enclosed to provide a modicum of privacy. Emi looked around approvingly. She could not normally afford the nicer taverns and was used to the unruly boisterousness of dive bars. This place was much quieter, perhaps even respectable.

As her companions discussed how the next several days needed to pan out, Emi just sat back and listened. She didn’t personally have a stake in who actually wound up with the sword, as long as it wouldn’t allow for the destruction of the world. However, based on the conversation between her new companions, it seemed that there was far more at stake than simply stopping a worldwide catastrophe in its tracks. The political aspects that were coming to light astounded her. Back home, if something happened that threatened all the islands, political machinations would be put aside for the good of all. In this part of the world, people vied to be ahead of their fellow man in any way possible. It disgusted her, but she could put that aside if it meant saving the known world.

She also understood how little help she might actually be. Afterall, she’d never fought with more than her fists. Even then, it had only been against other sailors, usually ones who thought that being drunk was an excuse to be handsy with whichever woman happened to be nearby. As far as weaponry went, all she had was a fishing knife and a harpoon. This would be a new challenge. She hoped she was ready to face it.

[Elite Optic]

Elite had always struggled to make connections with humanity, being what he was made it difficult to make conversation with nearly anyone. Here he was now, a giant skeleton wandering with a group of near-mercenaries, eyes did not wander to them, only him. He was a great distraction and a feared one at that. While this part of the docklands was not that busy, anyone they passed gave a wide berth to him. For the chatter and discussion that went on at his feet no one actually turned to ask him anything of his part in this. Elite couldn’t help but notice the odd cough that still escaped from Sorian, he masked the fact it was quite bad, and continued his conversations.

It was easy to forget that Elite had become comfortable within the island or Corone, while always a little distant, the locals at least recognised that he existed and was’t directly terrorizing them. The glares and shocked expressions were back to normal here. As usual he would ignore them. This group was going to be like any other group, they at most accepted his presence, and that would have to be enough. One without connections at least had nothing to lose.

As the group entered the bar they once again didn’t care to ask how he would cope in a place with such a low ceiling. Elite paused for a moment as they wandered in then ducked under the dull but large sign “The Lost Sailor's Widow”. He would let them pick their place for a private chat, the bar wasn’t that busy but no alcove or seating in this place was designed for his shape or size.

While Sorian got involved Elite did his usual and sat separately at the bar. He would sit here, be offered a drink by the confused barman and remain staring out a window. At least he could be patient until they finished, patience was something he had learned and now had in abundance.

—------------------

“Don’t mind me.” Cazri stood up from the table.

Sorian tried to hide his frown, he had clearly not been forgiven for forgetting the written request. Cazri had every reason to be annoyed by that, but Sorian didn’t need a written letter to remember the orders he was given. It was strange how all of his deeds, all of his heroics and feats of strength meant nothing to those of the modern day.

You will one day grow old Elf…Then you will know how it feels, and I doubt you’ll handle it as well as I…

Cazri left their little cove of seating and wandered across to the bar to Elite who lounged in what most would consider to be an uncomfortable position. With having such a large skeletal frame it was not easy to get comfortable in such a small place. The old brick walls and thick wooden floors were designed mostly for the more common six foot sized humanoids. She sat on a sturdy framed stool and leaned into the bar, the clink of the damascus forearms evidently placed hard enough to draw a little attention her way.

“We could have sat somewhere else to accommodate you.”

“I’d have sat alone regardless.” Elite stared out of the small window behind the bar, the view of the harbour behind it was enough to see sailors and the like as they passed by.

“Do you always let your little pet do the talking?”

Pet? Elite turned to Cazri properly as she took a light sip of the drink she brought with her.

“I only ask because I thought he was being dropped.” The blunt and almost rude comment was said with no hesitation. “He must hinder you a lot.”

“Indeed. His weaknesses have always outweighed his strengths at this age of his life.”

“He doesn’t divulge his real age, but I’ve read stories of when he was younger. He’s old, Elite. I think he believes that keeps him relevant today, but stories are stories and only now matters.” She took another sip of her drink and cleared her throat. “They won’t accept failure. His failure will be yours, and your reputation tarnished. Looking scary is not enough to please the Syndicate.”

“Failure is never an option.” Elite was surprised by her brash approach and questioning but held his tongue.

“You should replace him. With Storm perhaps? Leoric? This new woman… Emi? I’m informed well enough to know what skills you all have. Even if you do keep yourself a secret. You are watched, and we know Sorian is struggling. Retirement is not a bad thing.”

“Words still travel fast.”

“Faster than ever… I disapprove of his use here, but the Syndicate still values him for some reason so allowed you both to be involved. If he hinders us.” She paused for another sip.

Elite smashed his fist into the bar. Hard enough into the thick wood that it cracked and splintered under the force, and yet he held off from smashing it completely. Her attention was what he wanted and as her tankard rolled over, spilling its contents across the bar, her attention was all his.

“See this old crown of rusty thorns?” Elite referenced the decaying rust of the old metallic crown of brambles that sat upon his skull rack. “It once sat upon a liar's head. I cut it off and placed it here to remind myself of the many lies that humanoids pass as truth. I don’t care what your game is, nor what your personal agenda is.” Elite began to stand up, pushing himself up to the low ceiling but allowing himself to arc over her instead of crouching. “...And I love the tough-girl act, I really do, but if I judge you to be involved in his harm in any way. Then you’ll die by beheading.”

“I’m three hundred years old. I’m not afraid of you skeleton.” Cazri twiddled with her fingers and a light blue glow spiraled between them.

“You should be.” Elite glared down at her as intimidatingly as he could. Any normal being would be terrified but he watched her remain stoic. “Because even if I die a thousand times, I’ll always be back. And when your corpse lays separate to your head, I’ll cut off your fake painted hair and cut out any value from the silver in your eyes and make a puppet for my skull rack.”

“You're making a scene.” Cazri responded, almost ignoring his threat. Only the faint hint of caution escaped her.

“I’m used to making a scene.” Elite sat down but maintained his stare, the burning fire eyes relentless in making their point. “ And you’ve made your point. Leave.”

“And you’ve made yours. I look forward to working with you, Marcus.”

Cazri had spouted his name of old. Marcus Heropic, a name so rarely used since he turned undead that it would be easy to forget. Elite turned away without another word, their private words not as private as she had wanted. Elite surprised himself with how defensive he felt of Sorian, he had become accustomed to his presence and had maybe become friends. The Dark Elf had become bold and arrogant enough to think she could talk down to anyone, but Elite would not be messed with. Playing with the big guns was something he had not done in a long time, and showing weakness was ill-advised. Has his friendship become a weakness?

Elite never really had anything at stake in the past, and even when he started with Sorian he had not really cared for his well being. Things were now different, and as they now sat on the cusp of their adventure many questions were beginning to form on the back of this. It was no simple retrieval of a sword, there were many names, factions and secrets beginning to enter the frame and Elite and Sorian would have to be careful.

[Storm Veritas]

While winding up in a bar felt extremely par for the course in nearly every significant exchange that Storm enjoyed during his many days upon Althanas, this little sojourn felt off. The large port of Etherea was chock-full of boats, and loads of cash or power thirsty folks seemed to be pouring off the water with their own eyes on the Demon Portal.

“Hot cider, lemon, and a water.” The uncharacteristic order was greeted with a surprised look by the fast-moving Dark Elf behind the bar, who was shuffling to cater to an increasingly hostile crowd. Elite Optic, the massive skeleton creature that Storm had narrowly escaped in Lornius so long ago, was already irate at the beautiful elven emissary that Radasanth had arranged.

What the hell happened to the stoic goliath that just did the bidding of his human and -didn’t- put us all at existential risk?

Looking to broker peace, Storm slid between Cazri and the large bone beast, making careful note of the metal trinkets about his shoulders and head. If things got weird, he’d have to get busy fast at keeping the incredibly powerful creature BACK.

“See you’re fast at making friends little lady, everything okay here?” The pompous inquisition was a distraction tort, designed to disarm Elite a bit. Before she could answer, he turned to ask the warrior a bit of his travels.

“And you, not someone I could forget! Storm Veritas, in case you forgot. Cazri seems to have jammed us back together. I presume it wasn’t your doing to try to blow me off the goddamned boat out there in open waters. While I was taking a leak, no less!”

Cazri couldn’t help but smile at the imagery; Elite may or may not have been cognizant of the goings on as he was pulled behind the boat. Regardless, Storm suspected he saw a grin break at the jaw of the large being. Was it a laugh?

“From what I recall, you took off the docks from Radasanth harbor quickly with a largely empty boat. It looked awfully cozy, I’m sure.”

And “sympathy” is in the dictionary between “shit” and “syphilis”. Boo-fucking-hoo.

Storm bit softly at his cheek to stifle his anger. The diplomat in him needed to shine.

“Very well. Bury the hatchet, then.” Storm produced a handful of shining golden crowns from his pocket and laid them on the bar. The previously busy barkeep amazingly found his way to the wizard as if the entire establishment was empty.

“This round, and the next, for me, the big fella, the two ladies and the fella with the sword down there.” Storm gestured to Leoric, who had been calmly sipping at a tall stein, waving him down to the group. “Keep the rest for yourself, courtesy of Storm Veritas. Remember the name.”

Introducing himself to the young looking girl as well, the magician avoided furrowing his brow at her diminutive stature. He was an older man himself; looks alone would betray his power and fury. Perhaps she had some tricks of her own up her sleeve.

“The name is Storm, for those of you that don’t know me. The big fella’ and I have worked together before; if he’s taken you all as company I suspect you’re all competent enough. Cazri here has taken us on as a bundled package, for better or worse.”

“If you’d like me with you, then I suggest we move, and quickly.” He spoke with focus, his eyes sharpening like a falcon as the orange glow of light kissed his face and his drink offered a lovely dance of citrus on his tongue. “Fools will be marching across the plain and setting up camps immediately. We need to get close enough to the portal to see how the camps line up.”

His eyes caught those of Cazri. She wouldn’t have been recommended by Radasanth if she was a friend of the elves. If she was a demon-kin then she’d already be gone. It would have to be dwarves, then. His voice dropped to a whisper as he scanned about him, ensuring he was outside earshot of the common elves. If someone could still sense him, so be it.

“I’ve got a lot of friends with the little bearded bastards. The dwarves here won’t have many allies, but none of us have many other options. The crown isn’t in the habit of sponsoring their rivals.”

Sipping at his drink, he moved his sharp gaze across the little group he had somehow been wrangled into. Cazri said nothing, assuring him his assumption was precisely correct. For now, it now simply came down to finishing their drinks and setting up camp. At dawn’s break he’d want to be up and ahead of the rush.

[Leoric]

Once the oddball group had decided on their game plan Leoric went over to the bar and began enjoying himself on some exotic choices of ale and whiskey. He knew this was going to be a hassle but he thought he would go in alone. He conceded to the thought that if he was ambushed or fell into a trap having someone else to help him or to be the fall guy would be best. The moment the portal was closed he was getting out of town as quickly as possible with whatever spoils he could muster to carry with him.

“Hey there handsome,” came a beautifully, sultry voice behind him as he finished downing another mug of ale before turning around to face the fair skinned woman. “Are you looking for some company tonight? You look like you could satisfy my needs.”

“Oh I could satisfy every need you know you have and then even a few you didn’t know you had.” Leoric said as he flashed her a smolder and leaned back against the bar. “I would advise getting your affairs in order though, an evening with me will take you all night.”

“Oh my, such confidence, are you sure you can keep that promise?” She coyly said as one hand spun in circles on his chest. Leoric was no stranger to the old black widow trick and so when she reached towards what would have been his coin pouch he grabbed her hand and pulled her in close.

“Oh, I could keep that promise if I had a few more drinks in me, unfortunately for you I have been down this road one too many times, and you aren’t the most subtle.” Leoric looked away from the shocked expression on her face and saw a couple sitting at a table on the other side of the bar, blissfully unaware of what was going on around them as they enjoyed a meal and each other's company. “Thankfully for you, I am not in the mood for teaching you a lesson, either in how to steal, or how to properly vet your targets. So get out of my sight!”

She took a step back and straightened up her outfit before pretending she had just gotten rejected and walked out of the bar. Leoric let out a soft chuckle as he turned around to a fresh mug of ale. If this was a few years ago, he would have taught her everything she needed to know, while emptying his ‘reserves’. But ever since he unexpectedly adopted a little girl at home. And Felicity had stuck around, he found himself wanting more of a family then just drunken nights with random harlots.

Part of him ached for release with the random woman that he constantly ran into, but he knew he had to control himself or it would ruin the chances he had with Felicity back home. He couldn’t sit around and be tempted by the women of the night any longer. He slammed back a few more drinks before passing the bill onto Cazri and quickly leaving.

They had discussed a plan of action, he knew which gate they would be leaving out of in the morning, and their meeting place. So if he could scout ahead and get a quick lay of the land and maybe find short cuts around or through rough terrain it could save them time and get them there before any other interested parties. With his speed, and M.A.D. devices on his wrists, he was the best person for the job.

Just as he left he passed a house on the outskirts with some clothing hanging up and quickly used his sword to cut a few different ribbons of clothing. He now had something to keep him preoccupied for the night and if he was quick enough he could even get back and get an hour or two of sleep before the group headed out together.

[Emi]

As the night wore on, Emi ate her evening meal there at the Lost Sailor’s Widow, then excused herself for the night. She was accustomed to the gentle roll of sleeping on the water and greatly preferred it. She intended to have Wavedancer to herself for the night. While she wasn’t necessarily opposed to another night with company, they were about to embark on a mission that would likely take several days. A break from other people felt extremely necessary.

As she neared the catamaran she called home she passed a wizened sailor of indeterminate race. Focused as she was on getting to her berth, she nearly jumped out of her skin when his gravelly voice reached her ears.

“Yeh’d best be careful, Miss,” he told her in a low tone. “Lady Cazri be a powerful person ‘round these parts.” He paused and tilted his head to one side as he looked at Emi, “Yer not from around here, are ye?”

“No,” she responded cautiously, “what do you mean about Cazri?”

The old man snorted, “Didn’t think so, else yeh wouldn’t be meddling in affairs not yer own. Yeh just be careful, young lady. She be a pow’rful strong alchemist and guild leader. Yer little more than a tool to get what she wants, and only she be knowing what that be.” He fell silent for moment then nodded toward the Wavedancer, “Enough of that though, is that pretty little thing yers?”

Emi stored the man’s warning away in her mind and brightened as she half turned to her ship, “Yes, this is Wavedancer. I built her myself. We’re a long, long way from home.”



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

Emi rose from her bed in the port side hull and stretched. She placed her fishing knife in its usual place at her belt and looked at the fishing harpoon leaning against the wall. She’d never even considered using it against another person, but now? She was striding boldly into dangerous territory. Could she really afford not to be at least somewhat armed? She looked at her reflection in the mirror over her wash basin.

Why are you doing this, Emi?

Her companions were intent on getting the sword and closing this Demon Gate thing, but surely others might want that kind of power for themselves. The tone of conversation last night had certainly insinuated such a thing.

What good can you possibly do? You don’t have any abilities or super strength. You’re just a simple sailor. You should be minding your own business.

She picked up the harpoon and ran her other hand down the smooth wood of the handle. The Luhnstone blade shimmered back and forth between blue and purple as she hefted its familiar weight. The harpoon had been a gift from her father when she had proved herself capable of sailing solo. She looked up at the picture of her father in a frame hung beside her mirror.

What do I do, Poppa? I’ve never seriously harmed another person, even in self-defense. That is likely to change in the next few days.

She quieted her thoughts for a moment as though waiting for an answer from her father’s spirit. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Back home there would be no question about helping even if it were on the furthest island of the archipelago or if the residents of that island were sworn enemies. A threat of this magnitude had to be stopped no matter the cost. She’d only been in this part of the world half a year, but this was home now. All told, there might not be much she could do, but she would do what she could.

She straightened her shoulders, briefly laid a fond hand against the picture of her father, then climbed the ladder to the deck. She made one final round of checks that all was well and secure with Wavedancer, then determinedly made her way to the rendezvous agreed upon the previous night.

[Elite Optic]

Destination confirmed. Team arranged. Route selected. Elite was so unfamiliar working with others that he almost hated it. Still, this trip had death waiting in its future and this group was going to be at the forefront of it. How many would return was a way from answering but it was unlikely that everyone would be alive at the end. It was those stakes that made this such an intriguing trip for Elite.

The night of discussion and then drinking continued much longer than Elite had wanted, but at least Sorian had been enjoying himself. There had been a subtle divide between Sorian and Cazri and they rarely interacted, while Elite had become the one to occasionally talk to when someone walked off from the group and needed a drink. The odd throw away comment that usually meant nothing and owed no reply.

Eventually Sorian left the table and signaled Elite to follow outside. The breeze had picked up a bit and Sorian quickly tightened up his cloak to protect from the wind. Sorian then covered his mouth with his hand as he cleared his throat and began walking back towards the piers.

“She doesn’t seem to like you.” Elite kept an eye out to ensure they were not within ears reach of anyone following them.

“Nor you.”

“Actually… I thought she liked me. It was you that she took an immediate dislike to.”

“We’ve a history. She’s an arrogant bitch that only likes what she finds useful. I’m past my sell-by date as far as she is concerned. But I kind of did that on purpose.”

“What?”

“I told her I forgot the letter of instructions from the Syndicate. It is in fact lost to the ocean. I dropped it in on purpose.”

Elite stopped as they turned the corner, confused about what was happening. Had Sorian been playing a game? “Explain.”

“The letter contained more than just the directions they wish for us all to follow. It contained another note which was solely for us. Cazri’s influence is becoming too big, she has too much individual power on this continent. Either her influence needs to be disrupted, or she has to die.”

Elite took a moment to take it in then looked around a second time before continuing to walk back towards the docks. “You kept this quiet.”

“I needed you unaware until after we all met. She’s very perceptive and finds ways of discovering the truth.” Sorian smiled to himself, proud of his deception. “Plus, if she got you involved in the frustration then your reaction would have been genuine and she’d be none the wiser.”

“I'm impressed. It’s good to see your brain is not completely gone.”

“She thinks I’m useless and old.. and that you are nothing but…” Sorian glanced at Elite's bone structure. “... Muscle.”

“I suppose I haven’t had another skull worth sitting upon my shoulders in some time. She could join them.” Elite suddenly stopped as he realized they had gone round in a circle, the sign for “The Lost Sailor’s Widow” swung lightly in the side passage as the wind bellowed down between the buildings.

“Now that that is off my chest… We can book a room for the night. That boat was cold and I could do with some warmth.”

With this rest Sorian would be ready for the next day, and while Elite did not need sleep, some peace and quiet after all this would be welcoming.

[Storm Veritas]

The sun rose over the easterly seas and poured over the canopy of the wizard’s tent, first with a gentle glaze of red and then orange before he rose. In truth, he’d slept terribly; his back ached from the humble lodging. His eyes were long open and had been waiting for the sun. He’d packed a tight parcel for the road, but elected to leave the horse home; it had occurred to the electromancer more than once that while Attila would be murder on his back this morning, his legs would benefit tremendously from not walking the forty miles of cold and bumpy plain that lay before him.

But the horse was no damned good on the water. He would have been more trouble than he’s worth.

It was pride reckoning with his bad decision, and pride had won so far. Stepping out from the small tent, he quickly produced his cherrywood pipe and lit up a pinch of tobacco. It was very soothing to feel the warmth rocket into his lungs; the cold air he mixed from the biting chill of the morning winds smoothed out and calmed him. The air around his tent took on the pleasant aroma of pipe tobacco, and a cloud of light gray smoke surrounded his head before dissipating. The dry, cold air stung his bare chest as he allowed the mild pain to bring him alacrity and focus.

His eyes were pulled into a squint as he saw others begin to emerge from their tents; the local tavern was overfilled and the traveler opted not to overpay for lodging. Presumptively, Leoric or Sorian may have bedded some of the bar flies; Storm was still plenty drained from his travel on the seas. Besides, his focus today was on the road ahead.

Stay with them. Elite will keep the little flocks away; the girl will probably guilt away any of the mid-range scoundrels. Of course, if there are any REAL shitheads on the walk, they’ll come to her, but that will be a quick end.

Smirking at the notion of dispensing justice, Storm held his left palm over his cheek. Tiny tendrils of white-blue electricity rocketed rapidly against his face, emitting a faint smoking smell as he incinerated his whiskers. Rolling the palm around his jawline, he was “shaven” perfectly clean within moments. This time his parlor trick was simple efficiency, as no one was watching to behold the wizardry. Brushing the ash from his face, he took another draw from the pipe and pulled a fresh shirt from his satchel. He’d be dressed in minutes; the day would draw long.

The sun had barely risen above the treeline before his tent had disappeared into a bundle of sticks and canvas within his satchel, secured over the shoulders of his pristine leather trench coat. His sun-bleached and gray speckled hair was wetted and pulled tight against his head, and he looked as if he had just stepped forth from a day spa. Rolling his head to the side, a few dutiful pops brought relief to his neck and shoulders. A long draw from his large (and heavy!) water satchel was refreshing, as he used a horse-hair toothbrush to wipe away excess tobacco and bits of the mint sprig he had chewed to freshen his breath. A quick expectoration left him feeling clean and ready for the day.


~~~~~~~~~~

The tavern was opening; he entered to grab some more food for the road - extra salted meats and dried bread, as well as a few citrusy fruits to keep scurvy at bay. Leoric had beaten him to the bar and looked very ready, sipping on coffee with eyes that darted about the room, soaking in information. Approaching pleasantly, Veritas began the day by greeting the strapping young fellow with a wave.

“Sleep well? Going to be a long one!” His effortless greeting was met with something equally friendly and yet noncommittal. He hadn’t been able to get a read on the swordsman; it was likely the entire group was still sizing Storm up and deciding if they trusted him or not.

Both of which are fair and shrewd; still have work to do.

Regardless, the adventurer held his pack tight as he hoisted it back upon his shoulders. They made small talk about nothing as he observed the bustle all around them. He saw the looming Elite outside with the Sorian fellow that confused him so. The girl had also appeared from the dock area, looking a bit forlorn but remaining quiet.

It was Cazri that greeted the tandem quickly; she had emerged from the quarters above via the sturdy teak stairs that led down to the back of the first floor within the tavern. She was packed and ready, and eyed the tandem with a judgmental gaze.

“Old man, you look like you are ready for City Council. I hope the Crown wasn’t foolish in sponsoring you, but you’re packed a bit light for the road ahead.”

Perfect, then. Mission accomplished.

The diplomat looked indeed like a naive, novice world traveler, and none would see the daggers tucked behind his hips or think twice of the small bag of little metal balls by his thigh. Onlookers wouldn’t see the calluses formed under his dress boots, shoes which were heavier for travel for the metal soles that afforded him flight. None would notice the agonizing creaks from his back, or the other signs of age beyond crows feet and some white hairs. The uninitiated certainly wouldn’t know of the horrible magics that existed within him. If they learned of these abilities, it was likely too late for them.

“Sweetheart, do me a favor and worry about yourself, or help keep an eye on the girl. I’ve got -socks- older than her, and have been to far worse places than Alerar.” A cunning grin snaked across his face as he touched her shoulder, the contact not unwelcome as the silver fox began the slow predation.

After fifteen minutes of formalities and double-checks, the group was on the move. The sun lit the plains behind them, and in fact they were the first from the harbor to leave in the morning. They began the long march northwest from the port to the reported portal, still largely strangers thrown together in this strange land. What lay before them was a horror for a later day.

[Preston]

Judgment: Team Two




Hey hey! So I will be doing a condensed version of the rubric for the tournament. I will still be adding commentary to the sections, so you may see random comments as I notate and read through things. If you have questions or concerns please feel free to reach out to me to discuss. I wish you all the best!



Plot (Story, Setting, Pace) 21

Storm: You contributed the most to the setting overall in your posts, which were well done. Story was pretty straight forward, but well done.

Elite Optic: I’ve never read anything of yours and I have to say that the opening post of yours was pretty good. I enjoyed it and was drawn into the story, wondering more about the pair and how they will interact with the prompt. Over the course of the thread you added a fair amount of setting and contributed to a good flow. [Post 15] added a lot to your overall story

Leoric: You opened the story by incorporating your own story, which was well done. I think you did much better on setting overall, and the pacing was well done with your posts.

Emi: Your posts are nice, but missing just a little in pacing as they feel somewhat disjointed at times initially. This seems to correct itself a bit as the thread went on. Otherwise you established a little bit about your character, but missed a lot in setting.


Character (Communication, Action, Persona) 23

Storm: I absolutely love your character, how you write him, and the narrative that accompanies him. It is fluid and seamless. That is despite you writing long paragraphs in comparison to others, who are writing short ones and dialogue. You just express Storm very well. [Post 20] - The subtle use of shaving with electricity was simple and brilliant (and I wish I could do that).

Elite: I really liked your communication, specifically Post 7 was great. I also enjoyed the personality of Elite and his interaction with Sorian. I would have liked to know a little more about him as a whole though, like why a giant skeleton has feelings? Hah. Your final posts added a lot to the character and story though.

Leoric: You have a pretty strong character and the cutscenes to your departure helped establish that character. How those cutscenes then were brought into the thread - foreshadowing or just as thoughts impacting your actions - would have been nice. [Post 13] - unsure of what the last paragraph was about?

Emi: I didn’t really get a lot of character for you personally. I’m not really too sure who Emi is. Though your communication was good and the overall feel of the character interactions with the others was well done.


Prose (Mechanics, Clarity, Technique) 20

All: overall well done. There were a few clarity things here and there, such as the mention of the boat being powered by an engine and nobody commenting on it again. Also, small differences in timeflow. Aside, a mix of technique but well written otherwise with the expected mechanical hiccups here and there.



Wild Card 8]
Interact with at least one faction, either as an ally or enemy - or create your own and that faction must interact with the others somehow - Used Corone as a faction to enter, and even added sub-factions aside from that. Good job.
Overcome one “political” obstacle - Storm opened by doing so, and it worked
Due to the hurried nature of everyone scrambling to get to the new discovery, your characters are not fully stocked/prepared in some way - Leoric opened with forgetting his coin purse and other mentions


Total: 72
Rewards:
Storm - 2330 exp | 245 gold
Leoric - 1210 exp | 245 gold
Emi - 950 exp | 245 gold
Elite - 1210 exp | 245 gold

[Preston]

EXP and GP added!