AC 2021 Round One: Team Two

[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.