SRQ: Danger from the Deep (Syliras+Zeltiva)

by **Mirage** on October 12th, 2012, 9:09 pm

Upon the seas heading to Sahova were 10 glorious ships captained and crewed by the brave and valiant knights, as well as the wise and knowledgeable scholars of Zeltiva. The going was harsh as fierce storms wracked their voyage each and every day. The winds howled and moaned, as if the sea itself called out in pain. Waves buffeted and battered the ships until the boards of the hull creaked in strain. The shadowed clouds lit up with the sudden flashes of lighting and the booming call of thunder, a harold for what the future held for each and every person who sailed upon these ships.

It was a rough time, filled with constant unease and discomfort as the party grew closer and closer to the shores of the undead isle. What would they find there? What kinds of grotesque, monstrous creatures would greet them upon those unholy shores? These questions and more were passed from captain to ship hand, from knight to squire, and from passenger from passenger. No one knew what to expect, and this caused a great cowl of unease to settle upon all who traveled...

47th of Fall, 512 AV
They ships were two days off the shore of Sahova, and still the storms did not lessen. Some might even say that the howling winds and surging tides had grown worse as the party progressed. However, the dangers of the storm were the least of this fleets worries...

Early evening came, and suddenly a sound overshadowed all else. It was a haunting, foreboding call that shook the ship and sent ripples coursing through the already churning waters. It was deep, loud, and sounded like it came from something very big...

Calls from a ship near by could be heard. Alarm bells going off, the sounds of men shouting orders and bellowing commands. The booming sound returned, and the entire ship would rock, pitching all the crew on board to the side. From the depths of the ocean a great tentacle appeared, stretching high from the water, higher than the mast, and higher still until it seemed impossibly long. It curved and twisted, bending to feel along the mast of the ship as another tentacle appeared, and another and another. The two that appeared last began to wrap themselves around the ship, cracking the boards of the railing and crushing any crew caught beneath them. The first tentacle grasped ahold of the mast with several smaller tentacles that branched off the larger one, ripping it from the ship and tossing it out to sea. The light of spell fire could then be seen streaking toward the appendages as the mage knights took their place upon the bow and stern of the ship. The armored knights then took up their weapons, charging at the two tentacles that entrapped their boat to hack and slash at its leathery hide in an attempt to free their vessel. These attempts, however, here in vain. The spells fired bounced harmlessly off the creature's hide, and the damage the knights did was little more than scratches to the creatures great form.

A resounding CRACK filled the air, the the ships hull suddenly splintered and cracked under the creatures tight embrace. Water began to fill up the hull of the ship even as the free tentacle swept down upon the deck, swiping away knight and ship hands alike with one blow. The tentacleetes reached out and grasped at those who tried to run, crushing their ribs and skulls before tossing them out to see. The ship groaned, creaking as it filled with water and began to sink. The tentacles squeezed harder and the entire ship slit in two parts. Figures could be seen leaping from the ship into the water in an attempt to escape, but more tentacles began to reach up from the deep, grasping them and pulling them under the crashing waves. With one last tug the creature drug the entire ship beneath the water, leaving behind only the screams of the doomed crew and rising bubbles from the wreckage.

The sound echoed again and a dark shadow could be seen moving beneath the water, heading toward the next closes ship in the fleet.

OOC :

by **Imass** on October 16th, 2012, 12:17 am

The Zealous Knight sat among his comrades in the hull of the ship. A single flame under-deck shaded the scene a gloomy green-black color. The arena of grim-faced warriors was surreal; a layer of sweat glazed each Knight's features in the embracing morbidity present on the ship. All was silent except for the winds buffeting the sails and the creaking of wood. The Knights Syliran and all those present sat with their back against the wall restless. They were not sailors, but warriors and there was nothing to do on the ship.

Squire Wilson vomited. A growling laugh from the darkness responded, "Can't handle a little rocking now Wilson?"

The squire moaned and hurled more chunks up. The jests continued, "I wander if he vomits when he rocks the bed of a woman," the first voice chimed in again.

A second man, sitting next to the first, laughed, "Young Wilson? Nay -- he still not warranted his manhood. They save him for sacred vows in Syliras," Wilson was born into one of the noble houses in the City of Peace. He was expected to marry among his own class and status. The battle that was to ensue at Sahova would be a chance for him to return home in Glory. Perhaps he would return home as a hardened Knight before all was over.

"His reward for slapping off a few nuit heads will be great! He can go home and bed a fair maiden in his triumphs!" said the sarcastic first voice which came from a hedge knight named Tomthas. This unranked knight would never rise to power in the Knights Syliran. He was a good enough swordsman, but there was nothing notable about him, nor any family to push him up the ranks. His fate on this quest was to fight or die. Nothing awaited him on the return journey, no fair maiden, no wife, just more work. The taste of respite in his words was fierce.

Wilson lifted his head up in dismay. Bile covered his face and he was even beginning to smell. Regardless, the squire gave a witty response, "I would sooner bed your mother on my return, Tom, where you not a bastard... What was it again? Was it your father who was the rapist or your mother the whore?"

The words cut deep and the last remark was like throwing salt on old wounds. The thick-skulled Tomthas responded in silent rage. There wasn't much he could say to Wilson after such a devastating blow. The young squire was no sailor, but he was strong and quick-witted. That being said, no knight would receive back talk from a squire. Tomthas lurched forward and struck the squire in the face with a backhand, "Don't you talk back to me boy, remember your place --"

Imass leaned forward and barreled a fist across Tomthas' chin, "Remember your place Ser Tomthas. Wilson is MY squire, I would not have you touching him, nor mocking him," Tomthas backed down in contempt. Squire Wilson smiled in victory as he got the last laugh. Imass swatted him too at first smile, "You too! You must never mock your brothers in arms, especially before battle!" Wilson also backed down.

Silence ensued in the ship again. The creaking of the wood returned and the winds buffeted the sails again.

The Zealot stretched his legs and felt for the hilt of his sword. The worn down leather was comfortable and reassuring in his grip. Imass thought of the words that were exchanged by the two men. Albeit the words were harsh and full of hatred they were all true. Soldiers like Tomthas and Imass had no knightly houses to return to. They were there to fight. The Zealot smiled. This is what he was born for though. Unlike Ser Tom, Imass lived for the battlefield. His mission was to slay and hack his way through life. He would serve Tyveth, Sylir, and Yahal through demonstrative duty that lay in the dangerous world of Mizahar. Thus, his sword comforted him even now on the eve of battle; it was the tool of his trade and his life line.

Outside of the hull of the third ship, the Lagool was now only starting its attack. Bells began to ring and torches were lit. The Knights sitting in the hull of the third ship heard nothing though until the loud cracking sound. Immediately, the group drew swords and ran up the ladder onto the deck. Imass almost lost his footing as the boat rocked in the ripples the sea monster had created.

The Knight was confused and reeling by the time he was able to focus his vision on the gigantic tentacles emerging from the depths of the water. The scene was horrid. With each flash of lightening Imass caught a more detailed view of the horrid monster. Tentacles everywhere, lashing, trashing, and attacking. It had reduced the first ship to matchwood and was moving onto the second. In a few minutes it may well soon be upon Imass' crew.

"TO ARMS! TO ARMS! TO ARMS!" Imass yelled, but truth be told, he had no idea what he could do in this situation. Where they to attempt to outrun the monster? Fight it? Lure it away? The course of actions was not so clear now. The Zealot always prompted to fight, even if the enemy outnumbered him three to one. This situation was different though, the Lagool was probably a thousand times more powerful than all ten ships together. There was no clear answer here at all.

Imass was no seaman. He looked for the Captain of the ships to receive orders.

by **Trente** on October 26th, 2012, 2:17 am

The long nights drew longer still, quite literally as the blacked clouds concealed the fleet from the sun through the day and into the nights beckoned longer by the approaching winter, as they drew upon their destination. Shadows, shifted form along the walls and faces below deck, there then gone in the light emanating from Hadrian's reading candle. Trente had conversed little since Sunberth, since Matilis has joined them. He saw the boy as little more than a burden, and with general neglect had proven this. The boy spoke little himself, though seemed to have developed a silent liking for the suave professor Aelius for which Trente served.

Trente lended the room a sobered inspection, the sullen face of Matilis predominately shrouded in darkness, staring with intention into his mug of water. He had set crumbs of bread afloat in the drink again. His inane practices summoned an inexplicable furry in Trente, he hated them and were he not so set upon caring nothing for the child he would hate Matilis as well. To these thoughts Trente's eyes slipped to the straight back of Hadrian, swaying to the ship's motion, head lowered to a journal he had acquired from another professor, riding in one of the other partial dozen ships. Hadrian instilled trust in others, and Trente had his suspicions about how. Just the same, Trente knew when they landed in Sahova the journal would be returned to its rightful owner. Hadrian had his honor.

The ship jolted out of rhythm, and the slightest sound of water parting could be heard within the confined of the boat. From Matilis' mug came forth a thick drop of water, up the rim, threatening to spill from the sides then with a deep resignation landed squarely back in the mug. Behind it left a crumb of bread clinging to the edge.

Trente did not look to see Matilis' eyes go wide in worry, but Hadrian felt something stir in the depths of the boy. Then, before Matilis could say a word the sensation revealed itself to Hadrian, something momentous broke through the water outside, something that seemed inaccessible to his advanced senses only moments before. Hadrian knew of the threat long before the sounds of scream across wind swept waters, or the deafening sound of hull breaking. Still, he could not predict this creature, a creature who seemed to repulse the young professor's second sight as if blinding him a magic of it's own. Or something more sinister, and anti-magic. He could not save the other ship, he could not be certain he could save his own.

"Stay here." A breathy, and unheeded command as Trente followed Hadrian with haste up the ladders to witness the first assault.

Wind buffeted at them as they broke onto the deck, Matalis stood so close he may as well be clinging to Trente's side. Beastial arms stretched into the charcoal sky, barely visible beyond the equally as formidable wind and waves.

"What is this, Professor?" He demanded with a bellow through the whipping winds, fearing his words be torn from his throat and never reach Hadrian's ears.

If an answer was given it went unheard, as a wave (no doubt displaced by the unkown creature) went crashing over the vessel's side, as much carried by a fearsome gust then by the Laviku's arms, catching the three with force.

Trente lunged for a metal fixture upon the deck looping with not just a hand but a whole arm around its base. Salt laden darkness impacted him, the cold shooting to his bones as if his flesh was not there then, after straining his arms, flooded past. Trente knew Laviku well enough to be ready for a second, slightly lesser burst to follow only a moment later.

Matilis' shrill scream was Trente's only incentive to open his eyes against the salty burn. The boy lay sprawled on the deck, shacking with no relief from sputtering coughs. Trente had no clue how the child had gotten there, but he knew full well the next burst would send him overboard.

No time for swearing, or (clearly in retrospect) thought, Trente lunged toward the boy's defeated form, letting the pitch of the ship spring him forward. He grabbed hold of one of his son's arms then wrenched on him, struggling for the doorway still swinging open threatening to rip clean, gallons of water gushing through onto the stairs. The boy was heavier than he looked, and his dead weight spasming against the pain of Laviku's blood in his lungs he slowed them both down as he drug and chokes awkwardly behind Trente.

The second wall of wave reached above the ship's side as the rolled in the opposite direction. Still no time for swearing, Trente reached out his second hand toward Hadrian, still several paces away, and yelped for help. "Professor!" - Then took the deepest breath he could and wished for a mage's miracle.

by **Eridanus** on October 26th, 2012, 5:34 am

Battlefield Overview :

The lurching of the ship did little to calm the fraying nerves of the crew on the lead ship. Filled not just with knights who proved to be stellar in guarding duties, as well as the best deckhands to ensure the fastest speed, the lead ship also carried the very first point of contact with the Sahovan nuits - the diplomatic mission.

The overall Captain in charge of the Syliran detachment had assigned Eridanus with the diplomatic mission to 'ensure their safety', and so he was at the point of a V-shaped goose-like formation. Resting in his cabin, he looked out of the port-hole, see the rest of the ships aligned outwards as they moved in general silence.

Until a strange shadow began to emerge from the water.

Right at the last ship of the formation, something happened as the shadow writhed about, and the next thing he knew that ship had been severed into half, sinking as it did so. It was not noticed much due to the distance, but evidently a few people had realized what was happening.

It did not take long for the word to spread.

Panic erupted.

"Summon all ships! Engage the monster!" A few voices yelled quickly, intent on helping their brethren. The second ship was already being assaulted by the sea monster.

"We are the first point of contact, you dolt! Full steam ahead, reaching Sahova first before the damned Ravokians is our priority! Let the rest of the ships engage it!"

"You mean let the rest of the ships be your meat shield as you escape, you coward?"

"Keep your eyes on the mission, soldier! Our priority is diplomacy, not to engage some god-forsaken sea monster!"

As the voices argued around him, the moonchild hurried up away from his cabin up to his deck to get a proper view of the events. Apparently, the second ship was already destroyed and the third ship began to lurch from the displacement of water as the creature emerged again.

What in Leth's lunacy is that creature?

The first thought that came to mind was that of the Balnag, the ancient horror that he had battled with a group of adventurers on one of the islands in the Suvan Sea. He hoped that it was not similar, for the Balnag could only be defeated, or controlled, properly by the retrieval of some sort of magic staff.

There was no magic staff now to combat that leviathan.

That ship... that is where Ser Imass is on!

With a horrified gasp, the scholar leaned forward on the rails of his own ships, aware of his own ability to help. Unlike on land, this was his weak element, where mobility was controlled by vehicles and where players of gigantic size was the name of the game.

I cannot do anything.

With a stricken gaze, Eridanus could only watch as his own ship sped further onwards, as the mass of tentacles slammed out of the creature and onto its third victim.

by **Ball** on October 26th, 2012, 2:28 pm

47th Fall 512AV

The big scary water-beast was nearing the ship he was in. The ship to the poor pycon was an extremely large wooden bowel with slats of wood running it's width in the middle of it. It was like it was a large feeding bowel for some watery dog creature!

That reminded Ball suddenly of his furry companion stowed away under deck with all the other steeds of the knights and squires. His Sponsor's banner tied tightly to a heaving pile of belongings of the other knights. Glad for the armor the spherical clay being was actually wearing, thank the gods that Imass tried him in how to wear it, at least as best as he could in such a short manner. The poor Pycon watched, feeling doomed. Then blinked, thinking.

“Ser...” He paused and looked up at the man, “Ser. Puh.It.ch.Fi.er.” [Translation :: “Ser, Pitch Fire.”]He rolled towards the beast. He seen that magics and physical attacks were useless... But the tar pitched used in torches doesn't wash off easily in water, the Pycon knew this from experience.

Once the beast had some lovely pitch coated Ball knew the next task was to lit it aflame. A tough obstacle but again, Ball was covered in a steel cage that could easily be coated in the same tar pitch, lit aflame and him tossed at the beast as it got closer. A worthy cause... And Ball was small... Real small, if done correctly and safely for the Pycon he could squeeze out of the armor that was casted in flames and escape back to the ship.

“Ser. I.De.Er.” [“Ser. Idea.”]

OOC: Sorry, Ball's vocabulary and speech are impaired due to age and the lack of a mouth.

by **Ray** on October 26th, 2012, 7:30 pm

If there was one thing that Rayes could rely on more than anything, it was the feelings of his gut. He had been seasick before, but had long since learned to walk on the deck of a moving ship and so the sickly ache of his stomach was something else. A nervousness of some sort, like the ache he got right before something bad happened.

He had been taking a walk around the main deck despite the storms, partially in an attempt to calm his buzzing nerves and partly to see if he could identify what was causing him to be so nervous. The wind was sharp and violent, more violent that he had seen it before. Something was coming.

Then, suddenly, Zulrav’s howling became muted. As if softening its voice so something else could be heard. The not-quite-quiet hung for what seemed like and eternity, and then it was shattered.

It was a deep, primal sound. The sound of mountains moving earth tearing. It shook deep within Rayes’ chest, blocking out all sound and feeling save for the beautiful terror that it pulled into being.

Rayes let out a deep breath as it faded into the oncoming night. Was that it? Was that what had been coming?

The thundering CRACK that ripped through the storms said differently.

Rayes whipped around, crouched and tensed as if he expected the shadows themselves to attack him. What he saw instead made his eyes widen with horror.

The last ship in the left flank had been snapped in half. Dark shapes from the water enwreathed the hull, splintering it farther. Others tore down the masts and swept the ship’s deck, sending those that stood upon it falling into the sea.

Never before had Rayes been truly frozen. He gaped at the spectacle, unable to move, before a chorus of alarm bells rang from the rest of the fleet. Almost instantly the ship’s sailors swarmed on deck, shouting at the thing and shouting at each other to man their stations. Rayes leaped out of the way as they dashed this way and that, acutely aware of the fear that had infected the air.

Someone gave the command to increase speed as the leviathan of the deep decimated another ship. Though he absorbed what it meant, Rayes was in too much shock to protest or support as the sailors moved to leave the other ships behind. We are the lead, after all. The mission will fail without us.

He saw a flutter of dark cloth as Eridanus swept from the lower cabins onto the top deck. Rayes slithered through the frenzied men after him, limbs feeling strangely detached. The Mage-Knight leaned towards the chilling spectacle, seemingly unaware of how close he was to tumbling into the churning waters. Perhaps the wizard had nothing to fear from such a thing; Rayes wouldn’t know. But even though the brawler knew nothing of magic, he knew well enough that even Eridanus’ power would not stop the monster as it turned upon a third ship, eating up the left flank towards them.

Ray stood beside the mage, face blank for the first time since he had embarked on this damned quest. He knew full well who was on the third ship. He and Imass had never truly liked each other, but that was no reason to wish death upon him. The Knight, for all his sickening altruism, commanded respect from those around him. He was a fighter, like Ray, who was wholeheartedly devoted to the journey. He didn’t deserve to be on that ship.

Eridanus’ expression was unreadable, which said it all.

“Do what you can,” Rayes said to the Mage-Knight. “Don’t try for what you can’t. They’re beyond you, and their fate is in their own hands now.”

He turned and faced the moon-child fully.

“If that… thing comes for us, we’ll be on our own, too. I reckon I’m going to stick next to you until we get to the island.”

by **Hadrian** on October 27th, 2012, 3:11 pm

Position :

Trente hadn't really explained to him how he had gone about acquiring a son. He liked the man who had been his assistant in getting the illicit auction going, even if he had begun to doubt the wisdom of doing so. There were silver linings to each and every thing in life, he supposed. The compassionate part of him had decided to observe the development of their relationship, however; if it came to light that Trente did not want the boy, Hadrian would offer him a place at the Farson Home when they returned to Zeltiva.

It was an orphanage, but it was a special place for special children, those who would be the next generation of Zeltiva's best and brightest if Hadrian had anything to say about it. Then, at least, Trente could rest easy that he had at least ensured some level of care and success for his progeny. The irony of cool, aloof Hadrian being a caretaker of children, who are notoriously needy, was not lost on the young professor.

But for now he sat in meditative silence, copying out notes from a journal into a relatively simple code he had concocted. His cryptography was nothing to write home about, but since uncovering that journal in Mura, he had begun to take a new interest in it. He had already created things that might be used to the detriment of his fellow man and, after the auction, he had begun to realize that Areesa Tallshade was likely wise in hiding those creations she could no longer control.

His senses were open in that calm contemplation of another's gathered thoughts. He was aware of Trente's general emotional status, and could feel Matilis quietly working the djed. It was a strange technique, and one he hoped to observe more closely with the boy's permission at a later date. His cipher followed a simple mathematical formula for shifting letter values, and once he got better at such things, he intended to work his glyphing into the mix, the better to further obfuscate his meaning. After all, there might be some magic out there for decoding simpler things.

The hand that rested on the journal was bare, the golden Lormar symbol etched there by Eyris glowing faintly as he tried to read the impressions left behind by the journal's author and anyone else who might have read it or touched it in any significant manner. His work was clean and efficient, but only until the djed around them exploded with fear and destruction.

"Something's wrong," he murmured, even as Matilis noticed some augury in his mug.

But soon there was screaming and the cracking of wood from the other ships, and Hadrian followed father and son to the deck. If he had been quicker on the draw, he might have hypnotized the boy into staying behind where it was safe, but the idea of safety was a fallacy, really, especially at sea where one might be more easily trapped belowdeck than above.

The thing or things, whatever had attacked, seemed cloaked against magical detection. He followed its movements by the results of its actions and by the faint sense of void on the djed.

"Some creature of Sahova," he called back, but nobody heard. Though he had been drawn somewhat into the confidence of the Archwizard Mashaen, he was hardly privy to the vast amount of knowledge within the Citadel.

In reaction to the pitching deck, Hadrian began to Flux djed into his body, preparing its reactions for superhuman speed, his muscles for greater strength, and his bones and tendons and ligaments for greater durability, the which novice Fluxers forgot, to the detriment of the very bodies they were trying to improve.

At Trente's call, he rushed forward to secure himself as they had attempted to do, adding his weight and his strength in keeping the boy -- and all of them -- from being thrown overboard. A grim look was all he could share. His face looked calm, but he was paler than usual; his eyes were opened wide, but not wildly rolling as a balking horse.

Finally he cast his hand forcefully toward the nearest creature, a bolt of res speeding away and toward it. He had finally mastered Fire, and now this misbegotten child of Sahova would feel it.

"Laviku forgive me," he murmured to the sea who had begun to hold the secrets of his mind since he had sailed from Avanthal to Zeltiva seasons before.

Upon transmutation, that energy flashed bright, cracked loud, becoming a bolt of lightning, but for the smell of ozone and the afterimage temporarily burned into their retinas, there was no effect. The energy skittered off the beast's hide, whatever it was, and that was all. Blinking for shock rather than against the light, Hadrian didn't like the implications of this immunity. A creature of the sea ought fear Zulrav's bolts.

He hoped he hadn't just made it angry...

by **Markus Andres** on October 27th, 2012, 4:46 pm

Markus had never missed solid ground as much as he did at that moment. Standing on the deck of a vessel through stormy waters, his feet spread apart to grant him some measure of stability. Ground him in some sort of reality, as he could hardly believe his own eyes when large tentacles came out of the water and attacked the rear ship. Everyone exploded into movement. Preparing for battle. Markus just stood there. Watching the carnage. The knights, proud knights get flung overboard as they desperately tried to battle the creature.

"Laviku protect us." Markus muttered. He had had no love for the sea god in the past few days. nor had he any love for Zulrav, as it appeared those two had conspiring the make the trip as uncomfortable for the knights as possible. But this creature was beyond even the might of the knights, so far out of their league.

Markus didn't move a muscle.

Almost as if he did move, the creature would see him. Would single him out amongst all the knights. Kill him next. Never in his life had he seen such a monstrosity. His eyes just transfixed on the beast and the ship locked in a deadly struggle. But the knights fought in vain as the ungodly beast crushed the ship. The ocean greedily devoured the ship. It was a horrible sight. He shuddered visibly as he saw knights get crushed as if they were mere twigs. Mage knights spelled seemed to just bounce off of the creature's hide. Hopeless.

Someone or something bumped into Markus and he snapped out of his trance. He looked around. Saw Imass appear from below deck with a host of knights all around him. It brought no comfort to his heart to see his dear friend. Against such a foe, what hope would they have to find victory? Markus took a deep breath. Foul smell of salt stung in his mouth and nose. Markus reached down to check his equipment. Sword and dagger by his side. Shield on his back. His body fully covered in plate armor. Markus moved to Imass' side. Best to have someone he knew nearby to fight alongside. Rather than stand alone.

It almost seemed futile to even attempt to combat the creature. How could they even hope to just injure the beast. But he was not going to give up. He had seen those knights be crushed by the monstrosity. His rage, by far, outmatched his sense of hopelessness. He was ready for the fight. But they needed something big to combat the creature. His sword would do little harm to the monstrosity. They needed siege equipment.

"If anyone got siege crossbows, now would be the time to use them!" Markus yelled if the Captain paused in his commands. "Or siege equipment. Harpoons. Anything heavy or powerful enough to damage that ungodly beast!".

by **Nira'lia** on October 29th, 2012, 3:59 pm

Being who she was, Nira’lia was very fond of the sea. It was her father’s domain, and it was just as much a home to her as land was. However, at the moment, she was certainly not at ease to be out at sea. The Konti’s face was visibly pale and she could do nothing but gape at the monstrous creature that so easily crushed the other ships.

People were running around in panic. She could see the Knights were getting ready to retaliate. Ser Imass, a familiar face, was gathering people around himself. While she didn’t particularly like Imass or the other Knights at the moment, she knew they would do their best to fight back—and that thought comforted her. There were a few other familiar faces surrounding him, and Nira’lia was skeptical that anything could be done. It remained unfazed by the magical attacks that were sent at it, and that only caused more panic.

Mayhem surrounded her as she clutched the ship’s side and stared out at the sea. After it had crushed the second ship, it had gone back under the water. There was a darkness looming in the water and it was getting closer. It seemed to be moving a lot faster than any of the ships, and it was clear that running from it would be very difficult. She held her suvai in her hand, and while she wasn’t skilled at brandishing it, it was her only choice of offense at the moment.

This ship was going to go under. That’s what her gut feeling strongly told her.

by **Miro** on October 30th, 2012, 8:46 pm

The open water was never more unfriendly. Zulrav and Laviku spoke in harsh tones, uttering words of disgust at one another. But there was something more, something that called out in a more dull tone, a whisper. It started as just a tingle in young Miro's chest, a quiver of excitement that never seemed to fade, only grow to tighten his chest as each moment passed. The ocean's melody echoing against the percussion of the sky was enough to unsettle most, like brother Wilson, who's stomach turned itself inside out.

The squires and knights were easily distinguished on days like these. The hardened made their marks evident, each notch of honor holding precedence over such trivialities as raging gods. On this day, the Syliran Knights pressed forward, cleansing the feeding hand of any filth that lay between them and their holy mission. As the wizard sit along side his patron, Imass, he could feel Tyveth's hand on his shoulder. The way of honor was new, yet it was home without doubt. Among his brothers, he was at peace, and also at war.

Miro closed his eyes and bowed his head, readying for a prayer. "With honor and duty, I face the challenges before me. Morwen's breath guides my soul, while Tyveth's reins guide our hand. May her breath be our breath, and may our hand hold steady. The Zealot never turns away, never forsakes duty. Brothers lend me your strength, our destiny draws adversity near." Each word reminding him of the bond forged through fire, issuing him a new home. A boat full of family, only coming second to his duty. Nothing could keep them from their prize.

Imass called out against Wilson being heckled with a punch to Tomthas' unsuspecting smug face. A smirk grew across Miro's. All suspicions of Tyveth's presence were confirmed upon the poetic sight of justice. Even when striking a fellow knight, Imass did so with great honor. And as expected, immediately followed with a lesson. Brothers always supported one another. Standing alone was reserved for the last man alive, to have it any other way was shameful. Once again setting the boat to silence, all before everything went wrong.

The tension in the wizard's chest put an even greater weight on him, the waters quickly unsettling and becoming violent. Something was wrong, something unnatural. The mood changed to panicked in an instant, sending a pulse through the packed hull. Each man alerting himself as to prepare for what was to come. Without hesitation Imass declared the ship to arms, sending the unit into action.

An impressive sight appeared alongside Miro and Imass, dressed in full plate. His build was double that of wizard yet their ages roughly the same. To have these men to stand with wiped away the tension and anxiety long brewing. It was time to put their honor on the line and serve justice. On their rise to size up their foe, finally the magician realized the depth of their situation. A thousand spires of grasping death waited whichever direction one would choose to look.

Spirited winds threatened as if to pull mast from deck, pouring salty ocean over any who would stand against nature's fury. So many thoughts poured through the young man's mind, yet none were answers. The plated man began to bark out orders, directing an offense into place. Mage-knights sent wave after wave of attack, each seeming to bounce off. Miro hesitated still though, not of fear, nor doubt, but in an attempt to form strategy.

There were so many factors in play, it was hard to sum up anything viable for the situation. Raw elements were in great supply in the endless form of strong winds and raining water, yet seemed without use. Of the mages on board, none seemed to truly possess the power needed to harm the creature, but was Miro any different? In such a situation, damaging spells were very limited. Fire provided the only real bang, yet fire and lava were rendered useless in the presence of so much water. Only one element remained available, that of lightning.

Though Miro was no hero, it was his duty to report to his evaluation to his superior. He was entirely unsure of how to proceed, refusing to waste his djed on weak attacks that would only tickle. If there was any chance of doing damage, it would have to be a big strike. The squire drew near to Imass, raising his voice to assure he would be heard. The knights knew little of magic, but their skill in strategy was far from lacking.

"Ser Imass, what is our strategy against such a foe? Few attacks seem to have any visible effect, however I feel I must express something. I can attack it with magic, with far more power than any other knight aboard, using lightning. If we draw all lightning reimancers in for one combined spell, we may stand a chance of wounding it. My skills are few astray from this plan, however I am yours to command. Whatever order you issue, I will gladly follow!"

Quest SRQ: Danger from the Deep (Syliras+Zeltiva)