Quest Into the Storm

[Fubuki Kouri]

"Ahahaha~ Aaaahahahaha~" Kouri's hauntingly mocking laugh giggled through the fierce storm wind around her. Steel bolts waltzed through the air, numerous shouts of pain and dying gurgles resonated all around her, and shouts of curses and battle-cry filled the wrathful sea, and yet the bizarre sight of a little girl in a white dress sitting on top of a ship's mast was still there. Her translucent form gave no heed to the dangers around her as crossbow bolts just went through her body like she was air. "Fools~ So much fools~! Ahahahahaha! Come on! Reload your crossbows! Aim at me! Shoot me more! Aaaahahahaha! The day is still young, hurry! hurry! Kihaaaaahahahahaha!!" Kouri's demonic laugh echoed in the air. Her pupils were in the shape of snakes, her very long ethereal white hair had lost its ribbons and was swaying wildly much like the Gorgon's serpentine hair, and she wore a grin full of teeth as her Soulmist swirled violently around herself. Kouri was in a battle-frenzy, the thought of having the power to brutally butcher one's enemies while knowing they cannot even touch you filled her with bloodlust combined with childish excitement. Most ordinary men would run in fear seeing this cute-looking but insane specter. Kouri hold her steel dagger to her face and rubbed her cheeks on its cold sharp edges. She could feel it, the battle was near, no... not a battle; but her chance of slaughter was near. In a few moments, she would get to unleash her despair, her sorrow, and her anger that had been pent up since the tiger slaughtered her family. "Huhuhu.... heeehehehehe... HYAAAHAHAHAHAHA!!!" Kouri opened her eyes as wide as it could be and stared murderously to the pirates aboard the Stormwind. After all, one can't spell slaughter without laughter. The ships were getting closer, the true battle was about to be joined; under the wrathful storm, blood shall be spilled. Grinning wide in anticipation, Kouri shouted to the crew of 'The Crescent'. "MASTEEEEEER!!! TSUKIKOOOO!!! When this ship made contact! I will blink to their deck and SLAUGHTER those fools! Hohoho... OOOHOHOHOHOHO!!!" Yes, her dagger will be drowned in a sea of pirate's blood today.

[Edreina]

It appeared to Edreina as if the majority of the bowmen were aiming at the Cuttlefish as only the stray, wind-captured bolt managed to bury itself in her deck. She shivered as the wind carried screams of pain and rage to her ears. The sound of her kinsmen's cries heated her blood, kindling the little flame that fed her fight into a burning in her chest that she could not ignore. As the second volley screamed through the air, more bolts landed on her deck, some skipping off dangerously close to her. Heart racing, Edriena tied off the lines and ran behind the mast, using it as cover just as the third volley whistled past, thudding into her deck and even the mast. Damned vagiks! Suddenly, her boat lurched to the side, nearly bumping into the Cuttlefish. With an annoyed cry, she ran over to the railing, only to see Ektan's spotted dorsal peeking up at her, slicing the water alongside her. Almost exactly the same length of her own ship from snout to tail, Ektan could appear menacing to any untrained eye. His blue-gray skin was decorated with a plethora of white stripes and spots that broke up his outline beneath the roiling water's surface. His mouth, as wide as Edreina's legs were long, could gape to an utterly astonishing size, but contained no teeth. Naturally peaceful, Edreina was surprised to see her newly bonded Tavan accompanying her into this battle. In the fleeting moments between assaults, she leaned over and ran a hand along his towering dorsal, luxuriating in the comfort of having him present. Darting back over to the tiller, she had a renewed courage to fight for her people, her ocean, her god. When the Cuttlefish entered boarding distance, Edreina furled the sails, slowing herself so that she could circle around to the distance at which she was told to wait, to watch. Despite the wind and the rain, Edreina felt a tenseness permeating her bones, as if something big were to happen. Time slowed as the moment became pregnant. There were no more screams, only the creaking of two vessels growing ever closer, the bated breath of two forces about to collide. Taking a spare moment, Edreina braided her hair tightly, recapturing the strays that attempted to blind her with each gust of wind. For what was about to happen, she would need every advantage.

[Cyrus Blackfire]

Cyrus was a tall man, a disadvantage for any person who was being shot at from a distance. A larger man is a larger target, it was simply an honest fact. As such it was prudence rather than cowardice that prompted Cyrus to duck behind the Svefra standing in front of him, flinching slightly as the man jerked back from a crossbow bolt in the throat. Well, it had been the man's own fault for not having the common sense to duck in cover.

Others fell around him, but Cyrus was not stupid so he kept to his cover, short blade already in hand. He would be lying if he claimed that he was not frightened, because he was, pissed scared in fact. A man who had no fear was not a man in his mind, they were a beast, an animal worth nothing as they would soon find themselves put down by more sensible individuals. Fear helped a man stay alive, it was only when fear overtook you that you became weak. Cyrus was not weak, nor would he lose his life here at the end of some pirate's blade. No, this was the start, the day when the first chapter of the warrior's rise to power would be written, it was by his hand that this feared pirate would meet his end. All would shout the name of Cyrus Blackfire into the air and it would be heard from here to the farthest corners of Mizahar.

Well, first he had to find the bastard of course.

His dark eyes searched for his target through the raging storm, narrowing them when they finally caught a glimpse of the red haired captain for a moment. Hopefully he had not noticed Cyrus, this would mean that the element of surprise was on his side. The desire to simply throw a lightning bolt through the air was tempting, and likely he would have much to work with given the chaos of the storm. It was beaten down of course, he needed to wait for the opportune moment when he was certain that his attack would not miss.

When that chance came no one would stand between Braten and him, those that did would die to his lightning without a second thought. His greatsword might come into play should he find a good spot to use it, but until then he had his stratagem all figured out. Really, it was rather sad how easy it seemed like this would be, well as long as he didn't get skewered on some fool's sword.

[Crypt]

This is the fury of the thrice-damned storm. Perhaps it was the Drykas blood within him that came from many a Stormwarden that stirred in its slumber, and the blood-memories that were passed along were now being recalled. For he had not witnessed a stronger storm in over twenty years now. Or was it the sight of watching nature unleash its fury (which was, admittedly, rather unpleasant to watch) on the smaller Svefra ships that made him exhilarated? What allies would there be to fight with against the horde that Braten commanded? Would there be Zith flying towards them, wielding strange swords that were cold to the touch, struggling valiantly against the winds? Would there be Nuit, the accursed undead, the defiers of the Cycle, that cast subtle magicks to unravel the pirates' defences? Would there be Knights in panoply of ancient kings? Crypt smiled faintly, reining in his small outburst of imagination. Death was approaching, slowly but surely, and he could feel it in the air. Dira's gift to him was most useful indeed. But no fear. No fear of death that may come. Dira has blessed me. When I die, I die. Now then, how do I avoid getting gutted on a spear by one of my own? The shout of one of the ship's officers brought Crypt back to the harsh reality that was the storm-battered decks of the Stormwind. He was supplying the crossbowmen with the bolts that they required as they ran out, and though dashing to and fro on the wet deck was not a safe thing to be doing, he managed to survive for the time being. The demonic laughter of a ghastly apparition caught his attention, and after he had passed the last of the bolts he had with him to the nearest crossbowman, he moved behind the frontlines and, grasping at a solid oak barrel lashed to a mast, stood there to observe the murderous little thing. The Djed stirred within him, and he caught hold of what he could, gently guiding it to his eyes, his chosen method of using Auristics (and the only one he could use so far). Feeling it flow smoothly through his veins, Crypt stifled a smirk as the ecstatic feeling of using magic that he had been experiencing of late stole back into his mind, invigorating him. The Djed sank into his eyes, and, blinking, Crypt dove into the world of auras and stared at the ghost. A most curious phantasm, that female ghost. Her aura is nightmarish - tendrils of darkness reaching out to grasp the air around her. The bloodlust is evident; it feels corrosive. But is there more? Her Djed is chaotic in nature, swirling around her 'body', but it feels more solid. Less ethereal than Djed, but even so thinner than physical matter. And yes, there is more to her emotions than just bloodlust. Anger, perhaps? Sorrow? Happiness? Not quite. I cannot distinguish her emotions; the waters are churning too wildly for me to concentrate properly. Crypt frowned as he contemplated his first observation. I know this is a ghost. But how? Perhaps Dira had a hand in this. And so I can sense ghosts now, because of her gift? Quite possible. The smells emanating from her... Urgh, she stinks. "Very well." I shall make myself scarce for now until the main melee begins. And I shall begin by striking down one of the officers - perhaps that fool of a Myrian, Mundaz, would do. I've a hankering to do away with him since he mocked me at the Docks. I hunger for combat. Let the war-song begin. The elegies and dirges shall come later. Moving his hands to the melody of a tune he had once heard the Akalak sing as they battled the Zith invaders in his youth, Crypt began to focus on mastering the slightly unruly Djed inside; the time spent on controlling his Djed would pay off with greater strength.

[Caran Icewave]

The rain of bolts fired from enemy crossbows hadn't yet reached the deck of the Shark's Fang, sparing Caran some time to prepare an idea of where to take cover. She could set the tiller for a straight course and go below deck, but that would leave her casinor captainless and liable to smash into something. She could just crouch behind the tiller and pray to Zulrav that his winds would misguide the hard bolts, but that seemed little likelier to work than what her previous idea was. There were more ideas, rattling around in her brain, but she couldn't find the time to consider them for the next rain of bolts came down, sluicing through the air and puncturing the wooden hide of her ship. Caran grumbled curses as she took cover hehind the wheel, crouched down as small as she could do, and waited until the faint sound of crossbow fire faded into the gale. One bolt, a late arrival, slammed into the deck not a foot away from her thigh, and she released a long breath as she rose again to set her course straight. The mounted harpoon on her deck caught her attention and she considered it for but a fraction of a chime, on the brink of loading it and firing off a harpoon at the Stormwind, an attack that would show them the Svefra would not sit idle as they were attacked. She moved for it before the next wave crashed into her casinor, knocking her to the deck, and she fought her way to the harpoon amidst water and flailing fish swept up from the depths they thought would be too far for the storm to sweep them up. She loaded the harpoon into the firing mechanism and then let loose just before another wave slammed into her again, toppling her over like she was naught but a rag doll. She didn't see where her bolt had fired, didn't much care either, and instead stumbled to her feet and made herself lunge to the tiller as the wheel spun, leading her precariously close to the casinor at her side, again. She was getting tired of the pattern and hoped the fighting could start soon before the men and women in the smaller ships drowned.

[Uleru]

There is a whistle as the arrows barbed heads slice through the storm in a way that, to Uleru's untrained mind, looks like they are completely rewriting the physics of the tempestuous wind. She flinches as one of them find purchase on the deck behind her with a bite, suddenly worried for Edreina on such an open vessel. Knowing she can do nothing to help her friend, as she can't captain a ship, or even be used as a meat shield. So she is left watching in useless anxiety as the Sevfra ducks for cover behind the narrow mast. As the second volley of arrows introduces itself with a whistle and the disjointed screams of their victims, the Otani catches the eye of Braten. He is standing by the railing of his ship, talking to a hooded man as he scrutinizes the fleet pursuing him. Her looks down on her almost disinterestedly, like she's an acquaintance who's name he can't quite remember. Uleru stares back channelling all the hate and the Sevfra feel for him, imagining all the ways they might exact their revenge. She keeps eye contact even when one bolt nails her foot to the deck, and another hits her abdomen with such a force it passes through her back with a sound like a waterballoon hitting the side of a house. And then his eyes pass over her dismissively, moving onto bigger targets. Her ire spikes with an almost audible snap. Everything she is here for. Everything he has done. And he just dismissed her. And right then she promises herself that the only way she will take him to meet Laviku is in pieces and giblets off of someones sword. The screams multiply as a third volley swiftly follows the second. Some were cut off ominously fast, and a few gurgled into silence, but faintly over the sound of the storm she hears a splash as a body hits the water. Curdling with her own uselessness she pulls the arrow out of her foot, hurls it overboard and swiftly follows. Half of her demands to crawl aboard the Cuttlefish and join the fray she knows is coming, but the more sensible half is scanning under the waves the the pillar of froth that is a fighter falling overboard.

[Tsukiko]

She was not one who hungered for blood, but neither did she quail in fear. On the other hand, the figure above, with her cackling bloodlust, had a rather unnerving affect on the Ethaefal, as she dodged arrows, keeping her eyes trained on the target before them. Tsukiko watched as the red-haired man surveyed all who pursued him, noting as his gaze paused over a certain few, disregarding others, such as herself, just before taking cover behind the mast as another volley of bolts and arrows arched through the air. Glancing above, she had the notion that he had picked out Fubuki, the small girl's high demonic laugh echoing through the storm, and a foreboding feeling came over her. She was unused to such displays of madness and violence, as the strong scent of iron, blood, as washed away by rain and waves. The Crescent rocked in an almost rhythmic motion, as the waves knocked the seafaring vessels back and forth, occasionally causing some to collide with one another. Although her hands trembled, from fear or anticipation, she could not tell, and absently began to hum. Slowly, the haunting melody took its shape, and began forming into words as she took in the events around her; The waves rolled red As foes and friends bled Overhead laughed specters Their bloodlust yet fed The skies cried As warriors died Sailor 'pon sailor Sank to sea bed Laid to rest In a wat'ry grave And so it goes again Prepare yourselves my friends Our foes shall seek their end Be it they felled by djed Steel, or sea The waves rolled red As foes and friends bled Overhead laugh specters Their bloodlust Yet to be Fed She trailed off into a hum, her gaze flickering from ship to ship, always returning to rest on the imposing figure before them. Tsukiko felt a twinge of pain, flinching as each body fell to stillness on the deck; bolts and arrows sticking out of fatal wounds. Though she had not known them for too long, those whom were Svefra, were in a general sense, part of her family, while the others were comrades. The Lethaefal almost felt as if the dead eyes were taunting her, blaming her for her uselessness. Turning her eyes back to the Inarta, she glared at the figure, an emotion she had never felt, at least, not so strongly, bubbling through her; sorrow transforming into rage, a shriek of challenge caught in her throat. Tsukiko closed her eyes to slits, as they took on a stormy quality, matching the storm that raged around them; blue dancing with hatred.

[Anchor]

ForewordDon't worry about the "Aboard the so-and-so," you can read as much of it as you want. It's all relevant anyhow. I'll include an OOC note at the end about how we'll proceed past this point. Aboard most of the vessels in the front few rows, men went down. The Cuttlefish bore the brunt of it being the leading ship, but here and there others went down too. A couple bolts thudded into Edreina’s boat, both hitting Uleru and neither causing any damage, some landed aboard the palivar behind, one hit the man on Tsukiko’s Crescent. It was not widespread death, but it was a deadly hail of bolts that flew through the wind with ease, the small bolts managing to cut through the turbulent air with their small bodies and shape. Too fine were they to have been made by an amateur, or bought cheaply. Since fletching aboard a seaworthy vessel was a ridiculous notion, the crew must have known a good fletcher on the land… that, or they raided from someone who had good fletchers, who might also have been a powerful order of soldiers on the coast of the North Suvan. Their weapons were high-quality and their tactics were efficient and effective. If there was any doubt before, it was erased now. These were more than just average criminals; these were professionals. Still, it did nothing to stymie the bloodlust-fueled fury that enraptured the Svefra so. The earlier roar of rage had broken into a series of wails and curdling screams, both male and female, both young and old, but they had gone quiet now. One way or another, the pain had subsided in those who were hit, and bodies both breathing and not were being dragged out of the way, to the sterns where they would stay until either a smaller ship like the Goldengrotto came to ferry them away or the time came to throw them overboard into the embrace of the Sea Father. While the former group was significantly larger than the latter, there were still far too many in the latter for a battle that hadn’t even started yet. Yes, vengeances would be stroked yet. Behind the Cuttlefish, the palivars were beginning to cluster, altering their direction so that they would arrive near the lead saique. There would be no break in the battle where the lead ship would pull away, for trying to do such a maneuver would leave the saique vulnerable to capture. Instead, those palivars carrying warriors would tie up to the Cuttlefish or a ship connected to it and then flood over the decks and eventually onto the Stormwind itself. Such a tactic would force the full number of the Svefra onto the relatively small crew of non-Svefra, and the palivars carrying medical equipment could moor just adrift of them and have the smaller casinors either ferry between the mass of wooden decks or latch on and join the fray. Of course, that would make retreat all the more difficult if things went badly, but no one here was contemplating a forfeit. The anger of the children of the Sea Father was too strong for them to have the foresight of such things. Already the casinors and smaller ships were heading towards the main column, heading for safer and more stable vessels in the storm. Dangerous waves washed over the decks, sweeping people from their feet and forcing those who lacked sure footing to find it, sending men and women grabbing for anything they could find purchase on from the storm. Tossed about by the furious sea, those on the smaller ships were in even greater peril, being so small swamped by waves so large. Several had capsized already, and multiple more were in growing danger of following suit. Perhaps in a panic someone fired a harpoon, the tether flying through the air behind it like a tail, pushed around by the wind and landing with a thunk in the stern of one of the palivars ahead, startling one of Svefra who'd been clutching the railing. All over, the Svefra were struggling to get their boats to the Stormwind, to join the battle where it would be fought, with some spreading out to fire at the enemy vessel. Aboard the Stormwind The Stormwind’s crew was oddly calm in their preparation, their movements sure and experienced, a hint as to how many times they’ve performed this slaughter already. Though this time, they were the pursued rather than the pursuers. The front line of crossbowmen faded back to the armory to gather weapons more suited to close combat, armed with cudgels and maces that were easier to use with blind brute strength, but the dozen in the last row filed up the steps at the stern which led to the elevated platform atop which Braten stood. These men and women bent down to reload their mechanisms, leader poised in the center of them all and not even needing to acknowledge their arrival such was their confidence in what each other was doing. Those who had been in the middle row already had weapons strapped to their torsos, maces at their hips and cutlasses on their backs. They were smaller, but could more easily be carried while hefting the large mechanisms about. Frantically cranking, the crossbowmen looked up frequently up at the edge of the deck, those who had long hair whipping it up in wet tendrils, as if the Svefra horde could be on the deck at any chime. Whether this was a practiced routine or not was questionable, as the wild movements caused a few to loose their grip of the cranking handles. Still, the scars on their bared arms and the chests of the male pirates spoke of how many battles they'd seen - and survived. While the ranged warriors took care of the business, the hulking giants that took up the bulk of the crew grouped near the port side of the ship, footsteps crashing into the deck and large weapons heft on shoulders. A woman taller than most men and just as broad-shouldered held a blade as long as most men's arms, in a muscled fist that gripped it with a savage excitement. A giant of nearly eight feet stood bare-chested with a hammer resting on one of his massive shoulders, water streaming in rivets down his green skin. Scales slithered across the deck in a giant serpentine tail, but led up to the torso of a humanoid female with a long curved blade in each hand, a forked tongue sliding out between fanged teeth, darting out like a snake and retreating quickly. There was no particular order with which they gathered, but all came with weapons drawn towards the side of the deck, where one man stood ready to address them. The man in question was no giant, but was tall nonetheless. However, it wasn't his height, nor his obvious chiseled muscles, nor the fierce wild look in his eyes that some would say was his most imposing and frightful feature. It was his armor. White ivory, mostly clean but with blood stains on several areas, tied together in layers and rows that clattered on his rough skin. Animal skulls on his head and each of his shoulders, bones arranged in a series of gentle angles cascading down his front, a great thigh bone with serrated teeth - real teeth - in his hand. And the runes. Up and down the armor, his weapon, across every white segment of his equipment, a series of runes that circled and curved across his instruments of death, with which he would soon play a dreadful melody that would hum in the torn ears of his enemies. And on left bicep, his offhand, the gnosis of Myri. The fearsome warrior looked up to Braten, who stood on his perch at the stern, watching with an intense frown as his crew prepared for the slaughter. With a nod from the mop of red hair, the bone warrior turned and faced the assembled brutes, raising his toothed weapon and roaring, a deep guttural sound that was soon joined by many others, a quick roar of battle as they prepared themselves for the struggle ahead. "Sharp turn to port!" Braten's voice, weathered by many a storm, cut through the others with ease. Moments later, the ship swerved to its left and across the path of its nearest pursuer, the Cuttlefish, resulting in a loud crack as wood smashed into wood. There would be damage to be sure, but it was nothing serious even in the tempest and insignificant compared to the mayhem caused when some of those who were reloading their crossbows hurried to the side and leant over the deck railing, firing into the mess of confused Svefra below. At such close range, accuracy was all the higher, and the death toll would rise. Then there was an answering roar, a battle cry from the blue-eyed seafarers below, and soon a platform was mounted and Svefra rushing up to meet the crew. "Hold your fire, wait until you see their eyes!" shouted the bone warrior at those who were aiming to loose their crossbow bolts at the moving deck below Aboard the Cuttlefish On the deck of the lead saique, the warriors aboard were loosening their weapons, crouching and readying themselves to bolt for the deck of the Stormwind and bring battle to their enemies. A small stack of corpses lay in front of the wheel, and the injured were being pulled to the side so that companion ships could take them away. Cutlasses were being freed from their leather scabbards, arrows were being knocked to be used in the closer quarters, some other weapons like axes and daggers being pulled out from the holsters and brought to bear. In the thick of the Svefra, not in the front but near it, two large purple men towering above everyone else stood calmly, weapons eased but not drawn just yet; waiting until the exact time they would be needed. A great broadsword the size of some men strapped to a scabbard on the back of the larger, two curved daggers on the hips of the shorter. A loud cracking noise could be heard as the tall meaty Akalak rolled his shoulders and neck, reminiscent of the noise made when two stones crash into each other. “It is time,” was all that Turak said, to the mild surprise of those present. Though the large purple man was often the most talkative of their three passengers, he was bandying words no longer with his companion. “It would appear so.” Eranis looked briefly at Razkar, then straight ahead at the approaching deck. “Practiced tactics meant for ruthless killing, our enemy has done this before. A stratagem like that cannot be spontaneous, it must be developed. I wonder if our allies have taken into account the experience of our oppone-” Suddenly Eranis stopped talking, eyes bulging as his hands flew up to his temples. His mouth opened in shock, hands gripping his hair. “No…” he said, which all he said at first was. Turak looked at his friend oddly for a moment, but the uncertainty was washed away with understanding and a different form of concern as a thick hand was placed on Eranis’ shoulder. No words were exchanged, at least not between the two bodies, but between two souls a whole struggle was occurring. “Three years…” Eranis gasped, his head tilting downward. Some of the Svefra looked at him in confusion and trepidation, but most were not paying attention. Those who were didn’t understand, and soon redirected their focus to the task at hand; leaving it to the other Akalak who didn’t seem worried enough to warrant immediate action. Turak wasn’t trying to pacify Eranis or move him aside, for he knew exactly what was happening and could no more help than he could swim through the air. “Why, why now?” The scholarly Akalak appeared to be asking the air or some spectral phantasm, but the person he was asking was not someone around the group, it was inside the Akalak himself. There were no violent movements or spasms, not anything wild that one would think would indicate an internal struggle. To the two involved, it was all a matter of will. “Impact!” came a shout. A great bump sent nearly all aboard to their knees, a great commotion that staggered even Tonio and sent one or two sprawling backwards. For a moment there was a question as to what caused it, but that question was soon answered. Looming before them in all its foreboding presence was the Stormwind, seemingly out of nowhere, its port side blocking the hull of the Cuttlefish. Instead of the side-to-side boarding the crew had been expecting, the Stormwind had turned at the last second and presented only its side to the pursuing ship, causing a brief moment of confusion that they took to have those crossbowmen who were ready reach over the side and fire at the unsuspecting swath of targets. Three more fell to the little metal projectiles, further confusing and enraging the Svefra, who changed direction and began running for the slightly higher deck. A small team set down a large wooden platform connecting the two, perfect for allowing a stream of Svefra to flood the deck above. However, all of the commotion had little effect on the fight already in place. Eranis stood still, not even swaying in the wind, hands clutching his head and eyes still wide in a fierce battle of wills. Turak looked uncertainly between the battle to be had and the battle already occurring, unsure of which needed his aid most. Eranis looked up. The crowd of Svefra was rushing forward, regardless of whether the Akalaks were accompanying them or not. Battle cries and hoarse shouts resounded from the throats of more than a couple dozen bodies of all sizes barreling towards the high deck of the Stormwind. Weapons were all raised, the first few running and jumping onto the enemy deck, hoping to gain the advantage of gravity over their targets. And then Eranis was with them. Not a word was spoken, not a cry or wish of luck or even an acknowledgement to his companion. His steps pounded on the wooden deck and then the joining platform. The two lakans were already out before he took his first step, raised and at chest level by his second. Apart from the lack of reaction to his large companion or the Myrian, there was nothing at all very uncharacteristic about it. That was accounting for the fact that neither the Myrian nor Turak could see his eyes, or the intense savage look that seized them. Turak’s own gaze went from focused to saddened, losing a bit of their hard edge as he drew his broadsword from the sheath on his back. “I was hoping we would not have to see him in control again,” he mused with weariness uncharacteristic for his usual demeanor. If Razkar had bothered to remain behind to watch the events unfold, then the purple giant would give him one somber look before charging after the rest of the warriors, over onto the carnage aboard the Stormwind. "Hold fire!" the bone warrior shouted, gesturing with his left arm to the other crossbowmen who had just finished reloading and were rushing towards the side, the gnosis of Myri contorting across his tanned flesh. For a moment the ranged pirates faltered, unsure of the meaning behind the order. Then, as the thudding footsteps of Svefra were carried over the connecting bridge, looks of understanding dawned on their faces and they lined up a ways back from the edge of the Stormwind, in front of their own crew. The first of the Svefra came over the side with a shout, followed by the screech of bolts cleaving the air and boring into the bodies of several of Laviku's blue-eyed children. Momentarily barricaded by the bodies of their own, the Svefra warriors nevertheless continued over and around the fallen, pouring onto the Stormwind like the great sea itself, a wave of blue and silver, flesh and steel. The crossbows were taken aside and replaced by the more powerful of the crew, weapons raised and legs pumping, counter charging the enraged sea children with their massive weapons. Wind whipped across the deck, biting into the skin of the combatants, but they took no notice of that, nor the stinging drops of water that were carried with it. The two sides met with an audible crash, like a wave breaking against a wall. Metal rose and fell, rending skin and ripping through people. The cries of battle resounded across the water, lost in the storm. Where the two forces met, blood spilled in streams, coating the deck and painting the ship red, only to be carried away by the rain as the vessel bobbed and shook. Eranis, or whoever he was now, was quite noticeable in the thick of it, his blades moving as if carried by the wind, efficiently killing and wordlessly dispatching the enemies as he reached them, deftly sidestepping and avoiding the karge weapons of his opponents. The bone warrior on the pirates' side was carving his way through the Svefra, his toothed weapon catching limbs and bodies even as they tried to dodge, the reach and unconventional tool of death catching many of the blue-eyed fanatics unaware. Hammers fell. Bones cracked. Flesh was rendered. Swords were coated. Behind the Cuttlefish, more palivars were tying up and their warriors joining the fray, carrying more of the Svefra and their allies to the bloodshed. Jumping and prancing and running the children of the Sea Father charged, an energetic people driven with hate and channeled by rage. On both sides people fell, the giants of Braten's crew suffering multiple injuries and crashing through the Svefra with their own weapons. Svefra jumped and rolled out of the way of the large and unwieldy weapons, but in the crowded quarters of the deck there was only so far they could move before running into another enemy waiting for them. While the battle began to rage beneath him, Braten stood there assuredly, his arms folded across his chest and frown trained on the Svefra as they boarded his ships. From his vantage point, he could look out and see all the others flooding over the saique and onto his own vessel, the long train of boats filled to the brim with people calling out for his blood and the blood of his followers. His blood was screaming at him to get down there, to join the fray and fight alongside his comrades, but he was smart and he was patient. There would be better times to join his crewmates. After all, the battle would not be short, nor would victory come easily to the victor. No. Here today, the price of victory would be paid in blood and bones. OOCSheesh, these take a long time to write. Sorry again for the delay, I'm not quite keeping up with my weekly schedule as I would have liked. Once you get on the deck of the Stormwind in your post, feel free to write out a skirmish with an enemy and go back and forth. Make it realistic, around your skill level. Once you win (presumably and with whatever prices you paid for that victory), I'll give you someone else to fight that I think would challenge you. Stick close to the people you've shared a shiip with, or find someone else if you came alone, because you will not all be able to handle these battles on your own. Anyway, good luck!

[Razkar]

"Lay on, Macduff, and damn'd be him that first cries, 'Hold, enough!'"

++++++++++

The past did not matter. Nor the future. The former was done and best forgotten, its reasons and choices irrelevant now. The future was something to be won by blood or gifted by the gods... most likely the former.

But the Myrian no longer cared for either. As the djed-worked bone hilts in his hands vibrated from his palms to his heart, along with the claw necklace that seemed to bite into his chest from around his neck...

The world became red. Red and beautiful, a world of running sacks of meat that screamed and frothed or slithered and bellowed and they were all hishishishishis-

All there was was this. The roar. The beat. The bloody, vicious, glorious present of screams and horror. Of battle.

Razkar kicked aside a dead or dying Svefra out of his way, uncaring anymore as to who he was or whether the bolts sticking out of his fresh were fatal. The nightmarish crew of the Stormwind was arrayed before them, a mad mix of armored humans he had seen the likes of a dozen times before in battle, and races scattered around Mizahar, bound together under the still and glowering figure from the command deck.

The Myrian grinned, revealing teeth sharpened to fangs, covered in ash that through some wonder or devilry had stayed immune to the wind and rain, carved symbols on his flesh and paint on the rest of it.

He raised his weapons and charged, gnosis pulsing and burning on the back of his neck like the kiss of the Goddess-Queen herself, shrieking her name like a monster from dark places.

"FOR MYRI!"

No time to reload the crossbows at this range. No choice but to get in close and nasty, just like Razkar wanted. But he was already following another: Eranis, towering over most others, arms a pair of purple blurs tipped by silver flashes as his lakan cut down all that came near him. At his side, Turak roared like a rutting bull, broadsword five feet long cleaving bodies in half and painting the rain with blood.

Time to contribute.

He charged a mountainous human with a battleaxe already swinging, ripping through the rain from the left with a dull whoosh towards his chest. Already Razkar could feel the favor his Myri coursing through him, his movements become smoother, faster-

-as he slid to the side, bending back as he did, battleaxe sailing past him-

-gladius slashing vertically upwards in his left hand, separating the Inarta's right forearm from the rest of him-

-hacking diagonally down with his hand ax as the man reeled back, screaming in rage and agony-

-burying it in the side of his neck, second, gaping red mouth torn in the pale flesh there even as his gladius thrust deep into his gut-

-ripping both weapons free at once, twin streams of scarlet now pouring from the man already dead on his feet-

-Razkar snarled as he looked into those dead eyes and hammered a right hook, enhanced even more by the steel-tipped knuckleduster, knocking him back to die on the slick and swaying deck with a crushed nose to add to his pain.

Moments. All but moments, from swing and sidestep to punch and fall.

Too brief. Too brief notenoughmoremoremore!

The Myrian screamed until his throat ached and hacked with his ax at a flame-haired Inarta swinging a broadsword. The long, gleaming blade jerked up to stop him and Razkar cocked back his foot-

-too slow, as the Inarta lashed out before he had the chance, slamming his boot into the Myrian's knee and sending him staggering, bringing his sword back up-

-only for Razkar to explode upwards, gladius hacking vertically, rage and crimson mist marring his pain, dulling it, forcing the Inarta back, sword swinging down-

"RRRRAAAAAAAAAAHGGGGGGH!"

The hand ax, imbued with the power of that dead Akalak, met the sword as Razkar swung into ts arc brutally-

-and shattered it in two, Inarta's mouth opening in shocked rage as he beheld half the weapon in his hand that he did before.

"Imp-"

That shock would be his end. He felt a wet, blinding pain across his stomach, looked down and saw a snake's nest of entrails spilling and steaming from the hole slashed there, plopping onto the deck with a sick thunk.

The Inarta looked up as he felt the bile moisten his throat, and had just enough time to see Razkar's ax hurtling towards his face.

A wet thud, like it was striking a sodden oak tree. But when Razkar wrenched the blade free there was the grey, quivering stain of brain matter on it, yellow strands of muscle and stinking pus. He snarled and flicked the blade clean, eyes already scanning for another-

Enemy, at Eranis' side, taking advantage of the blank-eyed battle lust to slide behind him with a short spear, Turak facing the other way-

Razkar reacted without thinking, jerking up his hand ax with his grip loose, so his hand traveled to the bottom of the hilt, giving him more leverage when he cocked back his hand-

-and hurled the ax across fifteen feet of rain and flashing steel-

Eranis was far and away now. But through The Other's eyes he heard the wet impact of steel on flesh, head snapping to the side to see a familiar hand ax buried in the chest of an enemy who simply could not believe it was there. The Inarta toppled to his knees and them back, ax deep in his heart-

"Myrian?"

Razkar was already running, already moving, seeking to reclaim his weapon. He charged towards the two Akalaks, knowing they would attract the best and most skilled enemies Braten possessed, and he would not miss out on that.

"Bastard!"

A human with a "T" and "R" branded onto both cheeks came at him with a mace, two-handed, blunt but heavy metal slamming into his upraised gladius and forcing him back with gritted teeth. The human lashed out, bellowing oaths in a language Razkar did not know, forcing him further back, away from his-

No! Focus!

-Razkar lunged forwards, coming low, under the swing of he mace, hacking to the side with his gladius as he went by the human, diving towards his ax-

-rewarded with the distinctive shake and tremble as his blade cleaved through muscle and flesh, the scream of the hamstrung human telling him all he needed to-

He hit the deck hard and gained no purchase on them, what with the blood and rain and falling, crashing bodies. His hand snapped out and found his hand ax, other hand jerking up as the crippled human half-lunged and half-fell on him, mace hammering down brutally, body pressed on top of him.

Razkar gritted his teeth and oushed back, then the human's hand darted out, groping for his eyes and face, knowing strength alone would not force his weapon-

-only for the Myrian to snarl and chomp down hard on a pair of stabbing fingers, filed and vicious points ripping through flesh and cartilidge, filling his mouth with blood as he wrenched back-

-and the human reeled, screaming, stumps pumping-

-receiving Razkar's knee flush in his crotch as soon as the Myrian was able, sending him rolling to his side, mace falling from his hands-

Razkar screamed again, even the pain in his raw throat dulled by the red and angry mist descending on him, twisting and hacking down at his fallen enemy with his hand ax. Once, twice... three times...

Then the human stopped twitching and Razkar rose to his feet, somewhere between Eranis and Turak. Fresh enemies were massing, massive figures with weapons almost as big as him, crew members that slithered and stalked as well as walked.

A shadow fell across him, the thump of heavy footsteps preceding it, and Razkar turned to face it. He smiled

Good.

OOCMy thanks to Svasra for the truly AWESOME pic!

[Fubuki Kouri]

The battle was joined, the heathen pirates facing off with the children of Laviku. This day will only end with one of the sides completely slaughtered. There is no retreat, no another round, no more delay. And that's just how the specter likes it. Blood... blood... blood!... SO MUCH BLOOD! "HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHA!!!" The piercing banshee laughter of the insane translucent girl echoed amidst the stormy seas. Her very long ethereal white swaying with intense rage, it's like Gorgon itself had come to reside in the phantom's hair. The glowing crimson slits and irises that made up Kouri's eyes were filled with intense bloodlust. It must be satiated, satiated with the blood of the Stormwind crew! "KUAHAHAHAHAHA!! HAHAHAHA!! MASTER! TSUKIKO! I'M OFF! Meet me... at the deck! HAHAHAHAHAH!" With a final insane berserk laughter, Kouri took off from the Crescent and flew to the Stormwind's deck. A ghastly ethereal tendril jutted out from her back, it was coiling an object with a dangerous metallic glint, a steel dagger. Khehehehehe... kuahahaha... FUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA! Kouri's mind and ethereal mouth were in unison and made the same insane giggling and laughter. "That's them... those are my preeeeeeeysssss~ My preciousss preeeeeyssss!!" She flew above the battlefield of a deck below and scanned it, like an insane bird of prey. Spotting a line of pirates battling with a line of Svefras, Kouri decided that those pirates will be her first preys. Flashing an insane toothy grin, Kouri descended and elegantly landed on the blood-soaked deck, behind her targeted pirates. The phantom turned to face the pirates' back, her dagger spinning dangerously around herself. She lifted the hem of her dress and slightly bowed. "I shall begin my performance, ladies and gentleman~" Her cute, but insane voice echoed. Like a singer who was about to begin her concert, a concert of carnage to be exact. Lifting her head slowly, the dagger's sharp pointed end facing the pirates' back and then... "HAIYA!" She began her first attack. *GNASH!* Unaware of the flying dagger behind him, a pirate could only felt cold hard steel stabbing his back, surprised and pained by the backstab, his body fell forward only to be hacked away by the opposing Svefra warriors. They were too busy to notice who was responsible for the particular pirate's pained behaviour. "One!!" The phantom responsible for the deed exclaimed excitedly, like this war was all a big game. With a gory sound of flesh, she pulled the dagger from the dead pirate's back and immediately search for her next target. "There!" Her dagger made a slashing motion and slashed another pirate, hitting his right leg's back side, the poor man was taken by surprise and didn't expect a slash on his right leg's back when the enemies are in front of him. The second he diverted his attention to his leg, the Svefra warriors used the opportunity to deliver a killing blow to him. "Two!! Hahahaha!" Two kill assists! Even though she didn't directly kill them, Kouri was quite proud of her contribution to the battle. Kouri twirled around like an insane ballerina and spotted her next target, a pirate clashing with a tall bulky Svefra, their weapons struggling to gain the upper hand though by the looks of it, the smaller pirate's grip was faltering. Ooooh~ He's gonna get crushed! I should help him crush the pirate! Kouri floated to very near the pirate's back, bringing her dagger with her. She then positioned her dagger near the pirate's.... rear end then she shoved it deep into his poopshoot. "GYAAAAAGH!" The pirate screamed as cold hard steel invaded the place where he dumps bodily waste with. His grip on his weapon faltered completely and was immediately cleaved by his opponent, the muscled tall Svefra. The Svefra then noticed Kouri and gave her a nod of acknowledgement for her help, dead or not, an ally in the battlefield is an ally. Kouri flashed the warrior a toothy happy grin and removed her dagger's from the pirate, tearing a larger hole in his butt. She had helped the Svefra for a total three 'audiences' dying due to her performance, literally and many more are just dying to watch her. *WOOSH!!* "Thre- huh?" She was about to count her kill when a giant battleaxe cleaved her from her head to her toe, but it went through her harmlessly as if she was air. One of those foolish giant pirates tried to attack her in futility it seemed.. "O... ho ho... O HO HO HO HO!!" Giving a long drawn-out laugh, Kouri slowly turned around to face the bewildered brute of a pirate. Most likely he didn't expect a translucent little girl with blood-stained dress was among the Svefra horde. Kouri flashed a hungry grin to the giant, she blinked and quickly reappeared in front of his face. Her insane glowing crimson orbs facing off with the pirate's bewildered green eyes. She materialized herself, and... pressed both of her thumbs to his eyes. Poking it with her frost touch. A loud pained gasp escaped the pirate's rough mouth. Using the opportunity, Kouri unmaterialized herself and brought the dagger near her, closing the gap between her ethereal face and the pirate's corporeal one, at this range, it would not need great accuracy to target that particular squishy point on the pirate's large face. Then she... *SQUISH!* The gory satisfying sound of steel piercing through the tender tissue of the eye was heard. The giant pirate's right eye was now fatally replaced with a steel dagger. Kouri twisted the dagger around, destroying his eye socket. "Hahahaha... HAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHA!! HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT?! IS IT PAINFUL?! DOES IT HURT?! DOES IT?!" Kouri screamed to the pirate's dead face. *SQUELCH!* She violently pulled the dagger from his eye socket, fresh red blood immediately pouring from the pirate's eye like an open faucet. It was her first true kill! A kill that was not an assist! As the pirate's body fell down with a loud thud, joining the corpses. "Huhuhuhu... hehehehe..." Kouri let out a low psychotic giggle, looked down to the ground, then quickly jerked her head upwards, facing the sky. Then she finished her giggle with a blood-curling high-pitched insane cackle. "HYAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAAHAHAHHA" The sea shall flow red with blood!