Saturday, December 16, 2017
Text Size
Welcome to the home of House Ancora! House Ancora (HA) is a fellowship of online gamers dedicated to promoting cooperation, role-playing, and merriment in company with one another across the varied landscapes of today’s online gaming environment. We firmly believe that friendship transcends any gaming environment and is independent of any specific style, genre, server, or realm.

Book Three Pt 2 - The Reckoning

Written by - Tempyst Page 33 Book 3

Kaya listened to the exchange between Ardwen and Vylia, then when they took off towards the ship, the elf made sure Dorve was able to follow with them. "I'm fine lass, though I sense something odd going on. There is magic in the air, but something is not quite right."

"Look at what is going on around us Dorve, of course something isn't right, but lets get to the ship, I just hope Ardwen picks a good one to board." Kaya and Dorve both gathered themselves and ran after Ardwen and Vylia, following them aboard some ship, then downstairs to the captain's quarters.

Dorve waited until Ardwen placed his queen upon the bed, then went over to the still woman. "Ardwen, I will do what I can for her, never fear, she won't die on my watch." Dorve waited to see if the large elf would let her attend to the woman.

Kaya, seeing Dorve was doing what she could, ran back outside to the deck of the ship, helping Vylia make sure they were protected.

Written by - Ardwen

Ardwen nodded as he ran over Vylia's words in his mind. He found it strangely comforting that Vylia agreed with him. Still, it didn't change the fact that the situation was only becoming worse. The ship Ardwen and the rest of the small band had piled onto was awash in an ocean of bloodshed and strife. Other vessels, of makes and designs Ardwen did not recognize, were cutting through the water, but the defenders of Westgale were mounting an effective defense of their own. Great engines of war traded salvos across the harbor, and Ardwen could tell that magics of all sorts were being employed, though Ardwen's loathing of magic meant he was not nearly skilled enough to identify, much less do anything about, the spells being flung on both sides.

Ardwen's attention was snapped back to the captain's cabin when he saw Dorve walking through the door. Ardwen drew his cloak around him, hiding his arms inside it, and he had a hand on the smaller of his blades. If he needed to kill the dwarf, a longer blade would not serve as well inside, and the shorter blade's thinner cutting surface would more smoothly cleave flesh and cloth. The dwarf noticed him and said, "Ardwen, I will do what I can for her, never fear, she won't die on my watch." Dorve then paused, eyeing the beserker.

The elf nodded, respecting Dorve's earnest desire to help, but Ardwen was still uncertain. Not of the dwarf, but of how much help "healing" Ariana would be. In his five thousand years of war Ardwen had seen all manners of injuries. He had seen men recover from wounds that should have killed them, and he had seen people die from what they thought was nothing more than a mere scratch. However, Ariana's wounds were different. That she was physically hurt, there was no doubt, the rough treatment of her captors and her imprisonment had seen to that, but there was something more, something deeper to her wounds as well. The swordsman was not entirely certain that Dorve's efforts would do more good than harm.

"Still," mussed Ardwen, "Ariana is hurt physically. If her wounds become infected then it won't matter what kind of mental damage she has, as she'll most likely die. But, if her condition is serious enough, then the shock of divine healing may only make things worse. At the least she could panic. Well, I also need to consider that we're not likely to get a better shot at aid than this. With Turin and Arc still somewhere in the city, we've got this dwarf. It's starting to look at me funny too, I think I've kept it waiting too long--"

"Well," Ardwen said suddenly, "give me a minute alright?" The Elf tossed his cloak back and slouched against the wall next to Ariana's bed. The warrior leaned his head back and bounced it softly against the wall, as if he was literally trying to jostle his thoughts. "Dorve," he said, "let me blunt here. Ariana's hurt, yes. But her injuries are more than just physical. What I'm afraid of is that she's got some sort of . . . block . . . against divine power. I mean, Ariana was one of the, if not the most, talented prelates I have ever known, and that is saying something. If she was still in contact with her deity, couldn't she just heal herself? Hell, if she could still use the All-Father's power, could she not have just blown up her prison and melted the guards' faces? OK, the last part is what I would have done, but still, the example stands."

Ardwen paused and squeezed his eyes shut tight before continuing, "What I'm trying to say is that I'm concerned your healing may only agitate her condition. On the other hand, having her cuts and scrapes healed, at the least, would probably increase her chances of survival. So . . . so . . ." Ardwen's eyes popped back open and he blew out a long sigh, "I don't know. Damnit! I just wish there was something I could do." Ardwen moved from the wall and took the longer of his two blades, still sheathed, and planted one end on the floor, he held the hilt with both hands and leaned on it. His eyes were locked on the floor.

"You know," Ardwen said, "this is the captain's cabin. So if I know anything about sailors, especially human sailors . . ." the elf broke off his sentence and walked over to the chest at the foot of Ariana's bed. He unsheathed his sword and let the sheath fall to the ground. With two quick strokes he cut the lid on both sides, a third struck left the blade in the top, Ardwen pulled on the hilt. The wood creaked and splintered, and a loud crack shot through the chamber as the chest lid gave way. The elf pawed through the contents, tossing out a bright red shirt with laced cuffs, several pairs of dress attire, and several more sets of men's clothes before rising from his search with a triumphant look on his face.

"Ah," Ardwen said, "see?" He held in one hand a long silver gown, embroidered, and obviously very expensive. "This," he said, "was most likely a gift for the captain's wife. Alright, alright, it was most likely a gift for one of his favorite pleasure toys, but what do I care, aye?" Ardwen coughed to clear his throat and looked directly at Drove. "Now," he said, "I'm going to go and ask Vylia for her advice on this, Ariana is her Abbess as well after all, but there is something else --" Ardwen broke off and cleared his throat again, "Well, you see . . . Ariana is not . . . not dressed . . .appropriately for a lady of her station. By which I mean to say is that the Abbess was most cruelly deprived of her vested raiments and relics."

Ardwen paused then lowered his voice and said, "In respect to the Abbess's lack of proper attire if you, or one of the other ladies here present, would resolve that with this . . . regal gown - whilst I was standing guard - it would not go unappreciated." With that Ardwen handed the gown to Dorve and spun around quickly, "You know how these humans are," he blurted, "so prone to cold and sudden chills. My concern is that she be able to survive the climate here, that is all." Ardwen snatched up his sword and sheath and returned them to his side and walked out of the room. He found Vylia and Kaya starring at the war around them. Ardwen walked near then and shook his head, "Vylia, Dorve wants to heal Ariana, I'm not sure what to do, and the subject of women's clothing was broached. I can kill a man before he blinks. I've fought dragons, demons, and things I can't even name. But, I think I'm in over my head here, a little help, please? " He muttered.

Written by - Vylia

Vylia just smiled at Ardwen's nervousness before speaking. "I knew you were a good man Ardwen, but I never thought you would be afraid of a naked woman," she teased, "I suppose that proves I was right, hmm? There really is still a good man in that berserker's armor of yours." She patted him on the shoulder before spinning past him with a light laugh as she headed to the captain's cabin.

As she walked into the cabin and saw the door she muttered, "It looks like I'll have to work on his entrance skills a bit." Looking up with a demure grin, "Hello again Dorve, I should thank you again for the healing." Looking at Ariana curled up on the bed, "How is she? If you can heal her wounds it would be appreciated, but I think Ardwen maybe be partially correct. I do not wish to sound ungrateful, but if you could heal her physical wounds and leave any mental ones until she has further stabilized it may be best. If Ariana was herself she wouldn't have stayed in that place for more than a few nights, I think she was affected by the demonic powers they invoked, even before the ceremony. It's probably best if we wait until Turin returns, since he is Pandarrion's champion, and could speak with the All-Father more directly on the situation." Nodding, "As soon as her wounds are healed what do you say about getting her into some clothes?"

Written by - Tempyst

Dorve gritted her teeth as she listened to the large elf ramble. They always have to talk to much don't they? Maybe a good wack with the staff would shut him up? But then he handed Dorve the gown and left the room. "Finally, peace." Dorve muttered. As she went to the woman on the bed. Then Vylia entered and began to speak. Dorve looked a bit exasperated. "I dinna planned on doing anything intrusive to your queen. My healing powers are not that advanced and most of my energies went to healing Vylia. All I propose to do is to clean her up and take care of the minor wounds that are upon her body, the kind that could fester if not treated and become annoying. Then we can clean and dress your queen." Dorve set down her staff and took off her cloak. Closing her eyes she waved a hand over the naked woman, assessing her injuries.

Written by - Archeantus

Crossing over the varied rooftops at a rapid speed toward Turin, the warlock had only one thought, there was no way in the Dragon's dark abyss he'd gain the Abbess only to loose the Priest of Battle. But within that great singular thought, was the distant sound of something Archeantus could never have anticipated.

His flight slowed as this new information invaded his senses, and suddenly he stopped altogether and turned toward the direction they were to escape by ship.

If he still held the ability to see, from his vantage point high over the city, he would have beheld the billowing smoke as cannons exploded across the blue, and the two fleets that were about to meet in full force.

"By the Gods, our way is blocked." The warlock realized. "But by who?"

He was suddenly torn. Rush to Turin's aid, or discover the threat that had suddenly, almost inconceivably blocked their escape. And then it hit him. The coincidence was too high. It was at that moment he zeroed in on the one at the head of of invasion fleet.

A smile raced across the old warlock's face.

"The All-Father is in this."

He knew his course now. Quickly, he gave Angellus orders. "Find Turin and the one that is with him, and lead him through the safest route toward the ship Ardwen has chosen. Protect him with all your might old friend."

It was not long until a small spark of fire appeared directly in front of Turin as they made their escape, urging him onward.

Archeantus then flew back toward the docks, sending probes to determine how his friends were doing. Sweeping past them, high above the small vessel they chose, he flew into the very thick of the deepening navel battle in search of the one who could turn the tide for them.

The invaders had to know of their escape, otherwise all would be lost.

Written by - Turin Wallace

Turin smiled as the smoke worked it's way into the crowd, his new friend had come prepared. Feeling a quick, firm tug, Turin followed him through the hole he created in the ring of guards. Meeting those who barred the entranceway, he watches as three more join in them. Eyeing them cautiously, his doubts are dispelled when he hears,

"These two were part of Pallanon's elite. They've been here undercover ever since, waiting for an opportunity like this."

Turning to the lady, he hears her ask,

"Who's your friend, Lee?"

In a quick, but gentle response, he says,

"The name is Turin, and I think we ought to make our way to our friends if we want to get out of here. Though, the way is yet barred."

Nodding to the front of them, guards and soldiers were streaming into the docks. The only way through was to cut a path. Charging into the first group between themselves and the dock, he knocks one soldier down, and in one swift motion carries the head of another away. The time for mercy had long past, the docks had devolved into a true war zone.

As the last two soldiers prepared to strike at Turin, and his new friends, the fresh corpse of the man just killed exploded towards them. The soldiers were impaled with the bones of the dead man, gore covering them all. Turning his head quickly, he saw the robed figure he was searching for appear behind them. The figure paused a moment, then removed the black hood that guarded the face of a woman. That red hair, those haunting green eyes, yes she had come. Looking to the vial around her neck, he saw she still carried it with her. As his friends paused, then prepared to defend themselves, Turin says,

"Hold, friends! She is an ally, though her methods are a bit strange. Come, the time for questions is later, let us continue to fight ahead."

He could see the questioning look in their eyes, even in hers as well, but the more immediate need of not ending up dead took precedence. Taking his first true look at the docks since the whole rescue began, he could see ships in the harbor exchanging fire and guard towers returning fire. One of the lighthouses was aflame. Groups of men were clashing at various key dock locations. The harbor, illuminated by the light of ships aflame, showed some ships close enough for boarding actions, others listing heavily to one side or another, yet others had silently slipped under the sea, with only their masts jutting above the waterline marking their resting spot.

Turning to Lienad, and the group, Turin says,

"Seems we landed ourselves into the middle of a raid. We need to get down there and quick, before the Westgalian's get us, or these raiders mistake us for them."

Pausing, he asks,

"Well, which boat do you think they made it to?"

Written by - Tempyst

Kaya left Dorve in the captain's hold, now it was time to make sure she was not interrupted. As she reached the deck, people were running all over. It was chaos outside, Ships were coming in bombarding the port and the city. The port was slow to respond, having been caught by surprise. A sailor ran past Kaya and she caught his arm, stopping him in his tracks. "Where is your captain? We need to make sure that we are not hi; we need to make suer they know we are friendly."

"The captain's gone and I am too!" The sailor pulled his arm away and ran off in a panic.

"Damnit!" Kaya spat. Then a look of enlightenment came over her face. FLAGS! Have to find the right flag to raise! Kaya Looked up and saw to her dismay a flag or Port Westgale upon the mast. She grabbed at another sailor, this time she had A'lanthear drawn and pointed at the young, scared boy. "Where are your flags boy? We need to raise a flag of truce so we won't be hit!"

"I...I..." the boy stammered.

"Listen kid, I will hold you here and we both will go down with the ship unless you come to your senses and help me with the flag. NOW WHERE ARE THEY?" The young boy's eyes grew wide, but then he gulped and seemed to come to his senses, being used to following orders, Kaya's command was actually a comfort to him.

"Follow me Ma'am, they are over here." The boy led her to a box on the deck. He opened it and inside were several different flags, but the one they wanted was easy to find. A pure white flag of truce and surrender. Kaya grabbed the flag and steered the boy back to the mast.

"Now, we must hurry, we need to get this up as fast as possible."

"Yes Ma'am!" The boy began to lower the Westgale colors, with Kaya helping him with the heavy ropes, while saying a small prayer. Nyrondis please watch over us and let victory be on our side.

Written by - Rikshanthas

At Turin's query, Lienad took a quick glance across the docks, trying to place the ship his old friend had identified for him. "There," he said, pointing toward a not-too-distant berth, to a sleek courier sloop which seemed a hive of activity. "The one with the siren on the prow. I have friends aboard her, so it's as good a ship as any to start looking." The words were no sooner out of his mouth than a glowing ball of light flew out of the air at them, then circled back toward their intended destination, seemingly urging them in the same direction. Deciding Turin's apparent familiarity with the thing could be discussed at a later date, Lienad simply said, "this thing seems to be pointing the same way. I'll take that as a good sign. Let's go." He then headed for the ship at a brisk jog.


Eleven armed men and women swept up the gangplank onto the sloop, led by a sea elven woman with a stern expression centered on the woman and boy lowering the Westgale flag from the ship's mainmast. At her arrival the boy froze, nearly dropping the rope. The woman gestured swiftly to the others with her, shouting over the cacophony of battle, "everyone get to your stations, make ready to heave off! We're going through the first opening we get. Jak, go check on your friend, then I'll need you on the rigging," she added with a sideways nod to the grizzled-looking half elf with her, who trotted briskly belowdecks. Most of the others who'd been busy running seemed to gain new confidence with their captain's arrival, and returned to their posts with varying degrees of enthusiasm. The silver-haired sea elf turned back to the stranger, her golden rapier in a ready position. "Now, who the devil are you and what in the nine hells do you think you're doing on my ship, in the middle of an invasion no less?" she demanded coolly.

Written by - Vylia

Vylia turned to Dorve when she started hearing the sound of a large number of footsteps upon the ship's planking, and several muffled but loudly shouted commands, "Seems to be quite a commotion outside. Do what you can for her, I'll keep you covered." With that she drew her swords and walked back out of the captains cabin, barring the way for any who intended to enter.

Written by - Tempyst

Kaya turned to the voice that was directed at her and saw that this must be the captain. Let's see if I can still be a diplomat. She glanced at the rapier, but did not let it shake her. SHe looked cooly back at the elf. "I am Kaya'Talas, born of the port Nen A'Naur within the Naur'Lith. I was told the captain was gone, thus I was trying to get some manner of sign up that we were not with Beridane. My companions and I rescued their queen who was to be his sacrfice in the square, and now we are looking to get the blazes out of the port, once everyone makes it aboard. Your ship looked well enough for the job. Now, would you kindly lower your sword and let us make sure we don't get blown up with the rest of Beridane's fleet?


Dorve did not even look up. "Go ahead Vylia I will wash and dress your queen. There is not much I can do for her, she seems to not like the touch of magic. When I scan her, she frets, and when I try to heal, it causes her more pain it seems. But I will watch over her and keep her safe from more harm." Dorve then stood, looked about for the wash basen; bringing both the basen and pitcher back to the bedside. Dorve then took a clean bandage from her bag, wetted it and began to gently wash the queen's body and wounds, so that the woman could be dressed properly.

Written by - Archeantus

The sounds were deafening to his acute ears as he passed above the sea battle. The wind whipped through his long graying hair, and he could feel the smoke and mist upon his wizened face. The battle was intensifying, and the sounds of fire and lightening flared periodically down below. The warlock could sense the magical nature of many of the seamen who now fought for their lives upon each of their collective ships. He could feel the heat rising above toward him. He could feel death and life, courage and fear, but his focus was upon one ship, still further out.

He was growing increasingly tired. His flight was extremely taxing, and he could feel the weight upon his mind as he increased his focus to stay adrift in the wind. He picked up speed, trying to make it to his destination. Just then, there was a huge explosion just ahead of him down below in the sea. A wave of steam shot out into the sky, as did the sudden feeling of death, of minds going silent. It was unnaturally large, and it startled the warlock for a moment. His flight faltered and he refocused and gained altitude, yet his mind grew worried.

His thoughts wandered backward, of what was happening behind him with his friends. He knew they had to shove off soon, the battle here was growing, and their way through was quickly becoming more and more difficult. Again, the warlock flew faster, weaving through explosions, and the ongoing sounds of swords clashing and yells of defiance.

He could not go much further, and he slowly lost altitude coming precariously close to many of the battles near the sea. But likewise, he was growing closer to the mind he had locked onto. There was a blast of fire, and splinters shot out to the left of him, some lodging themselves in his hands and face. He tried to rise higher, but his mind was quickly loosing its strength. Black smoke invaded his mouth and nostrils, and he choked, coughing, trying to gain fresh air.

Gritting his teeth over the strain that pressed down on him, fighting the gravity that increasingly pulled down on him. He then felt the spray of water on his face. He must have been only a couple feet away, and then he felt his feet dangle down and splash into the water, causing a terrible drag that sent a pounding pain to his troubled mind. Archeantus cried out, and somehow found more, and gained a few feet. He needed to make it. Putting all he could, he knew the mind he sought was just ahead, but it was still too far.

He flew into the sea about fifty feet from the vessel known as the Wavehammer. He fought to swim to the surface and erupted with a big gulp of air. The old warlock was utterly exhausted, he no longer could alert the one he sought with his mind, and so he did the only thing he could think of, knowing the 'Hammer had to be within range of his voice. He yelled the name of the one he knew they'd recognize, and the one he sought, hopefully above the din of war.


He face suddenly submerged again, he kicked to regain the air, and called it again and again.

Written by - Teran

Teran lurched to his feet after Mavigan stood up. His face became a blank mask and an unusual smirk creased his lips. Without speaking a word he brushed past Mavigan and began his descent. The passage spiraled down but it had many forks and branches. Teran guessed they all lead more or less to the same level based on the map he had seen. After they had descended about 80 feet the stairs stopped and there was a short hallway that lead to what appeared to be more stairs. He put a hand on one of Sabbatine's cold shoulders as she carelessly stepped past him, having failed to notice he had stopped. She yelped with fright and glared at him for a moment before shuffling in place looking terribly nervous.

"Stay here." he said quietly, stepping out in front of the group studying the ground, walls, and ceiling intently.

He could sense the presence of a trap, every fiber of his being told him there was a trap in the passage. He took another step forward and then another. He was confident he had made sufficient preparations to survive any trap that he might set off but he hoped to completely avoid whatever might come out at him. Finally when he was almost to the other doorway a magic field of some sort appeared behind him. It was a smokey gray color (similar to his blood). He examined it closely and touched it. The field offered a little resistance but he could push himself through if he wished.

"Some trap... it didn't even kill you!!" Sabbatine giggled as she approached it. She touched it herself but found that it would not yield to her. She pushed harder but no matter how much force she applied she was locked out.

"It won't let any of you through." the assassin muttered "You will have to find another way down. Sabbatine you need to lead them, I suspect these traps try and sense something specific about a creature and lock everything else who does not match that detail out. You have a little bit of a lot of people inside of you I do not think it would be able to create an effective door based on a sample from your body for Mavigan or Jasmine... but for Keeryn... I don't believe Sabbatine has ever eaten one of your people, you would be permitted to pass." he said giving his voice a cryptic edge.

"If you fed Sabbatine some of your blood perhaps the trap would permit you through with the rest of them." he said masking most of the amusement in his voice.

Sabbatine licked her lips and looked over at Keeryn hungrily.

"Sabbatine." Teran snapped, bringing her attention back to him "You need to find another way down. You cannot become separated from these three. Protect them as I would protect them. I don't know what we are going to face below but we will need everyone down there if we are to survive." He turned away from the barrier once he was done speaking and headed for the stairs down.

Sabbatine eyed Keeryn a little bit wondering if she would freely share her blood as Teran had suggested but decided that decision could wait until they found a similar barrier. They had to backtrack a little bit but soon found a similar passage downward and a similar break in the stairs with a short passage identical to the one they had become seperated from Teran in. Sabbatine stopped when she saw the familiar terrain and glanced over at Keeryn, barely able to contain her grin. She could smell Keeryn's bloodscent and it was better than anything she had ever smelled before.

"Sooo um... K-Keeryn?" Sabbatine's grin was so wide it almost split her face completely in half.

Written by - Wilhelm

Wilhelm's squad bade farewell to the freed captives after helping them to arm and equip themselves from the fallen cultists and instructing them on the route to the surface. Wilhelm then led them down the dark passageway towards an increasing smell of blood. Wilhelm's tracking sense told him that the abomination ahead was killed and that Mavigan and Teran were no longer wounded, so someone must have healed them. He wondered if it was Mavigan or someone else in the group.

Wilhelm had difficulty sensing Mavigan's exact postition because she seemed to be moving in or near an enormous are of lifeforce. Wilhelm had never sensed anything like it. As they near the opening to a large chamber the smell of blood became extremely strong and Wilhelm could now sense Mavigan and the others moving off ahead. Now he could see a great pool of blood nearly filling the large chamber, and in the middle of it was the dead abomination with many arms, legs and heads. He was impressed at the size and most relieved that Mavigan's group had defeated it. However, the pool troubled him greatly.

"Resini," he said, what do you sense about that enourmous pool of blood ahead of us?"

Resini pulled out a crystal and activated it and then looked through it at the pool and gasped. "Gods preserve us, that pool is filled with trapped lifeforce! It must hold the captured souls of hundreds of people!"

Wilhelm felt a growing inner rage and pressure and realized that it was not just his own reaction to this abominable cavern. He relaxed and both welcomed and yielded to his god. To the others, Wilhelm began to both glow and grow taller, one eye blazing with light, the other covered with an eyepatch. His warhammer transformed into a glowing rune-carved spear.

"Abomination! Blasphemy! This injustice cannot and will not continue!"

Tinorb the All Father, God of Justice, waved his left hand in a circle and a brilliant white horizontal circle appeared over the pool. He traced another circle to the right with the tip of the spear and a black circular void appeared off to the right. Holding the spear overhead with both arms, He commanded,

"In the Name of Justice, let thee be free of this corruption to pass on to the Light!

A large column of dark red liquid rose from the pool and was sucked into the black circular void. Clouds of glowing particles pulled free of the red column and formed images of the trapped souls whose blood had been shed into this pool. The purified souls bowed in reverence to Tinorb and then ascended in a joyful spiral into the air and vanished into the white portal. Wilhelm's companions stood enraptured by the miracle before them as the great pool slowly emptied and then vanished into the black void, along with the remains of the slain abomination and all other traces of the black necromancy that had taken place here. After the last of the souls had departed, and the room had been cleansed, Tinorb turned to Resini and handed him a small crystal vial containing a last portion of the blood pool.

"Take this with you and use it to pass the trapped door you will find ahead of you. Take heart in this temple of the Dark, for We of the Light are with you always!

Resini took the vial and he and the others bowed. The figure of Tinorb then shrank back into the form of Wilhelm, who shook himself and took a deep breath.

"A great deed, but a very tiring one afterwards. Our work here is done, so let us now follow after Mavigan's party. Be wary of attack now, as the dark forces now know we are here."

Wilhelm, clearly fatigued, led them across the now empty pool to the exit beyond which led to a passageway which descended further into the depths.

Written by - Ariana

Mavigan was a bit disturbed by the nonchalance with which Teran appeared to be leaving the rest of them behind. The excuse he gave seemed rather flimsy to her. Sure, Sabbatine couldn’t get through, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t.

“Oi!” shouted Mavigan as she approached the barrier. “You’re not going without me!”

Eyes narrowing with determination, she raised a hand, placing it on the barrier. Taking a deep breath, she pushed. There was resistance, and Mavigan pushed harder. A tingling started in her belly where she had earlier been impaled with the shards of Teran’s dagger. The sensation was uncomfortable, but not unbearable, and a grin of triumph graced her mouth as she felt the barrier start to give. The tingling moved from her belly, up through her chest and into her arms, and as the sensation covered more of her body, the resistance of the barrier lessened. With a final heave, Mavigan forced her way through.

Turning to Teran, she stuck her tongue out at him. “Told ya!” she said with a grin.

Written by - Turin Wallace

Nodding to Lienad, Turin moved in the direction of the boat pointed out. The only things stopping the group from getting there was a group of angry guards. Wielding his great sword, Turin was the first the cut into them, quickly followed by his companions. The fight was over before it even began. Turning around, he says,

"Seems we better hurry, or we'll find more guards standing in our way."

In a quick sprint, the group is close to being on board. Seeing a confrontation between Kaya and another elf, Turin knows that his friends must have attempted to commandeer the boat when the captain was away, no doubt the female elf with the rapier. Yet, there wasn't a whole lot of time for talking and Turin wasn't going to politely ask for permission to come aboard.

Making a hard run up the gangplank, he and the others are on board before the crew can make a move to stop them. Moving beside Kaya, Turin looks at the annoyed captain and says,

"Captain, we'll have time to discuss our business and compensation once we are free of this harbor. However, I suggest we start getting the hell out of here before we are either boarded by folks unfriendlier than ourselves, or we are set on fire or sunk. You may have every intention of going down with your vessel, but I can assure you that I do not."

Seeing her give him an incredulous look, he adds,

"I really don't think we have time to argue, captain. Let's just say that if we weren't of the reputable type, we'd have already killed you and taken the ship by force."

Turning around, Turin heads off to find Ardwen to see how Ariana is doing.

Restore Default Settings