Elementals 3: The White Rose (IC, Sign-ups only)

[Lazarian]

"It's technically not a lie, but I don't know how wise it would be to openly admit we consorted with pirates. Maybe instead of that, we could try to convince them that we sailed with these flags in order to avoid confrontation with other pirates? Though I'm not sure which story is easier to believe. In any case, I'm with you. This certainly beats ignoring their signals and waiting for them to get fed up with us." He nodded.

He then jabbed a thumb towards Eric and his thick aura of alcoholic stench. "I'm not sure they'll buy the story about us being diplomats if you take him along, though."

Katya curled a few strands of hair in her fingers, lost in thought. Tristan certainly had a point about the whole "consorting with pirates" deal. Perhaps it would be advisable to avoid that. On a slightly more positive note, it was good that the others were with her on skipping the signaling process and taking the action to them. And he was right about Eric - bringing him certainly would be inadvisable in his current position. However, she still wanted him along, despite his drunkenness. And while they were friends (to some degree), it wasn't because of that - it was because of Belle. Having an Angelle of the gods themselves with them was a useful failsafe - her wings could likely carry them to safety in a worst case scenario.

"Ke'Am will come with you if you want him to. He has still some problems with being on the sea, though. Telling them that we made a trade with criminals will not help us", he agreed with Tristan. "Maybe the pirates held us hostage after sinking our ship, but we were able to err... defy them?" he offered in return.

Katya nodded in response to Ke'Am. Despite his primitive weaponry and odd ways, he certainly wasn't dull.

"I prefer this story, Tristan. The Basilisk Pirates are quite vell known, even among my homelands. I'm afraid that the Devil's Luck may be recognizable, and if South Gallians catch us in a lie...vell, I'm not about to find out vhat they'll do. I think it's reasonable to say that our ship was damaged in battle with pirates, and we boarded this vessel after victory. Unless there are any objections?" she replied, leaving the suggestion open-ended in case one of them came up with a better idea.

She turned to Eric, tapping him on the shoulder.

"Eric, this may be quite a request, but could I borrow your holy sword for a few moments? You heard Tristan - unless you have some sort of cure for drunkenness in that satchel of yours, it'd be best if you...stayed and guarded the ship from sneak attacks. Because if this goes wrong, we're all a feast for fish."

Inwardly, she cringed a little bit. There was no way he was letting go of Belle. The two, despite their seeming hatred of each other, were surprisingly inseparable. But having a contingency plan was important, and it probably didn't hurt too much to ask.

[Ameriganastan]

She turned to Eric, tapping him on the shoulder.

"Eric, this may be quite a request, but could I borrow your holy sword for a few moments? You heard Tristan - unless you have some sort of cure for drunkenness in that satchel of yours, it'd be best if you...stayed and guarded the ship from sneak attacks. Because if this goes wrong, we're all a feast for fish."

Inwardly, she cringed a little bit. There was no way he was letting go of Belle. The two, despite their seeming hatred of each other, were surprisingly inseparable. But having a contingency plan was important, and it probably didn't hurt too much to ask.

"Not on your life, runt. No one wields this nagging piece of scrap metal but me. Besides, I'm perfectly capable of diplomacy while trashed. There was this one time-"

"Eric, those two tribes wound up wiping each other out the next day cause your 'negotiating skills' made them even angrier. And you only escaped being flayed alive by them cause you fell into that cave hole while running from them."

"...Oh yeah...I guess I am in sorry shape right now for speechifying. Haven't been on a bender this long since...well, ever...eh, fine. You can borrow her."

He drew Belle from his back.

"Borrow. The second you're back on this here ship, I expect her back. You all spit elements out of your hands, I have the magic talking sword. Let's not disrupt the status-quo too much here."

He placed Belle in her hand, looking rather like a nervous dad dropping his daughter off at the prom.

"Quit fretting you big baby. You act like you're my first wielder. I was being passed around before your great-great-great-great-great grandparents were born. Though it has been a while since I was held by a woman. Had to have been 700 years ago. Her name escapes me. She was a slave in some long forgotten kingdom. Found me buried in the dirt while working the fields one day..."

"Wait a minute...that sounds like the story of Keiises the Rebel. The story says she found a mystic artifact that inspired her to lead a revolt against those enslaving them..."

"Yes, Keiises! Such a brave young lady. Skinny as a rail but with more chutzpah than most knights. Was a sad day when she was struck down. Wish they hadn't buried me with her though. I was down there for 6 months before some brigand raided her grave and stole me."

Eric, for some reason, looked furious.

"I share my awesome stories with you for almost 20 years, and you never share with me that you were the sword of Keiises?"

"Jealous?"

He huffed and stormed off below deck.

"He's jealous."

[Lazarian]

"Borrow. The second you're back on this here ship, I expect her back. You all spit elements out of your hands, I have the magic talking sword. Let's not disrupt the status-quo too much here."

"Of course!" Katya interjected enthusiastically, quite excited. "Borrow. I agree. I probably couldn't keep her even if I vanted to, anyways."

He placed Belle in her hand, looking rather like a nervous dad dropping his daughter off at the prom.

"Quit fretting you big baby. You act like you're my first wielder. I was being passed around before your great-great-great-great-great grandparents were born. Though it has been a while since I was held by a woman. Had to have been 700 years ago. Her name escapes me. She was a slave in some long forgotten kingdom. Found me buried in the dirt while working the fields one day..."

"Wait a minute...that sounds like the story of Keiises the Rebel. The story says she found a mystic artifact that inspired her to lead a revolt against those enslaving them..."

"Yes, Keiises! Such a brave young lady. Skinny as a rail but with more chutzpah than most knights. Was a sad day when she was struck down. Wish they hadn't buried me with her though. I was down there for 6 months before some brigand raided her grave and stole me."

Eric, for some reason, looked furious.

"I share my awesome stories with you for almost 20 years, and you never share with me that you were the sword of Keiises?"

"Jealous?"

He huffed and stormed off below deck.

"He's jealous."

"I can understand vhy, Belle. Even I've heard the legend of Keiises. He'd probably have loved to have bragged about that for the last twenty years."

Katya gazed at Belle in awe as she held the sword up high, admiring it. It (or she?) had a magnificent blue sheen, with an artisan-crafted hilt. Although some of its properties were rather odd to her - the blade was asymmetrical, and for such a large blade, it was surprisingly light. Not that it really mattered - she wouldn't have Belle for much longer than an hour or so. She had no aspirations of truly wielding the sword in battle. "The main reason I want her is so that we can fly away if things go awry." she thought to herself, lowering Belle to her side. Well, she should have asked for the sheath. She was way too short to tie Belle to her waist - unless she wanted the sword to drag clumsily along the ground, and that'd probably be rude to it. Her. Whichever one it was, really. Instead, she'd have to settle for awkwardly tying it to her back.

"Wait, can you read my thoughts?" she thought, slightly aghast. It'd be bad if Belle could hear her silly diatribe about manners and her cowardly reason for wanting to borrow the sword. A stream of additional thoughts rapidly passed by, unfortunately. "And can you see as a sword? How does that work? Do you see through my eyes? Or Eric's eyes, gods forbid?!"

Katya made a face. That'd be gross. It was one thing to hear all these stories, but to be there for all of them would be another thing entirely.

[Ameriganastan]

"I can understand vhy, Belle. Even I've heard the legend of Keiises. He'd probably have loved to have bragged about that for the last twenty years."

Katya gazed at Belle in awe as she held the sword up high, admiring it. It (or she?) had a magnificent blue sheen, with an artisan-crafted hilt. Although some of its properties were rather odd to her - the blade was asymmetrical, and for such a large blade, it was surprisingly light. Not that it really mattered - she wouldn't have Belle for much longer than an hour or so. She had no aspirations of truly wielding the sword in battle. "The main reason I want her is so that we can fly away if things go awry." she thought to herself, lowering Belle to her side. Well, she should have asked for the sheath. She was way too short to tie Belle to her waist - unless she wanted the sword to drag clumsily along the ground, and that'd probably be rude to it. Her. Whichever one it was, really. Instead, she'd have to settle for awkwardly tying it to her back.

"Wait, can you read my thoughts?" she thought, slightly aghast. It'd be bad if Belle could hear her silly diatribe about manners and her cowardly reason for wanting to borrow the sword. A stream of additional thoughts rapidly passed by, unfortunately. "And can you see as a sword? How does that work? Do you see through my eyes? Or Eric's eyes, gods forbid?!"

Katya made a face. That'd be gross. It was one thing to hear all these stories, but to be there for all of them would be another thing entirely.

"Yes, I can read your thoughts. It's how I communicated with Eric for all those years before I regained my ability to speak aloud. And no offense taken. Eric has used my recent bodily recovery as an escape tool for many of his harebrained adventures. I'm quite used to it by now. As for the seeing thing.."

She had to think for a moment on how to explain that one.

"I can see through my wielders eyes when I choose. But that's rough on mortal bodies. Angellic essence coursing through your eyes stings a tad. Otherwise, it's a blackness that lights up when there's movement. Like the waves bobbing the ship. Every movement shows me the world around me. It's not the same as actually seeing, but it worked for me...you know, Father would be furious to know I was being held by a wind elemental."

She giggled slightly at the memory.

"Aewiallia sneezed and accidentally extinguished his favorite flaming sword. He's never quite forgiven her for that."

[Lazarian]

"I can understand vhy, Belle. Even I've heard the legend of Keiises. He'd probably have loved to have bragged about that for the last twenty years."

Katya gazed at Belle in awe as she held the sword up high, admiring it. It (or she?) had a magnificent blue sheen, with an artisan-crafted hilt. Although some of its properties were rather odd to her - the blade was asymmetrical, and for such a large blade, it was surprisingly light. Not that it really mattered - she wouldn't have Belle for much longer than an hour or so. She had no aspirations of truly wielding the sword in battle. "The main reason I want her is so that we can fly away if things go awry." she thought to herself, lowering Belle to her side. Well, she should have asked for the sheath. She was way too short to tie Belle to her waist - unless she wanted the sword to drag clumsily along the ground, and that'd probably be rude to it. Her. Whichever one it was, really. Instead, she'd have to settle for awkwardly tying it to her back.

"Wait, can you read my thoughts?" she thought, slightly aghast. It'd be bad if Belle could hear her silly diatribe about manners and her cowardly reason for wanting to borrow the sword. A stream of additional thoughts rapidly passed by, unfortunately. "And can you see as a sword? How does that work? Do you see through my eyes? Or Eric's eyes, gods forbid?!"

Katya made a face. That'd be gross. It was one thing to hear all these stories, but to be there for all of them would be another thing entirely.

"Yes, I can read your thoughts. It's how I communicated with Eric for all those years before I regained my ability to speak aloud. And no offense taken. Eric has used my recent bodily recovery as an escape tool for many of his harebrained adventures. I'm quite used to it by now. As for the seeing thing.."

She had to think for a moment on how to explain that one.

"I can see through my wielders eyes when I choose. But that's rough on mortal bodies. Angellic essence coursing through your eyes stings a tad. Otherwise, it's a blackness that lights up when there's movement. Like the waves bobbing the ship. Every movement shows me the world around me. It's not the same as actually seeing, but it worked for me...you know, Father would be furious to know I was being held by a wind elemental."

She giggled slightly at the memory.

"Aewiallia sneezed and accidentally extinguished his favorite flaming sword. He's never quite forgiven her for that."

Katya smiled at the story, grinning in disbelief. It was so odd to hear Belle talk about the gods themselves as if they were just a squabbling family. It was rather comforting, though. Although, this off-hand comment did have theological implications. It meant that the Helreskaffen doctrine was right - they emphasized that the gods were just like mortal men, but greater and more noble. The Traditionalists, influenced by the remnants of the barbarian beliefs before the Empire was established, claimed that the gods were beyond mortal understanding - that they were akin to powerful and primeval nature spirits. Clearly, that wasn't the case.

"Well, I'm glad you're not offended." she thought. "Between you and Eric, you're the more awe-inspiring one. Although, I have to ask - out of all the people the gods could have chosen, why him? Not that I'm questioning the choices of the gods, but it does leave me rather curious. He's hardly the ideal saint."

Suddenly, she realized that she'd been standing there with Belle for at least a minute in silence, just staring transfixed into the blade of the sword. The other folks on the deck looked at her quizzically, slightly confused.

"Oh, sorry!" she said abruptly to Ke'Am and Tristan, rather embarrassed. "Just having a conversation with Belle. Go get ready, but please do hurry. We'll be leaving at once."

Turning, she hurried back down the stairs to the captain's cabin, before placing Belle gently on a large desk which occupied a decent portion of the cabin. Alexei was sleeping in his hammock, his rumbling snoring filling the cabin yet again. Ivan was also asleep - him and Timur generally took the night watch on the ship, for whatever reason. They hadn't talked much recently. Timur was awake, reading through her spellbook. His ability to read always had fascinated her somewhat. It was rare for Garmiccian soldiers to be literate - often, they were composed of the lower classes, who mostly worked the fields. Her possessions were strewn over the cabin messily, which was unfortunate. Grabbing her hand mirror, she took a glance. If she was going to go around claiming she was a diplomat, she ought to look the part. Oh, dear. She looked windswept and sunburnt. Hardly the gentle features and fair skin of a noble's daughter there.

"You're as ugly as ever, darling." Timur chimed in from across the room, chuckling to himself. Katya scowled bitterly at him, before sighing and placing the mirror down. Well, no matter. Now, where had she placed the letter and seal? Those were quite critical. After rummaging through the drawers of the desk for a minute or so, she found them, and stashed them in a pocket of the coat.

"Make yourself useful for once and tie Belle here to my back, would you? I can't fix her at my side, for obvious reasons." she commanded, looking pointedly towards the peanut gallery. Timur nodded mindlessly, and then froze.

"Ah, I'd love to, but, I can't." he stammered nervously, placing the book down on the desk. He raised a hand over his face, as if the sun was shining straight into his eyes. That was odd - was that fear in his voice? That was new.

"No, seriously!" she continued, more irritably this time. "I don't pay you to sit around. Get your arse over here. That's an order!"

"I...I have to take inventory of the ship. And I take orders from your father, not you." he mumbled, before quickly striding out of the room, ignoring her. As he brushed past her and strode down the hallway, she swore she smelled the distinct smell of burning flesh. Rather perturbed by this and his actions, she was tempted to follow him and demand answers - but there were more pressing concerns on hand at the moment. Like three South Gallian frigates, for example. She'd get to him later. Turning around, she grabbed her mother's comb tightly (for good luck) and rushed up back up the stairs. After a few moments, with the help of the others on deck, they lowered the pinnace into the water and set off.

---

A few minutes later, Katya stood on the deck of the pinnace with Belle in hand, pointing at the sail of the boat to aid its passage. Behind her, Tristan, Lisoette, Keyam, and Flacht sat behind her. The couple looked wonderful, as always. She was honestly a little jealous of what they had, but she tried not to show it too much. As for Keyam, the poor fellow looked a little sick. He'd gotten quite better at handling it over the course of the trip, though. They chopped through the water quickly, without as many errors as the time she had sailed the pinnace at their departure from Carogne - over the course of the month, her control over the winds had improved. Honestly, out here in the ocean seemed to be where her connection with her patron goddess was closest. They were approaching the frigates, but something in the back of her mind still bothered her.

"Belle, do you have any idea what the hell all that was about?" she thought to herself, curling a strand of hair in her fingers. "I swear I smelled something burning. But...there wasn't anything on fire in there, was there?"

As she waited for Belle's response, she turned to Tristan and Keyam.

"So, do we just...sail up and vait for them to throw down ropes? Or should we attempt to take initiative, and board their vessel ourselves? I have no real experience with South Gallians. Vhat would you all prefer?"

[Zarkenis Ultima]

---

---

Watching the nomad approach and offer his support, Tristan smiled sympathetically. He'd never had an issue being out on the waters, but he knew for a fact many Gallians did, especially those that didn't live in cities like Erilhall. Of course, he was fairly sure Ke'Am wasn't Gallian, but that was beside the point; it was easy to assume the same applied anywhere. Either way, the explanation he suggested - that they took over the ship after being attacked by the Basilisk Pirates - struck him as the most reasonable of the three that had been offered thus far. "Good thinking, Ke'Am." He nodded at the nomad.

Katya, it seemed, was in agreement with the suggestion as well, which left their path of action quite clear. With that out of the way, the Ice Elemental simply watched as Katya negotiated with Eric, who seemed all too happy to remain behind on the ship, but less happy about parting with Belle. Fortunately, Katya and Belle herself seemed to be able to talk some sense into him, and the situation was soon resolved. He didn't quite get why Eric seemed so mad as he stormed off, though.

After what seemed like an excessive amount of time spent staring at the Angelle sword, Katya finally addressed Ke'Am and Tristan again. Nodding at her words, the Ice Elemental headed down to the cabin he shared with Lisoette to prepare for their short diplomatic trip.

Fast forward a few minutes, and Tristan stood behind Katya on the pinnace, one arm on his waist and the other wrapped around Lisoette's shoulder. His hair was still damp from the light rain, but no longer as unkempt as before, and he wore the same navy blue shirt he had when he met the party - besides his preference for the color and his belief that it would give off the impression they wanted, it was also similar enough in color to Katya's Garmiccian clothing that he figured it would pass him off as her associate more easily. Fenrirtusk was still tied to his back in case something went wrong, but until it did, he doubted that bearing the weapon would bring him any issues as long as he didn't reach for it in the presence of the South Gallians.

"I don't think they'll take kindly to being boarded by a group of people who were seen disembarking from a pirate ship, even if we've done nothing to threaten them so far." The Ice Elemental replied to Katya's question. "I think our best bet is to wait until they invite us on board. Plus, we'll be in shouting distance soon, so if nothing else we could try to talk to them without leaving the pinnace." He suggested with a shrug. Far from ideal, but it was an option.

[Ameriganastan]

"Well, I'm glad you're not offended." she thought. "Between you and Eric, you're the more awe-inspiring one. Although, I have to ask - out of all the people the gods could have chosen, why him? Not that I'm questioning the choices of the gods, but it does leave me rather curious. He's hardly the ideal saint."

Suddenly, she realized that she'd been standing there with Belle for at least a minute in silence, just staring transfixed into the blade of the sword. The other folks on the deck looked at her quizzically, slightly confused.

"Oh, sorry!" she said abruptly to Ke'Am and Tristan, rather embarrassed. "Just having a conversation with Belle. Go get ready, but please do hurry. We'll be leaving at once."

Turning, she hurried back down the stairs to the captain's cabin, before placing Belle gently on a large desk which occupied a decent portion of the cabin. Alexei was sleeping in his hammock, his rumbling snoring filling the cabin yet again. Ivan was also asleep - him and Timur generally took the night watch on the ship, for whatever reason. They hadn't talked much recently. Timur was awake, reading through her spellbook. His ability to read always had fascinated her somewhat. It was rare for Garmiccian soldiers to be literate - often, they were composed of the lower classes, who mostly worked the fields. Her possessions were strewn over the cabin messily, which was unfortunate. Grabbing her hand mirror, she took a glance. If she was going to go around claiming she was a diplomat, she ought to look the part. Oh, dear. She looked windswept and sunburnt. Hardly the gentle features and fair skin of a noble's daughter there.

"I'd like to imagine my father and his kin had nothing to do with him finding me. No, it was probably just happenstance and luck...some cruel happenstance and luck that the first person to hear me in 900 years was a hedonistic atheist with a near suicidal addiction to adventure. But..."

If she had eyes at the moment, they'd be scanning the room to make sure no one was spying on them.

"I have grown fond of being his companion. And if you tell him that, I'll reduce your mortal form to a pile of smoking ash."

"You're as ugly as ever, darling." Timur chimed in from across the room, chuckling to himself. Katya scowled bitterly at him, before sighing and placing the mirror down. Well, no matter. Now, where had she placed the letter and seal? Those were quite critical. After rummaging through the drawers of the desk for a minute or so, she found them, and stashed them in a pocket of the coat.

"Make yourself useful for once and tie Belle here to my back, would you? I can't fix her at my side, for obvious reasons." she commanded, looking pointedly towards the peanut gallery. Timur nodded mindlessly, and then froze.

"Ah, I'd love to, but, I can't." he stammered nervously, placing the book down on the desk. He raised a hand over his face, as if the sun was shining straight into his eyes. That was odd - was that fear in his voice? That was new.

"No, seriously!" she continued, more irritably this time. "I don't pay you to sit around. Get your arse over here. That's an order!"

"I...I have to take inventory of the ship. And I take orders from your father, not you." he mumbled, before quickly striding out of the room, ignoring her. As he brushed past her and strode down the hallway, she swore she smelled the distinct smell of burning flesh. Rather perturbed by this and his actions, she was tempted to follow him and demand answers - but there were more pressing concerns on hand at the moment. Like three South Gallian frigates, for example. She'd get to him later. Turning around, she grabbed her mother's comb tightly (for good luck) and rushed up back up the stairs. After a few moments, with the help of the others on deck, they lowered the pinnace into the water and set off.

---

A few minutes later, Katya stood on the deck of the pinnace with Belle in hand, pointing at the sail of the boat to aid its passage. Behind her, Tristan, Lisoette, Keyam, and Flacht sat behind her. The couple looked wonderful, as always. She was honestly a little jealous of what they had, but she tried not to show it too much. As for Keyam, the poor fellow looked a little sick. He'd gotten quite better at handling it over the course of the trip, though. They chopped through the water quickly, without as many errors as the time she had sailed the pinnace at their departure from Carogne - over the course of the month, her control over the winds had improved. Honestly, out here in the ocean seemed to be where her connection with her patron goddess was closest. They were approaching the frigates, but something in the back of her mind still bothered her.

"Belle, do you have any idea what the hell all that was about?" she thought to herself, curling a strand of hair in her fingers. "I swear I smelled something burning. But...there wasn't anything on fire in there, was there?"

"Your vassal. Timur is his name if I recall. There is something...dark about him. I don't know what it is exactly, but there's some energy about him that doesn't like being in the presence of a holy being. I'd advise you keep a close eye on him."

[Lazarian]

"I don't think they'll take kindly to being boarded by a group of people who were seen disembarking from a pirate ship, even if we've done nothing to threaten them so far." The Ice Elemental replied to Katya's question. "I think our best bet is to wait until they invite us on board. Plus, we'll be in shouting distance soon, so if nothing else we could try to talk to them without leaving the pinnace." He suggested with a shrug. Far from ideal, but it was an option.

Katya nodded in agreement. "Fair enough. We'll do that."

"Your vassal. Timur is his name if I recall. There is something...dark about him. I don't know what it is exactly, but there's some energy about him that doesn't like being in the presence of a holy being. I'd advise you keep a close eye on him."

"Something dark? You don't suppose he actually did find one of those demons he was looking for, would you? Gods, I hope not. Well, I trust your judgement more than mine. I'll watch him closely." she thought in response.

It was a bit of a disturbing thought. Of her companions, he was probably in the middle in terms of trustworthiness. Alexei had left with her of his own volition - her father hadn't sent him with her to begin with. As for Ivan, he was more of a liability than anything. Her father may have just been trying to dispose of the troublesome lout. But as for Timur...Timur was deliberately handpicked. There were a couple things about him that she found off - for one, soldiers usually didn't know how to read. And for an otherwise unimpressive plainclothes soldier, her father had always kept him strangely close. There was one more thing she had noticed: his wounds. His skin seemed to alternate between being normal, terribly burnt, and then normal again. He passed it off as "being unaccustomed to these climates", but...

She'd worry about that later. As they sailed closer towards the ship, she placed her hands in front of her, palms facing outwards. The wind pushing the pinnace along slowly subsided, and they drifted alongside one of the frigates. She shifted nervously - the ships towered over their small boat. If the South Gallians decided to open fire, that'd be the end of all of them. Of course, if they had wanted to do that, they'd have done it already.

She cleared her throat, and then cupped her hands in front of her mouth and shouted up to the decks of the ship. In her mind, it was supposed to be commanding and authoritative, but it ended up coming out as shrill and a little uncertain instead, unfortunately.

"Greetings, South Gallians! My companions and I vish to speak with the commander of this fleet. We are no pirates - I am Katya of House Kuznetsov of the Northern Province of Garmiccia, and an envoy of his Imperial Reclaimant Magesty, the Glorious Emperor Jeremiahde Ottos Norn-Darekuth the Sixth, Blessed of the Nine.

Upon finally reaching the end of that sentence, she seized the opportunity to take a deep breath. That was always a mouthful, but it was incredibly disrespectful to speak of the Emperor without including the proper titles. Taking another deep breath, she continued.

"Vhat have you stopped us for this day? Let us board, and I vould be happy to resolve any confusions you may have."

[Kassaran]

"Are you okay?" Temujin asked Erosen in loud and clear voice. "Can you hear me?"

Erosen's eyes fluttered slightly, his mind laid in a state of stupor as his body still struggled to revive, fluid in his lungs causing an uncomfortable tightness and burning which suddenly caused his chest to heave. As Temujin tapped upon his shoulder, the man felt the rushing of fluid from his lungs and stomach as he heaved and coughed, sputtering to life like a flame nearly doused by the rain. Eyes shining a brilliant violet, pulsed for a moment before he turned on his side and let the fluid escaping his body spill upon the cobbles at Temujin's feet. A hand reaching out to brace against the nearby building, which formed the near side of the alley, offered stability to the shaken Darkling as he struggled to regain his senses.


Lifting his head to ponder the face of his would be reviver, he realized the eyes he found staring back were familiar and kind, a smile slowly spreading across his face as he let himself drop back to the cobbled road below. His eyes closing as he suppressed a pained laugh, rolling onto his back and pushing himself into a seated position. His eyes opened again to regard the woman who stood beside Temujin, realizing with a bemused smirk the identity in full of the pair that had sought him out," I'm happy to see you have remained together all this time Temujin. We must get somewhere isolated and safe quickly. Do you have such a place, because I fear the Watchtower will be crawling through these streets soon and I'd rather be in hiding by then."

[Constaniana]

"Greetings, South Gallians! My companions and I vish to speak with the commander of this fleet. We are no pirates - I am Katya of House Kuznetsov of the Northern Province of Garmiccia, and an envoy of his Imperial Reclaimant Magesty, the Glorious Emperor Jeremiahde Ottos Norn-Darekuth the Sixth, Blessed of the Nine.

Upon finally reaching the end of that sentence, she seized the opportunity to take a deep breath. That was always a mouthful, but it was incredibly disrespectful to speak of the Emperor without including the proper titles. Taking another deep breath, she continued.

"Vhat have you stopped us for this day? Let us board, and I vould be happy to resolve any confusions you may have."

A beefy midshipman snapped a quick salute and leaned over the railing to yell back at Katya, "Did you say you're Garmiccian diplomats? You have my apologies; we were unaware of your station. Sorry for the trouble of Your Ladyship rowing over to us. We would be honoured to have you aboard the Fame of Redbeach," The young man took a step back, and the sharper-eared Elementals on the boat could have heard him speaking at a lower volume to some nearby crewmate, "Crickey, Mr. Green, get the captain. Get the commodore too, while you're at it." More orders were barked out, and the sailors and marines that had been watching the incoming pinnace ran around to different spots. By the time the group climbed aboard the frigate they were greeted by a squadron of marines standing at attention in two lines with their muskets. They were quickly and politely lead between the lines by the midshipman to the commanding officer's stateroom. The decor was spartan, with only a few maps on the walls, a sufficiently fancy candelabra, and a set of white teacups.

Once they had filed in the midshipman left, leaving them with two men in dark blue coats with white collars and epaulettes. The one without a black sash had a simple brown beard, in the fashion that Grand Flag Admiral Meersthand had been pushing for officers to adopt to look uniform and practical. The more senior of the two had a clean face save for an enormous white moustache that looked like the wool of a fat, wild sheep. He fiddled with it for a few seconds, as if daring the captain to tell him he should shave it. There was a twinkle in his bright green eyes of a man close to retirement, who had climbed the ranks as high as he pleased and no desire to go a single star higher. He was master of his little domain here, and becoming an admiral for only a year or two wasn't worth the bother.

"Welcome aboard the Fame of Redbeach, Your Ladyship. I am Captain Henry Bigelm, and this is my superior, Commodore Sir Eugene Galdenguard, commander of this squadron," the captain said with a bow.

"On behalf of the Federal Navy I extend apologies for delaying whatever assignment your emperor has you and your esteemed companions upon, but due to dire circumstances the difficult decision has been made to cordon off all waters north of St. Veowulf. We have had reports of fierce hurricanes and extensive piratical activity up the entire western coast for the past few weeks. Numerous ships have gone missing, presumed sunk, and therefore the admiralty has decided to declare the area off-limits to all ships not under military command," the commodore explained, gesturing to the relevant point on the giant map of Galllia spread out upon the stateroom's central table, "This will save precious civilian lives, and helps starve whatever pirates are up there of fresh ships and spoils to seize. Besides, we need to wait out the blasted storms as well. Until such a time that the Federal Navy sails in and clears them out our orders are to intercept any vessels heading this way and direct them to dock at St. Veowulf, or turn south.

"The only permitted exception is a convoy we've been organising every so often to sail up to the mouth of Lake Frosting and then immediately turn east to sail up to Rolphcross or Albrheim. The navy's already dealt with a few dimwitted ships that had the bright idea to break off from the group near the end and head in the wrong direction. However, to join up with those trips you'll still need to come into port. I would be remiss if I didn't offer my squadron's services in escorting a diplomatic delegation such as yours to safety, Your Ladyship. Again, I express my own remorse and that of the navy's for the inconvenience, but I have been given no latitude in the matter. At least the water route to the state capital Albrheim is still open, assuming that's the reason you've come all this way from Elcrescia."

"We could also see about getting your ship restocked and repaired a bit. My sailors told me after spotting your vessel that the crow's nest had been knocked off somehow, hadn't it?" Captain Bigelm added.

[Ameriganastan]

"Sword of Keiises. I could have been bragging about wielding the sword of Keiises, but does she tell me that? Of course not. See if I ever share my awesome stories with her again..."

Eric had half-walked, half-stumbled below deck looking for some more libations to pour into himself. At the moment, he was coming up dry.

"It's a pirate ship. There's gotta be some rum on this heap of splinters somewhere...forget it. Magic me up a flask, you possibly possessed accessory. I'm losing my buzz."

The FPOW rumbled for a few moments, spitting up a note into his hand.

"What the...Dear Eric, it's Eric. If you're reading this, you've officially tapped out your supply of flasks. Sincerely yours, Eric."

He crumpled it up and tossed it over his shoulder.

"Great. Out of booze, no whores and my best friend is on another ship. I am officially bored."

He flopped down, looking around for something to do.

"...Wait, pirate ship. That means treasure. How have we not look for the treasure yet?"

One time saving skip later, Eric had meandered to the quarters of the former captain.

"Okay, I'm a surly midget of a pirate captain. I think I'm clever, but every time I wanna hide something, I stash it..."

He walked over to the desk sitting there. And one light kick later, a secret hatch slid open.

"Same place she hid the map. Poor, predictable Franny."

He dragged the chest out onto the deck.

"Hey, look what I found. Anyone got a pry bar? My usual chest opener is MIA right now."

[Minroz]

OOC: Co-written with Kassaran.

“Aiyo!” Initially, the Sahranjjite couple were shocked at the Erosen’s spasm. Realizing, their darkling friend is alive, the two rushed to his side to steady their friend.

“Good gods, you gave us a fright. But I’m sure it’s nothing compared to our old adventures.” Temujin quipped. His tone doesn’t bore any shyness of his youth anymore, more like the voice of a confident young man.
“Erosen…” Aisha utters with concern for her foreign friend before giving him a friendly smile. “You should rest easy…it looked like you went through a lot to ended up here on this street. But…we’re happy to see you.”

When Erosen mentioned Watchtower and his voicing out urgency to hide quickly, both Aisha and Temujin made a serious frown at the name of the infamous organisation they’ve fought long time ago the last time they’ve visited Gallia continent. With that said, they do not have any love for the Watchtower.

“Ah, we have a place. An inn we’re staying at for a night. But first, let us carry you over there, you’re not much into condition to walk properly yet.” Temujin then broke into smile of reassurance. Nodding to his wife, the two began carrying Erosen under his arms and moved towards the inn where the Sahranjjites were staying at.

“What happened to you, Erosen?” Aisha asked the darkling. “You looked like you’ve just swam into the ocean.”

“We’ll worry about it once we get him on bed.” Temujin said. “He needs some rest.”

It didn't take long for the couple to half-carry, half-drag, the exhausted darkling down the alleys and back streets of Carogne. Wincing as they went along he narrow passages, Erosen couldn't help but listen to the distant crackling of fires and the muffled shouts of the townsfolk still moving towards the harbor. From what he'd felt, and from what he'd known, the others had managed to escape in time and so thus he had been able to do his job. He smiled, then grimaced as even the simple act of turning the edges of his lips up brought a fresh rush of pain to every muscle it affected. He'd run dangerously low on his reserves, and from the feeling of it, he'd probably have at most another jump or two before he went empty on Dark Element. As little a fan as he was of his affliction, there was little he could do to regenerate Dark Element on his own. He'd have to give in to the temptations of the Dark Father.

Once safely inside the inn where the Sahranjjites had taken shelter for the evening, he let himself be laid upon one of their beds. He figured they didn't use both of them anyways from the closeness of the couple. Wincing as they lowered him onto the mattress, he gave a low wheezing chuckle in response to the sensation of his feet suddenly going numb. Prickling ran up and down his legs as the shock of the sprained, if not broken ankle he'd earned himself, filled his brain. Gritting his teeth, adrenaline rush thoroughly gone, he felt himself beginning to slip back into sleep. Fighting the growing darkness welling up in the corners of his mind and the clouding of his vision, he spoke," We'll need you two, I can- ahh... I can take you to the others. Tristan, Lisoette, they got married. Eric and his sword are there too, and the sword apparently is an Angelle now too. There's a few others, but- I think... I think-"

And with that Erosen fell into a deep slumber.

“Slow down my friend, you need some sleep. We can catch up on old times once you get better. We are patient.” Temujin said softly to Erosen as he tucks in the blanket over the Darkling.

[“Gods, he has been through a lot. Let alone fighting with the Watchtower devils with the others. Damn honourless curs they are. All those years, they’re still around.”] Conversing in Sahranjjite with her husband, Aisha spoke as if she spat venom at the mention of Watchtower.

[“I couldn’t believe myself either, my love. But the most important right now, we have to ensure Erosen’s safety and well-being. In case of Watchtower agents being around, all we have to do is look after him.”] The bespectacled lad said with a serious frown.

The black-haired woman could only give a soft hum of agreement in response.

From the time spent with Erosen years ago, the Sahranjjites knew immediately of his ability to teleport and figured out what he’s talking about. As Elementals, it is not hard for them to figure out what he’s planning to do next. Regardless, the two were looking forward to reunion with old friends. For now, they’ll wait for Erosen to get better.

[Lazarian]

"Greetings, South Gallians! My companions and I vish to speak with the commander of this fleet. We are no pirates - I am Katya of House Kuznetsov of the Northern Province of Garmiccia, and an envoy of his Imperial Reclaimant Magesty, the Glorious Emperor Jeremiahde Ottos Norn-Darekuth the Sixth, Blessed of the Nine.

Upon finally reaching the end of that sentence, she seized the opportunity to take a deep breath. That was always a mouthful, but it was incredibly disrespectful to speak of the Emperor without including the proper titles. Taking another deep breath, she continued.

"Vhat have you stopped us for this day? Let us board, and I vould be happy to resolve any confusions you may have."

A beefy midshipman snapped a quick salute and leaned over the railing to yell back at Katya, "Did you say you're Garmiccian diplomats? You have my apologies; we were unaware of your station. Sorry for the trouble of Your Ladyship rowing over to us. We would be honoured to have you aboard the Fame of Redbeach," The young man took a step back, and the sharper-eared Elementals on the boat could have heard him speaking at a lower volume to some nearby crewmate, "Crickey, Mr. Green, get the captain. Get the commodore too, while you're at it." More orders were barked out, and the sailors and marines that had been watching the incoming pinnace ran around to different spots. By the time the group climbed aboard the frigate they were greeted by a squadron of marines standing at attention in two lines with their muskets. They were quickly and politely lead between the lines by the midshipman to the commanding officer's stateroom. The decor was spartan, with only a few maps on the walls, a sufficiently fancy candelabra, and a set of white teacups.

Once they had filed in the midshipman left, leaving them with two men in dark blue coats with white collars and epaulettes. The one without a black sash had a simple brown beard, in the fashion that Grand Flag Admiral Meersthand had been pushing for officers to adopt to look uniform and practical. The more senior of the two had a clean face save for an enormous white moustache that looked like the wool of a fat, wild sheep. He fiddled with it for a few seconds, as if daring the captain to tell him he should shave it. There was a twinkle in his bright green eyes of a man close to retirement, who had climbed the ranks as high as he pleased and no desire to go a single star higher. He was master of his little domain here, and becoming an admiral for only a year or two wasn't worth the bother.

"Welcome aboard the Fame of Redbeach, Your Ladyship. I am Captain Henry Bigelm, and this is my superior, Commodore Sir Eugene Galdenguard, commander of this squadron," the captain said with a bow.

"On behalf of the Federal Navy I extend apologies for delaying whatever assignment your emperor has you and your esteemed companions upon, but due to dire circumstances the difficult decision has been made to cordon off all waters north of St. Veowulf. We have had reports of fierce hurricanes and extensive piratical activity up the entire western coast for the past few weeks. Numerous ships have gone missing, presumed sunk, and therefore the admiralty has decided to declare the area off-limits to all ships not under military command," the commodore explained, gesturing to the relevant point on the giant map of Galllia spread out upon the stateroom's central table, "This will save precious civilian lives, and helps starve whatever pirates are up there of fresh ships and spoils to seize. Besides, we need to wait out the blasted storms as well. Until such a time that the Federal Navy sails in and clears them out our orders are to intercept any vessels heading this way and direct them to dock at St. Veowulf, or turn south.

As the Captain explained the situation, Katya tried not to show her frustration upon learning about the cordoning off of the sea. It made sense - supposedly, since the civil war, the waters had become significantly more dangerous. In fact, it was likely that enterprising sailors and captains from her own country were responsible for some of that danger. But this was a major wrench in the works - they'd be unable to continue further on their route North, it seemed. Their original path had taken them up to Albrheim, through Haventown, into Erilhall, and then into Auregen. If they were redirected...

"The only permitted exception is a convoy we've been organising every so often to sail up to the mouth of Lake Frosting and then immediately turn east to sail up to Rolphcross or Albrheim. The navy's already dealt with a few dimwitted ships that had the bright idea to break off from the group near the end and head in the wrong direction. However, to join up with those trips you'll still need to come into port. I would be remiss if I didn't offer my squadron's services in escorting a diplomatic delegation such as yours to safety, Your Ladyship. Again, I express my own remorse and that of the navy's for the inconvenience, but I have been given no latitude in the matter. At least the water route to the state capital Albrheim is still open, assuming that's the reason you've come all this way from Elcrescia.

Katya stared at the map, slightly confused. These were...Southern ships, yes? And the Southern capital was most certainly Villdernheim, if she had remembered correctly. Were they willing to escort them to a Northern capital? Quite kind of them, and to her, rather unexpected. Perhaps the bad blood between the North and South was not that long-lasting or substantial. Grudges in Garmiccia between provinces could last for decades, easily. Only the Emperor's sheer strength kept them from conflict at times, according to her father.

"We could also see about getting your ship restocked and repaired a bit. My sailors told me after spotting your vessel that the crow's nest had been knocked off somehow, hadn't it?" Captain Bigelm added.

Katya laughed, waving her hand dismissively. "Oh, that's quite lovely of you to offer. But we burden you enough vith the escort, and would hate to trouble you further. As for the crow's nest, a savage fool knocked it off in the midst of the battle." she said honestly, scowling slightly at the remembrance of Gwen's impatience. Thankfully, the unpleasant woman had kept to herself throughout most of the voyage, staying in the depths of the vessel. They'd likely be rid of her as soon as they reached land again. The offer for supplies was quite tempting, but their ship was well stocked, and they would likely abandon it upon reaching land soon. Besides, in Garmiccia, favors usually didn't come without strings attached. The Gallian people were kinder, so perhaps it was an offer made out of sheer generosity - but she was wary to find out through experience. Alexei would have told her not to take it.

She felt her fingers trembling at her side, for some odd reason. It was slightly nerve-racking to be surrounded by so many soldiers and warships, even if they were quite hospitable and friendly. From what she had gathered, Eric, Tristan, and Lisoette were heroes in the North, rather than the South. And the Watchtower organization had originated there, which made her wary. There was no way of hiding her lineage - her grey-blue hair made it quite obvious she was a spellborn, as well as Tristan's flowing silver locks. If these sailors had ties to Watchtower, they could be easily captured now. And if any of the sailors recognized Colonel Mallow (who had noted his distaste for the South quite often), or Tristan, they could easily be thrown to the seas below, or blasted to pieces with cannonfire.

But perhaps she was being paranoid. It was quite likely, actually. Captain Bigelm had shown nothing but kindness so far, and Garmiccia and South Gallia had been allies for quite some time now, due to Grand Emperor Jeremiahde's benevolence. There probably weren't knives waiting in the dark here. She cleared her throat.

"I'd love if you could escort us to Albrheim, honorable captain. Indeed, we are headed there. I have a message to Prince Siegfried from the Honorable Emperor Jeremiahde, may the Nine bless him. Does he reside in Albrheim?" she said, bowing slightly in respect. From what she knew, he resided in the city of Auregen, but perhaps he had moved in the year she had spent on this hapless journey. "Regardless, it vould be quite splendid to be taken there by such honorable men." she continued, laying on the flattery. It probably wasn't necessary, but it never hurt.

[Constaniana]

Fortunately for Eric, the enterprising Ivan was eager to assist him. Whatever resentment he might have had over being jolted out of his post-night watch slumber was pacified by the prospect of more loot. Finding a pry bar had been the easiest thing he had done all day. With a good chunk of the party on that Galllian warship and most of the others asleep or attending to other things, he thought there might be a chance he could split whatever was inside with the old drunk, rather than with everyone aboard. The halberdman's mind raced as he wondered what treasure had been kept secret in Captain Franny's personal stash. Surely a woman at the top of a fearsome pirate gang kept only the finest stolen goods for herself in there; diamonds as big as a man's head, gold bars as big as an arm, luxury platinum athletic leisure clogs, things infinitely more valuable than whatever could be picked from a pocket.

A giddy, greedy thought sprouted in Ivan's mind: perhaps one good find in there would be enough for him to live off a while, and go do...something else with his life. Ivan's petty thievery had never really paid enough dividends for him to start planning for anything better. With irritation the soldier was pulled away from his daydreams as the large chest was proving difficult to break open. Ordinarily by this point he might have given up on breaking in, either from being worried about being caught or simply sheer laziness. But something in him today made him persevere, and at last Ivan succeeded.

Whatever was inside the chest, it was frightfully freezing. Heaps of sawdust filled the chest, layered over thick, heavy wool. Gold and gemstones did not require refrigeration, so unless the chest held bottles of choice wine or fantastical fruits he didn't really believe existed like pineapples, the Garmiccian soldier's appraisal dropped like an anvil. Ivan pulled some of the wool back and caught a glimpse of what lay beneath: a huge slab of black ice. An exploratory jab with the crowbar only dented the metal, rather than chip away the ice. He brought the pry bar to his face in disbelief to look at it more closely, when he felt a splash on the tip of his nose. The rain clouds had reconvened with a vengeance, smothering the rays of the Sun, and the air felt chilly like the night once again.

"Eric, you were born on a fishing boat. Is the ocean normally this quiet?" Ivan asked, glancing at the water around the Devil's Luck. Having grown up on a farm there were still aspects of being upon the deep waters that mystified him. However, the man could have sworn there had been some fish jumping out of the water nearby and puffins swooping to catch them as he was returning to his hammock to collapse at the end of his shift. Perhaps the proximity of three more ships frightened the animals off, or the onset of the rain, but the timing of all of it was a tad eerie. In spite of how cold it had become, Ivan and Eric both found themselves breaking out in a sweat.

---

Captain Bigelm nodded politely every so often, sprinkling in a few "ah yes," or "indeed" as Katya explained how the ship had been damaged and politely declined the offer of resupplying, while Commodore Galdenguard chuckled at the end, fiddling with his moustache briefly.

"I'm afraid we can only escort you as far as St. Veowulf for the time being, due to the policing assignment we've been given, Lady Katya. But rest assured Lake Frosting is still safe from whatever mischief is befalling the open seas," Captain Bigelm answered.

"I feel I should warn you all to be swift in signing on with a convoy," the Commodore interjected, slapping his wrinkled hand upon the map's depiction of the Albrion's great lake. Having a dirty great map to passionately gesticulate upon had been one of the perks of senior rank he had looked forward to most from his early days as a lieutenant, "By the time you'll reach Rolphcross Lake Frosting will most likely be well, frosting, if it hasn't started already. I don't know whether you have experience dealing with sailing in frozen waters due to hailing from a cold country, but the lake's ice is particularly strong for whatever reason.

"Regarding Prince Siegfried, I or any other officer of the Federal Armed Forces would be most surprised if he took up residence in territory still loyal to the United Galllian Federation, unless it was for the purpose of inciting more separatism. The last I heard of him was when he was in Erilhall for the wedding of Lord-Lieutenant Banastre and Princess Isobel Van Aurenheim, but that was back in October. I would imagine you could find a newspaper or some other publication in St. Veowulf with more accurate information than this old sailor has." Bigelm looked out his mustachioed superior for a few seconds to make certain he was done speaking before clearing his throat and speaking to his guests once again.

"Well, if there's no more questions we can escort you all back to your boarding craft, and we'll set sail with dispatch. We should come into port before lunchtime. Once there you should be able to find assistance in continuing your mission," He concluded matter-of-factly.

"Thank the Sea-Queen for that. This morning feels as if it has gone on for months," Sir Galdenguard grumbled, now in the mood for some sizzling cabbage-stuffed boar. Pulling rank on the by-the-book captain to actually dock again so he go get said dish tempted him, but he supposed it would injure the men's morale to see the commanding officer holding their cruise up for his own gain. He bowed to the delegation as Captain Bigelm escorted them out of the room, and soon they were back in their pinnace, going back to their pirate ship in relative silence. Lisoette felt something off on the vessel as they neared the Devil's Luck. The Daemonness turned her face to look at the waters and hide her expression as she focused more on the magic in the air. It felt horribly wrong, but the ominous feeling disappeared several moments later in an most unsatisfying fashion, like the sensation of a sneeze building up in one's nose that never sallied forth.

---

St. Veowulf, Albrion, United Galllian Federation
Monday, 10th of December, 1781 G.C.C
St. Veowulf seemed awfully deliberate in contrasting with Carogne, bluntly welcoming visitors to the North. Carogne spread outward, a pleasant city on a gentle, flat island. St. Veowulf went in another direction. From its deep harbour and dockside streets the city climbed around a worn, old volcanic plateau like flowers on a trellis. Such volcanic soil, although not rising to the stately heights of St. Veowulf's peak, could be found for miles inland, and its fertility, rather than proximity to the sea, was what had drawn settlers to the land in a bygone age. But while the volcanoes' gifts had made the dark land abundant in food, the sulphur they spread made the local water smell and taste abominable. The desire for decent drinking water had eventually spurred the development of what was now the main export of the region: salt, with salted foods being number two. Thanks to the great heat that still rose from deep within this corner of Albrion the men of St.Veowulf had a way to constantly boil the limitless seawater around them which only cost whatever it took to erect and maintain enclosed structures to trap the freshly-desalinated droplets of water, and the costs of moving seawater to geothermal plants that were further inland. Such factories were dotted all around the city like unevenly-growing facial hair, interspersed among the stone houses rather than congregating in one section of the city the way industries usually did. An observer may have been interested by the blockhouses sprouted up throughout St. Veowulf as well, or the assortment of cable railways that went up almost the entire height of the burg.

Most structures, at least as far as eyes down by the water could discern, appeared to be around the same height of one or two storeys, avoiding getting in the way of the view of buildings further up the plateau. Even most of the several mansions visible were two storeys, stretching out horizontally instead. A few steeples here and there barely pushed past that limit, but not most of them. The prominent exception to this building code was the five-storey castle upon the flat top of it all. Towering above its walls, redoubts, and turrets, were what looked like the spires of a cathedral. Upon closer examination one would notice that rather than a standard gatehouse, the entrance to this citadel on high was a cathedral with the walls blending into her sides. The original St. Veowulf himself probably had a hand in that arrangement.

Captain Bigelm's estimated time of arrival had come true. Commodore Galdenguard had wished to bestow upon the Garmiccian delegation a glorious temporary berth among the warships of their Federal allies, but the request had been denied due to lack of space. Instead they had wound up here, a floating dock used by an assortment of merchant vessels from a smattering of foreign countries. Only a few streets up from where the group's ship had put down anchor stood a clock tower reading 11:35. The clean, bright Portland stone it was built from indicated some well-to-do people had been behind its construction, but its modest height suggested they weren't too wealthy. Disembarkation took another few minutes, during which a frazzled-looking, redheaded port official strode towards the party and went inside a stall near the gangplank that sheltered the papers he had brought and himself from the cold rain and colder wind that had been going for the past few hours. Once the requisite lines on his documents had signatures scribbled in and a few Danethrums were sacrificed as a fee, he doffed his tricorne and burst into a rote welcome speech in formal-sounding High Galllish.

"Welcome to St. Veowulf, from wherever you have come from, and for choosing to dock with Smith & Knud's Nautical Holdings. We ask that you help maintain a tidy, efficient, and orderly environment on our properties by keeping assault, disposal of rubbish, gambling, drugs, public relieving of the bowels or bladder, juggling, training with firearms and/or artillery, carnal relations, propositions of marriage, duels of honour, the inebriation of any sailors under your command, setting Federal, Commonwealth, or Foreigner flags on fire; fires in general, political or religious rallies and/or graffiti; and excessive, disreputable shouting, spitting, and shaking of fists to more suitable parts of the city, which we have marked on our complimentary maps. I have one available to give to you right now, with additional copies available at our nearest company office, located on three piers to the north of this one. For further questions regarding company policies, the agreements you have signed, or to report violators of the rules I have previously outlined, to purchase supplies or repairs for your ship, or to inquire about general conditions in the city you are currently in you may speak to a number of guides there, trained in all sorts of languages for your convenience." The man took a long breath, glanced at a smaller scrap of paper in his folder. He resumed talking, although it seemed far less rehearsed, which resulted in his native accent bleeding in more.

"Also, if ye lot are hoping t' arrange a trip up ov' t' Rolphcross then there's a list of other captains who've filled out forms in t' previously-mentioned company officer three pier's over there," The man now forcefully gesticulated in its direction, the way the letter "t" exited his mouth like a musketball, "Other than writing up that list Smith & Knud's Nautical Holdings doesn't get involved in forming the newfangled mandatory navy-approved convoys. The groups of captains themselves have t' go ov' t' make their case at High Admiral Ralv's offices that they have a sufficient number of ships t' make it worth the fleet's time escorting up north, and that all of ye are trustworthy and respectable, not the sort t' try sneaking back ov' int' the closed-off seas. Aye, even after that there's still a bit of dumb luck whether ye group is next t' leave, since the sorts of goods or folks ye carry can get ye higher priority, but what that exactly is seems t' change thrice a fortnight, don't it? I bloody live here and I don't haven't a clue; ye pity the poor translating gits who have t' explain that t' some Calainate mountain man who just wants t' sell his goat cheese ov'in Albrheim. Good luck with whatever it is brought ye lot here." With his remarks complete he buttoned his grey and blue coat back up, stuffed the papers into their folder, and the folder back into a leather satchel, then went walking back to the office. Now the characters were all free to do as they saw fit: stretch their legs, hunt for booze, get out of the rain, try figuring out a way to towards the Commonwealth or learn more about the mysterious chest, and most likely start getting into trouble in this new city.

"I don't remember having that many rules the last time I came off a ship. Besides, there's plenty of better ways to start a fire than burning a flag. Don't they have coal or wood to buy here?" Lisoette asked, having made sure to wait until the bureaucrat was out of earshot, "Speaking of buying, I think I need to buy thicker gloves or a scarf. If it's already this chilly down here I hate to think what it's like at a place named Lake Frosting, or even more up north in the mountains. I can't understand why Aldraniri and Kroisoto ever got into that boasting match one time about whether Albrion or Aurennia was the colder country." She tucked her arms in close to her body and pressed against Tristan for warmth, glaring at the clouds. She might have shaken her fist for good measure, but remembered that was another thing Mr. Smith and Mr. Knud, whoever they were, had banned.

[Ameriganastan]

"Dry land, you beautiful bitch. I missed you so."

Eric bounded off the ship, taking a deep breath...and hacking when that air came from a volcanic shitheap like St. Veowulf.

"Ugh, this place. Swore I'd never come back here after punching that guy into the volcano. Bars are shitty, whores are mediocre and there's always that faint smell of rank ass in the air. Why anyone chooses to live here is beyond me. But any port in a storm. If you will all excuse me, I'm going to blow every bit of money currently on my person at the nearest one of those aforementioned mediocre whorehouses. I think Big Henrietta has the least terrible selection..."

"Um, Eric. The card? You're still banned for another month."

He stopped mid-stride, almost looking like he was gonna scream.

"...That's fine. I'm Eric Lumen. I've seduced everything from princes and princesses to that ogre princess and her mother...at the same time I add! Ogres are freaky like that. I don't need to pay for it. I'm amazing. Watch this. My patented Lumen flirting skills never fail."

He scanned the streets, pointing at a random woman passing by.

"Hey funbags, wanna bone? I'm old but I'm spry. I can lick the back of my knees. How bout it?"

Her response was to wretch slightly and keep walking.

"Wow, I'm impressed. That made me weak in the knees I don't have at the moment. However do you do it?"

His eye twitched slightly in frustration.

"Laugh now you harpy. If I can woo a bandit queen and her entire elite guard to steal that jeweled codpiece, I can seduce one of these ash breathing halfwits."

The citizens passing by looked a tad offended as that last bit.

"Don't look at me like it's not true. Living here has made you people weird."

"Eric, wild pitch here. Maybe while we're here, you could try something that isn't some combo of fighting, drinking and debasing sex workers? I mean these last few years, it feels like you're travelling just to do that. What happened to the man who used to stop off for a nice veggie stew at some little hole in the wall restaurant while telling folks how lovely their lands are? "

He scratched his chin in thought.

"I suppose I have been going a little overboard since the Fair Hills incident. Hell, I barely remember the boat ride I was so smashed...alright. So long as we're staying in St. Veowulf, I'll attempt to moderate myself a tad. Since you're my friend and all and it'll make you feel better. Easily done."

The fact he was currently eyebanging an overly buxom lass walking by cast doubt on that last part.

"Easily."

[Zarkenis Ultima]

---

As the group disembarked on the merchant docks of St. Veowulf, Tristan looked over the port city, taking in the colorless but still impressive sight of the stone halls and factories dotting the volcanic landscape, crowned by the imposing castle-slash-cathedral in the center of it all. It was the first time he'd laid eyes on St. Veowulf, and he felt excitement building up inside of him, despite the unpleasant air and the drab sights. After all, his and Lisoette's intention was to explore Gallia during their honeymoon, and they were getting to do just that, even if hijacking a pirate ship wasn't the original plan. It just made things all the more exciting, anyway.

Speaking of Lisoette, after paying the fees and listening to the dock attendant's long spiel and words of advice, Tristan promptly turned his attention to his wife, shrugging off his navy blue overcoat and placing it around her shoulders to help her conserve some warmth. She needed it far more than he did, after all - where he was from, this would be considered pleasantly lukewarm. "We'll get all the scarves you need later, dear." He smiled at her. "But for now I think the best thing to do is to hurry up and find a convoy to take us to Albrheim." He stated, pulling out the map that the redhead with the strong accent had offered them and quickly looking over it to see where they were and where they needed to go. After a moment, he rolled up the map and left it at the recently vacated stall in case any of his fellow Elementals (or Eric, or the Garmiccians, or Belle...) needed it. He could always get a new one at the Nautical Holdings office.

Before taking off, however, he reached down and began digging through his belongings, eventually fishing an umbrella out of his trunk before sealing it shut again. Now with something to shield himself and his beloved from the freezing rain, the young man was ready to depart. "Let's get going, Lis. I think I know how to convince the admiral or whoever that we're worth taking along. Having a Frost to help with the frosting at lake Frosting ought to be good incentive, no?" He said with a smirk.

The trip up to the main office of Smith & Knud's Nautical Holdings was relatively uneventful, though the Ice Elemental had made sure to keep his eyes peeled for any suspicious activity - they were, after all, still in the South, and though he doubted Watchtower's presence was as strong here as it had seemingly been in Carogne, it never hurt to be careful. Once they arrived at the offices, Tristan folded his umbrella and began looking for the captain list the dock attendant had mentioned, the first step in making their way to Albrheim and, eventually, to Haventown and the Commonwealth of the North.

[Constaniana]

Lisoette's fingers raced to button up Tristan's overcoat around her, and she giggled appreciative at his frost joke. Three years of traversing Yuelkelu had exposed her to plenty of volcanoes, albeit none that had slumbered for so long as in the land upon which they now stood, so the aroma of brimstone did not faze her so much as her compatriots. And besides, even if St. Veowulf did not smell as fair as the island commonwealth's capital Vasutkiiao, it certainly smelled leagues better than places she had been in Hell. The Daemonness felt irritation as her mind went off comparing something to Hell once again. The memories of her home dimension always seemed determined to butt in on whatever pleasant experience she was having in Gaiaca, an unpleasant asterisk tacked on at the end of every thought. Give it fifteen years and I'll have lived up here longer than down there, and maybe it'll shut up.

Concentrating on not tripping in the rain and sea breeze tethered the blonde to the moment as she made her way over to the office, allowing her to notice things like yellow-and-lilac Halvefori flags flying from the ships berthed at the three piers the group passed. The office was a two-story longhouse like the other more well-to-do buildings in the city, although it stood out by virtue of the vibrant sky blue and burgundy paint for the walls, and white paint over the roof's tiles. Smith and Knud's Nautical Holdings was written in large, easily read script on the windows of the double pine doors. Upon pulling open said doors there was another set of pine doors, now without windows, ten yards down a short, minimally-decorated passage, and beyond them was the actual lobby. Handstands carved out of sturdy walnut wood flanked both doors, with a door marked as a cloakroom next to the stand on the right. There were eight leather armchairs in a semicircle around a fireplace on the left side of the room as the group entered; in between each chair was a small table with a few local guidebooks, pamphlets, and such neatly piled upon it. Aware of the difficult aroma their city's regular air might present to visitors, as well as the fact that after possible months at sea sailors and merchants might have grown tired of the scent of salt spray, Smith and Knud's had placed pine cones and some citrus peels in amongst the blazing logs to ameliorate the situation. Some candles were also burning throughout the room, as the gloomy weather meant not much sunlight was coming through the windows.

"Welcome, come warm yourselves up some! My name is Ms. Wilona! I take it you lot are from the Garmiccian diplomatic ship Mr. Merton just dropped off the paperwork for?" A brown-haired, cheery young woman called from a booth at the far end of the room that looked similar to one found in a bank. There were several other such kiosks taking up most of that side of the room, some of them staffed with women dressed in similar blue and grey dresses as Wilona, with a door all the way on the left end of the wall which presumably granted access further in that direction, "If I might take the liberty of assuming you're here for the sign-up sheets, we have the ones we keep track of on that table there to your right. There should be contact information for the captains of the other ships already signed on with each group, since they'll all need to approve letting you into their party. If I or any of my associates can be of service you have but to ask."

There were three stacks of lists on the desk. One was blank sheets, with all the cells waiting to be penned in. The document asked for the ship's name and size, her captain, crew number, general purpose, as well as if she was armed. One stack was completed groups who were now awaiting permission to set sail northward. The largest pile, spread over more of the desk, was partially filled sheets of prospective convoys still looking for a few more members, or perhaps just one particular kind. Two parchments sat at the top of this particular heap, and both had a request written on a blank spot for captains of private warships able to provide extra security for their valuable cargo.

The first group primarily consisted of high-end merchantmen vessels. There were three schooners operated by the Ducal Desalination and Waterworks Guild predictably carrying large amounts of salt, but they were also modestly armed themselves. Two ships, registered as being Halvefori, carried assorted luxury crafts, while another two Halvefori vessels were loaded up with assorted seafood from their home waters, primarily eel. A wine-seller had sailed across the Halrennor and Halvefon Seas from Yelhennei to market his wares. A grocer from Albreheim was seeking to return home with some of Veowulfshire's salted agricultural bounty, with hams, bacon, salted cabbages and beans, and so forth. A mercenary sloop had also been hired to sail with the group, and their request for another warship offered a fine payment upon reaching their destination. Captains believing themselves to be fit for the task were invited to a mansion on one of the upper streets of the city, where some of the other captains in the group were currently guests.

The second group also carried three schooners from St. Veowulf's salt guild, with identical tonnage displaced, cargo, and number of guns. Looking through all the lists would reveal that many had a trio from the D.D.W.G. There were enough for it to be probable that the next convoy sailing north would include a shipment of salt, although not impossible for them to not contain the white fuel of the city's economy. This group had three ships carrying foodstuffs, two vessels with manufactured furniture, a ship carrying assorted alcohols from Reldenjjord in the U.G.F's deep south, and one with railway parts. But most noteworthy were likely the eight transports belonging to the Federal Army. This convoy offered assurance of swift departure, and to speak with a Colonel Firman currently staying at the Duke's court.

Not to say that these were the only two groups the characters could sign on with, of course. There were other semi-open sheets, not to mention the other groups that no doubt formed over meetings in pubs, shipboard cabins, or any other place they might bump into such colleagues.

[Kassaran]

About the docks and piers of the stepped city itself, there lay the many buildings of the fishermen and shipwrights strewn about as great blocks of wood upon the shores of the great river. Overhead the seagulls wheeled and wailed, their great winding loops and lazy corkscrews tracing the paths of the garbage and refuse strewn beneath. Saint Veowulf was a city of great sense and abhorrent scents, having found practicality in using its unfortunate neighboring geographic features for their own profit, whilst also learning to ignore the fantastic stench it wrought upon the land. For many unfamiliar with the nature of the sulfuric soil which was found in the farmlands of the region, it may have seen as if some great demon horde had recently traipsed through, but to the learned there was no fear of such travesty or calamity. Yet.

As the newest arrival slowly found their way into the bays of the port of Saint Veowulf, the cloak which had been dragged up about his shoulders offered Erosen with a degree of comfort and protection against the cloud-covered sun which still spilled down into the streets about him. Even here in the alleyways, it was unbearable in his current state and such was his own fault for having used so much of his own element to leave the safety of the island he'd been upon but three days prior. It was a decision he'd make again if given the choice, if only to ensure that the information he'd received was correct. After their departure, the others had sailed into the open sea, leaving Erosen mystified as to their destination until but a few days prior.

Watching the portside of the ship be drawn in by the dockmen and harbormasters of the port, his hood was raised only slightly so that he might regard the splintered mast of the ship which had come to rest in the waters of Saint Veowulf. There he could see them begin to disembark, the company whom had left him behind by his own decision. The faint trails of Dark Element which rose off of one figure who drew herself about the chilly aura of another brought a tingle to the back of Erosen's neck. Tristan and Lisoette. If they had arrived safely. than she had likely retained her identity's secret, but soon that would not matter as he drew back and into the shadows of the alleyway. Winding streets and narrow passages between rising layers of house and home, the many-levelled city becoming a steep ascent made in few steps had him whirling about in a near-chaotic pattern until he found the place he had been seeking.

Across the street -upon the corner of which he stood- there was an old building that was set low in its stature, boarded windows and a decrepit façade set upon the roadside walls of the warehouse showed signs of great age and the wear of many years sunlight and inclement weather had stripped the paint nearly bare. It was as though a great corpse of a building had been left to rot and decay in this forlorn and near-forgotten corner of the dockyards and the industrial district of the city, so it was that Erosen approached without looking to either side of himself. He was, in fact, quite sure that this was the building which he'd looked for and approaching what appeared to be a series of heavily boarded gaps, he outstretched his hand and pressed lightly upon a section which easily gavce way. The false door was quickly swung back into place by gravity after he'd passed beyond the yawning threshold in the wall and his eyes quickly adjusted to the comfortable dimness of the warehouse interior.

Three sets of footprints lay in the thin layer of dust which coated every upturned surface in the room. No furniture, no debris, no refuse, could be found in any corner or space along the generous floorplan which was entirely open, supported by a thin row of old wooden beams which held the roof firmly in place above Erosen's head. In the center of the room, the three sets of footprints all converged, two approaching, and one leaving. So it was that he too left his own set, walking deeper into the dark emptiness of the warehouse and quickly approaching the only other point of interest in the expanse of the room. A hooded figure stood, peering down at some small mote of perhaps offending dust which had settled upon their boots, the hooded head raising only slightly to regard the approaching Dark Elemental as Erosen approached. The fallen elemental gave a slight nod in return, greeting the figure and lowering his hood as he came to a stop.

"The information your people gave me was true as an archer's aim. Even as we speak their ship comes more to rest in the portside district. The harbormasters should soon complete their charge of explaining the city to them. From what I can see, the ones we were most interested in arrived intact and in seemingly good health."

The lone figure bowed their hooded head as Erosen revealed himself and revealed that the group had arrived in St. Veowulf.

"Verily, the Messenger believes the words of that soldier Isaiah, that they are the manifestation of the Inferno we have seen from the scrying and oneiromancy, and thus we shall go to deliver his people, furthering the deliverance of ours. You must find a way around or through this Federation blockade, and secure this man's town of Towraigth. The Messenger himself and some of our fellows will be accompanying you once you have suitable transport arranged; if our premonitions of the foe's strength are true then you shall require such aid. And if our premonitions of the Inferno are true then the forgotten isle we send you to may be where our invincible conqueror at last returns to reclaim his destiny in this world," The person paused to search through the inner folds of their cloak, and pulled out some murky-coloured meat, voice changing into one of dry humour, "You look famished; perhaps the Nature Elemental would care for some demon razorbat ham? If you need further incentive, I imagine you shall have an absolute feast on your hands from this quest."

The Darkling frowned, appraising the meat before letting a wrapped and bloodied hand reach out and grab ahold of the meat. The gaunt and sallow features of the man wore thin and pale even in the darkness of the warehouse and yet even then he found a way to slip a smile upon his lips," I would have rather preferred roast-cut than a steak, but I suppose it is to be expected that I'll be relegated to the table scraps of my betters until this is all over. We'll meet again soon enough I figure when we determine the nature of the Inferno for our master so I'll do my part, just make sure your people do theirs."

Turning on his heel, he drew up his hood about his face and slowly walked away, tearing off a small portion of the meat with his teeth and giving the near-rancid flesh a good one-two-chew before swallowing it down and bringing the morsel again to his lips for another bite. His face was twisted into the shape of a man in a form of sensory pain and agony, yet the Dark Element quickly flowed from the daemonic meal and into his body, rejuvenating him. It wasn't too many steps beyond the outside of the warehouse before the meal was finished and Erosen gave a contented sigh. It was sound two-part in its relief, for the first it had brought an end to the assault upon his senses, but to the second it had revitalized his body and mind. The whispers pushed to the back of his conscious mind, he strode out confident and full down winding city streets until he soon found himself outside a familiar building, from within he could feel the emanating presence of Darkness, Ice, and burning Fire. He winced, not at all pleased to be back in the presence of the Angelle, but he had little choice, they were his best bet past the blockade, so all he needed to do was find a way to convince them to take him along.

The two-story longhouse was of a typical architecture for most of the city, reminiscent of the warehouse Erosen had just been within. Walking in, his eyes immediately locked onto the party, finding their presence rather immediately distinguished by the sheer levels of Element that dripped from each. Striding up, he took up an austere disposition and brought up his arms in a subtle gesture of welcoming," Ah, there you all are. I've been looking for you since that turn past the tavern. Got distracted and all- did we find ourselves a convoy yet?"

[Rupudska]

As the vessel slipped slowly into the chilled (but not frigid) port of St. Veowulf, Catrin silently thanked all the ancestors she had that she could think of that she was a drider, and thus a naturally talented seamstress. She had already created a rather high-quality cloak of spider-silk for herself to wear and keep warm in, a scarf, and a large umbrella - large enough to cover her human half at least, as her spider half didn't really get soaked. Cold, yes, but not soaked. A hood, too, and it was all undyed and shiny white simply because Catrin couldn't decide what color to make it. She decided she'd decide later, which for her could be anywhere from 'the day they were in port' to 'never'.

All in all, she looked very shiny as she hobbled onto the firm Mater Terra and retched into the water, an action borne from seasickness and the smell of sulfur in the air. Catrin had learned, the hard way, that fish, ships, and her mixed poorly. Or was it whale? Hard to say. Her time on the boat was a bit of a haze, hiding belowdecks with her eyes glued to a window and letting herself out at night for fresh air that didn't have that same smell all wooden ships have belowdecks. She didn't wipe on her sleeve, as she was not a fabric-hating savage, but instead balled up some structural silk, wiped her face, and tossed it into the sea where it was promptly eaten by a fish. She gave it the finger. She swore it gave her the finger back.

"Damn mutant volcano fish," she muttered as she held her scarf tight against her nose and mouth, heading towards the blue-and-burgundy longhouse. As she looked up at its architecture, she made a decision.

Sky blue looked really nice with burgundy. Yeah. Those would be good colors.

She pushed open the door, quickly spotting Erosen, whom she walked up behind.

"Fancy you getting here after me, that whale must have disagreed with me more than I thought. Anything I miss?"

[Ameriganastan]

"There you are, lad. Was worried you'd vamoosed for good this time. Can't have our travelling party without our creepy shadow guy."

Eric strolled over and slapped him on the back in greeting.

"I'd offer you a drink, but the Fanny Pack Of Wonder is tapped out. And this ash-strewn shitheap has weak liquor. So I can't even resupply right now...I hate this place. Anyway, welcome back. And no, they're still sussing out the convoy deal. If it was up to me, we'd just stowaway. I once stowed away for 3 weeks on a merchant vessel. Survived on raw spices and pickles. Fun trip...til they found me below deck...and then ran into that group of sirens...then it got fun again. Sirens makes beautiful noises if you know what I mean."

He nudged him with his elbow as Catrin made her entrance.

"And there's the spider thing...say, spider lady..."

"Eric..."

"What? I was just going to say it was nice to see her...and possibly work my wooing skills...don't you judge me, you nagging toothpick. Moderation isn't easy you know...eh, I doubt I'd do it. I don't like bugs. Speaking of, my head has been itching for weeks."

He shook his hair out, an assortment of fleas and lice falling onto the floor. All dead as doornails.

"Well, that explains it. Guess I had some stowaways of my own from going so long without a wash...why are they all dead?"

"Because your blood can legally be classified as poison by now. Just a vile combo of liquor and some still undiscovered venereal diseases. Those poor bugs never had a chance..."

[Zarkenis Ultima]

"Oh, Erosen! You managed to catch up!"

The new voice belonged to Tristan, who walked up to the party after thanking the kindly clerk and taking a good look at the sheets displaying what convoys were still looking for additional ships. While the idea of selling the whole 'diplomats from Garmiccia' story to a group of captains while their ship was flying a pirate flag and had a broken crow's nest was less than appealing, he didn't see another option there, so he took note of which of the two groups seemed least troublesome for their purposes before heading back.

Seeing the darkling rejoin them was a pleasant surprise, and the Ice Elemental gave him an appreciative pat on the back before turning to address the group. "So it looks like we've got two options for convoys. One of them has mercenaries for protection and is offering a pretty penny for an additional ship to keep their stuff safe. The other one includes a bunch of Federation ships and is supposedly guaranteed to head out faster." He explained. "If those Federation sailors are as nice as the ones we met earlier tonight it might be convenient to go with them. We could even ask Bigelm and Galdenguard to vouch for us if we're having trouble getting approved. But on the other hand, if we sign up for the other convoy, the reward money would be a big help for our Garmiccian friends here." Here Tristan nodded in the direction of Katya and her entourage.

"What do you all think?"

[Lazarian]

Katya put her fingers on her chin, tapping slightly. It was a bit of a tough call.

Their journey to St. Veowulf had been quite nice. The South Gallians had been nothing but pleasant, and Captain Bilgelm and his compatriots had treated them quite kindly. It was really a shame their journey with the Southerners was over, and that they had landed in this city instead. While it was colder and closer in climate to her home (which was a relief), the acrid stench of the volcano was disgusting. There was no escaping it - it seemed as if it had sunk into every nook and cranny of this city. But at least Smith and Knud's offered some relief from the permeating odor. Pine cones. Quite nice.

Sadly, their little party had dwindled somewhat upon reaching the mainland. Colonel Mallow had bid them farewell and slipped off into the shadows, likely returning to his home town of Hexstead. It was a shame to see him go, but he explained that he'd prefer not to draw attention to himself (as he was a still-active combatant for the North), and considering this group...that was probably the right call. He was a handy and capable fellow, though, and Katya held no doubt that he'd make it home safely. Additionally, the giant wench had departed from the group as well, spitting some vile insults at Katya as she left. The bitch had holed up in the ship by herself nearly the entire time, offering nothing but curses and malice in return to any attempts at conversation. Needless to say, Katya wasn't sad to see her go.

"I say we go for the money." interrupted Ivan quickly, rubbing his greedy hands together. "It is long way to Albrheim. And then further to Auregen still. Every bit of coin we can get may be necessary for provisions." he wheedled, shivering as he finished.

He had an odd habit of shivering recently. Even though the climate was much closer to their homeland of Garmiccia, Katya had noticed that he'd bundled up much more than what she thought was appropriate. In contrast to Katya's simple shirt and skirt, he'd bundled up in a thick fur coat, as well as a heavy cloak and then a helm on top of that. It seemed like a rather lot, considering that the unlucky manservant was carrying a well-laden pack as well. While it was chilly, it was hardly worth all that. And yet, despite all the encumbrance, he seemed cold.

Timur skulked in the back of the group, as usual. Wrapped in a simple black cloak and dark blue tunic adorned with the Garmiccian crest, he attempted not to draw much attention to himself. His terribly scarred face had healed somewhat, although a large patch on the right side (the side closer to the deck of the ship) was still nearly raw, a gaping red mark down the side. It stung with exposure to air, but it was better than it had been. He'd had plenty of time on the ship to lie low belowdecks and heal, playing cards and dice with Ivan.

When Erosen entered, his eyes narrowed in shock. The darkling? Unbelievable. They had lost him upon departing the city! He had fallen into the waves, a victim of the pounding seas for sure. And yet, here he stood, alive and well as ever. Quite surprising. Not that Timur was displeased, of course. It was rare to see a brother in the flesh, and he hadn't the proper opportunity to dig and pry to learn a little more. Perhaps a real chance would emerge now.

Alexei, standing head and shoulders above the rest (except for Catrin, of couse), nodded in agreement. He'd had plenty of time to recover from his wounds sustained in the battle as well. The tear in his lung had gone away and recovered, leaving only a persistent soreness as a reminder.

"Indeed." he thundered, in support of Ivan (which was a rare thing indeed). "I believe it is possible to make journey without more coin, but with additional money on hand, it would be possible to travel the land stretch of the journey by stagecoach, or even one of those magic boxes."

Trains were a wild mystery to Garmiccians. The idea of a box on wheels that could move without any horse drawn carriage was absurd and laughable, although there were rumors of sleighs piloted by ironborn that rode on treads of metal in some areas of the northern Garmiccian provinces. Of course, such a thing was only possible by magic.

Katya sighed.

"Vell, I personally lean towards the Federation ships. As lovely as this area is, the Watchtower cult still remains strong in the South. The Federation sailors serve as both excellent hosts and good protection. But the reward money is certainly tempting..." she finished, trailing off into silence.

"Perhaps we should look for more manpower before pursuing one direction or another? I vould love to add a few members to our traveling party. After all, strength in numbers, yes?"

[Kassaran]

The Darkling was quickly and roundly greeted by any number of responses and acknowledgements as he reintroduced himself to the party, no one dropping a beat or objecting to his sudden reappearance. Feeling a presence appear behind him, or moreover walk over on eight very massive legs, he turned around and smiled warmly at Catrin. She was the first to acknowledge him, but given that he had only just walked in, she must have been hot on his trail and he gave a worried thought to the possible meanings of just such an assumption. How long had she been following him, or had he simply just not seen her on his way into the building? It was likely, but implausible given her size and... unique figure. Not an altogether unappealing one to someone well-acquainted with various demi-humans, but also not the most comforting of appearances. Thinking along the lines of those well-acquainted with demi-humans and not having the most comforting of appearances- a wallop on the back and feeling a slight exhalation of breath from his lungs from the sheer force had him looking over his shoulder in surprise.

The warmth emanating from the Angelle in her current form and the smile from the old man beside him was infectious, much like his blood. He gave a slight frown as he regarded the shower of dead parasites, but figured he shouldn't read too much into it. The third voice to respond to his arrival was a familiar one and he turned to give a thin smile. The icy-blue eyes of Tristan smiled back at him warmly and Erosen tried to hold the gaze before shifting it away, uncomfortable, sick almost in a small way. The damned Angelle made things complicated here, but as he listened to the Ice Elemental list their options, his eyes widened at the listing of the Federation fleet. They would already likely be heading the direction that he had been ordered to investigate. If all things worked out, he'd be fed and his master would thank him even moreso for the present company he held. Most were powerful elementals from the group he'd been a part of three years prior and thus the perfect companions.

The Garmiccian party began to make their own opinions on how things should go and as he looked at each one, his eyes settled on one in particular. Intent purple irises swirled with a mixture of emotion and Erosen attempted to recompose himself. That man, he wasn't... right. something was off and Erosen let his eyes narrow before turning back towards Katya and shaking his head. She was right that more manpower would be nice for her mission, but he had a deadline and not much time left to fulfill it. Failure wasn't going to be an option and his contacts had told him the Federation would likely be the best way forward. He stepped forward, leaving more than enough room between himself and Katya, but putting forth his opinion on the matter.

"Unfortunately, we don't have the luxury of time. The soldiers represent the best means forward to Albrheim and to lands beyond that. The Garmiccian delegation would best be served by moving forth under the current region's protection to foster the health of the mission. We'll take the Federation convoy. Whomever we pick up along the way can be more than welcome to remain on with our group, but in the end there is little time if we're to enjoy further local protection. Money and wealth can come later."

He added emphasis on the last word of the last sentence, turning his attentions towards the Garmiccian rogue whom had brought up the point of moving with the mercenaries. there were too many loose ends and liabilities with that route and the current timeline of setting out with another group was unacceptable in his own mind. So it was that he'd find one way or another to convince whomever was needed to take the early-bound route out of the city. Bowing his head, having said his piece, he stepped towards the side and motioned towards Lisoette with a beckoning gesture.

[Lazarian]

"Unfortunately, we don't have the luxury of time. The soldiers represent the best means forward to Albrheim and to lands beyond that. The Garmiccian delegation would best be served by moving forth under the current region's protection to foster the health of the mission. We'll take the Federation convoy. Whomever we pick up along the way can be more than welcome to remain on with our group, but in the end there is little time if we're to enjoy further local protection. Money and wealth can come later."

Ivan's brow furrowed, as the prospect of additional wealth began to slip away from his grasp. The reasoning wasn't bad, by any means, but nothing would stand between him and a thick pile of loot. He'd already accrued quite a bit between the pickpocketing, his split of the treasure, and this...whatever it was, encased in ice, but there was no such thing as too much. Why, when they were finished on this blasted continent, he had half a mind to become a minor lord! Then he'd be the one issuing commands for once. No Lord Kuznetsov, no Captain Petrov, or no government officials to boss him around. And nobody would stand in his path. It was time to strike low.

"And who are you to tell us what to do, demon?" he spat, his hands shivering as he pointed accusingly. "How are you even still alive? I saw you plummet off the deck of ship. You should have drowned. Did the dark itself kick you back here?"

He paused, breathing more heavily. Now that he was getting into it, he actually was starting to get concerned.

"But let us say you managed to swim to shore. How did you traverse a whole ocean and find exactly which town we were staying in, arriving at or before us? We said we were going to Auregen. And yet, you arrive right where we stand, in St. Veovulf."

He turned, pointing at the other group members.

"I know you say you trust this Erosen, but creatures of the dark are masters of deception. I'll bet a pretty penny he wants to speed us along, because the quicker we get there, the sooner he can get us alone to suck out our blood and leave our corpses dry as dust! What have you to say about this, darkling? I say we ride as mercenaries." he finished quietly, so that no other groups in the building could hear. He wasn't attempting to draw more attention than necessary.

"Shut up, you stupid lout." muttered Timur to himself under his breath, shaking his head. "It's not blood they drink."

As Katya began to reply, Timur cleared his throat, and then proceeded to push Katya to the side and out of the way.

"Well, I for one see the merit in this man's argument." he growled confidently as he cut her off before she could start, giving Erosen a sly wink. "We're all friends here! Let us celebrate his return, rather than worrying about his nature. The more the merrier. And speaking of numbers, I say we leave with Federation convoy."

Katya, scowling bitterly at such disrespect, shook her head, before proceeding to push Timur right back out of the way and back to where he belonged. Or, at least, she tried. He was hardly a big man, but she was also rather frail in comparison. Perhaps he moved a few inches.

"Don't speak over me, you goddamned peasant." she spat, venom in her voice. How dare he. His flagrant disrespect for her continued to infuriate her - it was clear he only cared for her father. It was a near constant reminder of her lack of authority, or her inability to leave her father's shadow, rather than the mere interruption. Shaking her head, she continued.

"For once, Ivan raises good point." she said nervously, looking around at the surroundings. It would be bad to draw attention to themselves (or at least, more than they already had, considering the giant drider), but answers were necessary. "How did you get here, Erosen? It is most peculiar indeed."

[Ameriganastan]

"Unfortunately, we don't have the luxury of time. The soldiers represent the best means forward to Albrheim and to lands beyond that. The Garmiccian delegation would best be served by moving forth under the current region's protection to foster the health of the mission. We'll take the Federation convoy. Whomever we pick up along the way can be more than welcome to remain on with our group, but in the end there is little time if we're to enjoy further local protection. Money and wealth can come later."

Ivan's brow furrowed, as the prospect of additional wealth began to slip away from his grasp. The reasoning wasn't bad, by any means, but nothing would stand between him and a thick pile of loot. He'd already accrued quite a bit between the pickpocketing, his split of the treasure, and this...whatever it was, encased in ice, but there was no such thing as too much. Why, when they were finished on this blasted continent, he had half a mind to become a minor lord! Then he'd be the one issuing commands for once. No Lord Kuznetsov, no Captain Petrov, or no government officials to boss him around. And nobody would stand in his path. It was time to strike low.

"And who are you to tell us what to do, demon?" he spat, his hands shivering as he pointed accusingly. "How are you even still alive? I saw you plummet off the deck of ship. You should have drowned. Did the dark itself kick you back here?"

He paused, breathing more heavily. Now that he was getting into it, he actually was starting to get concerned.

"But let us say you managed to swim to shore. How did you traverse a whole ocean and find exactly which town we were staying in, arriving at or before us? We said we were going to Auregen. And yet, you arrive right where we stand, in St. Veovulf."

He turned, pointing at the other group members.

"I know you say you trust this Erosen, but creatures of the dark are masters of deception. I'll bet a pretty penny he wants to speed us along, because the quicker we get there, the sooner he can get us alone to suck out our blood and leave our corpses dry as dust! What have you to say about this, darkling? I say we ride as mercenaries." he finished quietly, so that no other groups in the building could hear. He wasn't attempting to draw more attention than necessary.

"Shut up, you stupid lout." muttered Timur to himself under his breath, shaking his head. "It's not blood they drink."

As Katya began to reply, Timur cleared his throat, and then proceeded to push Katya to the side and out of the way.

"Well, I for one see the merit in this man's argument." he growled confidently as he cut her off before she could start, giving Erosen a sly wink. "We're all friends here! Let us celebrate his return, rather than worrying about his nature. The more the merrier. And speaking of numbers, I say we leave with Federation convoy."

Katya, scowling bitterly at such disrespect, shook her head, before proceeding to push Timur right back out of the way and back to where he belonged. Or, at least, she tried. He was hardly a big man, but she was also rather frail in comparison. Perhaps he moved a few inches.

"Don't speak over me, you goddamned peasant." she spat, venom in her voice. How dare he. His flagrant disrespect for her continued to infuriate her - it was clear he only cared for her father. It was a near constant reminder of her lack of authority, or her inability to leave her father's shadow, rather than the mere interruption. Shaking her head, she continued.

"For once, Ivan raises good point." she said nervously, looking around at the surroundings. It would be bad to draw attention to themselves (or at least, more than they already had, considering the giant drider), but answers were necessary. "How did you get here, Erosen? It is most peculiar indeed."

"Hey, who cares how he got here? Let's just be glad he is here and not dead. We're all companions after all. Like you, Ivan. Buddy of mine..."

Eric threw an arm around Ivan like they were old pals...which quickly morphed into a friendly looking but-just-tight-enough-to-choke headlock.

"You shouldn't be casting stones like that, friend. It's rude. Especially from a creeper like you, huh? Maybe don't go accusing people of bad stuff when you've got the eyes of a man with a lot of dark secrets in his past, eh?"

He patted him on the cheek and released him, turning his attention to Timur.

"Timur, buddy old pal. You shouldn't interrupt ladies. Or shove them like that. How would you like it if someone..."

He placed a hand on his chest, a faint blue glow coming off of it.

"Shoved you?"

He lightly shoved him...which sent Timur flying across the room and into the wall.

"Oops, Belle accidentally juiced my hand. Silly old sword, you. We could have hurt dear Timur."

The glow faded from his hand and he turned his attention to Katya.

"And you. Come on, lady. Are you a scrapper or what? Next time Captain Creepy shoves you, get fiery! Don't just shove him back. Kick him in his boys, gouge the eyes, bite him! These two schmucks work for you, so remind them of it! Get fierce and kick some ass! Yeah! I am insanely turned on right now!"

He stabbed Belle into the ground and marched outside to possibly score. Belle taking her physical form a moment later.

"Moderation he said..."