Scrolls of Iria: The Isle of the Sun

Discussion in 'Role Play' started by Fan7asticMrFox, Jun 1, 2015.

  1. Balderdash

    Balderdash Member

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    Vila

    When the mutiny started, Vila had been laying awake in her room, sitting like a statue in a corner stool and staring at nothing. "What now?" she had grumbled to herself, and when she heard the other passengers start to get captured she had scowled and decided to stow herself away. It never crossed her mind to try to help the others. Who were they to her? Let them fend for themselves, if they could.

    It was simple enough to find a nice small barrel, slip inside, and ice the top shut from the inside. There Vila waited, grumbling to herself every once in a while, nestled in the bulk of her huge leopard pelt.

    A day and a night later, she decided it was time to bust out. There were sounds of the prisoners retaliating and then everything quieted, and Vila wanted to see who had won. She blew the top off of the barrel and tried to climb out, but the barrel fell over and smashed into frozen pieces of wood. "That was less than graceful," she grumbled to herself.

    "Arrrgh, little missy, ye be coming with me!"

    Vila looked up at the dirty Merc who standing over her, her eyes glinting darkly. He was of slight build and carried a sword, and a deep scowl was fixed on his ugly face. "I don't think I'll be going anywhere with you," Vila growled fiercely, slowly rising to her feet.

    "What?" the Merc babbled, confused. He didn't understand why this girl wasn't afraid and her dark blue skin unnerved him. He cleared his throat and tried again. "I said, ye be coming with me! And don't get sassy, little missy, or I'll cut yer throat!"

    Vila reached up and grabbed the man's wrist, the one that was holding the sword. His skin turned an awful shade of blue under her slender fingers as she let some of the cold inside her veins leak into him. He let out an agonizing shriek of pain and dropped his weapon, but still, Vila did not let go.

    She pulled him down so that his ear was next to her mouth, and she growled, "So you think it's fun to kill, do you? Huh? Well, I'm here to tell you that it's not. It can haunt you for the rest of your days. You should never take a life unless you are sure you can deal with the consequences. And you should never, ever underestimate your prey." With that, she let go and he stumbled and fell on his back. Vila walked by him and held out her hand, and a roaring blue mist sprayed from her palm and froze him to the bone within seconds.

    A minute later, Vila had found her way to the others. She strolled up behind them and leaned against the wall, her arms folded and a little frown on her black-lipped mouth. "Is the fighting over?" she asked in a low growl, her dark gaze sweeping over her fellow passengers. "I would very much like to continue our journey, if you don't mind."
     
  2. Love to Write

    Love to Write I'm a lover of writing. What else is to be said? Contributor

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    "I would very much like to continue our journey, if you don't mind."

    "Like we're the ones delaying our journey..." Meek scoffed at the human who'd just approached. She pushed past the man who'd just picked the lock. "Nice job. Could've done it two seconds quicker but...details." She looked around the room almost cheering when she saw her violin. Scrapped and dirty but still whole.

    Meek rushed over to it and hugged it to her chest, a bright smile on her face. With her violin in hand, all other worries seemed to fade from existance. She finally looked up at the other passengers still standing in front of the door. "Well, what'chya waiting for? And invitation? You're supplies arn't gonna collect themselves." With that she smirked and began looking for her other belongings.
     
  3. Fan7asticMrFox

    Fan7asticMrFox Contributor Contributor

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    Within Nature's Wrath

    The Kamela found herself in the eye of the Gods, with the clear night sky above but the wall of the deadly storm surrounding her. The ship eased on the waters and the rain died down, leaving just the howling wind to cut across the stern in this brief moment of serenity.

    The mercenary crew toiled hard to sail the ship back towards the East and towards Sin'Das'Rei, while their new taskmaster grunted out orders. "Sail! Sail for da East, boys. Sail or I gut'cha like'a Old Cap'tain." Mumbles roared loudly, his voice carrying and echoing forever over the tranquil sea. He jammed the stolen Captain's hat further on, his head so large that it made little difference and began to juggle his two massive daggers in the air. To an average man they were more like swords. "I be warning ya Bruddas, Sail hard or I gut'cha! Gut'cha wid my Fang n Tooth!" He caught the blades and presented them over the helm for all who could see.

    The mood of the crew had changed dramatically. They were broken men, promised to coin, promised to freedom of orders and promised to something so much better. The Captain may have changed but the tyranny stayed the same only this was a figure they truly feared. Many had been witnesses to Mumbles brutal killings, cheering him on when he had been on their side. Yet the longer Mumbles was Captain, the more they realised that he had never been on anyone's side.
     
  4. mmarage

    mmarage The Detective Contributor

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    I ran into the room and saw my scythe, my eyes widened, I ran over to it and hugged it, rubbing my cheek against it. "Oh, I'm so sorry baby, if those men even put one scratch you, I'll turn them into tiny little cubes of meat and feed 'em to the fishes!" I looked around the room and saw my trunk, I rushed over to it and yanked it open, still holding my scythe, I attached a small leather pouch to my belt and began to fill it with 3 blue vials and 5 containers of ointment, leaving the rest in the trunk for later use, the stuff I had would only take up space or would potentially harm the ship.

    I pulled my hood up and turned around, my face barely visible, no traces of emotion to be detected, my scythe hanging loosely from my grip, hanging over my shoulder, it easily towered over me by a good three or four feet. "I shall send them all to the underworld, may they burn for their sins, my scythe shall dine upon their flesh and blood." My voice had gone very cold and emotionless... then I suddenly I grinned. "Was that convincing?~" I set my scythe to the side, pulled down my hood, and put my hands behind my head, still grinning. "Sometimes I can get guys to wet themselves and run away, it's really funny." I chuckled. "Though of course, it's usually the ones that are really green or really big cowards." I tilted my head. "But it may still unnerve some." I put my finger to my chin. "...Oh well, let's get this show on the road, I've been brimming with energy for weeks now and I really need to release some, like now!" I grabbed my scythe again and waited over by the door.
     
  5. Fan7asticMrFox

    Fan7asticMrFox Contributor Contributor

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    Pac clasped his hands together and stared at Joe wide eyed. "Fantastic! For a moment there I thought you might run me through, but then I remembered that I am not a pirate!" He slowly looked down at his threads, inspected his pirate disguise and gulped nervously, "Perhaps I should get out of these clothes." His moment of worry was short lived and he smiled again and held out his hands to Joe, handing over a large imaginary bag, "p-please don't kill me, take my sack of gold!"

    Tango had already rid himself of his pirate disguise and now bore a suit of dull black leather armour, which seemed to swallow away any light that tried to touch it. A black fabric cover ran up his neck all the way to the bridge of his nose, leaving only his eyes and forehead visible. It was almost as if he wasn't even there.

    Pac on the other hand opted for a lavish burgundy coat with gold trimmings and a high neck collar, which fit thin and tightly on his frame, flowing gracefully behind. Brown leather armour could be seen at his chest, it ran up to his neck and it had gold sigils crested on it, all of which was absolutely pristine.

    "Let's get our gear together everyone... it's show time!"
     
  6. AnonyMouse

    AnonyMouse Contributor Contributor

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    "Ah, so here's the mighty scythe I've heard so much about," Syl remarked with a smirk when she laid eyes upon Joe's obscenely large weapon. "I am positively trembling, darling. Oooooh." She shivered with fear before giving the boy a teasing wink and strolling past him into the room.

    She didn't need anything and had packed lightly for this trip. Syl knelt to check her two bags. One was stuffed with clothing for various climates, as well as some dried rations and camping gear; she gave it a quick once over, to make sure the pirates hadn't been trying on her dresses and underthings. The other had a few supplies, including a small blacksmithing kit; trinkets to sell at market; bottles of expensive liquor; scrolls filled with notes, arcane sigils, metallurgic formulae, and academic musings; and some 'medicinal' herbs of questionable legality.

    There was also a small iron box, like a jewelry case. It had no lock, just a solid lump of metal where one should be, as if the keyhole and tumblers had fused shut. Only her magic could open it. There was no jewelry inside, just a large ingot of very rare, very expensive metal, which she'd been saving for years. Syl held it for a moment, smiled, and whispered to herself, "Someday…" before setting it back inside the suitcase.

    Satisfied that everything was as she'd left it, the Sun Elf stood and shouldered her parasol. She moved to the door to be a lookout while the others retrieved their things. She didn't want them to be caught off guard if more pirates wandered by.
     
  7. schwuldubist

    schwuldubist Member

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    Saorla

    Saorla shuffled behind the other crew members. She had always been quite, but now she was in shock at how easily these fellow shipmates could… murder. These people were awful calm considering they took another life, and that disturbed her more than the dead bodies. She wanted to help the bard, but felt doing so would make her more enemies than she could handle. Instead, Saorla grabbed the arms of the unconscious body and dragged the girl into the room. Although it was a short distance, Saorla was panting as she glanced around, looking at her meager bag of belongings. She didn’t even bother to make sure it was all there, there was nothing of value. She shifted on her wait awkwardly between her legs as they gathered their weapons.
     
  8. #Otaku

    #Otaku Member

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    Evan cast his gaze around the room, and picked up his small pouch of money. He didn't know what use it would be, but he might as well take it. He also opened another small pouch slightly, and found it full of dried meats and biscuits. He had eaten all the food he had packed, and so, not caring whose it was, fastened it to his belt before walking out of the room and joining the Sun Elf as a lookout in case any pirates walked by while the others were still collecting their belongings.
     
  9. Erik-the-Enchanter!

    Erik-the-Enchanter! Senior Member

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    Shango

    Shango smiled weakly when Syl complimented his body, then he went into the unlocked room and exchanged his iron staff for the large ebony staff in the corner with shiny gold caps on each end. He took the ebony staff in his hand, whispered to it like it was a living thing, and then tapped it on the ground. There was a dazzling flash and the plain staff became solid-gold with hieroglyphics carved all along its length and a gold circle on top. It radiated power, casting a brilliant yellow glow on everything in the room.

    "Now, I shall avenge our late captain," Shango declared. He was standing tall now, as if the Staff gave him strength, and magically a flowing crimson robe had appeared on his body, along with two gold bands on his forearms and a thin gold circlet around his head. He shook back his glossy black braids and headed out the door. Syl was standing there keeping watch; Shango grinned at her, and said, "You are always on top of things, aren't you?"
     
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  10. Balderdash

    Balderdash Member

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    Vila

    "Like we're the ones delaying our journey..."

    Vila narrowed her eyes at Meek. She looked like a woman, but smaller, her shiny brown mane spilling over her shoulders. Fierce eyes and strong arms. A dwarf, Vila thought to herself. She considered walking up to Meek and grabbing her neck and freezing her soft white skin under her dark blue hand, but she pushed that idea aside. She couldn't go around killing the other passengers, they would all just turn on her.

    As if they could kill me.
    Vila's lips pulled up in a bitter smile. Her dark eyes swept over their ragtag group, from the exotic black sorcerer to the twitchy red-haired woman, and she thought, I could take them. But her smile quickly faded and her ever-present frown returned. That was why she needed the fire of the Sun Elves. If someone tried to kill her, should would not be able to stop from fighting back, and she had yet to meet a warrior she could not defeat with her ice powers. But if she could find a fire strong enough to destroy her frozen body...there wouldn't be a fight. Only sweet, sweet death.

    Snapping out of her reverie, Vila stuck her middle finger at the turned back of Meek and walked over to a dark corner to brood until they headed above deck to fight the other Mercs. Her movements were stiff and she winced slightly with each step. And even though she wore a huge pelt, she hugged herself and rubbed her arms. She stared hatefully at the rest of the group.
     
  11. Fan7asticMrFox

    Fan7asticMrFox Contributor Contributor

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    The heroes armed themselves with their gear and with their anger, knowing they had one job to do. Kill Mumbles. For two days they had been stranded on this boat as prisoners to moronic pirate fools and a madman, and now it was their time to dish out the pain, now it was there time to command the boat, now it was there time to attack.

    In a blaze of glory the heroes roared underneath the deck, loud enough to spook the sailors in the storm and they burst forth from the Kamela cargo hold, weapons up and magic in their palms. The thunderous roars across the sky did little to distract them and the heavy rain did nothing to dissuade them from this fight. They were hungry. They were angry. They were ready.

    "Kill dem Bruddas! KILL DEM!" Mumbles roared. The pirate crew drew their rapiers and charged fast at the heroes, their fear for Mumbles outweighing the chance of death. Though they were wary; they had seen some of these powerful passengers in action before.

    Pac jumped up on a mast and circled round it, flaying one arm out in the air, feeling the rain on his face and smiling stupidly. "Fantastic! We'll get to see our new talent in action Tango!"

    "You're really sitting this one out?" Tango snorted, pulling two curved katanas from nowhere and spinning them playfully in his hands. "Suit yourself." In a single heartbeat, Tango launched one sword through the air and into a crew member's chest, the blade flying with such force that it threw the pirate back and pinned him to the foremast. The other span in his hand wildly, slicing with lightning speed. "That's one for me. Keep up!"
     
  12. Erik-the-Enchanter!

    Erik-the-Enchanter! Senior Member

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    ,Shango

    Once he was above deck, Shango inhaled the fresh air and the wind whipped his crimson robes into a frenzy. The black sorcerer looked up at Mumbles across the ship, his amber-colored eyes glinting darkly between his lashing braids. This man would pay for what he had done to their beloved captain, poor Isaac. But first, they had to cut through the riffraff.

    "The time for reckoning is now," Shango intoned as he strode forward. A Merc ran at him from the left and another ran at him from the right. Shango thrust out his hand at the attacker on the left and a violent burst of wind surged at him and sent him flying into the sea. With a small, joyless grin, Shango turned to deal with the attacker on the right, but this man was already too close. Shango didn't have any time to call on the wind or anything fancy, he just took a fighting stance and jabbed his attacker in the gut.

    The filthy Merc went down, gasping for air. Shango stood over him, gloating. "I bet you regret killing the captain," Shango hissed at him. The Merc glared up at him and, as quick as a snake, he tried to slice p[en Shango's belly with a rusty knife. Shango would have been gutted, but there came a whooshing noise and the Merc was picked up by a swirling ball of mist and then tossed him into the air. When he came back down, he landed head-first and did not move again. The wind-ball wobbled a bit and then disappeared with a soft sigh.

    Shango was confused for a moment, but then he remembered the wind-ball he had created in the corridor below decks. It shouldn't have even still been around, and yet it had lasted longer than usual and even came to save him. Shango shook his head and smiled wonderingly. Magic never failed to surprise him.

    Holding his Staff and raising his head high, Shango strode onward, making a broad gesture. The raging storm-winds changed course and blasted the Mercs out of his way as he made his way to Mumbles.
     
  13. Arvak

    Arvak Member

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    Max walked into the quartermaster storeroom and looked about for his belongs though he hadn't expected to find his crossbow as well, he was sure that that pirate had taken it, probably couldn't figure out how it worked he thought. He picked it up, flicked out the bayonet and arms to make sure it still worked and then folded it back up and slung it on his back. Then he locate his pack and got out some of those "useful item" he had mentioned before. after closing his pack he followed after his fellow ex-prisoners to the deck of the ship.

    once topside he saw that Shango was already engaging some of the pirates and it wasn't long before once came charging at Max. Max flicked out his arms flinging a device similar to the one in his room when the pirates captured him, though the motion was so quick the result burst of fire from the device that engulfed the pirate could've been confused for a magic spell, as the pirate fell Max used the longsword he'd gotten from Syl to impale him as he flailed around on the floor. the blade warped in the heat and got stuck so he just left it and turned toward where Shango was fighting ready to draw his crossbow to support only to see that he was blowing pirates aside as he advanced across the deck.

    Max smirked at the site and just leaned on the ships railing and watched. after a moment he began humming a shanty he had heard once traveling on a ship before.
    "Oh, blow the man down, bullies, blow the man down!
    To me way-aye, blow the man down
    Oh, Blow the man down, bullies, blow him right down!
    Give me some time to blow the man down!"
     
    Last edited: Jul 24, 2015
  14. Love to Write

    Love to Write I'm a lover of writing. What else is to be said? Contributor

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    Meek: The True Bard

    Ew.


    Meek wrinkled her nose as pirates were slain left and right. Blood everywhere. And it stunk. Human blood always stunk. Like iron. Why is that?
    Meek dodged a pirate lunging past her for a fellow crew member and stuck out a leg, tripping him. She chuckled then climbed up the main mast until she was just above the lifeboats. She dropped down into one, smiling at herself at her cleverness. Let the humans and elves and mages do the dirty work. No point trying to fight against the storm and pirates. Specially not when it risked getting blood on her clothes and cloak.

    She pulled out her violin and bow. But the wind threatened to rip the bow from her fingers so she returned it to its quiver and lay her fingers on the strings, wondering what melody would fit this scene.
    Just across from her another human was leaning against the railing watching the goddy-dressed prince dancing through the pirates, cutting them down with ease, and with magic...of course. Whatever happened to a good-ol fashion rapier.

    A tune from the man hit her sensitive ears, just barely audible above the raging storm. She recognized it immediately, and her foot began to tap the bottom of the little fishing boat in beat with the little shanty. Meek pulled her violin closer and began to strum the cords of the song. A smile lit up her face and in a loud voice, she began to sing.


    "Oh, blow the man down, bullies, blow the man down!
    To me way-aye, blow the man down
    Oh, Blow the man down, bullies, blow him away!
    Give me some time to blow the man down!

    We will go to the bar on the 13th of may,
    To me way hey blow the man down,
    A gallup or jump can like give him away,
    Oh give me some time to blow the man down,

    As i was a walking down paradise street,
    To me way hey blow the man down
    A saucy young mantle i happen to meet,
    gimme some time to blow the man down,

    I says to a collie and how do you do,
    to me way hey blow the man down,
    Says she none the better for seein' a few
    Oh gimme some time to blow the man down.

    Oh ho sailors as tinkers and tailors as men,
    To me way hey blow the man down,
    And we're all of us coming to see you again,
    Oh gimme some time to blow the man down,

    So we'll blow the man up and we'll blow the man down
    To me way hey blow the man down,
    And we'll blow him away into liverpool town,
    Gimme some time to blow the man down,

    Gimme some time into blow the man down,
    gimme time,
    gimme time,
    gimme time
    gimme time
    gimme time
    gimme time to blooooowwwwww, blow the man dooowwwwnnnnnnnn!"
     
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  15. Kingtype

    Kingtype Always writing or thinking things XD Contributor

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    The Bard’s eyes opened slowly, adjusting to her location; nonononononoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!

    Her breathing increased as her string of mental of no’s went on and on and on and on; how had she ended up here. The room was dimly lit save for several candles scattered about the place which allowed Bard to find her footing. The place was or at least looked like a pub. It must of belonged to those filthy pirates but thankfully even if they had killed the others, they at least hadn't made any perverted attempts on her while she'd been asleep. The Bard’s eyes scanned the room on finally settled on the counter and like the rest of the place it was barren save for shelves of stacked booze.

    Best to make an escape before those heathens returned.

    “Can’t escape the heathens in here.” A man’s voice said causing The Bard to turn quickly. A man that had not once there before sat comfortably his red hair glowing in the candle light and an icy gaze with eyes that perfectly matched hers.

    The Bard swallowed.

    A master of mind magic? Was her first thought.

    She watched in silence as the man used the candle nearest to him to light a cigar.

    "What sort of spell have you case upon me?" She asked.

    The man took a puff from the stick. "No spells." He frowned. "You have nervous look to you."

    "People make me nervous." The Bard sighed backing away. "N...n...now who are you!?" She breathed. "One of the pirates!?" The Bared closed blinked and much to her surprise the white haired man had vanished.

    Poof....

    Before The Bard could shriek in terror her attention was completely taken by bright light that flood the room and a large stage fit for the best of bards was now to the furthest end of the bard. The Bard shook her head.

    What the hell was going on!?

    The young woman's mouth stretched open giving a silent scream as Syl stepped on the stage......or not Syl!? The elven woman stood in the shining light, her blonde hair now short and cut into pompadour fashion and her clothing was blue with shining silvery items on it.

    The Bard opened her mouth speak but was cut off as both her mother and father appeared at Syl's side both of them with cold expressionless faces, then Syl began to sing her voice loudly going through the entire room.

    "THE FIRST CUT IS THE DEEPEST, BABY I KNOW!!!!" The older elven sang with passion. The Bard slumped to her knees holding he ears from the sound and her body shuttered as fresh blood began to leak from now opened throat.

    A voice

    That MAN'S voice spoke in her head.

    "They are all like wolves hungry for you."
    It said. "A pack of unsatisfied dogs and what are you? You're a ball of cowering ball of piss...."

    The Bard choked more crimson pooling on the floor bewlow, Syl's musical number still going on. "BUT WHEN IT COMES TO BEING LUCKY SHE'S CURSED, WHEN IT COMES TO LOVING ME THEY'RE THE WORST!"

    "Are you scared?" It asked. "Go on and run....run.....run.....run.....run.....run....run....run....run......run....run.....run.....run......"

    "THE FIRST CUT IS THE DEEPEST, BABY I KNOW!!" The music grew distant and The Bard's eyes slowly shut as the she began to slip away from her injury she took one final breath through nostrils.......getting the full smell of urine.

    ---

    "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"

    The Bard's waking scream was loud her soggy pants squishing as she sat up.

    Glass cups shattered and windows cracked at the disgusting screech. The Bard grabbed her throat checking for damages; looking through the room with tear stained eyess and the sounds of violence echoing through out the ship along with the remainder of her mighty scream.

    "Oh...." She coughed. "What's......wha....what's happening?"
     
    Last edited: Jul 9, 2015
  16. JessWrite

    JessWrite Word Nerd & Proud! Contributor

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    Maiya Gwyther

    "You’re the finisher."


    That's what Syl had told her to be, but thankfully, the elf woman and the musical dwarf committed the murder themselves. Better the blood be on their hands, not her own. Maiya had kept quiet after that, mulling over her thoughts, thinking on the amount of death she was bound to see by signing up to help the two elf men. But were they all expected to be finishers of life?

    Maiya stared with wide eyes, bow at the ready. Killing wasn't on her agenda, but she couldn't simply stand around. She intended to be useful in her own way. She had plenty of arrows since restocking from her supplies and her new bow was nicer than her old one, strong and firm. The wood felt good inside her palm and begged to be used, she could hardly wait any longer.

    Quick on her feet, Maiya dodged the chaos around her and raised her bow, releasing an arrow which precisely struck the ship mast close to a pirate's head. From afar, she saw a flicker of surprise cross his face and his lips moved, probably muttering various expletives. And then...he charged, blade shining in his grimy hand.

    Maiya yelped, ducking his sword that flew near her. Pumping adrenaline sent her running to the opposite side of the ship, jumping over slain bodies and past others in the midst of the fighting. She nocked another arrow in the gap of time she had and when the pirate was too close for comfort she picked up her pace again, running away from him as if in a game of chase. She grinned at the humor of it all, the song the dwarf was singing made the scene somehow funny in her mind.

    "Tired yet, Slowpoke?" Maiya shouted to the pirate after another circle round. Sweat beaded against his forehead and dirty hair stuck to his skin, but his scowl remained. "Me either."
     
    Last edited: Jul 10, 2015
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  17. Balderdash

    Balderdash Member

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    Vila

    Everyone else went above deck before Vila. The morbid blue-skinned girl let them all rush by and then made her slow way to the steps, grimacing in pain as she climbed them. I'll feel better after this fight, Vila thought. When she didn't use magic for a long time, jagged ice-shards built up inside her body, tripling the pain she usually felt times three. After she expunged some of the cold inside of her, she would feel better but the pain would never go away. It would always be there, gnawing at her soul.

    Vila had barely gone up three steps when the Bard screamed like a tortured animal. The sound was utterly unbearable. Vila pulled her furry hat further down over her head to cover her ears and turned to glare at the Bard.

    "What's......wha....what's happening?"

    "We're fighting, that's what's happening, you imbecile," Vila growled darkly. "You can be useful and join the fight, or you can stay down here and scream like a banshee. Actually, do not scream like that again, or I will end your life and enjoy every minute of it." Vila started to turn and stomp away, but she stopped and took a deep breath.

    "I'm sorry, that was harsh, you obviously had a night terror," she amended haltingly. "I have them, too. About my sister. That's why I try to sleep as little as possible. But life goes on, even for those of us who have nothing to live for." Vila attempted a smile, but it just looked like a grimace. "So, are you coming or not?"

    Without waiting for the Bard's reply, Vila turned and climbed up to the deck. Immediately, she was pounced on by three Mercs. She flung out her hands and long, spear-like icicles materialized and flew from her palms. The icicles sliced right through the Mercs and vivid red blood sprayed through the air. Another Merc crept up behind Vila and tried to get her in a choke hold, but she grabbed his arm and froze it to the bone. He screamed and jumped back, and Vila conjured an ice-knife and stabbed him through his neck.

    As he choked on his blood, Vila conjured a pair of wicked battle-axes and gritted her teeth in a ferocious snarl. "RAAAHHH!" she yelled as she ran into the thick of the fighting.
     
  18. AnonyMouse

    AnonyMouse Contributor Contributor

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    Saorla slowly followed up the rest of her crew, she was terrified as always, visibly shaking when she reached the top and saw the combat unfold in front of her. She glanced around feeling even more out of place than when she was underneath the hill. Saorla was so terrified, she was completely oblivious to the large brawler charging at her from the side.

    ...And completely oblivious to the Sun Elf woman drawing a longbow on her other side. Saorla didn't even notice the silver blur that passed within an inch of her head. The healer remained blissfully unaware of her attacker until the loosed 'arrow' struck him in the chest with a loud thwack. The force of the impact spun him around like a drunken ballerina before he toppled backward, with a sword stuck in his heart.

    Syl dropped the two halves of a broken longbow. "This ship's made of rotten wood. I should've known one shot is all I'd get," she said, staring wistfully off into the distance, toward the wheelhouse, somewhere beyond all the fighting. Her tone made it quite clear who that bow had been meant to kill. She could make another, but what's the use? It would never reach him. After a long pause, she sighed, picked up her parasol and strolled over to the dead man to retrieve her sword.

    Saorla promptly screamed when his body became a corpse. As Syl walked to receive the sword she was intercepted with a very frightened red head hugging her, "Thank you so much! I thought I'd be safe standing this far back, I don't know why I even came up here. Maybe in case somebody needed my help." She spoke so quickly she had to stop and take a breath, her arms still enclosing Syl as she spoke.

    "You have a good heart, dear," Syl said as she struggled to walk the last few feet, dragging the frantic healer with her. "I intend to do everything within my power to ensure no one puts a sword through it." She reached the dead man, planted her foot on his chest, and pulled the weapon free. "Now, let's get you back inside, so you can-" Syl stopped short when she felt something brush her ankle. Instinct kicked in and she upended her sword, ready to drive it through the pirate's chest again. She wouldn't miss this time.

    But she stopped short, within inches of his heart. One bloodied hand limply held her ankle, while he choked on what she hoped would be his last words: "I-I don't wanna d-die. P-please...."

    "You already made your choice," Syl said coldly.

    Saorla could not stop Syl, but she would try. "Syl, I know you are not a monster." She stopped herself. Syl was far more mature, and probably emotionally stable than Saorla, a lecture she did not need. "Let me save him, let me save one person in all this death." She wasn't asking or demanding, she was begging.

    "Of all the people on this deck, he chose to attack you, the one person who could do him no harm," Syl said, staring into the dying man's eyes as if waiting for his soul to leave. "I am a monster. I balance the scales with the only weight I have: death." She sheathed her rapier and stood. "Save him if you wish, but ask yourself this: does his life balance the scales? What happens when one of your allies gets injured and you are too weak to heal them because you saved this scoundrel?"

    Saorla frowned. Without a word, she laid her hands on the dying man, and did nothing but numb the pain. This man did not deserve life, Saorla just wanted to do something, anything in the face of all this death. She supposed she was the one who needed that lecture. Her words were soft, barely audible of the maelstrom around them, "Your right, Syl, sorry." She looked back wanting to hide back below deck, but she couldnt. She'd help her comrades when they were injured, she could not have escaped on her own.

    Syl sighed. "That's what I was afraid of," she said sadly. "A wise man once told me being right will always feel wrong. I don't believe that... but... sometimes, I wonder. Maybe he was onto something." She placed a hand on Saorla's shoulder and managed a weak smile. "Come, we should fall back. I'll stay with you. And if anyone needs your help, I will get you there. You have my word."
     
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  19. Fan7asticMrFox

    Fan7asticMrFox Contributor Contributor

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    The last of the crew fell to the ground, wide eyed and blood dripping from his mouth. All dead to the last man. All, save for Mumbles. The thunder crackled above and lightning flashed to reveal his silohuette standing high upon the helm. Even under the darkened clouds and rain his sickening smile could be seen.

    "Enough!" Tango shouted up to him, flicking his blades downward to clean off the blood. "Go quietly, you bastard."

    "Ah-ha, you be da one dats going." Mumbles retorted from the balcony, slamming his giant hands on the dripping wet bannister. "But not quietly..." He began to rummage through a pouch tied around his waist, while Tango signalled to the rest to climb the stairs to the helm. Their was a maddening glint in his eye, an emerald shine that betrayed him causing Tango to stop dead in his tracks.

    "Wait..." Tango scoured his eyes across the rest of the ship before returning his gaze to Mumbles, "Something's not right here."

    "He-he." Mumble said darkly and slow, "You could tell all dat from me standing 'ere? Well Sorrow, who put da voodoo in you'do?"

    Mumbles cast his arm far into the air, green fireworks launching from his hand leaving a heavy trail of smoke below, that blew across the deck and obscured the groups view. The world turned a ghastly green, with a smell so vile and smog that seemed to swallow the rain and noise around them. And all was still. The wind no longer howled, the sea no long shivered and none of the heroes could see each other, they could barely see in front of their own faces.

    And then there was a low groan. The sickening sound of bones cracking. Another groan. And then another and then more bones breaking, snapping, rattling in the green darkness, dragging painfully across the floor.

    "Mumbles time for fun." The words echoed and fragmented, coming from all directions and suffocating the heroes, somehow whispered and shouted at the same time. "Rise again, Bruddas."

    Eyes of yellow cut through the smog surrounding the heroes and bones rattled forward, while the heavy moan of the living dead began to fill the air. Only the cold, yellow eyes could be seen.
     
  20. Erik-the-Enchanter!

    Erik-the-Enchanter! Senior Member

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    Shango

    Shango did not stop walking when all the crew members were dead. He did not even pause as Tango yelled and Mumbles said something cryptic and threatening. He just kept striding forward, the wind whipping and lashing around him, the Staff glowing fiercely. He was gathering all the winds together to strike Mumbles down when the thick green smoke enveloped the deck and the dead mutineers came back to life. Shango scowled and refocused his attention on the zombies, their luminous yellow eyes staring blankly as they limped toward him.

    "I will make short work of these corpses," Shango snarled. He was about to direct a strong wind-blast at the closest zombie, but stopped as a wave of fear came over him. "What evil enchantment is this?" he snapped, but he sounded more scared than brave. Suddenly, the green smoke parted and he was back in Kemet, in the spacious throne room of the Palace. The black marble floor glistened in the flickering orange glow cast by torches lining the walls. The huge columns were also black and covered in thick columns of gold hieroglyphics. Giant statues of the Spirits, carved out basalt, stood in the spaces between the columns.

    Shango was standing before the thrones, which sat on a raised dais. On the tallest throne sat his mother, Queen Hedetet, and on the slightly lower throne sat his father, King Nectanebu. The tallest, most impressive statue stood behind them in a deep alcove: the God Ka. He was depicted as a tall, muscular man with the striking cheekbones, dark skin, full lips and large, almond-shaped eyes that were common among Shango's people. In Ka's right hand he held a solid-gold staff with a gold circle on top, the exact replicae of the real Staff of Ka that Shango held. The origins of the Staff of Ka were not clear, even though Kemetites kept meticulous records of their history, but many believed that Ka himself had given it the Kemetites when he left the physical realm and returned to the Spiritworld.

    "What is going on?" Shango said, his voice trembling slightly. He was deeply unnerved; his mother and father had not spoken or moved, they just stared down at him like one of the basalt statues.

    "It is time, Prince Shango," King Nectanebu said at last, his gravelly voice echoing in the quiet chamber.

    "T...time?" Shango stammered. A cold sweat had broken out on his brow and dripped down his face, stinging his eyes. "Time for what?"

    "Do not play the fool with us!" Queen Hedetet exploded. She stood from the high throne and glared down at her son. "You know very well what your father is talking about!" King Nectanebu stood from his throne as well and watched Shango with a solemn expression.

    "N-no, it c-can't be," Shango protested. "I haven't seen anything, I haven't experienced anything..."

    "We let you go on your little trip across the sea," King Nectanebu interrupted. "Now it is time for you to ascend to the throne and put aside your selfish desires. It is time to rule your people."

    "No!" Shango screamed. "I'm not ready!"

    "That does not matter," Queen Hedetet snarled. "What shall be, will be. You cannot fight your destiny."

    Shango turned to run when he was gripped by a pair of hulking guards. He struggled and screamed but they dragged him to the throne and crammed his down onto the seat. When he tried to stand, King Nectanebu tied him down with leather straps and he couldn't do anything but stare in abject horror as the statue of Ka came to life and loomed over him. Ka opened his mouth and a stream of molten gold issued from within and cascaded over his Shango's head. "If you refuse to stay, then we have no choice but to entomb you!" Queen Hedetet cried. Shango could do nothing but scream at the top of his lungs as the burning liquid scolded his flesh and filled his eyes, nose, and ears, and then it poured down his throat and he was silenced.
     
    Last edited: Jul 14, 2015
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  21. #Otaku

    #Otaku Member

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    Evan cut down a pirate as the lumbering fool charged at him. Evan stepped nimbly out of the way of the spray of blood that threatened to splatter his clothes as the pirate collapsed. He resisted the urge to loot the dead man's body, and turned back to the fray.
    Another pirate ran towards him and started slashing wildly at Evan with his sword. Though Evan was fast, the pirates much greater strength was overpowering him, and his powerful blows were nearly knocking Evan's daggers out his hands.

    I had begun to survey the battle before I entered, thinking about where I'd be most effective... and that's when I saw Evan being attacked by a much bigger pirate, he seemed to be having trouble. I couldn't help but smirk a little after hearing all of that talk from before. I walked forward, reaching into my pack, my cloak flapping wildly around me in the wind, my hood still remaining down. I pulled out one of the blue vials, it glowed dimly in the storm. I slowly pulled my arm back, took aim... and then threw it.

    The vial flew through the air and smashed into the side of the man's face. With the freshwater from the air already saturating most of his body, the resulting effect was much more powerful that it normally was. His whole head just... froze into a block of ice, freezing down to his neck. Long sharp icicles jutted out from the side of his head, opposite of where the potion had smashed into his face.

    Though... this sight didn't last long, a long silver arc cut through the air from behind the man, a perfect red line appeared around his neck, beginning to spray blood. Then the frozen head was sent flying into the chest of one of the man's comrades by another hit from the back of a scythe. The icicle side of the man's head smashed into his chest, the spikes jutting out of the man's back.

    The man's now headless corpse tumbled over, leaving me in front of Evan, still holding my now bloody scythe in front of me. "And here I was thinking you took down royal guards, how disappointing, you couldn't even take down a simple mutineer." I smirked teasingly, letting my scythe rest on my shoulder.

    Evan gritted his teeth in annoyance. Of course Joe would be the one to help him.

    "You shut your mouth before I cut you down." He growled, and turned towards another oncoming pirate, and determined not to shame himself again, stabbed one dagger into the man's stomach, and the other into his throat before the pirate even had a chance to attack.

    "You're welcome." I called after him and then turned around. I charged forward toward another pirate, I slammed my scythe into the ground, and then used the momentum I had built up to swing myself around with my scythe, sending splinters flying into the air around the scythe, and then slammed my feet into the pirate's chest, knocking the breath out of him and sending him overboard and surely to a cold watery death. "And another one down." I looked around for my next target.

    Evan rolled his eyes, and drove his blade through another mutineer, then pulled his blade out, spun around and kicked another in the neck. He heard a snap, and the man tumbled to the ground, his head lolling at an unnatural angle.

    "Another two dead, how many've you killed now?" He called, his competitive side showing through.

    "I'm tied with you at a total of three weeds pulled from this garden." I smiled pleasantly. "But there are many more of these smaller weeds between us and the huge one ruining our lovely garden~" I suddenly jumped backwards as a pirate ran at me and sliced at me. "How rude, I'm trying to have a conversation you idiot!" I kept backing away, dodging each wild slice of the man's sword, my scythe still stuck in the deck right behind him. I suddenly charged forward after a very heavy swing and slammed my forehead into the bridge of his nose. He fell back, his nose bent at an awkward angle, I jumped over him and pulled my scythe out of the ground and then promptly turned around and slammed it into the pirate's forehead head. "Make that four." I yanked the scythe out of his forehead and swung it through the air to get bits of brain matter off of it, the rain washing away the blood.

    Evan ignored Joe's comment and looked up as he heard Tango and the mutineers 'captain' talking, Mumbles, Evan believed that was his name. Mumbles thrust his hand skyward, fireworks exploding from his hand, and the smoke trail they left enveloped Evan in a vile smell, and seemed to block out everything. The rocking of the deck, the noise of the storm, even the rain stopped falling onto his face. He couldn't see anyone around him, and was left completely alone in a world of green smog.

    "Mumbles time for fun." The words echoed and fragmented, coming from all directions and suffocating the heroes, somehow whispered and shouted at the same time. "Rise again, Bruddas."

    Yellow eyes glinted at Evan from the smog, and he gripped his daggers tight, preparing to fight, when all of a sudden a sickening feeling of fear gripped his heart, and he saw something he never imagined he'd ever see in the world of the living.

    A tall man stood before him. He had the same ashy blond hair as Evan, but he had brown eyes and a stronger build. Though Evan had never met him before, he instantly recognised the man as his father.

    "Evan," The man walked forward with long, even strides, until he was right in front of Evan. "We meet at last."

    "D-dad?" Evan breathed.

    "How disappointing you are," his father said, his face twisted into a sneer of contempt. "You don't know what it's like to have your only son grow up to be nothing but a low down, thieving... murderer," Evan's eyes widened, knowing his father wasn't just talking about the pirates he had killed, but something else, a memory Evan never wanted to think about.

    "No!" He screamed, falling to his knees with his hands over his ears. "Stop it!"

    "You can never wash your hands of their blood," his father's voice carried on, however hard Evan tried to block it out. "You are nothing more than a murderer." Evan rocked back and forth, his worst memories that he'd tried to push to the back of his mind for so many years resurfacing. He opened his mouth, and a wordless, piercing scream came out, while tears of terror and horror poured down his face, dripping onto the deck.
     
  22. Love to Write

    Love to Write I'm a lover of writing. What else is to be said? Contributor

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    Meek Gromlen: The Nightmare

    Meek clutched her violin close to her chest as the green fog rolled over her eyes. She coughed at the foul stench, rubbing her eyes as they began to burn. Magic no doubt. Damn that pirate. She opened her eyes, glaring in his direction, only...he wasn't there anymore. A demon had replaced him. And not just him. All the other crew members who had magic had been possessed by demons and other foul creatures from the nether world. Gods! The Demons slaughtered any remaining crew members that didn't have magic. Then they turned their yellow eyes towards her, an ungodly screech coming from their mouths. They advanced, clawed hands outstretched, foam and slime dripping from jagged teeth.

    “Join us.” They hissed.

    "N...no. No...." Meek shuddered, hugging her violin more tightly and shrinking down into the boat.

    “Only a matter of time.”
    “Join us.”
    “Only a matter of time.” The demons hissed, their voices echoing through her head.

    “GET AWAY FROM ME!” Meek shrieked. A clawed hand peirced her shoulder. She screamed in terror and agony. A pulse of bright light shot from her knocking the creatures away. The skin on the demons began to bubble and melt. As much as she wanted to close her eyes she couldn’t. They shrieked and writhed in pain before looking over at her and then laughing.

    “Soon.”
    “One of us.”
    “Just a matter of time.”

    "No!" Meek sobbed. "No, no no!"

    "One of us."
    "The magic will consume you."
    "One of us."
    "The netherworld awaits. Give into the power. Join us."

    Their voices grew louder, echoing through her head, pounding, pounding, pounding. Like a drum the words, the magic, pounded in her brain. She couldn't get away. The demons advanced again and Meek cried, certain that the underworld was about to claim her and she'd never see her family again.
     
  23. AnonyMouse

    AnonyMouse Contributor Contributor

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    “Mmm, just right,” Syl said with a smile as she knelt before the forge. The glow of the embers and the warmth on her face were all she needed to gauge its temperature. She stood and tightened the strings on her blacksmith’s apron before turning to gather a stone cauldron filled with low-grade metal scraps. A farmer had placed an order for two dozen horse shoes. She would have it done by teatime.

    Just as Syl slid the raw iron into the fire, the bell over her shop’s door chimed. “Welcome!” she said, without looking up to see who it was. “I’ll be with you in just a moment, darling.” She pumped the bellows a couple of times to raise the heat, then turned to greet another smiling customer.

    But this customer was not smiling. Syl only saw her in silhouette. It was a tall, thin woman, dressed in black, as if in mourning. She folded a black parasol as she entered and wore a wide-brimmed black hat upon her head, concealing her pointed ears. An elf? Syl did not often see her own kind in this region.

    The elven woman didn’t approach right away. She seemed to take her time, perusing the various trinkets and curiosities in Syl’s shops. Horseshoes, boxes of nails, housewares, and tools. She took keen interest in the pots and pans and especially the kitchen knives, studying them with a careful eye.

    Meanwhile, Syl waited expectantly behind the counter with a smile. “Take your time,” she said cheerfully. “If you have any questions or see something you like, I would be glad to-”

    “I don’t see what I need here,” the woman said. “This is the shop of Syl Nerrier, is it not?”

    “Yes,” Syl said, gesturing to herself. “I am-”

    Are you?” the woman replied. She lifted the brim of her hat so she could look Syl in the eyes and smiled as if they were old friends… though Syl couldn’t recall ever having met this woman. “If you really are Syl Nerrier, I would like to place an order. I hear you’re quite the blacksmith.”

    “Thank you. I’m honored you would think so,” Syl said, with a slight bow. “And to whom do I owe the pleasure?”

    “You may not think it a pleasure once I tell you what I need.”

    “Okay. What do you need?” Syl asked.

    “A sword.”

    An ominous silence fell over the room, punctuated only by the two elven women smiling placidly at one another.

    “You must be mistaken,” Syl said with a kindly laugh. “There’s a swordsmith down the street, last shop on the left. I’m just a blacksmith. If your horse needs shoes or your house needs nails or your doors need hinges, I’m your woman. But if your needs are of the martial variety… well…” she gestured toward the exit. “I am sorry.”

    The woman in black smiled a little wider. Or was it a grin? “That’s strange. I could’ve sworn you make swords,” she said curiously. “You mean, this isn’t yours?” She reached behind her back and drew out an ornate longsword, with a gleaming silver blade, gold trim, and a jeweled hilt.

    “Never seen it before,” Syl said with a slow shake of her head.

    “Oh… I’m sorry to hear that. I’m sure the knight who wielded it to victory in a tournament last week would have loved to thank you personally. Oh well, it was such a gaudy affair anyway.” She tossed the sword aside, knocking over a rack of shovels and farming tools. “How about this one?” the woman in black said as she drew a wicked-looking dagger from her sleeve and brandished it. It seemed to glow with an ominous red aura.

    Syl recoiled, as though she were afraid the woman would attack. “If it’s money you want, I don’t have much,” she said, her voice trembling as she drew her coin purse. “Here, take it.”

    The woman in black sighed. “No, darling, I’m not here to rob the place. You’re so pathetic…” She tossed aside the dagger and paced the floor. “So, that isn’t yours either? It’s probably for the best. I hear the baroness of Ellsberg is still trying to figure out who buried that one in her husband’s back. The reward is quite profound. Just between you and me…” she lowered her voice to a whisper. “It was her.”

    “What do you want?” Syl said. “I’m not impressed by your tricks. If you’re here to show off, you can leave.”

    “Wait, wait, one more…” the woman in black turned her back to Syl for a moment. When she turned around again, she had a greatsword as long as she was tall. The backside of its thick blade was serrated and its handle was made of the bones of some giant, ancient beast, probably long extinct. “Surely, you remember this one, yes? You and I single-handedly put that tribe back on the map. I heard Chief Whats-His-Name stopped a cavalry charge with this thing. Chopped the legs off a dozen horses in one swing.”

    “That’s quite enough,” Syl said dryly. “I think you should leave.”

    “We should both leave,” the other Syl said. “Together.”

    As if by magic, the walls of the shop fell away and the entire scene changed. Within seconds, the two Syls were standing in a wasteland of sand as far as the eye could see. And in that sand stood weapons of all kinds: greatswords, longswords, axes, maces, hammers, bows, lances, staves, scimitars, mauls, daggers, and more. Far off, amidst the rolling dunes, there were even great siege engines, ballistae, catapults, and trebuchets half-buried in the sand. Every tool of death and destruction was there; an armory fit for the devil himself.

    “What do you want from me?” the White Syl said. “You disturb my peace, tear me from my work, and for what? To celebrate these horrors?” A faint green mist wafted across the wasteland. “We should never have walked this path,” she said. “These are yours, not mine. I died the moment you left our father’s honest business to become a merchant of death.”

    “No, dear, you’re alive and well. You walked this path with me,” the Black Syl said. “And you are the only reason I was able to walk away from it all. You complete me. We are one another’s better half.”

    “No, I am your better half,” the White Syl said sternly. “If not for me, you would be even more of a monster than you are. There is blood on your hands, yes, but if I weren’t there, you would be swimming in an ocean of it. You are my worst nightmare and I am the reason you will never come true.”

    “You’re nothing without me,” the Black Syl said. “War is the engine of creation. Death turns the wheels. Without me, you aspire to nothing. You become nothing. I made you matter… or would you rather be like father, hammering pig iron in a nowhere town until your fingers fall off? Forgotten. Decrepit. Gone, without a single, lasting mark left upon this world.” She spread her hands, gesturing to the weapons all around them. “The world may not know our name, but they know we exist. One need not know the tree to know its fruit. Oh, how sweet it is…”

    “What do you want?” the White Syl said again. “Ask it, demon, and be gone.”

    “I already told you,” the Black Syl said as clouds raced across the sickly green skies and the wind whipped through her silvery hair. “Fashion me a sword to cut through this illusion. Free me so I can kill the bastard who trapped us here.” She walked a few steps away and picked up a heavy executioner’s axe with the name ‘Mumbles’ scratched into the blade. “Or would you rather lie there on the deck and wait to die?”
     
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  24. mmarage

    mmarage The Detective Contributor

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    I covered my mouth and nose with the hem of my cloak when the green smoke began to surround us in an attempt to ward off the smell and the possible effects it has. "Dammit... alchemical in nature, perhaps. Who knows what effects it has...!?" My question was quickly answered by everyone beginning to freak out, not due to the undead, rather, to the unseen horrors before their eyes. I tried to cling onto this reality, not the dreadful horrific illusion it was no doubt about to cause. But it was a quickly losing battle, I was flitting between the ship and a small dinghy room littered with several piles of hay covered by blankets. Poor excuses for beds...

    Gone were the decent clothes that I was wearing just moments before... now I was covered in little more than rags... my healthy demeanor now completely gone. My eyes and cheeks sunken, my ribs visible beneath the rags, dirt clinging to my skin, hair, and overgrown, yellowed nails, unwashed for days... For all the world to see, I had given up on life, not even bothering to pretend that I cared about anything, not even my own appearance, well being, or grooming habits.

    "Your nothing... An alchemist, what a laugh. You're too stupid to do anything. You'll never amount to a damn thing. Just curl up in a gutter and die. No one wants you, no one needs you. Your parents gave you up because they knew, you'd be nothing. You're all alone in this world." Disembodied voices began to whisper around me, mocking me. Menacing shadows in the corner beginning to slowly creep toward me... Choke me, beat me, rip me apart...

    I shakily brought my hands to my ears."S-Shut up!" I backed away from the shadows until my back finally hit the wall. Grotesque faces began to emerge from the darkness... twisted representations of those two vile old bastards... they slowly walked out of the darkness... their forms old, decrepit, and warped. Jewelry clung to every last inch of their bodies, their eyes set with valuable gemstones, their bodies clad in extravagant clothing fit for royalty. "GET AWAY FROM ME!" I bent over, shielding my head with my arms as I began to feel them beat me.

    "WORTHLESS! INSIGNIFICANT! IDIOTIC! FOOLISH! IDEALISTIC! WRETCH! URCHIN! BASTARD!" With each surprisingly painful blow, they threw out another insult... they were going to kill me... Someone... anyone... please... help me.
     
  25. Balderdash

    Balderdash Member

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    Vila

    Vila's twin battle-axes were painted with the blood of the fallen mutineers. Blood and gore was also splattered on her dark blue face and her glorious snow leopard pelt. It slicked her furry hat and her ink-black hair and ran down her face in rivulets, dripping from her sharp chin in a steady stream. She wasn't nearly as adept a warrior as Syl, but whatever she lacked in skill she made up for in sheer violence. She attacked swiftly and without mercy. The mutineer's were shocked by this small girl's ferocity, by the angry snarl on her severely frostbitten face, and were chopped and killed by her axes before they could gather their wits. One mutineer almost sliced her throat with a knife, but Vila ducked it and slashed with her axes. His guts spilled out and Vila kicked them in the face of another mutineer, and while he was struggling to pull the intestines off his face, Vila struck him down as well.

    It was almost too easy. When the mutineers were all slain, Vila saw Shango the sorcerer heading for Mumbles and she moved to join him. She dropped her axes and slumped forward, stretching her fingers as she readied to throw an ice-spear through Mumbles for delaying their journey. The ice-spear was half-formed in her hand when the nasty green fog descended and everything shifted...

    Vila was no longer on the ship. She was on a gold step-pyramid at the very top and the sparkling city of the Sun Elves spread out all around her like a map. Before her stood a gorgeous Sun Elf, tall and gorgeously tanned, wearing a spotless white tunic and breeches, his feet clad in caramel leather boots. Vila looked down and she was similarly dressed in a pure white dress and a white cape, but without shoes.

    "Where am I?" Vila asked moodily. "And where are my clothes? And my snow booties?"

    "You have come a long way, Vila Glaistig," the Sun Elf said in a warm, soothing voice. His eyes were clear sky-blue and his shimmering honey-blonde hair fell in soft waves on either side of his angelic face. "And you only asked for one thing: to step into our hottest fire and perish. This we are willing to grant you, because you are obviously a miserable abherration of nature that could only find peace in death."

    Vila frowned and glanced down, hurt that this divine being could scold her so harshly. If he thought she was such a hideous monster, then it must be true. She could not avoid it. "Wow, tell me how you really feel," she grumbled.

    "I am telling you how I really feel," the Sun Elf continued with a sunny smile on his face. His teeth were whiter than any teeth Vila had ever seen, even whiter than Shango's. "You were not meant to have magic, and so your body is not compatible with the powers that you stole from your innocent sister. You are a murderer and you should be put to death immediately. Don't you agree?"

    Every word he spoke cut through Vila like a sharp knife. She nodded gloomily and grumbled under her breath, "You don't have to rub it in, geez, I get it...."

    "Here is the fire you requested: the Great Fire, fueled by the inexhaustible power of the Sun. Please, step into it and do us all a favor."

    The "helpful" Sun Elf stepped aside and gestured to the blazing Great Fire that gushed and spouted out of a golden grate in the floor. It was the most intense, scorching flames Vila had ever seen. She reached out her cold, stiff hand and actually felt her perpetually cold skin tingle from the warmth of the Fire. Her blue fingers even turned light brown, but when pulled it away they turned blue again. Taking a deep breath, Vila stepped directly into the white heart of the Fire and spread out her arms. The raging inferno wrapped around her and she smiled a huge, joyful smile. Her skin turned light brown all over, erasing every visisble remnant of frostbite, and she could feel the ice in her veins start to recede. Finally, at long, long last, she was going to die.

    But then the Fire snuffed out. The ice inside her receded all the way to her chest and then it surged back out, turning her skin dark blue once more and extinguishing the Great Fire. And not only that, but when Vila looked around she saw that all of the Sun Elves' city was frozen in a thick layer of ice. The sky was dark grey, blotting out the sun, and snow was falling in thick, relentless waves. Vila cried frozen tears and ripped at her hair as she turned round and round in circles, surveying the damage she had wrought.

    "Look what you've done!" the Sun Elf accused. is face was a mask of fury, but he was shaking in the oppressive cold. "You have destroyed my home! You're a monster, a cold-heated monster!" And then he dropped dead, his skin stained as dark blue as Vila's.

    "Noooo!" Vila howled as she sank to her knees. She had hung all her hopes on this, on the Great Fire, and it had failed. She was doomed.
     
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