IC 3113 BC
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IC 3113 BC
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I didn’t even see the vampire make her attack, I was to concentrated on not getting skewered by the troll’s big ass sword.
“Got you on the wrong foot, did she?” I replied and danced away immediately. Now it was a numbers game: Could he keep up with me despite the pain? He was far from done, but I was smelling morning air. Now, favoring his uninjured leg he followed with much less grace, his heavy armor more of a hindrance than a help.
So I went about it methodically.Step one: Disarm the guy. I took a measured step back, lowering my guard. As expected he let go with his left hand and swung his sword in a deadly quarter circle with only his right hand to gain that bit of reach necessary to behead me. Instead of blocking or evading further back, I made the conscious decision to step into his attack, duck under it and ram the pommel of my sword against the unarmored inside of his wrist.
His finger loosened with numbness and the sword clattered away, carried on by its considerable momentum.Step two: Survive the unarmed beat down. Being so close to a troll is normally not a winning move. His left fist moved towards my face like the hammer of the gods and my sword was in too awkward a position to block. I “decided” to roll with the punch, insofar as I could decide anything about this situation. I let myself fall to the floor as the fist graced my cheek, with my shoulders taking the burnt of the impact while my feet went flying up. Time tends to slow down in situations like this and I had an unrivaled view up the trolls hairy nostrils.
As my feet began to decent once again, I tensed like a spring and forced myself of the ground with a rising fist of my own. The guy was so large that I was able to extend my legs fully into the uppercut.
I swear the wood under my feet groaned as I impacted my fist under the sweet spot under the chin of my opponent. Lesser bones would have broken under the strain my hand was experiencing, but the trolls head was knocked back and up and his feet left the ground for just a moment.
I heard the crunch of teeth splintering upon each other and a piece of tongue went flying by my face, not to mention a spur of blood splattering upon my bare face and torso.Time resumed its normal course and I stood over the Crow my fist raised towards the heavens and the Troll lying on the ground with a snapped neck on the ground – courtesy of his heavy helmet on his chin strap overtaxing his impressive neck muscles.
The heroic pose got wrecked immediately afterwards by me getting a dizzy spell and tumbling towards the wall to get a grip on the suddenly rotating world around me.
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Sian
Evening, August 28, 3113 BC; On board the Theran Vedette, Somewhere on the shores of the Theran SeaSian sheathes her blade then struggles to a standing position, using her left arm to cradle her badly injured right arm. She watches as Vindariel stumbles in her direction and moves to intercept him, feeling the now-familiar void that surrounds her companion as she twists her body to receive the impact while trying to protect her nearly severed right arm. The plan almost works. Vindariel’s body slams into her, his momentum mostly broken by the vampire’s body, but the force of the impact thrusts her right arm into the side of the vessel. While very painful in itself, the impact forces her arm, now exposed due to the cuts in her clothing, onto the wooden planks of the bulkhead, bringing soft scream from Sian’s lips as her flesh touches the wood that she is so allergic to.
She bends over in agony, almost going to her knees, but twists to move the exposed arm from the offending wood. There are tears in her eyes when she looks up at Vindariel. “Are we done here? I can still smell the blood from deeper in the ship. We need to finish this, if we can.”
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“You don’t look so good. I need to get to the core. I’m pretty sure that it is strained over specifications already. If I get near it, it will fail and with it the ship. You guys should be outside by then, because when it impacts the water it won’t be gentle.
And thanks for the assist. Tough bastard that one.”
I got my bearings and started towards the central room.
I had expected some kind of glowing orb, suspended in the mid of the ship, but instead it was a simple obsidian black slab of stone, bound in a mesh of copper and steel. As I got nearer the ship began to vibrate. Just a little at first but very noticeable the closer I got. From somewhere soldiers screamed orders and the sound of nailed boots got closer. I stopped deliberating and got next to the slab. Elms fire began to play over the copper web. On the principle, that this fine construction was likely meant to ensure smooth operation, I took the stolen sword and hacked a large gash into the mesh. Instead of getting struck by lightning, as I had expected, the stone just cracked and the subconsciously audible humming died down.
Then the fall began… -
Sian
Evening, August 28, 3113 BC; On board the Theran Vedette, Somewhere on the shores of the Theran SeaSian nods at Vindariel and moves to the stairway leading to the upper decks, cradling her injured arm. The sound of battle draws her and she comes upon her Valoi fighting several sailors at the stairs, where the narrow space restricts the number of combatants. It takes a few minutes for the swordswoman to cut the last of the sailors down and the two return to the main deck. The pair move quickly to the railing where the ropes are and Sian climbs on the back of the other woman before they go over the edge.
Sian and the Valoi arrive at the bottom just as the ship begins falling from the sky. She immediately looks up, waiting for Vindariel to emerge. She is prepared to use a levitation spell on him if he falls or is thrown from the stricken vessel.
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Falling inside a ship was unlike any experience I had had ever before.
For one or two seconds there was weightlessness – just time enough for me to grab hold of the planks beneath me and press myself as well as possible to the floor.
The impact took my breath away. Somewhere below the decks were flooded as the vessel crashed on the water like an egg on pavement.
And lucky I was that it did or otherwise I think I would have gone straight through the floor, flat like a pancake.
Damn, I was getting hungry again. Anyway, when the shaking, rumbling and screaming finally stopped, I began to make my way out of the doomed ship. Water was rising fast. As it turned out, flying ships are no good at floating on water with a giant hole in the hold.
The lights went out one by one and it was getting really difficult to find my way back. The hysteric screaming of wounded and lost sailors around me didn’t make it any easier.
Finally I had to swim, holding my breath, refilling my lungs in trapped pockets of air on the way.
When I made it out of the boat it had already sunken about 10 m. When I reached the surface I was gasping like a dog. With my last remaining strength I swam towards the badly damaged mage vessel. Totally exhausted I flopped on deck and lay still for a little eternity. -
Sian
Evening, August 28, 3113 BC; Somewhere on the shores of the Theran SeaSian watches the Vedette fall from the sky but does not see her companion jump. She smiles as she reasons that if the man can survive being swept to sea by a tidal wave, he can probably survive this short fall. Still, she summons her Valoi to her side and the two move quickly to the canted deck of the smaller vessel to watch for survivors. Several sailors pop up, spluttering, and begin swimming to the shore or the wrecked skyjammer, where they are picked up by Aria’s remaining marines and herded to where the rest of the prisoners are being kept. Finally, Sian spots Vindariel emerging from the water and flopping down on the deck. She walks over to him and kneels at his side. “Well done, friend. I grieve for the loss of the remaining slaves, but the death you gave them was likely far better than what was meant for them. I will pray for them later. Now it is the living we need to concern ourselves with.”
She looks at him and frowns. “I am finding that my ability to cast spells of any sort is greatly reduced and I may not be able to heal you in that fashion, but I can do mundane bandaging if you need it. Also, it seems that you have misplaced the sword I loaned to you. Would you like your own back? I have it on the pack animal, along with the rest of your gear from the barrel. The old man’s assistant is salvaging what supplies she can from the interior of this vessel as I fear it is a hike of at least two days to any sort of civilization from here. Are you able to rise and walk?”
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“Girl, right now I’m barely able to lift my eyelids. I just killed a freaking flying ship. But give me a few minutes and I might be fit enough again to feel the salt water in my wounds, so yeah, bandages sound like a real nice idea. And the way you look, you could use some fres ones too.”
At least I think that’s what I said. Most likely it sounded more like a babbling baby.
Experimentally, I tried to lift an arm and actually managed to turn around so I was lying on my belly. A few more inhuman feats of strength later, I even managed to get myself up into a kneeling position – and right back into a sitting one.
“Correction: Food, Bandages, Sleep. Then maybe travelling. Very maybe.” -
Sian
Evening, August 28, 3113 BC; Somewhere on the shores of the Theran SeaSian smiles to herself then motions to her guardian, who kneels down and carefully lifts Vindariel in her arms. Karla walks over to where the remaining prostitutes have moved the animals closer to the stricken vessel now that the fighting is done. After putting the man on the ground, the Valoi gives the women instructions then returns to her mistress’ side. Parcels and packages are moved about and a place is made for the man to lie down while a cloth is stretched from the large animal to two poles so as to provide some shade. Two of the girls make a soft pillow for him out of a bag of clothing and food is brought over on trays and the three girls giggle as they take turns feeding Vindariel and offering him sips from a wineskin.
The fourth whore returns from the ship just as Vindariel is fed the last of the meal, her clothing covered in blood, although most of it is not hers, and takes a seat near him. She hands a ceramic bowl of warm water and a cloth to one of the girls and begins removing Vindariel’s tunic, slapping his hand away and putting a finger to his lips when he begins to protest. “Hush, you baby. I am not going to molest you. At least not right now. I am a bit too sore for that, but I am tasked with seeing to your wounds, so lie back and let me do my best for you.” Two of the girls blanch at the obvious damage done to Vindariel’s torso but the older woman frowns at them and motions for them to keep their comments to themselves. “Ooooooh, this is a good one. I think I have an old wound just like it somewhere. Let me know if you want to compare scars someday.” Once she has the tunic off, she dips a cloth into the warm water and begins washing the blood and other debris away. She then takes a large needle and some thread from a kit at her side and sews the worst of the wounds up. When that is done, she takes a jar of ointment from the kit and holds it up, looking into Vindariel’s eyes. “Now, based on what your scars tell me, you must have heard this a lot, but this is going to hurt. Try not to cry……too much.” She drips some of the ointment on one of Vindariel’s wounds and despite being ready for the pain, he feels only a soothing warmth. Several minutes and some fresh bandages later and he feels quite nice. The woman looks down on him and smiles. “I guess I lied about the pain. Now, I can tell that you have some injuries below the waist, so do you want me to take care of them as well? I could let them fester and rot if you are too shy?” The other three women all softly suck in their breath in anticipation of what they might see.
While Vindariel is being taken care of, Sian is letting her Valoi bandage her arm into a sort of sling. Thanks to some of the ointment, the pain in her arm is bearable. She looks up at Karla in thanks and nods to where Vindariel is laying near the animals, surrounded by five pretty women and a baby. “So? What do you think? Should she keep the sword until we get home? Jerais is only five and not yet ready to take up his father’s mantle. She seems to have some skill and is no coward. Can you work with her?”
The Valoi looks at the woman in question, who is dressing some of Vindariel’s injuries, and nods. Sian smiles and nudges her guard away and turns to go find Arialles to try to see just what the heck is going on and how the skyjammer came to be here in the first place. Seeing that the woman is busy at the moment, Sian walks about and tries to help get things organized. There is a good amount of food salvaged from the ship, but transporting it the distance to the next town could be a problem. Sian has already decided to remove the saddles from her riding animals and will use them to carry food and wounded, but even that may not be sufficient for all of the friendly sailors, marines, and passengers……….not to mention the prisoners. Speaking of the passengers, Sian looks about to see if she can see the old wizard that had accompanied her and Vindariel and does not find him. She had hoped that perhaps Aria had picked him up with Vindariel, but it seems that is not the case. She has been praying every night for their safety and was gladdened to have at least part of her prayer answered. Perhaps the old man was picked up by someone else. She will keep praying for his safety.
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Tiredly, I answered: “Nothing to see which you haven’t seen a few hundred times before, I guess. Just make sure I get my breaches back afterwards. It’s a bit too chilly for me to go running around with my wedding tackle hanging about.”
I let the whores do what they did second best and drifted off into a nap of pure exhaustion. I knew I’d be leaving this funny troop soon. The pattern mage could take care of her precious triptych by herself now. The end of the Fourth Age had finally come to pass and I had a whole new world to explore while civilizations adjusted… -
Sian
Evening, August 28, 3113 BC; Somewhere on the shores of the Theran SeaThe former gladiator slave turned prostitute chuckles and nods at Vindariel’s comment. “A few hundred times at least. I will make sure that you get your breaches back as I would not wish to let you get a bad case of sun scorch in that area.” She carefully removes Vindariel’s boots and pants, chiding the other girls when one gives an involuntary gasp. She gives his lower body the same treatment she had given his torso and arms, making sure that the wounds are cleaned and the more serious ones stitched up before rubbing the ointment on and bandaging them. Vindariel is already sleeping when she pulls his breaches up, giving a last, somewhat regretful look at his manhood before it is covered up.
Brianne stands up and gives instructions to the other women. One, Jene, will remain with the injured man as she is also the nursemaid for the infant, while the other two, Allison and Lenore, who is Brianne’s younger sister, accompany her to help the other survivors of the battle.
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Sian
Evening, August 28, 3113 BC; Somewhere on the shores of the Theran SeaSian wants to get close to Ariales, but the woman is busy taking charge of the battlefield, organizing people and getting supplies set aside from the interior of her stricken vessel. From her vantage point on the canted deck of the downed skyjammer, Sian watches as three of her women leave the camels and walk among the injured, kneeling to set bones, sew up wounds, and wrap injuries with bandages as needed. She grins to see that Brianne has kept the fallen Valoi’s sword with her and nods her head, thinking that she will need to have a long talk with the prostitute and the sooner the better. The woman has shown skills not normally in the skillset of a whore, and she had acted very bravely.
Brianne moves from person to person, concentrating first on those that seem to have been on the smaller vessel first, but eventually moving over to where the prisoners are being held. As she approaches, one of the guardian marines tries to wave her off and, when it appears that she wants to proceed, reaches out a hand to stop her, telling her that she is not to render any aid to the scum. Brianne talks softly, trying to reason with the soldier, but makes little progress until Karla walks up to see what the problem is. After a couple of minutes of discussion, the guard allows Brianne and the other two to continue, but loudly proclaims that there is little need to heal the enemy. The three whores begin to move among the small group of prisoners, escorted by the Valoi.
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Sian
Evening, August 28, 3113 BC; Somewhere on the shores of the Theran SeaSian observes the prostitutes moving among the prisoners and does wonder whether or not the effort is futile. She has heard the rumblings among the survivors of the smaller skyjammer and some are not keen to let the prisoners live. Sian shrugs, the eventual decision as to the fate of the captured men lies in Ariales’ hands, not hers. She pauses at that thought and considers some of the things she has noticed but not really thought of before. There is another woman, one of the survivors, and it appears that Ariales seems to be deferring to her in some of the larger decisions. Her name is as yet unknown, but she carries herself with an air of authority, almost as if she were Ariales’ superior. Sian walks up to one of the crates that has been brought up from below and opened, its contents already sorted and spread out to be put into piles that the people can easily transport. Sian sighs as she considers that her pack animals will probably be conscripted to carry food and supplies for the others. Too, she has not eaten in the two days since they left the last village and she will need to feed again, but hopefully not before they make the small town a couple of days ahead.
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I recovered pretty quickly – I usually do once I get a bit of sleep and food. My two biggest weaknesses. By that time I somehow had gotten roped in on this trek with the others. Still, I didn’t have ot forage for my own food, which at this particular time came me well to pass, seeing as I had lost my witches brew and now was stuck in a rather melancholy mood. But so far I hadn’t found the right sort of fungi I just wouldn’t be a fun guy to have around.
I saw the vampire getting hungrier by the day, but the larder of war prisoners was still full. Better them than me.
I was no stranger to cravings after all, so I didn’t judge too much outside the confines of my own head… -
Idhrenohtar had asisted Ariales the best he could. They exchanged a few words of advice and wisdom. They knew it would be a while before they ever see each others. He looked from a distance at the two beings whom he share his last adventure on Thera with, before its utter destruction. Kayton the old man had disappeared with it. And it seemed days after days so was the Mana.
It was the dawn of a new time. One Idhrenothar was not looking forward to. Though he was not a full Magician, he was trained in the Way of the Magicians, and an eternal lifetime without Magic would be dreadful for his kind.
Ariales interrupted his thoughts. Are you going to accompany them?
No, I don’t think so… Those two are far from your typical immortals… not that any of us really is typical… A dragon engineered killer and what seems to be a strange extra-planar creature. They are brave and powerful, and I feel this is not the last time I will see them. But for now I must deal with the changes that are happening to us.
He stared at Ariales, also noticing how her ears had gotten rounder since she fished him out of the Theran sea. He moved a lock of her hair behind her ear and smiled, caringly, genuinely. I’m glad to see your beauty is as eternal as our age. Farewell my dear. You’re in charge of Lazarus’s triptych now. -
Sian
Evening, August 28, 3113 BC; Somewhere on the shores of the Theran SeaLeaving Brianne and the two prostitutes she has corralled into helping her see to the wounded, Sian finally gets so speak with the woman who seems to actually be in charge and finds that her name is Ryl. After comparing notes, it is determined that water will need to be severely rationed and that it will be better to travel during the night to limit the drain on available supplies. There is scant shelter from the sun and Ariales orders all the survivors from the ships into the hold of the ruined skyjammer to await the evening.
Sian walks over to where Allison is watching over the infant and the sleeping Vindariel. It is apparent that the man needs some rest and Sian decides to leave him where he lies, sitting down next to him but sending Allison to the vessel. As the day passes, she dribbles some water onto his lips and watches him sleep. Something about him is familiar, but the details escape her. It is almost as if she should know who he is but the exact how and when seem lost in a mist. She shakes her head and considers that it may come to her. In her opinion, he is quite handsome and she wonders………………………………
As evening approaches, she rises from her resting place and assists the others in packing all of the available food and water onto her animals, then carefully places Vindariel on one of the riding beasts, lightly securing him so that he does not fall off during the travel. Several other badly wounded men are placed on the remaining riding beasts and the small caravan sets off on the two-day trek to the next town up the coast. Soon after leaving the wrecks behind, Sian is informed that Vindariel is stirring and she moves to the side of the camel he is on as Jene holds up a torch to give light. “Well, it is good to see you, my friend. I hope that the rest has done you some good. At least your color is much better. I am told that you will survive and I am glad. To answer a couple of your unspoken questions, I have the triptych safely stored and you may have your third if you desire to see it secure somewhere. I also have all of your weapons and gear that you had stored in the barrel and you may have all of it at the next rest stop, which ought to be within the hour. Do you have any questions for me?”
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[Evening, August 28, 3113 BC; Unnamed Town, somewhere on the shores of the Theran Sea]
It became increasingly apparent that Ryl, Kirylle deBathyre, was a force to be reckoned with, despite her youth. Surreptitious conversations with her sailors and marines revealed that she had inherited the skyjammer from her mother, and she from her mother, a long line of matriarch captains stretching back further than anyone could remember. Again, despite her size, she had a voice that could boom to rival the fiercest of drill sergeants but it was measured with a soft soothing tone when she was speaking with the distraught civilians that had tagged on to the raggle taggle band. When they reached the town she ordered that the remaining Theran soldiers be returned their arms and sent on their way. By now all were too weary to consider putting up a fight and most of these had simply been following orders anyway. With the influence of the Crows no longer driving the fanatical pursuit of magic users and the fall of their empire, most elected to remain with and serve Ryl rather than be cast out to the uncertainties of this new world…
#31
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Sian
Evening, August 31, 3113 BC; Unnamed Town, somewhere on the shores of the Theran SeaThe caravan had arrived in the small town on the third night after leaving the wreckage of the skyjammer. Sian had learned that the woman in charge is named Ryl, Kirylie de Bathyre and that she is a force to be reckoned with. Ariales certainly seems to abide by the woman’s wishes, in any case. Brianne had been kept busy, moving between the injured and had sent grateful prayers to her gods that only two of the badly injured had died on the second day of the trek, while the rest seemed to be recovering quite well.
The arrival at the town was a welcome relief for all in the group. The rationing of the water and food had hit the travelers hard, but had been necessary to give everyone the best chance to survive the journey. The market of the small community would allow for replenishing of food and water. There were some ugly words said among the survivors from the skyjammer when Ryl had released the Theran prisoners and even more when she directed that they be given their arms back. Sian had held her women off to the side and none been involved in the discussion. After all, the disposition of the prisons was not up to her and she preferred to observe Ryl.
A camp was established, smaller than the previous two evenings due to the departure of the Theran prisoners, and the watches were doubled to make sure that none of the released men would return to the camp seeking vengeance. After setting up her portion of the camp, Sian waits unti darkness has fully fallen then slips away into the town. She walks the rough section, where the alleys are only wide enough for one person to pass between buildings and waits to be accosted by someone interested in raping and killing a lone woman traveling through the narrow streets and alleys. She returns to the camp well before dawn, having fed twice on such scum and leaving their headless and drained corpses where the vermin would feast on them.
In the morning, Sian approaches Vindariel. “Well, my friend. I will continue to head north around the sea as my destination is still far from here. Do you wish to travel a bit longer with me and my small group, or do you have your own destination to head off to? If you are leaving me here, do you wish your piece of the triptych?”
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Put on the spot like that I just shrugged: “Before this whole thing began I was on my way across the sea towards the African continent. And no, if I took a piece of the damn thing I’d be honor bound to take it back to the Kaern of my master – and I hate going back there.
I think it’s time we part ways – it was fun to fight with you and your sense of ethics, but my personality is best enjoyed like rot gut spirits: In small quantities with lots of water in between. If you survive the waning magic I’m sure we’ll meet again.” -
Sian
Evening, August 31, 3113 BC; Unnamed Town, somewhere on the shores of the Theran SeaSian smiles as she sighs. “I will see the triptych to a safe location in one of my Master’s storage vaults, but must confess that I do not understand the need to be solitary in one’s travels. Your personality is not so abrasive that I could not abide it for a while longer, should you decide to change your mind. If you are indeed on your way back to Africa, might I recommend staying with my small band a few days longer? If you leave from here, you would need to retrace your steps on foot along the sand and scrub, but there is a larger town three days up the coast where you should be able to arrange some sort of transport by water, reducing your overall travel time by a number of days.”
She motions out to where the girls are already entertaining some of the men with dance and song. Even as Vindariel looks over, one of the girls takes a sailor by the hand and disappears into the darkness. “You might be dragon born, my friend, but you are still a man. Do you not find the charms of my companions alluring in some manner? I am sure that any of them would be more than glad to service your needs for a few days.” She pauses a few moments and runs a finger down Vindariel’s cheek before continuing in a soft voice. “Even the madam of this travelling brothel might be persuaded to share a bed with you for the time we have together. What do you have to lose?”
She searches the man’s eyes for an answer then holds one hand up before he can speak. “If you decide that you wish to return from here, I will sell you one of my riding beasts for the princely sum of one extremely memorable kiss. It will need to be good enough for the memory of it to last until we do meet again. Consider your options and choose, My Lord.”
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I smiled grimly at those words: “You know I appreciate the offer – I really do. But there are a few things you don’t understand about me or the Nine-Killers. We are not just different in body, we are different in mind too.
Normal mortals and immortals fear. They fear loss, pain, death, the unknown… The Nine-Killers don’t. We just don’t have the capacity to feel fear in any form. That includes the overwhelming urge to reproduce born from the subconscious fear of having your blood die out.
In short, we have no anxieties about intimacy, but we also do not crave the sweet release from the clutches of death that la petite mort brings like other immortals and mortals.
For me to crave such requires me to care deeply about my partner, to put there well being over my own. Or simpler put: Love them.I think the old gold snout put that into our blood to make it harder for us to be seduced and turned against him. Not to mention that to compensate for our lack of a natural self-preservation instinct, we were relentlessly trained to weigh constantly and instantly the chances for all that we do.
Feeling strong emotions for a vampire is a bad move, as that is how you get your life sucked out. I’m not saying that that is your intention, but I don’t know just how strong your own will is or how good you are at separating your hungers during the raptures of passion.”At these words I rose from my sitting position in one fluid motion to stay in front of her: “Nonetheless, I hate walking when I could be riding.”
With just one step, I brought my right foot behind hers, letting our butts touch at the sides, grabbed her to plant my mouth on hers and just as she was opening her lips to respond to mine, I tore away her stand and pivoted her over my hip. Just as the free fall registered with her but before she would slam into the ground, I gripped her tight and stopped her fall with her hovering only a handspan above ground.
Reversing the motion smoothly was a lot harder than just making her fall, but I had done those moves before and I knew from the flush on her face, that the sudden ac- and deceleration had done it’s job to take her breath away.
“I hope you enjoyed that little rush and found it memorable enough. If you excuse me now, I have a beast of burden to catch.”
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