Lost

[Caynwyn]

((This is open RP))



Having just woken up after the funeral for Horace, Cay realized how terrible she still felt having let the man down. She missed everything about him from his mutton chops to his fat belly.. and even the smell of alcohol on his breath. He was the sweetest person she knew except for Skip, her cousin. Well Yridia and Azuros also. Cay saw how close Skip was to the beautiful girl and decided to go to the harbor on her own not wishing to interfere with their lives. With one last look at the tombstone the Countess had placed in Cadomyr, and swiping another tear falling from her blue eyes, Cay threw some clothes in her bag not caring what, and tried to grab a ship.

The Captain shook his head.. "Wrong ship.. catch the one at the end of the harbor" So she hunted for one planning to visit Peter, taking him up on his invitation. Climbing in, she found a cabin with 6 beds in it thinking one must be hers and didn't ask for more directions. Still tired from her day, having cried for ages at her loss and the loss of the wonderful druid, Cay went immediately to sleep until a crash sent salty water over her face and had her gasping for breath as she swam up along with other cabin occupants, past the door and out the rails. Finally floating past the sinking ship, where was she?

[HolyKnight]

Leland and Inara gave Cay privacy, both knowing a soul must handle loss at its own pace. Time held no meaning in lieu of grief. Leland knew the feeling well, cried on the inside for a cousin he barely knew- the promise and potential it held far too important. He had a chance for a real family, blood meant something, he didn't need an education to tell him the cold hard facts about life. The streets of Gynka were harsh, and those with the largest families were the best equipped to survive. For his entire life he went alone, scratched and clawed, made friends- only to see it turn asunder. An entire past swept away in the fits of civil strife.

Fifteen minutes, fifteen gods damned dwarven minutes! Thirty at the most! Cay was gone! Leland stood, dumbfounded, where she promised to be after escorting Inara home.

Illarians knew nothing of Leland's rage, the pain he kept quietly to himself. Only vermin and criminals in the wildlands experienced his baleful hate and bloodlust. He played nice, loved the role actually, his new adventure in paradise. He didn't like being ignored though, especially, by people that needed him. Cay may have been his senior but lived on grace. It kept her pure of heart, blameless in the eyes of the gods. She floated along like a leaf on a breeze. How she survived a world so cruel boggled Leland's mind. To him, she was often like a sheep near cliff's edge. More than a hundred times he could have robbed her blind, lied to her, misled her, but instead, he lived part of his life for her. Blood reigns afterall, thicker than water, truer than rain.

Leland took a personal oath to protect her, and to this point, she'd done well to listen to his advise, but when he returned to her campsite to find it empty, his red dagger darted through the air at the fallen log devoid of her resting head. He cursed like a sailor, rayless thoughts for an otherwise darling soul. She lied. For the first time, Cay sowed a thought of distrust into the young man's mind. He would not easily forgive her in his heart, but at the same token, she'd never know. She'd be close whether she liked it or not. Nothing beneath the heavenly sky or dark cloud would stop him from finding her. As he took toward Runewick, Leland praised himself for being obsessive about his cousin's habits and knew exactly where to start his search.

Horatio might brassy bastard grumble, "Nay a wonder blokes always be bellyachin' 'bout bloody damned relatives!"

[Caynwyn]

Thankful she had learned how to swim from her Grandma, Cay blinked some water from her eyes and used her hand for the spare water as she coughed before viewing the sparse tree tops and following others as they swam toward land. Having two mage parents and being very small of build, Cay's weakness started pulling her down immediately and she feared she wouldn't make it. The first thing to drop from her was the heavy boots before reluctantly allowing her bag to drift down.

Realizing from watching the others there was no gentle flow of land onto the island, but water deep until it suddenly crested on rocks, Cay despaired of being able to pull herself up seeing other people with difficulty making the attempt. Debating next to allow her dress to drop after having tried and tried to get on the land also, to no avail, Cay suddenly felt a rather large something on her rump at the same time giving a breathless squeak before she was unceremoniously shoved up and onto the rock.

Looking back she saw one of the ships mates giving her a nod and wink before he easily pulled himself up. Taking a few deep breaths Cay attempted to thank the man but couldn't find him again. Maybe she would try later depending how long they were all on this very small plot of rocky ridge with two lonesome trees.

Finally the Captain stood to talk to them all after clearing his throat to get attention...

We are on an island estimated 35 kilometers from our destination having been hit by some monster who apparently thought our ship was something to attack. The island is called, uh. one of three..

He again clears his throat without mentioning the names..

Our sister ship will search for us soon. In the mean time everyone just make themselves comfortable. You'll only be delayed a couple of days.

Cay held her soaked skirt up slightly in order to walk near one of the two fires begun and sat on a spare log near another woman looking as miserable as Cay felt. The rock, and pebbles weren't very good on her bare feet as she silently prayed to Ushara and wished now she had boots and bag. Allowing her druid upbringing to the fore with a secret wish not to think of those she cared for and their worry, Cay gave the woman a weak smile attempting not to shiver in the cold and speaking softly,

Are you hurt? Can I help you?

[Peter Rotholz]

Peter did pace quite restless around the farm and the fields.

She should be here by now, shouldn't she ? I mean - she wanted to come !

He wanted to see her badly, even if he was aware he could not show it. He had made a oath to himself
by the Five, not to bother her with his feelings. But now he was worried.
About to enter the house a yell let him hesitate

Mister Rotholz--- Mister Rotholz !!!

turning towards the voice a Halfling was running towards him, nearly breathless. It was Tamlien - which should have guide Cay to the farm.
His heart did sunk as he spotted the pale face of Tamlien.

Mister Rotholz - the ship - it sunk - rumours all around the harbour !!!
Peter did gasp in shock You are sure Tamlien ?
The Halfling boy did give a nod.
Tamlien - use the town bell- we will form a search party !

There was no hesitation in him, only his deep dread about Cay, as he moved to pack and prepare to search for her.

[HolyKnight]

Information gathering, like any skill form, takes time to hone; opportunity and timing were key influencers. Leland had been taught and learned, some people would spill their guts like a babbling brook; while others cinched up tighter than harlot’s corset with little separation in between or a discernible tell. If a person held secrets, you had to come up with as many angles as possible to get the lowdown.

As it turned out, the faction cities weren't nearly as closed lipped as the denizens of Gynka, generally speaking of course. Commonfolk spread secrets and gossiped like ladies over tea across the fabled lands. Damnedest thing earnestly, dirt and mud tossed to the wind without a single copper changing hands. Old habits died hard for Leland, though, when he wanted information; discretion, cunning, deception and even violence weren't out of the question. Ask a man who finds you wanting and see how quick he turns a deaf ear. No, it was always best to get someone else to speak honeyed words and beat the hell out of them later if they were tight lipped.

Leland never hastened toward violence, but when two discrete attempts failed to extract the details he wanted from Runewick’s harbor master, his mood soured like stale grapes. Through careful observation and a hired hand, he knew the dwarf kept his ledger on him at all times. So, on a late night deluge, bless Ronagan’s favor, the dwarf drudged and splashed through the wet streets of Runewick. Between the guardhouse and hospital, where no one bore witness, Leland waited in black cloak behind the shadows of many trees. Out of reach of Ushara’s mercy the dwarf took a hard blow to the back of the head with the hilt of Leland’s dagger and got gagged.

When the victim came to, should he dare to report the crime, Leland would already have his answers with few, if any, breadcrumbs to follow. There was scant chance anything led back to Leland, coin paid to a handler in Galmair to probe the portmaster initially and watch, a threatening note written not by his own hand but by putting ink on common rune stones and pressing them onto parchment. Leland slipped the note into the next day’s page on the ledger after the incident with the following words:

Speak and she dies.

Nothing more nothing less, no riches stolen, ledger back in the dwarf’s bag, and the owner, left hogtied tight enough for Leland to make a hasty retreat. Leland now knew the name of Cay’s vessel as well as its course. He couldn't help cursing Nargun’s name for the terrible sense of irony.

Leland knew the vessel straightaway because it was on a particular list, a list made by privateers— ones he signed up to join. Problem being, Leland never received word to join the crew! In all likelihood, they’d stolen his plan for their own and Leland, unintentionally, put his own cousin at risk! Weaken the ship’s hull, tail the vessel leaving port, wait for it to take on water and sink in the shallows, and plunder the cargo without a single life taken or anyone the wiser. The plan would've worked to perfection had it not been for some bored or hungry monster bent on Cay’s ship.

Of course, Leland didn't know his cousin’s plight at the time. All he knew was she lied, put herself in danger, and his crewmates backstabbed him. Like the storm raging down, it soaked into his seething blood. Moshran’s animus came on like a torrent, fed by purpose and a thirst for carnage. Past a distracted Brassius aiding a femine figure who’d slipped and fell into the mud, then north Leland took flight. By the time he reached the bonfire, he ran at full tilt, the heavy rain ebbing away by the time he crossed the bridge from the Dewy Swamps into the wild.

What followed soon after near the thieves’ den, should there be any witnesses, could only be described as savagery. Leland knew the leader of his crew liked to gamble in a cave nearby their fortified encampment, every night in fact. The hoveled out crag of earth and stone served as the camp's sentry tower, but the watchman was put at ease when Leland bellowed out the safe word.

Same went for the guard, a slouching poorly armored purple scaled lizardman, protecting the cave entrance. After all, Leland had brought the crew a great deal of legitimate private business, business that went untaxed by the camp’s ringleader. No honor amongst thieves, like most they probably thought Leland was some wise-crack callow street urchin. They were wrong.

Leland's dagger killed the lizardman before he could even make eye contact. Steel embedded into his scaly throat, forward thrust of his boot dislodged the injection. The pair of rancorous voices inside failed to hear his gurgling sounds for help. Dagger back in his sheath and Leland scaled the bluff to find his next victim. Deadbeat two managed to get a word out and an arrow, but Leland spun and took the arrow to his shielded back. Front roll after and Leland drew his dagger once more into the man’s gut. The archer cried in agony, no more than fifteen winters’ old, Leland easily lifted him up and slammed into the cold rocky earth.

The panic in his doe eyes didn’t delay Leland cutting his throat with his other hand smothering the youth’s mouth, Once he was dead, Leland drug his body out of sight. Onward he went without guilt, another foe left in the mess of his own blood. Back to the edge of the bluff, he kicked some rocks onto the dead body when the voices inside were low. As soon as they stopped talking he silently sprinted to the ladder to have a look. Two individuals stood on high alert, the one he knew to be Jafeer, the human crew leader in full plate armor, signalled the second lizardman outside. He complied but soon hissed loudly, which brought Jafeer outside.

Taking them both on would be a challenge but he didn’t hesitate sliding down the ladder to charge them. The hate in him was all consuming. Jafeer turned first, clearly more seasoned. He took a slash with his saber but Leland rolled underneath and his dagger went to work again. This time he sliced into the inner thigh of the lizardman, more than likely a fatal blow- whether the lizard knew it or not. Leland’s momentum from the roll flung him up and he plowed into the unsuspecting lizardman with his shoulder, who’d not even drawn his own dagger yet. Jafeer snarled and tried to jab. Instinctively, Leland scissor flipped out of the way.

Unskilled and poorly trained, the lizard thief yelped and fled the area, leaving Jafeer and Leland to fight it out. The exchange had to be quick or the entire camp would be onto him.

“Ya little bastard!” Jafeer lunged a second time but the move was too similar to the last and Leland feinted right and slashed an open spot exposed between the protective plates. The pain brought fear and panic into Jafeer’s eyes but he couldn’t back down. Leland could see the man was about to yell for reinforcements so he flung his dagger straight at the man’s face. Jafeer managed to deflect it with his shield and thought he had the upper hand now that Leland was weaponless and bull rushed him.

The fight was over in seconds, the thug leader swung a wide arching diagonal slash, Leland met his charge but spun at the last moment, and Jafeer’s sword scraped innocently across Leland’s shield. In that tiny moment, Leland produced a longer dagger concealed beneath his shield, the lancing blow gave him just the opening he needed. Before Jafeer could recover he found the long tipped dagger sunk into his armpit and pulled forth with spraying blood. By the look in his eyes he knew he was dead but staggered into the night just like the lizardman. Both were too shocked to speak or even cry for help. Between the pair, Jafeer collapsed to the ground first, but before he could cry out, he found Leland’s dagger lodged into his throat.

Still shocked into silence the shadow drenched lizardman fell backwards and crawled away from the scene on all fours. Pleading hands and eyes would not save him and he died in a pitiful struggle where Leland’s dagger sunk deep into his heart. For a moment, everything was a blur and Leland's body pulsated with fuming rage. That is, until he heard rushed footsteps and spun around. A ragged looking girl, feral even, stared at him with a mixture of shock and awe but by and large horror took her face hostage. Leland had been careful to cover his face and head but he preferred no witnesses and gave chance.

It would turn out once he cornered the girl on the same bluff as he killed the sentry, he’d actually crossed paths with a feral young woman. Though he considered she might be acting, the filth and body language felt too real. Nargun at work again!

Fate is funny, gods are fickle, but for one reason or another Leland saw potential in the feral lass and managed not to kill her. Concerned about her health and nourishment, Leland hastily made camp for them. When she, finally, fell asleep on a full stomach he slipped off to Cadomyr to say farewell to Inara. The departure hurt equal to Cay’s but in a different way and she'd even given him a token of her affection in the form of a dragon amulet.

Hours later he would be back to teach his new feral friend a lesson in civility and usefulness. He got mixed results, but in the end, he got her on a schooner he chartered to save Cay. Fortunately, it only took a cutlet of venison to bribe her aboard the vessel, and just like that, Leland was no longer alone on his search for Cay, after all and the course was set.

How on god's blue sea would it all unfold, though?

[Peter Rotholz]

The Elfess Keona stood with Peter before a wall. Pinned there a map.
A lot of white dots, question marks and ... sort of fishes ... could one see.

"The map and the fisher boat we got - you think we can start search for the shipwrecked with ?"
Peter did ask Keona. Giving him a slight dip of her head she pointed into a direction of many small Islands.

"Somewhere here we should start - I would say if Illarion lays in this direction"
Her fingers trailed over the map, pinpointed on one spot in the end.

Peter did rub his neck
*then lets go - I ordered that some supplies are delivered to the hooker - depends how fast we find them - IF we find them, we can provide water, food and first aid*
Keona gave him her slightly arrogant nod, like a elf warrior would always do, but her eyes showed respect.
He had surprised her with his clear ideas and visions, and with the determination he showed, to find this **Cay**

Peter did grab the map from the wall, folding it neatly and stepped out of the farmhouse as a falcon arrived.

"A message from Amelia... will read it later..."

[Marla]

He would not trick Marla, his name was "Friend", he had told her, even if now he called himself "Boss".
Following Friend through the meadow and fields Marla wondered where they were going and what they were about to be doing. Would they play some more or go hunting? Search a more comfortable rest place than above the cave, or maybe visit Friend's pack?

The harbour bore many new impressions. Seagulls shouting and flying away as the man stepped on the pier, the sound of his boots on the wooden planks. Salty smell of the sea, sound of the the boats rocking in the water and waves hitting the shore. The light tower's warm light like a star at day time. A surprise stone lying near by, still carrying the scent of the many hands that had touched it.

Friend seemed to want her to step onto one of the boats, something she felt quite uncomfortable to do. But he threw some venison meat into the boat and Marla followed. She was just not sure if she should eat it right away or bury it for later - but how to do that in the wooden vessel?

[Caynwyn]

As the day turned to night slowly and Cay stared up trying to see the two moons, she was glad her clothes had finally made progress in drying while being worn. She was very thankful not to view her hair knowing without being told, it managed to look like a sponge with each tendril reaching out as if calling for help. Cay then proceeded to continually peek at the woman while trying to hide the frown forming on her face as worry replaced any other emotion as time moved on with no movement of the baby carried in her large belly. When not watching the woman, the druid stared out to the sea making an effort to squint past the extreme fog which had settled around them. No one seemed to have a blanket she could borrow for the woman so Cay simply made an attempt to pass her body heat by hugging the woman whom told her a name of Daedalos, then happily discussed the soon to be born baby, Dae for a girl and Crilen for the boy. Apparently Daedalos was to meet her husband Drent near Brimshire and a midwife was arranged for the birth unable to find a druid. Daedalos was extremely happy to find that Cay was one.


The woman dug in her bag to offer Cay some food when a stomach growl was heard and was declined..

You need that for you and the baby. Eat, I'll be fine.

Giving her a warm smile in thanks Cay glanced again out to sea and suddenly stood starting to run toward the edge of the rock yet her clumsiness finally decided to assert itself making her body hover then slam over the log instead and planting her face on the rocky ground managing to acquire a couple of pebbles in the process. Ignoring the pain as if used to the happenstance, Cay yelled while on her stomach pointing out to sea...

SHIP!


SHIP!


Everyone that was around the fires began running toward the ghostly apparition that appeared in the still thick fog and as Cay got on her feet, she heard a very welcome voice..

Cay?

Peter! Here! Over here!

Jumping up and down so he could view her short form past the other tall people, Cay was so excited to see him that when he finally arrived at her side she gave him as much of a hug as her weak body could possibly give.

[HolyKnight]

Leland spoke to the captain of the ship, the sorta bloke who spat from the sea instead of a womb; styled by the breeze, his thinning ash wood hair parted from left to right, whilst age and windburns sunk down into his squared jaw. He’d lived a harsh life, mutton chop stubble sanding his cheeks, unmoved features and beady brown eyes. Distinctly Cadomyrian by accent, he maintained his leather armor and weapons as well as his ship, both facts praised aloud by Leland. At best, the seasoned god and king of the vessel known as the Charlotte Maeve tolerated Leland’s presence. Should the quartermaster’s manifest come under review, the following entries would account for Leland Niall and Marla’s presence on that fateful journey.

Captain’s log Afforded by two patrons: one, Leland Niall, an armored youth with thick red mane, fit the surcharge for passage only, paid in FULL for him and his feral companion, Marla. Course be set Sou-by-Sou'wester to Brimshire.

Captain’s order He don't give no good godsdamned how much gold the babbling lad {Leland Niall} had to give, he ordered him to silence lest he be confined to the passenger quarters or be thrown overboard. (Reminded his captainship, he said this in jest.)

Captian’s order At all times the one named Marla will stay under watch! Feral she be, and for each ration stolen the suitor of her passage {Leland Niall} pays twice the market value, come to port.

For how long did Marla challenge her teeth on the raw sinew of fresh venison? No man or woman may know but the crew looked on in amazement. Meanwhile, choosing the fastest ship in the Freeman’s Fleet dug deep into Leland’s gold purse, but time was of the essence. He felt sick with worry, made worse by guilt, and together he could finally relate to someone bemoaning seasickness.

The voyage would not glide along on a glass sheet; though, the skies were fair and blue behind the mounds of mashed potato clouds billowing from the horizon to the high heavens. Picturesque for an artisan, though they be; to a sailor, they were unpredictable, foreboding signs. Such clouds were often the harbinger of ill-fated winds and wayward storms. For the most part, however, the sun beamed unmasked, and although the rift and tide of the sea swelled high and low, the trip was blessed with headwinds and haste.

Leland loved the sea, his soul meant for the unknown horizon, the never ending challenge and Tanora’s dancing mood. Conversing with the navigator, reviewing the course pinned and marked up on his map, Leland was hopeful the speed of the three masted schooner could overtake the cargo ship the pirates were using. They would not be anticipating confrontation based on their plans. Again, Ronagan’s favor found the young lad, a broad and heavy fog stole the twilight dusk and endured into the night. Southwinds fed a hot muster over Leland’s skin- a feeble feeling sinking in anticipation. Like a dragon’s smokey breath, Leland knew the lurking unawares beast would quickly be ready for a fight.

Leland hoped to find Cay’s ship ahead of the pirates, but reason wouldn’t warrant the yearning. He had to stay focused, the first step was convincing Marla to stay in the passenger quarters- too aware of the impending danger to put her directly into harm's way. Would she compile? Who knows. It wasn’t fair bringing her along, but nor would it have been fair to leave her in the wildlands. She was Leland’s responsibility, like it or not, and he liked it; the wild curious little thing.

“Avast! Light’s be near! Ahoy, ahoy! Who- “

Leland knew the sound, well before the reaction of the ship, someone silenced the barrelman with an arrow. Screams and roars met his fallen body thudding against the deck. Twenty or so tiny fires flickered and pierced through the fog. Some thudded harmlessly, others struck sailors left and right. A few fought on and charged toward the safety of the handrail. Leland was close enough to the captain’s quarters to find refuge, having just ascended from the hull. An entire crew, and Marla, all put at risk for his cousin. Leland didn’t think twice nor care, the captain barked orders; his crew well trained. Like soldiers they formed a line against the cover of the handrail and crewmen below deck rushed them bows and arrows to return fire.

Between volleys, Leland dared to steal gazes at the captain who stood tall and strong behind the helm. He wheeled this way and that to avoid the archers’ aim.

“Call em shields ready ye stank filled maggots! Till then fire at will! Starboard 50 yards!”

Return fire blistered toward the pirates. Up from hiding one by one the remaining and injured crew notched and fired arrows. Meanwhile, the below deck crew switched to running shields. When the last man had his shield, he cried!

“Shields ready cap!”

No sooner than the words echoed, the captain whirled the wheel hard to starboard. The ship jerked and whipped as he brought it back to port then center. Again, his soldiers knew the drill and formed a phalanx toward the bow ready for impact. Arrows kept flying from the other side and without a wall for cover, Leland sprinted toward the shield wall through a field of arrows. Blood and fire stained the deck, littered corpses were few- meaning chances to win remained fair.

“Hold strong, ya stonewalled bellied jackasses! Make’n ta ram!”

The crew howled their readiness. Arrows from the pirate’s ship whizzed by Lelands left and right shoulder, one so close he thought he got nicked. Alas, he dove and the men gave him room to find cover. Before he could get back to his feet both ships met and twenty or thirty men crouched above him trying to keep their shields high above for protection. The captain’s aim must have been true because from the otherside Leland heard screams of charge and take that ship!


“Protect the ship! Sea thieve’n bastard’s ship be taken on water! Fan out! Hold the line! Men above and below kill em all!”

Leland sneered, drew his dagger, and took up a shield from a fallen sailor to rise. The pirates came on like a herd of wild rabid dogs, meant to strike fear, and send lesser men into chaos. This tactic proved useless against the experienced schooner crew of the Charlotte Maeve. Steel on steel and thudding lumbering, men yelled and screamed and died. In the midst, Leland kept his safe distance, only stepping in to thrust or defend a breach in the shield wall.

“Take the lead Ondurus!"

The largest man in the crew, looking Norodaj by descent, roared and took field command. Under his lead the wall held and pushed forward. Pirates fell four to one against the Charlotte Maeve. Leland, in tow, marched over mutilated men and women crying before he bent down to slit the throats of his enemies and stop their worthless sounds of anguish. Other men and women came from the rear to pull allies free from the carnage.

From the bow of the Charlotte Maeve to the port bow of the pirate’s vessel the shield wall pushed. In a last ditch attempt to stem the tide, the pirates threw alchemy bombs at the front line, killing five and sending them flying into the air on fire. Leland rushed, anticipating Ondurus’ call to charge- which came in his passing. Taking to the handrail Leland raced right at the bombists trying to ignite a second wave of bombs. He leapt, the bombist struck the flint and steel, the wick was burning, and mid-flight Leland hurled his dagger. Shield bearing pirates trying to protect the bombists advanced on Leland but it was too late, the dagger only slightly off the mark sunk into the bombist’s neck and he dropped the bomb.

After that, everything exploded into light and fire, whilst Leland flew through the air like a rag doll.

[Marla]

At first Marla was not paying much attention to the people on the boat or the young man she had named Friend who talked to another older man.

It did not seem interesting to her at all. The venison meat just looked so tasty and it was given to Marla all for herself. She chewed on it in joy and alone, without having to share it with anyone. But she grew a little suspicious as the more curious crew members approached and stared at her, so she growled at them in worry they might take away her precious, tasty food.

After eating Marla went to explore the ship. On all fours the woman crawled along the deck. First rubbing her side at one of the mast, than sniffing at a startled sailor's boots and almost getting kicked in the nose, next watching three seagulls flying off from her bark with a miscivious grin - Marla was very busy. She strolled around the deck until she had sniffed at almost anything, rubbed her body against all three masts, trying to adapt the scent of clothes to her surroundings - but wearing a simple metal armour - to no surprise, would not take the scent of the mast or anything else on the ship - until she rolled in a puddle of salt water - much to the surprise of the sailors, who were charged to clean the deck.

Later, following the smell of food and spice the woman found the kitchen. Where she was chased out immediately, by the hard-working Gynkese cook. So she sat whimpering in front of the door until the cook's assistant - at the brink of a nervous breakdown - allowed her inside. That day the meal was less rich in content than what usually was served on the Charlotte Maeve. Marla had furiously attacked the cook when he asked his assistant to hand him a spoon. Leland was not charged to pay for missing food, but instead for an injured cook - and he had to deal with the glares of a hungry crew, as well.

Shortly Leland learned about Marla's subsequent antics. A young sailor boy approached him:"Uhm.. Mister,... abour your companion ... uhm... could you please tell her to not chew on the hawsers, sir?" They both went looking for Marla and found her crouching inside some ropes near a few barrels with drinking water. When she noticed them she tried to cover the rope she had just been chewing on under her body. Making a perfect innocent face she sat up looking the two young men. Since the hurt cook caused quite a fuzz, luckyly, these charges never found Leland's name logged in the Quartermaster's ledger.

In the evening some crewmembers chatted about missing items. The first mate would unsuccessfully search for his compass, other crew members were looking for their beer bottles or even their purses. While the captain could not find his telescope and the Quatermaster claimed to have misplaced his favourite die, the one that was blessed by a Nargun priest and that was feared by the other crew members in dice games. All these missing items piled up in Leland's and Marlas room, where the feral woman would proudly present her findings as presents to Leland expecting to be praised.

The next day Marla discovered the steering wheel. The "thing" fascinated her. At first she's bump her face against the wheel and jumped back, to check if it was alive or not. This caused the good-humoured helmsman to laugh. But after pulling at the helmsman's trousers, he would not laugh at Marla again and she was not allowed above deck anymore. The crew mostly was happy to have a reason to lock the feral woman in the room in passengers quarters that Leland had been assigned. Some sailors, oft the case, were superstitious and scared of her, while others -in rightful foresight- feared she might spread fleas among the crew.

The confinement of Marla to the room was much to the dismay of the other passengers Leland and Marla shared it with. The room was a utilitarian chamber filled with two bunk beds, one bed occupied by an old hafling woman, the other bed by her herd of cats. To protect the mental safety of all readers and cat lovers it shall not be mentioned what happened between Marla and these feline creatures. The captain's log also only mentions that the cat loving hafling lady requested an other room soon after that incident - not providing anymore gruesome details.

Leland used all matter of threats and coercion to convince Marla to stay in the room. Still, she somehow noticed that something was looming - some extrasensory hint in his eyes or the faint smell of fear and adrenaline. She would refuse to leave Leland's side, desperate, she insistently nipped at his heels, her teeth deep into the cloth. Without much time and not much choice, the young man would have to trick her by tossing a hand full of copper coins to the floor, - one of the things that Marla liked to collect for Leland - and slam the door shut, before taking a deep breath rushing back to deck to join the fight.

Somehow Marla managed to get the door pulled open and rushed up the stairs fast. Going somewhere fast, still meant movement on all fours for Marla. In the doorway she sniffed and looked around for a few seconds, trying to figure out the battle.

The battle on the ship might have seemed like a confusing rush of people for an untrained observant, but the men were well organized. To Marla is all seemed simple. It was a simple case of us against them. The reason for the fight? Honestly, in Marla's mind this is no thing to spend a single thought on. It doesn't matter, because she learned that as soon as one party begins to attack, it means you have to fight for your life and the lifes of your family!

Without hesitation she joined the fight, biting and scratching furiously at any pirate, that was stupid enough to cross her path. She was really lucky not got herself hurt badly, but her opponents on the other hand were also really confused and scared of the feral woman.

Than she saw Leland flying, twirling through the air, throwing a well aimed dagger at one of the enemy men. The explosion though were a signal for Marla that something was really, really wrong. The deep, loud sound and the detonation that went through the ship, the smell of fire and alchemic substances and even more screams! And her eyes caught sight of the man she named Friend who was still in the air! Marla rushed forth and jumped after him.

[Peter Rotholz]

He simple did swoop her up into his arms, cradle her gentle, looking at her closely for wounds.
She was as light as thistledown, surely she had bruises and injuries he couldn't see.

"Cay ! By the Five !!! I am so glad we found you - I mean we found all survivors. We heard rumors about a ship which did obviously sank. It was very fast clear that it was the Sea Crown on her way to Brimshire. We started immediate to search for surv---"

Keonas dark voice did interrupt him "Peter ... I did talk to the captain. Even if they miss still some members from the crew- there are too much people to rescue in one or two turns.We need to make decisions who needs first help and let the other food, water and the bags with the things for wound care here. Pick them up later. The fog seems to be a bit lighter ... so I strongly advice to set sail as fast as possible."

Cay did start to struggle and he did set her down on her feets.
"I'll stay here with the people - take the pregnant woman and heavy injured first, please"
she said it quietly but determined, after all she was a druid.
Peter was torn - should he really left her behind again ? It was only temporary - he did quarrel with himself as Keona started to speak again
" A word in private Peter ? "
He gave the elfess a nod, looking at Cay. She made a movement with her hands, shoo him away.

Keona paced to the shore, her dark green eyes seriously. "Peter, this wasn't a simple naval accident, nor a strom. The captain told me the ship was sabotaged. So the culprit may be still here ..."
Peter rubbed his neck with a frown "So we leave the survivors in a huge risk, do we ? "
"Yes, but we can only take eight or nine people with our small vessel. I suggest nine, and I will stay here to oversee the people. You are better suited to carry the first group home, and I am a warrior. If something occurs they will have to deal with me !"

A deep heavy sigh followed, but Peter agreed and very fast they had gathered the people which where in most of need to bring back to Brimshire.
Before they set sail he did approach Cay again "May the five watch over you Cay, please be carefully - its possible the ship was sabotaged and the criminal has survived and stays hidden here - " he whispered softly
"We will be back as fast as possible to pick up you and the others... "
His gaze in her blue eyes did show deep love, but he said nothing more. Simple grabbed her hands, giving them a soft squeeze.

Then he left her and started to bark orders for the departure ...

[HolyKnight]

Timing is everything. Peter and Cay elected to save those most in need, and in all likelihood, their lives as well- should they survive their injuries and the voyage to safety of course. Nine souls saved from pirates’ bane. Scoundrels and scallywags, the wretchedest of seafaring bastards, heeded no law under man. Like the Bonelord’s lust beckoning from the depths of the sea, their souls had drifted a’course. Survival, booty, and vice- in particular order- were a pirate’s life, indeed. Poor innocent Cay, only ever thinking of others and never herself. Then there was noble Peter and his trusted comrades, would they have acted differently had they known the future nearing?

Too little, too late, or maybe as intended, Peter’s vessel disappeared from view only to be replaced by the pirate’s plunderless outworn cog ship. Before The Black Beaut ever dared to engage the Charlotte Maeve, a signal fire attracted the foolhardy pirates to Cay’s uncharted craggy isle. From there it would only be a matter of time before they surrounded the isle, sending three dingies of armed pirates ashore. Like hunting boar, they started from the perimeter and worked their way into the interior.

For the most part no one resisted, they merely ran and hid or climbed the cliffs looking for escape. There’d be no escape, save divine intervention, outnumbered and out-armed the pirates managed to capture a couple survivors straightaway. One got killed after wrestling a dirk from a pirate and defending himself. He took an arrow to the shoulder before two cutlasses from simultaneous pirates took his dirk arm out and the other fatally through his gut and abdomen.

For those not climbing and running in terror, they formed together following the path of least resistance, like rats on a sinking ship. Had it not been for a single individual, their instincts would've deceived them into a trap. Make no mistake the pirates were herding to corral slaves and new crewmen, a tactic trained chapter and verse by these savages. They did not, however, anticipate the Brágon faithful raging against them.

Like a blazing bonfire, a lone elfess with deft skill and courage wielded her shield and sword fury without mercy or hesitation. To the survivors she'd look like a savior, the gleam of metal— holy light reflecting hope. Leather clad, she was built for speed like her Father’s dragon tail. Vicious carnage, raging steel she dismembered, dismantled, and disemboweled multiple attackers at a time.

Keona new war and battle, proficient, cognizant, and fearless. As pirates struggled to fend her blade and find gaps her defensive, the lit elfess laughed with crazed mirth and still had time to ward incoming arrow blows aimed at her and the other survivors with her shield arm. Pirate bodies piled up in glorious sacrifice to Father, King, and Holy Flame. Then it all stopped.

The pirates bowed away from the high ground she took to slay six. She fumed her dragon’s breath, aiming her sword in a wide arch to challenge anyone else willing to die at her makeshift altar. No one took the challenge. Instead, the pirates broke their retreating horseshoe rank to fling their only bargaining chip to his knees. Cay would know the man right away, Nargun making the man who’d touched her bum to save her, a re-emerging figure during these trying times.

The following was offered to all that would hear, cease fighting, go willingly— if so— no harm would befall anyone else; resist, and the man would have his eyeballs gouged out before being disemboweled. With a heavy heart and still too much fight left in her, Keona reluctantly threw down her arms, unwilling to let her pride or fear of betrayal outweigh a man’s life. Though it might be surprising to you, the pirates kept their word besides a couple of sailors, who’d lost friends to the warrioress, they did take the liberty of punching and kicking Keona to the ground before she was shackled. Brágon’s daughter was stone faced and unyielding during her beating, and rose with limping pride as she and the rest of the survivors were led to The Black Beaut brig.

When they arrived, without the spoils of the transport ship to buoy his crews’ greedy spirits the captain of the vessel, wisely, welcomed his new prisoners aboard with vulgar, blatantly intimidating, pageantry. The sticky aging man, shrouded in moonless darkness, swung out from one hand gripping the top most post of the captain’s deck and cackled manically before striking up a foreboding shanty.

“Ye lo sickly foe!”

He sang with sand in his throat and hate in his heart. Then all at once the crew joined the second verse, jeering, and closing in on the single file row of prisoners led by one shirtless orange scaled lizardman and pushed forward at the rear by a brawny blackish-greenish skinned orc.

“Head her down, down below.”
“Hey yo sickly foe”
“Whatcha y'a know down below.”
“Yo no.”
“Yo no.”

The repeating verse, “Yo no” never seemed to end, coming on like a sacrilegious chant, a ringing echo in the dark— abandoning their malice to call to the sea. They all became drones, enchanted by the tune, absorbed in the ancient seafaring rite. Only when the last prisoner found their feet below deck did the verse change.

“Yo no…”
“Death below, death below.”
“Yo no…”
“Death below, down below.”

Then all the gapped toothed surly pirates laughed and doubled down on jeering as they crowded against the prisoners, forcing and them all into the iron cage awaiting them below deck near the stern. Perhaps only tall enough for Cay to stand, the confines were cramped at best. Although scented rushes filled the space below their feet, the ferns and flowers had turned to meal with the damp straw. Nothing could mask the stench of water rot decay and sweaty men, nor the alarming amount of bilge water roving along with the boat.

A single cast iron lantern hung out of reach beyond the cage, offering little light as the pirates ebbed away to return to their duties in shadowy places or above deck. Inside the cage there wasn't even a pot to piss in. How many made it this far with Cay? The one that grabbed her backside was present and accounted for as he sunk down to brace his arms against his knees and bow his head in silence.

[Caynwyn]

Cay gave Peter what she hoped was a confident smile after his hug managing not to even grimace at some bruises that let her know of their presence. Grabbing some shoes and a change of clothes from the purser, Cay, with a quick glance at the very pregnant Daedalos who seemed calm and ready to leave, tried to hide the fear making her heart beat wildly. Hoping she pulled it off because Peter said nothing, Cay whispered...

You must go.. protect the weak. We'll be fine.


Tying a leather belt around the oversized shirt she wore, the only clothes that were small enough to fit her, and glad the fog seemed to have departed, Cay stood at the edge on the rocks and waves before turning north and spying the ship. Wondering at first if another was going to save them, Cay started to back away then ran to the elfess left to guard them.

There is a ship that looks.. uh. strange coming!


Cay pointed toward the pirate ship and was summarily and hastily grabbed by Keona accompanied by a fairly loud whisper..

Get the others, go to the trees!

Wondering at the strange signal fire only briefly, halted the druid from running on her short legs as one shoe protested, both being too large, by falling off and landing near the fire. Attempting to grab more people to follow her, Cay finally peeked from behind the second tree as the other people seemed as frightened as she was when viewed the pirates disembarking from their ship. A sudden unclean smell wafted in the air as the pirates put out all the fires using her shoe as loot, then one that seemed to be the head simply laughed showing black, unkempt teeth and evil eyes.

Wiping her tears as she viewed one from her ship get evilly sent to Cherga probably for good, Cay moved to make a foolhardy attempt to help Peter's elfess until a hand on her shoulder stopped her. The elderly man put a finger to his lips and shook his head pointing now to the elfess halting her fight. With blood on her face and body, Cay started again to move to assist her only to hear the threatening words of the ugliest pirate. Allowing the others to push her along, limping with just one shoe, Cay's heart fell at the loud yelling and laughing of the crew as they went below deck to the dark, damp cage totally missing the cruelty done at the end.

With rings under her eyes denoting no sleep in a long time, the resourceful druid managed to use slips, shirts and even shoes for toiletry necessities. Unable to keep her eyes open much longer, she slides down the wall helplessly not knowing if one more thing she could do yet her mind wondering if a task was missed. Seeing all the passengers and even the elfess finally asleep, Cay gave a large yawn that was interrupted by loud noises above them. The single light didn't indicate what time of day it was yet started to swing back and forth as some quarrel kept getting louder on the deck. Suddenly the light fell putting them all in darkness however no fire erupted and Cay was thankful the fuel had been used up. All the passengers were now awake, those able sitting up and barely breathing while they waited. Could it be Peter back? Another pirate?

[Keona Narsir]

Keona is sitting in the cage, leaned on the wall from the ship.Certainly shackled. She has her eyes closed, but sleeping ? Not now. To much circling thoughts.

Pain.
Its the only thing I feel just right now, even if I should try to get some sleep. But around me is nothing but danger. Not that I can do anything against just right now.
Is it a disgrace to be captured ? Here ? In this way ? No!
I did what I had to do. My destiny. My deep belief. The will of my god. The will of my queen.
I am Lady Keona Narsir, Knight of Ar-Sikar and the Dragon Temple, consecrated to Bràgon.
But no one here knows this facts.
For them I am a 2457 year old elfenwarrior with black hair, blue eyes and 6,13 feet tall. Serving Lady Lhira, the grandmother of Inara Valdris.
Some things are declared secret. Secrets must be preserved to ensure protection and peace.
Pain ...
How did I get into this ?
An assignment, a long-term mission from my queen. Not difficult. Not dangereous. Rather sort of relaxing. Nevertheless not lass than important. Not less to take it seriously.
The rebuilding of a village. Improvements of the shelter itself. I did handpick the people. So we travelled to Brimshire and all was bussiness as usual.
Peter Rotholz, he was the one I should talk. He has a farm there. It is his own, his heritage. A.. farmer. A man with competence. It is enjoyable to work with him.
Pain .........
The news about the ship which was shipwrecked, sunk, with Cay on it. She wanted to visit. A friend of Peter obviously. Ther was not the hint of a question -- we all would help
A plan was fast made and I have to pay respect towards Peter in this point. The elaboration of the strategy was fast and precisely.
In the end we found the shipwrecked people and the person named Cay on a small and rocky island.
Too many to get them rescued at once. The ship, sabotage. So I stayed, the culprit could be still under the people we found. Cay did stay as well to give the injured room on our small vessel.

Keona groans and shakes her head, making a grimace.

Contemplate and remember get harder. Its like dipped into wool.
Where .... yes, Peter was gone and I with the rest of the people and a possible saboteur alone. Nothing I couldn't handle.
Pain...
Then came the pirates. My order to Cay to go with the others to the trees, so I could act.
Drawing my blade, gripping my shield and a shor prayer to Bràgon, my father, my lord, my god, He may grant me the power to bring devastation under my foes, wrath like a dragon and keep the innocent safe, as it is my purpose.
Combat ....
I go up in it, melt with. I feel Bràgons fire in me, and I spit it into the face of my opponents.
Obviously I got some scratches from the pirates, but they will fit to my other scars I already have.
Ramp and rage, they did not expect such a force, yet still they brought me down to my knees.
I can't let it happen that a innocent dies.
The impact from my shield and blade hitting the rocky ground are still ring in my ears.
Then, beating, kicks and I was going down, but my pride was never broken. I did overcome much worse.
Now I am bound in chains, in this cage, below the hatch.
Cut on my head, a burst lip, bruises. A dislocated shoulder, broken ribs. A leatherarmor does not protect strongly. But she makes me quick.
However I did miss something ... there is ... more....
This faintness...
I lose blood....

Keona did slightly cough, followed by another grimace. But she managed to opne her eyes. The awareness of her surroundings was not very high. She tried to reach out into her body, her hands tried to reach a stinging point in her back, Her fingers did get damp but nor from the brackish water. Blood. Keona looked up towards Cay.

"Cay ... I'm afraid I need your help. Stab wound.. at my back."

Keona did close briefly her eyes to pull herself together. No fainting ! No rest !
For this was time if you are dead !

"Near the kidneys ..."

She was sure Cay would, like the druid she was, found something to improvise, even if it has to be the shirt which Keona did wear underneath the leatherarmor, the shirt torn into pieces, then it shall be so.

[Caynwyn]

Behind Cay's closed eyes while smiling happily, she lays in a small hut made just outside the doors of Trolls Bane. Most pass by on the way to the very busy town thinking it is a rabbit hut being so tiny. When Cay found her way there, she compared the lettering of the parchment, the name written down by her Grams, and followed a road sign with a T on it electing to stay just outside the town overwhelming to her senses. Today, she crawled out and looked up.. yet up again to see a tall smiling man staring down at her before he pointed to her mud hut.

What is that?

Adjusting her second, too large wrinkled dress, planning to wash the first good one today, Cay made an attempt to be friendly after they exchanged names as taught by her Grams.


Felix, would you care for some food?

Handing him an apple with a little honey drizzled over it, Cay smiles as he sits near enjoying her bounty then nods at his next question while pointing.

Can I look inside?


Hoping she made the straw of her bed up properly, she watched as the big man peeked in then heard a loud grunt.

Uh, I'm stuck. Give me a minute.


The clasps of the armor were then opened and the man still quite large but with just shirt now, came out of her little hut leaving the armor stuck in the door.


Since it had taken days for Cay to make the hut she takes a deep breath and bravely tells him to go ahead and pull it out, she would make another. Speaking back and forth they eventually come to an agreement. He would write a parchment for her to find out if her fiancee was arriving in return for the crumbled hut. He also offered to teach her to read since girls weren't allowed schooling where she came from. In return he wanted more apples and honey. The days flew by after that and.....



Cay

Cay, I'm afraid I need your help....


Suddenly the dream dissipated and her eyes opened at a call for help. Glancing up at a trap door on the deck cracked open during the fight allowing just a small amount of light to seep through, Cay crawls toward the voice finding out it was Keona. Attempting to wake to the reality of the moment, the druid proceeds to repair more that was missed in her brief assessment earlier after gently helping the elfess turn allowing more of the damage to be seen. While Cay uses her the warmth of her druid hands as the final step to the wound, she bravely attempts not to shake in fear every time a loud bang is heard above.

Close your eyes and rest for awhile, you'll feel better soon and when I can will find herbs for glue and make tea for pain!

[Peter Rotholz]

He did pace around like a restless big cat, waiting until all the rescued castaway were aided.
They did force him atleast to rest some hours and eat, before set the sails again to bring Cay to Brimshire.

If he had knew ... had he could helped ? Prevent the event ? He was no fighter at all, just a simple farmer.

They arrived in the early morning the small rocky Island - but there was nothing to hear. No Cay shouting, jumping - wait for him.
The people which sailed with Peter moved uncomfortable around the vessel as he ordered to set anchor.
It was a ghastly silence, his heart did pound heavy against his chest.
He heard the buzzing of millions of flies before he did spot the pile of dead bodies. The stench was sickening-
some seagulls flew off as the group did come near, covering their noses with every cloth they could grab.

Peter tried to ignore all, going near to see what kind of dead bodies and body parts he could make out.
Pirates ... Keona's handwriting, for sure !

She had fought off so many... but what had stopped her ? The event was a mystery - the fact bitter truth.
Cay was lost to him, as Keona.

He heard someone vomitting behind, so the only thing they could do was to retreat. To bury this many dead pirates was impossible without shovels.
He did spoke a prayer to the five - he felt it was right, even if they were pirates.

Holding back his tears he ordered all to go back as fast as possible to the small fishing boat.
Sailing back home to Brimshire was like a ferocious task and for the first time in his life he started to drink rum, no not drinking - he did guzzle all three bottles in a fast pace.
The booze was stored there from the fisher who did own the boat - but Peter did not mind...he didn't wont to think, or feel, blaming himself over and over again.
In the end they had to drag him to the farmhouse, Matt did tend for him - and the only thing Peter did babble in his state was

"Lost - I failed her ......"

[HolyKnight]

What was I thinking? The eternal odium looped round and round, like his tumbling body. Young men and their foolhardiness, too many at the ready to risk their own demise, how Cherga must distress. Not too many fools, superstitions aside, would be ignorant enough to don metal armor on a ship. For whatever reason, Leland’s commonsense failed him, but even in lieu of our errant mistakes, there is still hope. Hope in the form of Jacob’s ladder saved Leland’s flailing body. Both his dagger and his shield were lost to Findari, received by Tanora, and would eventually sink to the depths to live with Ushara forever or miraculously wash-up on one of her distant shores one day.

Flying through the air as a result of the botched alchemy bomb felt unreal. Time took a gasping breath, while displaced body parts and other fodder dampened the initial explosive eruption. Though Leland wasn't spared the flame, he was not wholly engulfed like the semi-circled pirate saboteurs. They went up like a candle when the first bomb fired, set ablaze like a pyre of wickermen. Then came the wailing, nay a second to split later came the chain reaction, bomb after bomb adding insult to obliteration. Anyone nearer than Leland stood no chance of survival.

Boom! Boom, boom, boom!

Three, four, five, hell maybe even six bombs sent bodies and parts flying in every direction. Not even the sodden deck could withstand the force nor anyone directly below (thank the gods, the prisoners sat caged toward the stern). Two hogsheads could've fit in the smoldering breach left behind and ablaze. Without proper attention, the fire could’ve devoured the ship, but the pirate captain reacted definitively, bellowing out.

“Parlay! Parlay! Cast ye weapons aside men! Parlay I say! I have slaves fer barter! Let what remain o’ ma crew squelch these ‘ere flames!”

Ondurus responded with a few hand gestures toward his men: one halted their assault, another called for more men from the Maeve, and the third for archers at the ready- pointing exactly where he wanted them. The commander did not need to speak a word as he took a direct path to the captain’s deck with two of his finest in tow at his flanks. With the ceasefire in place, the pirates wasted no time following the captain’s orders to put out the flames, while other soldiers from the Maeve collected arms. Two pirates died with arrows in their back attempting to flee, and when Ondurus reached the captain he squarely punched him in the face, breaking his nose and causing him to howl in pain before hitting the deck.

Meanwhile, with Marla’s help, Leland managed to rise up from the deck holding his shoulder— having taken a hard spill from the rebound off and down the net ladder. Through blurred vision he watched the victors of the sea battle exact their will, not sure in the least what transpired. By this point, dreams bled into reality.

A red horned dragon with seafaring lasses of every race rode chained, one behind the other, up the length of his boundless neck. Clad in nothing but bralette loins, each fair lass bore interconnected golden chains around their neck, clinging to one another as the noble beast roamed beside the pirate’s ship. The rest of his body had to be below the sea line, but Leland distinctly heard flapping of wings capable of gale like winds.

The air smelled like roasting meat, searing steak on a hot skillet. Buzzing like swarms of hornets from the Katanbi desert began to drown out all other sounds. People were talking, others stared agape, and Leland looked for purpose— feeling how wild and bulging his eyes became. Cause never came and people were shepherding him away. He resisted with wiggling arms and silent screams. The fight wasn't over, not in the least, the pirates were rising back up!

Like undead minions their spilled blood began to sing new life into their hollow and vacant corpses. The buzzing stopped without notice— dragon wings once more— then came the surging of doomed chants. Not a single word understood, not a single one needed. This was the voice calling back the dead to rise and fight yet again. Leland looked for supporters. No one from the Maeve seemed phased.

They stared with blank faces or strict focus on their purpose driven menial tasks. Danger eminent! Leland searched the pirate crew, only to find them all transmogrified into the skeletons and the demonlike armatures their souls reflected. They’d made their final descent to the depths of unworldliness to join the endless war against light and all things good and just in the world. From the captain’s deck their miser reigned, taking the form of a bound and chained liche, licked in icy blue flames.

His cry blotted out everything, both eyes to see and ears to hear. Cold was his death march over your soul, hate was his grip, all things siphoning— all things woe. But darkness and hate came not alone for the dragon roared! With ghost-like fangs and ember magic rattling in his throat, pure white fire purged both ships. From those flames two figures emerged, one so pale her skin only shades dark than the flames but her hair all too familiar, the gingersnap tendrils of his one fair cousin.

Leland's heart leapt! He yelled and he yelled!

“Cousin! Cousin! Cay! Cay, it's me!”

The other walked beside her, one supporting the other, an elfess with strict and stern features and hair flowing raven black.

---

When Leland came-to in the passenger quarters of the Maeve hours later, he hoped with all his heart not everything he saw was a dream.

“Cay?”

[Caynwyn]

Slowly walking Keona toward the door where the other passengers finally left when the noise abated, Cay heard a shocking voice among her saviors and shouted as loud as she could after helping the elfess sit on a bench only half broken during the fight..

Leland!


Limping only slightly she sees a man helping her cousin stand and when he sees her concern...

Lady, if this man is yours.. get him to lay down and quit yelling for some Cay! We're headed home to Runewick harbor and perhaps someone can help him then!


Simply nodding not correcting yet sadly not even thinking of Keona for the moment, Cay directs the man to get Leland to lie on a bed and when his eyes managed to painfully squint open, she leans toward his field of vision to smile.

It is me Leland, I'm fine and we are going home, go back to sleep.

While sitting on a stool next to Leland's bed, Cay writes a brief message to Peter letting him know the elfess was on their ship and both were safe yet never got to mail it while eyes close and the parchment flutters to the floor as she leans on the bed next to him, her wild unkempt hair falling over his chest.

[Keona Narsir]

I did wake her, obviously. This small, young, redhaired woman. A druid. She is ...impressive. She does handle the situation very well, yet. For many the awakening will come later.

Keona goes on her knees and bend forwards, so Cay could reach easier the wound.

Again Lady Cay cares for my wounds, or rather this wound. All others are already tended and as good as possible cared for, All would still hurt for a while. Especially the shoulder, certainly she was put rightback in , thanks to Lady Cay, but the pain will still last for a while.
This warm, healing hands of hers are a blessing. A outstanding ability.
I did give her a smile and did nod softly. It was honest, thankfully. I think I do not smile very often.

Lady Cay is right, I should rest. My fatigue and weakness shows it. My gaze goes up, where the destruction take its course and the noise of the battle can't be ignored anymore.
My heart is telling me to join it but my mind tells me very clear the circumstance I am just a chained prisoner.
I look at the chains, then to Lady Cay, who expects I rest. But how could I .....?

Closing my eyes, I'm already on my knees. Muted prayers to my gods. Like every day.

Bràgon, my Father, my Lord, my God.Uphold the strength in me for a little while longer. Fill my heart, my soul, my body with your cleansing fire, so I am able to be a rampart for the innocent souls, who are caged here with me. Only a little bit longer ...

Cherga, my Mother, my Mistress, my Goddess. Wait still a bit longer for me. But grant the poor innocent souls, who did come to you, a warm embrace and eternal peace. And punish the monsters of men, who did took their lifes away, the monsters I did send to you.

The young druid may the moments of my prayers interpreted as sort of resting. Maybe it was even this way. Short moments of stasis, feeling no pain. But how she cares. I just think the situation does not allow a simple solution to ease my pain, beside time. But it is admirably that Lady Cay wont give up or give into resignation.

But how could possible someone be calm if the hell is raging above you. I poise, there is nothing else I could do.
For how long, I don't know. Just marginally moves of my position, just in case.

Keona pulls one leg up, so she is kneeling only on one knee and ready to attack whoever dares to open the bars of this cage, if necesssary.

Not sure how long it did last, but it starts to be more calm now. There were voices and someone opened the door of the cage, and I did open my eyes ....

As Keona opened her eyes the sailor in front of her got an icy and determind gazeout of steel blue eyes.
She was ready to defend all in this cage, especially Cay, with her life, didn't matter how she felt for herself in this very moment. Bràgons fire did burn always in her. But Chergas calm and cool nature eased her mind always if it was needed. As of it now, luck for the poor soul of this sailor who did step through the door from the cage.

One wrong move, a spark, would have suffice and this man's life would've been ended. But his appearance and his words did testify he wasn't part of the pirate scums. I felt relieve.

My chains rattled to the ground. The man was about to help me but Cay was faster. Out of this cage and away from this sordid planks. All of us did reach the deck, safe. Even if the deck had a appearance as if a small dragon had raged here ... or a young one played....

Only the age made them wise, before .... I disgress, thoughts at home, sitting on a broken bench and Cay follows the yelling from a young man. Her cousin ?

I get some peace, my thoughts turn sluggish. Again. But also my view ....become slightly blurred. The last thing I hear is ... Runewick? By the gods what do I have to do there ? Thats not my assignment ....

The last thought before Keona rather unwillingly gave up. The struggle und her iron will took its toll. Cherga and Bràgon release the warrior in a necessary blackout, where she did find finally rest and repose.

[Peter Rotholz]

Peter did lean at the lantern post, a bottle in hand.
He wasn't drunk, yet. But he planned to be soon.
Barely manage all what was necessary for the farm, well with Matt's help, he felt lost, grievance in his heart, the pain and knowledge that he made a wrong decision.
No prayer, nor a friend could sooth it.

As he did uncork the bottle a dove landed before his feets with a message attached.
Setting the bottle on the ground, lowering himself to the dove to remove it, was one move.
But his heart dropped, pacing in a awkward rythm, as he did unfold and start to read the letter.

Dear Peter,

I wrote a message to you while on the ship but am not sure you received. My cousin Leland and his friends helped save us from the pirates and I'm hoping Keona gets home soon after her stay in Runewick to have her wounds tended.

Somehow the pirates took us from the island and I have no idea their plans. I heard some mention selling as loot but Leland and his friends showed up saving us all. Keona did an excellent job of trying to save us but she can describe why she had to lay down her sword when she is home with you. I feel she is very connected to you and secretly wishes to be closer but that is just my intuition.

The ship was headed to Runewick but perhaps it is better I go home anyway the time gone has been so long and I'm sure the druids miss me. I do have an old shirt of yours I borrowed to wear as a dress before all the pirates came.. should I save until I see you or throw away? It is a little worn by now.

I hope the woman with the baby got help, and sorry our visit didn't turn out as expected. I guess this letter is rambling so again will let you know I appreciate all your help you were able to give.

Your loving friend,
Cay

Not ashamed of the tears of alliviation he allowed himself to sort his feelings.
Even if he never could be more then a friend to her, she was the one for him.
Keona - no. She was a devoted Warrior, respect - yes, and for sure huge gratitude that she had stood and defend the innocent.
Maybe Cay wished it for him just to be happy - seeings things not there.

He did hope Keona would recover fast and so he decided to write to Cay, to send wishes for the recovery. Some money for Keona's safe return to Brimshire
shouldn't do any harm, too.

At the lamppost, under the circular spot of light, did stand a full,uncorked bottle of booze - denied, forgotten and no longer necessary.