Out into the Sea [26th early MT]

[Gaelena]

Gaelena looked at the young man, who's name still hadn't been given. "You've been brave so far. You can do this," she said, reaching out to give his arm a squeeze.

She watched at Milkhaire walked over to Gavin, then moved to join them. "We can do this," she said, conviction in her voice. She truly believed that they could beat the godling.

[Gavin Tylvan]

Images flashed through the bearded warrior’s eyes as he listened to Milkhaire’s words. Images of a walking forest and a giant tree looming over him. Emotions swirled inside him. Sadness at a loss of chance to be happy and share it with a certain girl. Anger at being denied. And deep down fear for her life with him gone. For a flicker doubt shadowed his features and then he took a deep breath and steeled his heart for what was to come. “I understand and I think I know how to call him. Promise me one thing. When I do it, she is not going to like it.” He motioned upwards with his chin, indicating he meant Syrawenn. “Make sure she does not try to stop me. Make her see I won’t do anything stupid no matter how it seems. Okay?”

A promise was all he needed before he looked at Gaelena with a solemn look in his eyes. Then he closed his eyes and reached inside his mind, seeking that spot where he felt Milkhaire’s voice, linking it to the image of an emerald eyed nuisance he loved so much. Without moving his lips he formed the words, trying to impress them upon her mind. We are coming. We have all we need. We can do this. Then he looked at them all and turned, murmuring over his shoulder. “I know we are not really ready, but we are as ready as we will ever be. And try to keep up the ruse for now. It may take us all the way up without danger.” With that he was gone, bending to pass through the door-frame and went up on the deck, surveying the scene with a glance before stepping out and moving to the railing without a word. “Let’s go. Best we get this over quickly.” He was the first one on the ground and moving towards the trio of dead sailors, his body tense as he still did not trust them, ready to bend under a blow should they attack. “Take us to the Stormlord. We are ready to do what is needed.”

[Morg]

The young sailor-acolyte seemed surprised at the physical contact, tensing initially but then smiling shakily back at Gaelena. "I hope so. If not, Dort is doomed, right?" he ventured. The grin on his face held a trace of madness, appropriate for a man who'd spent the last burns fighting off the possessed corpses of his former friends.

"Give him nothing," growled Captain Rime. "Give the Storm Lord nothing."

Milkhaire, meanwhile, listened solemnly to Gavin's words, and responded solemnly. That I promise.

The words that Gavin projected did not reach the deck where Syrawenn stood, at least not as such. But as she stood there, the dead sailors gazing soullessly up at her, a feeling of the man's reassuring presence came to her for a flicker. Brief it was, but any and all encouragement was a blessing when alone and facing the walking dead.

It was not long before they emerged, however. Gavin was first, with Milkhaire following and the bloodied sailor lingering behind. For all the big man's distrust, the possessed men made no move to attack. Instead the paunchy leader of the three simply turned, spitting out the word "Follow", and made his way up the rocky slope. One of his two companions went with him, and the other waited to take up the rear.

"I will praise him, too," Not Important added enthusiastically to the dead-eyed man at the back. "All hail to the Storm Lord, who hath made the... storms..." He trailed off, gritting his teeth ferociously in a determined grin.

The group were led in a fairly direct route across the bare, windswept island of Jerrhyn's Point. At the summit, a tower of stone could be seen, around which flickered a dim blue light. Above it, and only above it, the sky was clear. Elsewhere, black clouds ruled. They were not being led towards the tower. They were curling around the island's west flank, eventually losing height again, heading for a patch of rocky ground by the shore.

In the sea beyond, the Storm Lord himself became visible. Not too far offshore, a column of living wind and rain stretched from sea to sky without a break, howling and twisting, and in its very centre were two points of painfully brilliant white light: the eyes of the storm.

[Gaelena]

Gaelena didn't try and listen in on the conversation between Gavin and Milkhaire, busy as she was putting some finishing touches on the bandages for the Captain. Looking at Not Important, she shook her head. "That's no way to think. You will do what is necessary. There is no other option," she said, reaching to pull him towards the doorway.

As they moved towards the final meeting place with the Storm Lord, Gaelena slowly calmed herself, mentally preparing herself for the final battle, her mind returning to the planted memory. Each nuance was given meaning and slowly adjusted to fit the new situation. She decided on a way to change the original to better accomodate the men who would perform with her. They could do this. She made note of the column of stone, wondering how they would get there if they had to make a run for it. It was obviously a large center of power and would help with the ritual.

Looking out over the sea, she locked her eyes on the eyes that peered at them from the water spout.

[Syrawenn]

Dead animals.
No.
Fishy.
Dead fishies.
Yeah, fishheads.

Syrawenn tilted her head ever so slightly to look at the lifeless sailors. There was so much of utterly nothing in their eyes that it was almost impossible to see them as a threat. Yet in some ways her nightmares were blessings in disguise, warning her of dead things unwilling to stay dead.

Just when a shiver was about to creep up, it was quenched by the warmth of a familiar person at her side. "About time." She smirked. "Wind's pickin up."

Much to her surprise they were avoiding the tower altogether. The girl kept a close eye out for anything out of the ordinary or indeed anything she could use as a weapon in case the crossbow proved to be beyond her. Sure, sand and rocks worked as well as any tool, but somehow she was more interested in paths and hidden crevices than anything else, needing some visual of this unknown territory.

The whirling Lord came into sight and Syrawenn blinked.

BIG.
Crappedeecrap that guy is BIG
If they's fishheads, he's the blimmin hook!

"Fuuuuuck...." The youngster mumbled, lowering the crossbow without noticing. "So now what, we walk over water or we yell from here?" She looked around at no one in particular.

[Gavin Tylvan]

As they walked up the hill the hairs on the back of Gavin’s neck slowly rose, be it from the electrical discharge of so many lightning bolts or from tension he felt in every nerve and muscle in his body. The calm above the tower looked so inviting, but in keeping with their rotten luck they were not moving towards the tower but around it, coming close to safety, but not to it. The tall warrior longed for a chance to face their foe, imagining him in many forms until the Stormlord came into view, looking like nothing he imagined. Syra’s summary of the situation was as close to it as he himself could come, only he compared it more to a sex with a hedgehog, rather than a simple romp of any kind. This was going to hurt and they were so ill-equipped to handle it.

Once more he found his instincts taking over, the tall warrior closing his eyes for a flicker, pushing the lingering fear away, forcing his breathing to slow, his muscles to relax until they were tense just enough for him to be ready to act quickly. Even as he did so, he reached for others, trying to instill that same calm, that same readiness for whatever came into their minds, seeking to whisper a word or two to Milkhaire. If this fails the one behind has to die. Tell Syra and then make for the tower. He dared not whisper a prayer to the only God he ever followed, fearing the Stormlord might hear, but he did reach for the Red Warrior. As the calm spread over him, Gavin smiled, thinking of what was to come and thinking this a fight as worthy as any he could imagine.

With that same calm, almost happy smile he stepped forward, keeping the two dead sailors before him and raised his hand up, lowering his eyes in mock deference. “Hail to you, Stormlord. We have come to see you.” His voice was clear and did not break, even though the Dortman yelled at the top of his lungs. “Your rage tears apart the isle of Dort. We wish to save it and would know what you wish in return. Your servants here mentioned praise. How does one praise a being like you?” He looked up and met the god’s eyes for a flicker before lowering his gaze again. With their goal stated, all that remained was for the Lord of Storms to state the price they would have to pay.

[Morg]

The rocky landscape of the isle was simply too sparse to provide Syrawenn with much to work with: all that was below their feet was grey, sandy dirt and slick, uneven black rock. A few paces from the beach, a narrow path led steeply up the slope to the pillar of stone with its blue aura. It would be easy to find hiding places among the jagged rocks if necessary, though, especially for someone of Syrawenn's size.

Gavin found that he could calm himself, but not extend that to the others. Lacking training or experience he simply could not access the energy he would need for such a thing in a principled manner. Only Milkhaire reacted to his thoughts. I will tell her. And we should talk, after this, if we both live. Simultaneously Syrawenn and Gaelena felt the shaman's voice inside their heads. Gavin's plan is that, if talking fails, we kill the creature behind us and head to the tower.

At the water's edge it was simply not possible to hold the being's gaze. Even glancing up for a flicker or two left colourful spots upon the onlooker's vision - the Storm Lord's eyes were nearly as bright as the sun itself, and flickered and raged far more unpredictably, flashing from sheet to bolt lightning.

What light there was revealed more of the spirit's "worshippers", sailor-acolytes slumped over their knees at the water's edge. The crashing of the waves soaked them to the bone every time, and yet they did not move or even flinch. Upon arriving at the beach, the three who had accompanied them also prostrated themselves. There were ten of the possessed humans, all told.

If one could walk on water, the Storm Lord would be no more than forty paces offshore. He certainly had no trouble hearing Gavin's words, although he didn't respond for a few flickers. "PRAISE ME AS YOU WOULD ANY OTHER GOD OF MORTALS," he returned. Milkhaire flinched as the spirit spoke. Unlike that of the shaman, the Storm Lord's voice possessed no subtlety or intrigue. It was simply thunderously loud. "BUT THERE WILL BE NO CONCESSIONS. NO BARGAINS STRUCK. I DEMAND YOUR UNCONDITIONAL WORSHIP!" At this the rain and wind intensified, as if to drive them to their knees. Not Important staggered, but did not fall.

[Syrawenn]

"Well, fuck me." Syrawenn mumbled, looking up at the insane being. Somewhere inside part of her wanted to run right now. A part wanted to hide and wake up from yet another idiotic dream involving facing off with gods. That part made her stomach squirm and her knees buckle at the sheer strength of the being in front of them. If she let those feelings prevail, she'd be grovelling on the ground like a beached jellyfish.

Yet another part grabbed all the dreams she'd had and bound them together into one big pile of frustration. It was the part where her rebellious self ached to make a place for herself in this world, to finally not be at the mercy of some overzealous megalomaniac. And this part made her itch to just kick something, anything to get this being to see he was not only screwing them, but only himself; anything to show herself she was more than just a toy in the hands of yet another.

The girl knew which choice would save her sanity for now.
She straightened her back.

Yet it seemed the remaining choice wasn't to talk sense into him or bargaining, but rather between dying or ....

...or dying. Great. Wonderful choice. Just the way I like em.

Without daring to turn her head she couldn't keep her comments to the others in: "Okay, is it me or is this godlike being acting like a big kid? A BULLY at that? Oh I'd love to show him exactly how I worship other gods..."

Memories of decking the avatar of the One crossed her mind. Memories of scolding the Father, of striking a deal with the avatar of the Mother, of yelling and cursing at a great diversity of smaller entities for playing with her life as if she had no choice in it.

Big words while inside the little girl cringed and awaited the inevitable.

No friggin way we can talk to this piece of shit.
No friggin way we're gonna live, cause he's a netherfriggin BIG piece of shit!.
So what do we have to loose?
Nothin.
So what do we do when we got nothin to loose?
We yell.
Yep.

"How are people to worship you? How does anyone worship the God of Storms? " It was a valid question. There was nothing they actually knew about paying tribute to this Lord.

"An if people know how to pay tribute, who can you demand it from when ya've killed EVERYONE who believes in ya! Who can ya count on fer worship when ya goddamn end the ENTIRE piece of this world that's part of ya! How do they worship you when there's no one left!"

An THEN we run!

The girl was ready to bolt!

[Gaelena]

Gaelena's eyes dropped, but only so that she could save her sight. She would need it if they had to make a run for it. Climbing was not her strenght and this outfit was not made for such things. Not for the first time, she wished she had thought to wear breeches, not a dress. If they had to make a run for it, she might slow them down. Damn.

Not Important's stagger had her reaching out her hand, to help him remain upright. They needed to stand together in this. Milkhaire's words echoed in her mind and she gave the briefest of nods. Whatever we must do, she answered. And she meant it. The tower was probably their best option. The power there would hopefully help them call down the true gods to finally bind away this creature.

Syrawen's words had her brow almost rise, though she said nothing. She was watching, for now. She was no warrior. She healed, not harmed. This was their show.

[Gavin Tylvan]

Had there been a single living person other than the five of them on that beach, Gavin may have believed the Storm Lord that worship meant survival, but as it were, the tall warrior saw only one way to survive and that was to kill anyone and anything in their way and see if the other Gods would be on their side. Even as calm as he was, he still felt the shiver at Syrawenn’s words and for a brief flicker Gavin’s eyes closed and his lips curled into a smile as he remembered a tune and the words that followed it. Words so very fitting to this situation. The only words that could truly chase away the fear he felt now. Fear to which he refused to bow even though it kept telling him that he might live if he would bend just a bit and beg for his life. If he would denounce the others and make a separate deal and truly worship the terrible being before him.

Then the smile faded and he replied to Syrawenn with five simple words. “Give him everything. Their lives.” And that was it, because he was not willing to give his life to this creature and even more so he was not willing to give it the life of others, especially the emerald eyed girl behind him.

Thus it was he moved, flowing from the simple relaxed stance into a step forward, right hand reaching for the sword and finding the hilt strangely reassuring under his fingers. “Tower!” The sword sang as it slid from the scabbard, the rasp of steel against oiled leather rising into a shrill whistle as his muscles tensed and drew the sword fully out. “Run!” Left hand moved to join the right upon the hilt, the tall warrior’s body bending forward, the razor-sharp blade arcing downward, its reach measured so as to slice the sailor in front of him across the back and sever his spinal cord. Even as that strike fell he shouted, putting all his anger and fear into the blow, vocalizing it through the scream of command, plea and demand. “NOW!” He was already ready to take another step and swing the sword around, ending the undeath and suffering of the other sailor, freeing his body from the Stormlord’s grasp. You watching me, Red One? The tune in his head was rising in volume, simply begging for him to sing, as a grim, terrible smile curled his lips up, eyes seeking Stormlord’s in a challenge for a flicker, the warrior ready to turn and run after the others.

[Morg]

Syrawenn's move came just in time. The sky had darkened further as she spoke into the wind. Compared to the Storm Lord's, her voice was tiny, but it had a powerful effect.

Bolting was wise, for the towering elemental let loose a bolt of his own as soon as she had finished speaking. A sparking discharge of concentrated storm energy arced across the bay and slammed into the rock where she'd been standing just a flicker before, dissipating immediately. Another was flung before those on the beach had a chance to catch their breath, this one striking an outcrop between Syrawenn and Not Important, who hadn't hesitated in following her. The rock shattered. "BLASPHEMY!" the Storm Lord bellowed. "FOOLISHNESS AND BLASPHEMY!"

His servants were moving now, but not as fast as Gavin or Milkhaire. The tall, flabby man who had voiced the Storm Lord's will earlier was the one who had the misfortune to be kneeling before Gavin. He had hardly begun to rise when the big man's blow took him, severing his spine and nearly slicing him fully in half. The corpse collapsed with a hissing wheeze, its mouth forced open in a dead scream as the sundered fragments of the possessor spirit exited through it.

Milkhaire was almost as fast, kicking out explosively with one sandalled foot at the possessed sailor behind him. The zombie was knocked off balance and sprawled backwards. As it did so, the shaman's blade found its neck, neatly slicing it open and outwards. Another of the sailor-acolytes fell, this time with a bloody gurgle. Without a second look Milkhaire turned to clamber over the rocks after Syrawenn.

Gavin's second strike nearly cleaved through a third as it rose, although the spirit in this one must have been more tenacious, because its tattooed hands lunged forward to grasp hold of the weapon that had spilled its guts. This third creature was collapsing, and blood poured freely from both its fingers and its belly, but it was not quite gone. It evidently felt no pain from its wounds, and only the sheer physics of the blow it had been struck were forcing it into oblivion.

The other seven acolytes were up now, drawing an assortment of weapons - swords, cudgels, even an axe - as they made their way towards the small party. These had been tough men, gnarled, bearded and tattooed. They were moving surprisingly fast, their feet dragged along behind them by the air spirits that inhabited their bodies.

The Storm Lord himself was moving, too. The column of roaring water was very slowly coming closer to the shore where Gavin fought, although his attention was focused on Syrawenn for the moment. Another lightning bolt flew from his whirling core as he moved. The waters of the bay had been whipped into a frenzy, and thunder rumbled in the heavens where more spirits swarmed.

On the other side of the islet, the dying Captain Rime heard the sound and groaned. It has begun. May the Gods protect them. Gaelena's ministrations were easing his passing, and with every flicker he fell further into a dreamy haze from which he would never awake. May the Gods protect us all.

[Gaelena]

Normally such bloodshed would upset Gaelena, but the men were already dead, far beyond what she could do, so gathering up her dress in her hands, she tried to scramble after Syrawen towards the column of light. They all needed to get up there. She slipped the flint blade from her bandages, ready to strike where deadliest should she need to. She was no warrior, but her knowledge of the body gave her some better knowledge of what wounds kill.

Oh Mother, hear the prayers of your children and protect those that fight on the side of Good. Give them the strenght and courage to do what must be done so that the land might prosper under your guidance once more, she prayed as her feet sought purchase on the slippery rocks, clawing her way as best as she could.

[Gavin Tylvan]

There was a moment of anger that engulfed Gavin as the bolt of lightning arced towards Syrawenn, but he knew that she could take care of herself and that if he moved to help her he would leave other things open. As the dying sailor grasped the warrior’s sword he did not try to tug it free, but took a step back and relaxed his arm. The grip on the hilt was still firm and he allowed the sailor to keep the sword in his hands, his own stance changing. He aimed to let the blade slip free due to its sharpness, severing the dead man’s fingers in the process.

As soon as it was free he leapt back, and moved from cover to cover, never turning his back to the dead sailors. Any who approached were in danger and the tall man sought to use their peculiar way of moving against them. He had studied their motions at the boat and thus every blow went towards the center of undead man’s balance, both pushing them back if they parried, or opening wounds in their bodies. He was retreating, but not blindly. Even so he did run up the hill after the others, pausing to trade blows with any pursuers and laughing. After all the tension and fear, this was what he knew and what he could do. The sword was not his only weapon, but merely the most lethal part of himself, Gavin using his entire body in the fight. Kicks and punches rained amidst the sword strikes. He moved into the sailor’s blows, shifting so that their blades would glance and bounce against his armor. And whenever he could he sought and opening, seeking to slash their throats and chests open, to slice off their arms and hands.

The song in his mind was kept in for now. He did not need it yet, and he feared what reaction it would bring from the others. In a way, Gavin did pray to his god, with each blow and each swing and each dodge being a verse, and the entire act of defying an angry Stormlord showing his dedication, his willingness to fight when it was needed and to stand between the needy and those who sought to hurt them. This way his prayer and as always his whole heart was into it, the tall warrior feeling full of life as he swung and felt bone and flesh rend under his sword, his mailed fist crushing into the bodies of dead sailors. As the thrill of the fight filled him with energy, he had to fight back the urge to dash through the ranks of sailors and charge the column of water and wind, knowing it would be foolish, and knowing too that Red Warrior did not favor stupidity.

[Syrawenn]

It was just nerves.
It had to be nerves.
After all, why else would she be laughing when she could have been incinerated only flickers before?

Safety in insanity, eh? Syrawenn darted and jumped in a completely incohesive pattern. To any fighter it might have seemed she was deliberately being unpredictable to avoid the lighningbolts.
The truth however, was that the crossbow was making it hard to actually predict her own steps!

But who was she to complain in the face of death?

If it works, use it. And up she went again, shooting a look over her shoulder whenever she landed to watch the proceedings. The huge tower of water and air was heading towards them, yet it did not seem to be very interested in Gavin.

Which is just about bloody right! He's got other things to take care of!

Echoes of future dreams assured her that the man could fight. It gave her a strange kind of confidence.

IF I can keep the attention off of him...which shouldn't be impossible!

"YER the fool!' She shouted, climbing further towards their goal. "YER the fool fer takin yer own worshippers an leavin nothin!" It was pointless taunting, but any moment she would keep his attention away from Gavin, was a flicker won for the bearded man.

And then what? What if he hits ya? What if he reaches ya? Then what?
BRILLIANT plan, ya idiot! Just BRILLIANT! This guy ain't tangible like the other one! No way yer gonna deck him! Can't even stomp on his toes!
CRAP, where are them idiots when I need em!

Muttering to herself she gritted her teeth and kept moving, thinking back of the two strange Adhiel immortals that had gotten her on the road to Dort to begin with. So how about all those holes in time an space, huh? How about me dyin here after you two IDIOT ADHIEL got me here! After you two threw me through time and space and into the arms of just about any other avatar ya could think of!

We can't just die here! That's gonna ruin all yer plans an upset yer precious fabrics of time! This has GOT to work, whatever 'this' is!

The girl looked around for Gaelena and Milkhaire, just about the only two with a faith strong enough to make a difference. She watched Gavin hack and slash into the undead meat. For just a flicker she felt completely insignificant, seeing them all do what they did best.

An my strong point?
Pissin people off.
Oh well.

"It can't be blasphemy if it's true!" She yelled over her shoulder, scrambling again like a rabbit fleeing the fox.

Better stick to what I know, then.

ooc
For more information on the two 'idiots' mentioned, you can always ask Adanadhel or Elvin. Wanna bet it makes them smile?

[Morg]

For countless yahren the Tower of Runes had stood at the summit of Jerrhyn's Point. No more than a few paces away, the basalt cliff dropped dramatically into the roiling bay. In the poor visibility the waters below could hardly be seen except as a chaos of white-crested waves twenty fathoms down.

The Tower was the last of the old wardstones still standing, and the key to a web which had once protected the whole of Dort. Most of the runes on its surface were lifeless, but a few still burned with a blue light that permeated the damp air around it. While the Tower stood, the Storm Lord could neither approach it too closely nor move too far away from it, although he could make his influence felt hundreds of markers away through his control over the elements.

Not Important was the first to reach the tower, followed by Gaelena. Despite her less practical clothing, the red-haired woman was able to overtake Syrawenn, who was ducking and weaving with her crossbow. Gavin's rearguard meant that none of the possessed sailors were able to reach them.

Now that he'd reached the tower, the only living sailor-acolyte of Vargaz stepped from one foot to another. Even through the pouring rain it was possible to see that the blonde-haired man was paler than before, and when he glanced at Gaelena there was real fear in his eyes. "I suppose we should, er..."

Gavin remained still for a few flickers, as the weight of the dying man and his clawing grip conspired to separate him from his own fingers. Bone and sinew gave way one by one, freeing Gavin to move, and move he did. Still, it was not easy to both retreat and fight, especially since the basalt rocks were lethally slippery. Also, the possessed men moved fast. Gavin hadn't got halfway up the slope before the first was upon him, brandishing a longsword. A dodge, a slash, a punch, and another dead sailor fell like a puppet with his strings cut. But the other six kept together, almost floating over the treacherous rocks as they moved to encircle him and cut him off from his companions. Gavin was able to hew another man down, but this time he suffered a blow in return, a stinging sword strike just above the elbow. It didn't penetrate his chain armour, but it was enough to cause him to lose most feeling in his off arm. Another dead sailor launched himself at him, pummelling at Gavin with a spiked cudgel, but again his armour protected him from harm. Perhaps his "prayer" to the Red Warrior had already had some effect, as he did not yet feel the slightest weariness, but now he was surrounded. Above him, from the clouds, the inchoate forms of more air spirits were closing in.

Syrawenn meanwhile was beginning to feel the effects of her exertions. Manic energy could be as potent as any sorcery, but evasive manoeuvres on a steep slope in a howling gale while carrying a loaded military-grade crossbow were taking their toll. If she dropped the crossbow she would be able to move more freely, as it was a serious encumbrance. The Storm Lord was now responding to her words only with lightning as he continued to move closer to the shore and Gavin. She had been doing an excellent job of distracting the vast elemental, but it was only a matter of time before one of his bolts found its mark. Sizzling energy flashed towards her like the hand of death and struck with a crackling roar.

A fraction of a flicker later, when her sight returned, Syrawenn would briefly be able to see rivulets of electrical energy diffusing across an invisible dome between her and the Storm Lord. Milkhaire was on the path in front of her, the old shaman looking visibly drained by the protective ward he had raised in the nick of time.

When he spoke, all of the heroes - Gavin, Gaelena and the nameless sailor-acolyte as well as Syrawenn - could hear his Aetheric voice. Now! he called. You must begin the ritual. We cannot keep him at bay for long!

[Gavin Tylvan]

Pain was good, and even though it distracted Gavin from the task at hand, it also reminded him of danger that lay ahead. Danger he would need to tackle along with the others. There were a hundred, a thousand things he could have told his God at that time. He could have begged, demanded, bargained or tried to reason with Red Warrior. But neither of those was what Gavin would do, and in the end the choice was simple. The tall warrior murmured throughout the fight, each of his swings and each of his wounds merely delaying the odd prayer he directed at the Red Warrior.

May every drop of blood spilled this day be in your honor. Let the blood I spill be a testament to my own skill and to my dedication and willingness to lay low those that stand in my way. In our way. And may mine blood show the drive and certainty that is within me, and that shows that I am aware that every victory comes at a price, and that I am willing to pay it in order to achieve such a victory. As the sailors fell dead at his feet, and started closing in on him the tall warrior stopped his retreat and stood his ground, focusing on the defense, watching the spirits gaining form above him and closing in, knowing it meant that the battle would likely soon be over.

He was not ready for that and he refused to let it happen. As I fight here, I could ask for anything and hope it would be granted, and in a way it would be seen as fair. What I give here would earn me a small favor, and those I care for, those I fight for could be kept safe. Yet I know that is not what they want, nor is it what I want. He moved amidst the dead sailors, fending their blows and letting them come closer, needing them all within the reach of his sword, the eerie calm that descended on him only intensifying. Instead of asking or demanding I will give something. Do not think of this as a sacrifice since I will not sacrifice myself for no man or God, not even you. Not even for her. She would never forgive me that and you.... You would not want it. If I am dead I can not fight. If I surrender I can not fight. And thus my gift to you is this fight and this promise. Even if you ask me, even if I am commanded I will no stop fighting. I will not die for you. I will not die. I refuse to die.

Gavin willed his numb muscles to move, his mind reaching to every single sinew and urging it to contract as he raised the sword high above his head in a swift motion. It stood there for merely a fraction of a flicker, the bearded man’s eyes going to the figure of the approaching Stormlord, catching the dead sailors before him and the approaching spirits above him in one glance. His mind went to the white haired shaman behind him, the man who brought them here, the man who had a gift for bringing people together and urging them to cooperate. It went to the Not Important, a man who despite his own insecurities now aspired to greatness, overcoming his fears in an attempt to do what he was never meant to do. To Gaelena a woman who care and devotion drove Gavin angry at times, yet it was that same devotion and care that made her willing to suffer instead of so many others. And it went to Syrawenn the chaotic she-demon who taunted even an angry god of storms, refusing to bow to any man or power.

Then the sword came down, every muscle and sinew in Gavin’s body put into the swing, the blade whistling lower and then turning to arc across the chest of a man before him. It was a blow meant to break swords and beat weapons out of dead men’s hands. A blow meant to cut a horizontal slash across the chest of every sailor across him, his entire body focused on that swing that was to sweep around in a full circle and free him of the trap, give him a chance to face the approaching spirits and if need be charge the divine pillar of foam and wind before him. And through that swing came Gavin’s shout, though it started as a low whisper. “I’ll......NEVER STOP FIGHTING!”

[Gaelena]

Gaelena looked over at Not So Unimportant Now, nodding. "We must start now or all will be lost. Remember, our gods stopped him once, they can do it again. Just trust in yourself and in your god and we will be safe." The certainty in her voice would hopefully calm the sailor and allow him to do his portion of the ritual.

With stone dagger in hand, the red-headed healer began saying the words that old Mabe had implanted in her memory back in the Thorn Maze. She put every ounce of belief and trust that she had in her body into her call to the Goddess. She knew the Mother would help again, without a doubt. Then, they reached the part of the ceremony that she knew would anger her companions, the warriors. She raised her voice, trying to be heard over the storm, calling on the Mother to help her children, raising the dagger, aiming it at her middle as the previous incarnation had done, swinging it towards herself when the time came.

[Syrawenn]

"Friggin....oof...flippin.....fruitflies....on a...."

FLASH!

beeeeeeeeeeep

Her ears were whistling. Her eyes saw only a bright, white light. The girl blinked her eyes, shaking her head to get her senses back in order.

Too close.
Too friggin close.
Too FUCKIN close!

Sorry Gavin, I kinda like my life more than the bow.

Without much further ado, she dropped the crossbow with a vehement curse. She liked the crossbow, even if she was not very proficient with it yet. And now she had to leave it behind cause of a stupid thing like running.

Runnin that might save yer life and now MOVE! She reminded herself.

"Thanks!" She yelled at Milkhaire, wincing at the sound of her birthdaygift hitting the ground. Part of the girl was very, very tempted to yell something at the Stormlord along the lines of 'try again', but somehow that did not seem like the wisest of ideas now that she had it's attention anyway.

The voiceless words made her cringe. Ritual. I knew they had somethin up their sleeve. A ritual. An I dunno what I do at a ritual. I dunno if I can do somethin at a ritual. I dunno stuff about rituals! Oh man, if they expect me to run in panicky little circles around the tower to keep the Stormlord of their back, they got another one comin!

Whatever was going to happen, would have to wait til she found some measure of safety.
Syrawenn made a leap for the tower.

"I'll....NEVER STOP FIGHTING!" She heard Gavin yell behind her.
The girl looked back.

[Morg]

As Gaelena began incanting the words of the ritual, words that felt like they had been etched into her bones, Not Important began to do the same. "O Lord of the seas, master of the..."

FLASH!

His words were cut off by another blast of lightning aimed at Syrawenn, who had made it to the Tower of Runes. This one fizzled out before it reached them. The ancient magicks were doing their work, although the runic light dimmed noticeably as it struck, and a hairline crack was becoming visible from the top of the tower to its foot. Not Important began again.

"O Lord of the seas, master of the waves, Ocean King Vargaz, I your servant..." The sailor-acolyte gulped, looked round, and saw Gaelena plunging the dagger into herself, her lifeblood immediately beginning to well up and pour out.

Healers knew the design of the human body and so could avoid the clumsy ineptitude of the less knowledgeable seeking to end their own life. To know how to save a life entailed knowing how best to take one. The cut was clean and true, and the pain excruciating.

Fighting off the urge to void his stomach, Not Important pressed frantically on. "...I your servant beseech your aid." Blah blah blah... I'll skip that bit. No time. "Um... in token whereof... I commit myself to your bosom." With these words he turned and sprinted for the cliff edge, flinging himself off into space. The sound of his insignificant form hitting the roaring waves far below was drowned out by the tumultuous wrath of the Storm Lord.

Syrawenn was able to witness this desperate act, as was Gaelena, though for the latter it was the last thing she saw before the deathblow she'd dealt herself dragged her into oblivion.

[hr][/hr]
She was lying on her back in the long grass of a forest clearing. Above Gaelena, the leaves of the trees grew green, then golden brown, then fell to the ground around her, before flourishing again in the blink of an eye. With every flicker a season was passing.

It was the form of old Mab who stood before her, though it was instinctively clear that the hunched crone was a guise, a mask for something infinitely more ancient and primal. "Welcome, daughter," the entity spoke with a toothless smile. "Your care and devotion does you great credit. But the path you have chosen is a difficult one." A flower poked its way up through the ground by Gaelena's ear, bloomed, wilted, died and was gone. "I watched the dragons make war on the homeland of your ancestors and reduce it to a burning wasteland. I watched the Seven White Towers rise and then fall, torn apart by discord. I watched the armies of Baazelmon descend upon Nipponar, devouring all that lived. Tell me, Gaelena, why I should save Dort."

[hr][/hr]
To Syrawenn, Gaelena appeared as a statue in full colour, frozen in time. Blood still soaked her dress from her self-inflicted wound, but it no longer flowed. Syrawenn was also able to see something that none of the others could see. Another of the possessed sailors was making its way to the summit from the other side, sweeping towards the prone form of Gaelena.

"I'll... NEVER STOP FIGHTING!" Further down the slope, Gavin made his strike.

The blow carved through flesh and bone, cleaving through a full three of the sailor-acolytes before the blade came to rest in the sternum of a fourth. Blood showered Gavin, and the four dead men collapsed almost as one. The last, the fifth, hesitated, his dead eyes showing something akin to fear.

The blood was not washed away by the wind and the rain, though. Instead it seemed to diffuse into Gavin's sword and armour, glowing with a deadly light. Before three flickers had passed, Gavin's blade and his suit of armour were gleaming crimson red, and an almost boundless strength and endurance surged into him. The Red Warrior's blessing, it seemed, was very different in kind from those of the other gods.

While the lone remaining sailor-acolyte on the slope retreated, the Storm Lord had reached the shore and was whirling rapidly across the remaining distance towards Gavin. Two claw-like arms of lightning became visible, reaching out towards him from the bulk of the elemental. "THEN PREPARE TO MEET YOUR DOOM, MORTAL!"

[Gavin Tylvan]

The tall warrior’s first reaction as the strength poured into him was to resist it, fighting even against his god’s blessing, though it did not last longer that a fraction of a flicker. Relaxing his mind he let the power surge into him, gazing onto his arm, curling his fingers into a fist, feeling the muscles move under the skin. He had a choice again, and even though it would be wise to retreat and seek shelter in the tower, Gavin knew that was not a part of the new ritual they were performing. His part was to fight and keep the Stormlord away while the others did their bit. His part was to bleed and hurt, as he bled his foes and made them hurt in return

Thus he took a step forward and dropped lower onto the rocks, moving down the path he had so wanted to climb mere burn before. Rolling his shoulders he stared into the Stormlord’s eyes and yelled at him in an annoyed voice. “Aw, will you just bloody shut up already.” Another step and he was closer to the beach. “Blah blah blah blah. Bow down before me.” Another step, the sword swishing through the air in a test swing. Next sentence was delivered in a whining tone of voice. “Then prepare to meet your doom, mortal.” He jumped a few last feet down and dug his toes into the surf dropping into a fighting stance before making a rude gesture at the advancing form of the ancient god of storms. “Ya big wuss. You really think I’ll lay down and die just because you told me so? Pffffft.”

Gavin looked up and opened his mouth, catching a few rain-drops on his tongue and then shivered. “Why don’t ya come here and show me how tough you are? It’s raining and it is windy and I am bloody cold. A nice fight will warm me up. So, what’s it gonna be, bub? You gonna go make tea and invite me to a fancy party?” He grinned, resisting the urge to stick his tongue out at the lighting wielding god before him. “Oh, wait I left my dress at home, and…..” Suddenly the tall, bearded warrior grew serious and added in a menacing tone. “Yer words don’t work. They don’t worry me. Them claws do, but I reckon I’ll do something about it. Let’s dance.” And with that he broke into a run towards Stormlord, sword held high, for all intents and purposes looking like he was planning on jumping and burying the blade in the god’s chest.

Only he wasn’t. He was gonna come close and then dodge the blow that was sure to come from one of those nasty looking arms and then slash at the appendage, bracing himself for the jolt, before starting the fight in earnest. As always this would be about defense, and bidding his time. All the taunts were meant to make the Stormlord angry if at all possible and make him go on an all out offensive, something that had to lead to mistakes. And Gavin planned to punish each and every mistake Stormlord made. Make him pay for ever threatening his home. For wanting to chase away his mom. And especially for flinging lightning at Syrawenn. Only he was allowed to fight with her, not some old fart of a god who could not even retire properly.

OOC: I hope the words will make the Stormlord pause, but if they don't poke me and I shall do a fight only post

[Gaelena]

Gaelena watched as the battle continued as the lights began to dim. She knew this was coming, the pain, but it still dragged the breathe out of her. Then, it drew the life out of her.

When her eyes opened again, she stared up and watched the seasons change before her eyes. Sitting up slowly, she looked at the figure that wore Old Mabe's shape. The Mother's words had her carefully considering her reply. Looking up, she replied, "Because everyone deserves a chance to live. Every life is worthwhile. Every life is sacred. And so many lives will be lost if you do not help us. Too many have been lost already."

She paused, keeping herself calm. "I know that many have lost their way. But that is the nature of those with limited time. They wander, they roam, but always, they are drawn home." Another pause, her fingers moving over the ever-changing grass. "Once, you thought us worthy of saving. They still are. Please."

[Syrawenn]

Gaelena stabbing herself
BOOM
Gavin getting chased
BOOM
Undead prowling to interrupt the ritual
BOOM
And Syra smack dab in the middle.
Somehow her heart was having a hard time finding the right rhythm.

You have got to be friggin' kiddin me...

Syrawenn couldn't help but glance up at the skies as everything happened at the same time.

SOMEONE up there is havin a blast, I just know it. SOMEONE is laughing their ass off! Where the flip is my CROSSBOW when I need it!

When in doubt
Get angry.
There was no way she'd allow any other emotion to creep in now that they needed every precious flicker.

The -by now very useless- birthdaygift was somewhere on the rocks between here and the Stormlord and no way she was going to have the time to retrieve it, get the Storm's attention back AND 'save' Gaelena from the sailor- although it looked like there was precious little to save left!

Trust.
I have to trust him.
SHIT, I have to really really trust him.

There was no choice, of course. She had to rely on Gavin doing what he could do. There was no way she was going to guess what this ritual entailed and as such there remained only one thing she could do.

Grab the sucker before he grabs Gaelena.
Ah nether.
Back to the old method.

And before she could think again, the girl took a hold of her dagger, broke into a sprint, aimed for the sailor and intended on a FULL body slam!

[Morg]

Making the Storm Lord angry was like shooting fish in a barrel, and so Gavin's words had the exact effect he wanted. The column of water bristled and spat as it was taunted, and advanced when Gavin started to move towards him. The Storm Lord was fast, and had a longer reach, but Gavin was prepared to dodge and brought his own blade down on the appendage as it hissed past him. The sizzling electrical discharge caused them both to recoil, the Storm Lord whirling briefly backwards as its arm flashed out of existence and slowly reformed.

It was a miracle that Gavin was able to stand at all in the face of the elemental, but stand he did, buoyed by the power of the Red Warrior. The Storm Lord's arms flailed as it tried to strike at the much smaller figure. Every once in a while, one of its lightning claws would make contact, but the targeted blows from Gavin's blood-red sword were taking their toll. With each hit, the Storm Lord shrank slightly in size.

Up by the tower, Syrawenn launched herself at the man who was threatening Gaelena. Taken by surprise, the dead man lashed out with his arm, and the two of them went down in a pile of flailing limbs, rolling across the slippery stone, dangerously close to the cliff edge.

[hr][/hr]
Gaelena herself remained entirely unaware of the happenings by the tower, as her spirit was far away.

Mab's dark, beady eyes revealed nothing as she listened to what Gaelena was saying, and perhaps that was just as well. The emotions of a god could be powerful indeed.

"You are right, child," the wizened mouth spoke. "The Storm Lord claims what he has no right to claim. In this he goes against the natural order - my order." There was a pause of a few flickers. "Remind them, Gaelena," came the croaking command. "It has been too long since they have seen. Remind the people of Dort what the mercy of their goddess can be."

[hr][/hr]
Back at the tower, the wound in Gaelena's middle was healing, though for the flicker it was not her who occupied it. The avatar of the Mother raised her hand and a thousand tiny motes of light sprang into being around her. Another gesture, and the glittering mist streaked towards the Storm Lord further down the slope.

Gavin was in the best position to see the Mother's mercy take effect. The swirling points of light danced around the Storm Lord before zipping into him, causing him to roar with anger and fear. Battered by Gavin's blade, and beleaguered by the power of the Mother, the spirit lord now began to retreat towards the shore. But even the sea was not to prove a sanctuary.

The turbulent waters of the bay erupted into life as a monstrous cerulean hand rose from the deeps, taking hold of the shrinking Storm Lord as if he were nothing more than an errant thread in a tapestry. Slowly but surely it dragged him down below the waves, breaking his hold on the clouds above as the Mother's servants swarmed around him. "NO!" the Storm Lord bellowed. "MY REIGN IS ONLY JUST BEGINNING! I WILL NOT BE DENIED!" But he could not stand against the heart of the Mother, the hand of Vargaz and the blade of the Red Warrior. With a final, gurgling cry of "NOOOOO!" the Storm Lord dwindled and sank beneath the sea's surface.

As the clouds slowly began to part to reveal the clear skies above, Gaelena found herself returned to her own, intact, body. The massing spirits of air dispersed, and the man with whom Syrawenn had been wrestling suddenly slumped to the ground, the spirit within him fleeing now that the Storm Lord's control over it had been broken. Below, Gavin could feel the power of the Red Warrior slowly trickle away, and awareness of the wounds he had suffered was returning to him.

A new pact had been created, and Dort was safe once again.

(OOC: This thread is now passable for all.)

[Gavin Tylvan]

He delayed the angry God. Stood his ground and delayed him, prevented him from reaching the others and in doing so reduced his power. Gavin did not win that battle, he merely gave the others time to do it and he was still alive after the duel. Even without the power of the Red Warrior pushing him onward, Gavin still would have sought to weather the blows and to give as much as he took in injuries, but he did not delude himself that it would have worked. He had done a great thing that day, and had every right to be proud of himself, but it was not the fight he was proud of, but the fact that he even got to it. He went against the very core of his being, that instinct to survive no matter the odds, and faced the divine being who could very well kill him with a single blow. That was the true fight and actually standing before the Stormlord with a sword in hand was a victory, the rest just a follow up from that.

Even as the power of the Mother drew his foe away Gavin did not lower his guard, advancing towards the sea slowly, making sure the Stormlord did not break free, his shoulders slumping down a few long flickers after the pillar of wind and water disappeared under the waves. He almost expected to see the last rise of the angry deity from the waves, and only when the clouds parted a little bit did he lean down against the sword, taking a deep steadying breath, exhaustion seeping into his muscles. He looked into the waves and murmured to nobody in particular. “Wasn’t easy. I’ll give you that. Was a good fight.” With a final nod he turned and grasped a handful of sand, wiping blood and water from his blade, making sure it was as clean as possible before it was sheathed.

He looked up towards the tower and decided he could use a little rest before the climb, sitting down on a nice flat rock and breaking into full, throaty laughter. All the pent up fear, anger and pain were poured out, washed away by joy at simply being alive, and breathing, his entire being washed clean of darkness for a few short flickers. Then with a soft groan he rose and set off to climb all the way to the tower, hopefully in one go, determined that if he had to rest he would do it once he knew the others were fine.

[Syrawenn]

"AAAAAAAAAAH!

It made no sense to yell at all. It was not like an undead sailor would be bothered by it. No one was even going to notice it, probably. Yet it made her feel better. It was something that she felt fitted the moment, charging into a mass of undead flesh with NO idea of what to do next.

It deserved a yell.

She was ready to kick and scream, to bite and stab! Anything to keep them from reaching Gaelena, who was either very much in prayer or very dead.
And then the body fell over.

"What the..."

Syrawenn kicked the body to be sure.

It didn't move.

"Well CRAP!" It sounded honestly surprised, perhaps even disappointed.

She kicked him again.
Just in case.

Gavin!

The girl turned around.
There was laughing.
Big laughing, from a big guy.

"Gavin!" Syrawenn yelled, running towards him and jumping in his arms, whether he was ready or not.

It was probably a damn selfish thing to do, with Gaelena still on the ground and Not Important being very silent, yet for a few flickers the world could go to the Nether for all she cared.