The Skysail Treasure Co.

Gabe tilted his head in the direction of Arlen as they moved towards the biggest hut in the village, cocking one eye in mock suspicion. As he listened to the man plead his defense, he kept his focus in the corner of his eyes, on the lookout for any sudden movement by the islanders. As luck would have it, they simply looked on with intense curiosity.

"Stow it Arlen, I'm not interested in any reassurances you're offering. You're intentions were good, and you didn't act, so as far as I'm concerned you didn't do anything wrong. We have more important things to worry about at the moment, don't ya think?" he flashed a devilish smile and then resumed his watch of the village people. Like a tree springing to life, a native stepped out of a nearby treeline not twenty paces away. Gabe flinched minutely when he saw the javelins he held, but he was moving slowly and didn't appear to be looking to cause any harm. The captain exhaled in relief.

Over his shoulder he spoke to everyone, "From here on Weka'u does the talking. The more we speak, the more likely they'll think our intentions aren't rainbows and sunshine." He took the silence to mean everyone understood. He motioned to Drice to take the right flank, and Kaltor to take the left. If they were attacked, the natives would find themselves up against two very strong adversaries, and he was confident enough in both of their abilities to by the others time to respond should any surprises pop up.

The female who'd come out in front of them slowly lowered her bow, and shook her head in response to Weka'u's question, and merely motioned over her shoulder towards the enormous hut behind her. Shadows flickered across the external face of the hut, cast by two torches guarding the entrance. The two windows and arched doorway made the building looked like it was preparing to blow a strong wind towards any who dared to enter, or maybe it was a shocked expression.

From the doorway the hulking frame of Pu'aki appeared. His gut swelled from indulgence and Gabe was pretty sure he could even hear the slaps from the fat of his breasts against the man's own chest. Gabe had to stifle a laugh with a fake cough. It always amazed him how power and wealth not only corrupted a person's soul, but their bodies as well.

Pu'aki erupted like a volcano, his voice booming like thunder so the whole village could hear, and he spoke in anger as his jelly-like hand pointed and waved wildly in their direction. This was it. The first salvo. In battle, the first attack is often the most important. He'd seen as many well constructed plans crumble because of what happened in those first precious moments. He wasn't a religious man, but he figured asking for a little luck couldn't hurt.

When Weka'u countered in an assertive, yet calm tone, Gabe felt a weight evaporate from his shoulders. The exchange between father and son lasted for some time, and Arlen was probably the only one who understood anything going on. From the corners of his eyes he noticed the villagers starting to have their own hushed conversations. It was a good sign. If they had believed Pu'aki, they most likely would have rushed the crew straight away.

Since he couldn't follow what was being said, his eyes fell to the massive red stone that hung around Pu'aki's neck. The source of his power. If they could get it off... Damnit! Why hadn't he thought of that before. Jasper could have easily moved in behind the Chieftain and broke the amulet off Pu'aki's neck as soon as things turned sour. Too late now. Or was it? Was there some way to get to Jade without risking the plan?

His mind was working as hard as it could when he realized the ground in the village wasn't the soft jungle earth, but well worn soil from constant walk, with a layer of loose dust. He hoped this got her attention. Without turning around he began to write with his foot in the ground behind him. He was sure what he was trying to write would come out as gibberish, but it was worth a shot.

Behind him he tried to write a single word. When he looked down, he figured it was a 50/50 shot of anyone recognizing it. He simply wrote, "Jasper" with an arrow pointing towards Pu'aki, and his attempt at a necklace, which pretty much looked like a big circle on top of a little circle.

Maybe once this was all over, he could look for a career as a code maker.

"My son Weka'u, you call me to the mouth of the Great House for reason? You wish to side yourself with the rabble before you or do you wish to follow your brothers in Awai'aka? What is it boy, speak!" His tone was condescending, perhaps more than some had heard before.

The tone of Pu'aki did and didn't surprise Arlen, when he finally emerged from his den. That in itself was spectacular. Perhaps that is the usual when son comes to father demanding he step down. The subtleties, though he seemed to know them inherently, were almost astonishing. The level of perception among these people at minutia of stance or voice seemed to remind him of his own people in a way.

"The small things in life are what matter," Arlen could hear his old mentor tell him some thirty odd years ago. "The largest machine works by the turning of the smallest cog. So too do governments. Remember always the least of a people and you'll see their greatest one fall by them."

Weka'u's face hardened and his brow furled in consternation. "Grandfather Pu'aki, why do you insult me so? As elder are you not to love your sons and daughters of the village in the stead T'a'u'weke's burning love? Yet here you pain me as I bring them to you in a time of good will. Look! They come bearing no arms and you have your priestess aim the bow at-"

"You damnable child! You know all too well they come with murderous intent! As for MY priestess... What do you take me for, a heretic?!" his arms raised and jiggled in his fiery anger. He knew why they had come, perhaps others did as well. "You know also very well that Amateira is an outspoken girl in love with the Fire from Beyond. Perhaps too outspoken. She serves only T'a'u'weke! If she were to let go the dart it would be in T'a'u'weke's name and in his will! She made only too clear of that before you came."

"As it is, then, 'father', she did not send the missile upon us," Weka'u responded softly. "Perhaps it was you who planted the thought in her heart to begin with? What other thoughts have you planted in OUR hearts? Why has T'a'u'weke allowed those murderers upon our island? I say, T'a'u'weke has sent these kind flames to help us rid our home of the Cloud-Riders! To do what you have failed to, and I shall work in league with them! You, though, have gotten fat and lazy! You horde the Fire Stones for yourself and keep us shut off from the Eternal Flame! Our TRUE father!"

It was then he heard the scraping of dust, ever so quietly. Gabriel had done a good enough job of looking idle while Weka'u and Pu'aki duked it out among them. "Jasper," the message said, with a line and a circle. It was obvious enough where the line went. The circle..? As he stared at Pu'aki the stone became evident. Arlen's hand grazed Gabriel and he whispered ever so quietly that even Gabriel would think it were just in his head, "he will need to be distracted or Jasper will be noticed."

Arlen grunted in his throat and muttered further to Gabriel, "Weka'u is not going to win this without a sign. He is saying that we are here to help them get rid of the smugglers, Cap'n. He's accusing Pu'aki of being impotent to rule, looking for himself instead of the others and planting fear in the people where they should have courage. It is time to act, or Pu'aki will exile him. Shall I step forward?" Pu'aki looked at Arlen, but could not hear what it was he was saying.

"Look how they plot now, Weka'u! They look for the village once you have gotten me out of the way! My power and wisdom are what keep this village safe and secure. T'a'u'weke is NOT with you in this fight. You will be a pet to them once you get rid of me! Look how your heart is softened to the Arlen-man so easily! Only thrice have you seen him and already you give your allegiances!" Pu'aki spat in Weka'u's direction. The fat man's face was contorted in anger, and Arlen could see the flames of his power just behind his eyes. He was soon to act before losing his hand to Weka'u's tongue. "You are dead to T'a'u'weke!"

Weka'u shook his head and lowered it. There was a rumble some distance off, Arlen could feel it beneath his feet. Smoke began to lift from the volcano, slightly at first. Weka'u stepped forward and beat his chest. "T'a'u'weke knows he can take my heart and body as home if all other fires go out. My heart will always burn for him. As your son it is my privilege to defend his people, and my duty! My flame will not go out until the smallest of us is safe from your corruption! I have felt the Eternal Flame grow cold under my feet for decade upon decade, Grandfather, while you have sat idle as black stone! I wish to see the Red River run again!"

The rumble grew more noticeable, and the people who once murmured between each other about the conflict now grew silent and looked above. Smoke now rose from the top of the volcano black as night. Arlen felt his body shiver as it had in the previous few nights. T'a'u'weke was with their cause. Somehow, it frightened him. Indeed, a simple man had brought a god to its knees by capturing its power and reigning it in as his own. It was as much a sign as T'a'u'weke was able to give in his weakened state, and he wouldn't let it pass ineffectively if he could help it. If just to save his own hide from the fire god.

Arlen's hand went to his head and he quickly doubled over. Turning his head up, his eyes were red beyond bloodshot. "He's here, and he's not happy with you, Pu'aki," Arlen said in common. His voice somehow layered with another ever so vaguely.

The village elder jumped from the platform his house stood on to the ground as if he were as finely framed as Weka'u. In another setting, perhaps it would have been amusing. His hand was held high and a ball of roaring fire a foot wide formed. Villagers screamed and ran inside as warriors stepped forward, not acting but wary. Arlen recognized them as Weka'u's men from before. This was between Pu'aki and Weka'u apparently. He wondered just how long it would take for the priesthood to act.

Amateira's bow burst into flames as Pu'aki stepped forward, flames licking the ground where he stepped. The ball of flame slammed into the ground and a shockwave of fire spread out. Arlen wasted no time and pulled Gabriel's collar and wrapped his body around his Captain's. He wasn't sure why he did this, really. He held no ties to the man and could just as easily sail under Sephara's flag as his. Weka'u simply jumped over the wave with a higher than expected dive and rolled to a crouch, his spear ready.

Flames licked against Arlen's back and he screamed in the flesh searing pain. It must have been Cyradis that kept him alive, blocking the flames enough that he only was wounded. The wall of fire was simply too strong to have survived otherwise. And yet...

As the wave passed over and subsided he groaned into Gabriel's ear. "The necklace... Jasper... Now! While Weka'u has his attention!"

Cyradis was only mildly suprised at how quickly things got violent. One does not simply stand by and let himself be supplanted without a fight. Indeed, it may have been easier to have Drice employ his ability to be inconspicuous and open a new hole somewhere in Pu'aki's neck. That would have certainly been easier than countering the unexpectedly powerful wave of fire the fat chieftain unleashed. Cyradis had just enough time to create a small gravitiy well to absorb the fire just in front of the group, but not enough to consume the flames entirely.

Arlen was burned, but that was a problem beyond Cyradis' skill. She glanced at Cailey who was admirably calm. Cyradis didn't know many girls her age so accustomed to battle. She had little time to linger on that thought, however. Around her, the tribe's warriors were poised to attack, yet held back. A female priest near Pu'aki's hut held an enchanted bow but had yet to notch an arrow. For now, it was only Weka'u and Pu'aki who were engaged. Weka'u, however, would not last long against the power of that stone. Cyradis had no doubt Pu'aki could obliterate the whole village if we wanted to.

"Contingency is the definition of preparedness. Out think your enemy, and his strategies are folded." Strange how quickly old lessons make themselves remembered when the situation calls for it. Weka'u would be destroyed instanly with Pu'aki's next attack. Of that, Cyradis was certain. Her knowledge of fire was basic, but she knew enough to help Weka'u. The magic emplyed by the stones was wild; uncontrolled. And Pu'aki was no mage. He was merely a tool, much like a staff is to a real mage.

Cyradis exhaled, her eyes taking on thier familiar violet glow. She focused on the head of Weka'u's spear. It was, as it turned out, made of obsidian. Cyradis smirked and grasped the sharpened obsidian with her mind's eye. She could see and feel the energy around the village swell and grow attracted to the spear head. With a single push of her will, the obsidian ignited into a perfect - almost as if it were sharpened under a forge - blade of fire. Weka'u and every other villager was taken aback. If they needed a manufactured sign from thier god, this would surely do the trick.

...

Amatiera stood listening intently to the argument the whole time unsure what to do. Pu'kai had always been leader long before she was born, in a way she trusted him. But Wek'au was... was... everything she wanted in a man, strong, handsome and a good hunter. Her face went bright red in a blush that went by unnoticed by all. The argument quickly divulged into a fight between the two. Pu'kai's anger clearly went to breaking point and fire spouted from him in a shockwave.

Amateira raised her hand to her much smaller Fire stone and barely had time to push away the flames. Amatiera herself couldn't create fire but she could definately manipulate it. In a slight panic but outwardly calm she raised her voice magically to be heard over the flames. "People of T'a'u'weke leave the village, return after victory!" she urged them, if they hadn't already. "Whomever that may be," she added quietly.

Now was time to act, likely the others of her order were looking out of the temple and contemplating what to do. Amateira in the midst of a battle did not have that luxury. Tearing off her necklace she held the stone in her hand. Although she didn't truly know what she was doing she parted the flames as she moved forward. "Pu'kai step down or as a messenger of T'a'u'weke I shall have to declare you Exile!" she yell continuing her inexorable walk.

She knew he wouldn't step down it was up to her to force him. The only way was to assist Wek'au, she looked over to him through the swirling wall of flames to see him, somehow protected by a wall that sucked the flames into it. How... odd, it didn't occur to her there would be a mage here. Taking a deep breath the priestess embraced the flame, similarly to Pu'kai himself, instead of creating it she merely brought it to herself.

It couldn't burn her now, she continued her walk toward Pu'kai. She would attempted to draw ever lick of flame into her, disabling him long enough for Wek'au to stab him with his spear... now flaming spear! Had he obtained a Stone? Impossible, only priest were allowed to collect them, Pu'kai wouldn't have given him one either. Or was it yet another sign? That didn't matter, she had to do her task, for T'a'u'weke. Even if it likely would be her end, Pu'kai was much more powerful, she would eventually lose control and with so much of T'a'u'weke's fire under her control and simply explode in flames. Hopefully Wek'au would have slain Pu'kai by then.

To keep the balance, such was the duty of a priestess no matter the cost. Something that should have been done long, long ago.

Like a duck upon the water. That's how she felt. Outwardly she had a false image of strength and self confidence. Beneath the facade of the watery surface though her heart was racing and she was inwardly terrified. She had always been this way. She wished she had her brothers confidence though, no matter what situation he was always ready to react and it was rare when his emotions had gotten him in trouble.

Of course he had years of training and he had even confided that most of the time he felt exactly how she felt now. Projecting a calmness yet battling fear beneath it. Fear he had said will keep you alive, it will keep you thinking. But as most things, to much fear and you will do nothing. To little and you will do something stupid. It gave her reasurance that even her brother ran into things that scared him.

She wrapped herself in her faith wearing it like a thin blanket. She knew little of these islanders but she had a feeling from Cyradis's reaction to her use of magic that they could not sense magic within others, only see it. With a thought and crook of her finger the small orbs of light floating around everyone vanished beneath a veil. Oh they were still there she could feel them as extensions of the power she was weilding but naked eyes could not pierce the veil so most people would not be able to see them. In fact she most mages were unable to pierce her veil very well. It took focus and understanding of what they were trying to see. She wondered if Cyradis would be able to see them? She grinned at the thought of picking that Mage's brain.

She could feel Nepheli's strength within the world around her. Oh they had all talked about this 'false' diety and his domination of the island. But it was like an ant crawling through the den of a home. They felt like the land was there and yet the building the home, the world itself belonged to someone else. Nature...trees the soft soil beneath her feet these were part of Nepheli's gift.

Her mind settled down as she felt the strength of Nepheli resting within her. She took her place slightly to Cyradis side closer to Drice who was watching their flank. His fingers rested at his side but occasionaly she saw the brief twitch of his fingers touch the twin blades at his side. The Kamir was still down which meant he was true to his word he was not looking to start a fight but she knew that he must be scared. Timing was everything in battle to him. They had already removed his element of surprise and if there was an attack he would have to react which placed him in a disadvantage.

She watched the exchange with a lack of interest. She could not understand anything being said but she could get a pretty clear idea from their body language. There was a lot of anger in the two locals as they battled with words. She had an eery feeling that Drice was right. People with power were never accepting of losing that power. A fight was brewing she could feel it. And yet she glanced and Drice's hands were still at his side a sad smile appearing on his face as he watched the locals moving closer. The Kamir was not raised.

She felt the power brewing just moments before the wave of flame exploded towards the group. If she hadn't already prepared her spells she might not have had time to throw up her defenses. Cyradis proved to be her better. Instantly she felt raw magic being used and the flames were sucked away. It was not enough to completely stop the wave but it slowed and limited it enough for Cailey. Without missing a beat she took a deep breath and called the Chenkari to her. The invisible balls of light that surrounded the group explanded to a shield deflecting what was left of fire.

Her shields were strong but those up front had probably felt some of the residual heat while everyone in the back should have been fine. She took a moment to glance at Drice just catching the signal that she had been waiting on. Two outstretched fingers on his side before clenching them into a fist.

"Everyone close your eyes!" he yelled to the group.

According to everyone the locals didn't speak basic. But she wasn't going to give them the chance to prove her wrong. Two orbs lifted from her fingers and spiraled into the fray. As they moved they grew bigger. They had started as no bigger then fireflys by the time they were between their guide and Pu'Kai they had grown to the size of fists. Of course both were still hidden by the veils. She closed her eyes a mischevious grin playing at her lips. Only Drice would ever have thought of how to use the Chenkari like this.

She closed her fist removing the veil. The two orbs exploded flooding the air with pure unrelenting light. Even with her eyes shut she could feel the light burning through. Any who were foolish enough to look into it would be momentarily blinded...

ooc: Aka its a flash bang

The twins had followed the rest of the group, Jasper gliding ahead of his sister from time to time. Now Jade stood a bit behind Arlen and Gabriel with Jasper next to her, sword already drawn. It was useless, while he was invisible, but he knew that she would feel at least a bit better in what would come, knowing that he was here to protect her. She looked a bit nervous, he could tell, but he doubted the others would notice where she stood with her head held high and her eyes calm.

<Nice writing> Jasper scoffed slightly as he looked down at the writing the Captain had managed to produce with his foot. <Does he mean to say that I look like a round ball with a very large obtrusive belly button?> he s******ed.

Jade, unable to reply, squinted her eyes at him.

<You have to give it to him though, he did do it without getting caught. He might have to give up his dreams of becoming an artist though.>

<Yes yes... I know.> Jasper said in a hurry when Jade shot him another meaningful glance. <You need the dead guy to save the day from going boom.>

He was just about to move up to Pu'aki when the old man send roaring flames at them. Without hesitation he threw himself at Jade who fell to the ground by his weight. Just as the flames were about to hit them he became a visible and protective shield over his sister. He winced at the pain, but surprisingly enough it never came. Quickly rolling off his sister into a crouching stance he focused, unsure if he could move the necklace from this long of a distance, but sure enough, as his eyes were locked on the pendant around Pu'aki's neck it suddenly broke loose and soared through the air following his eyes towards Weka'u.

Suddenly bright light filled his eyes and he quickly shut them, but he was too late. When his sight finally came back to him he could see Jade moving, still on the ground. She was wincing with pain, that was clear, and he saw large burns on her naked arms. To his disbelief they were increasing by each heart-beat. Looking down at his own arms he was in much better shape than she was, how that could be when he had shielded her from the fire. His own wounds were already beginning to heal and he felt a tingling sensation in his body that he had never felt before.

"No! No!" he said with disbelief in his voice when he finally realised what was happening. "NO!"

By each heart-beat his wounds seemed to heal while hers grew. Afraid of touching her he stared down at her, and his heart became a bit lighter when the wounds gradually seemed to be healing, slowly being replaced by red marks of the newly produced skin. She was getting better! Then he noticed that as the wounds began to heal she began to drift into unconsciousness. It looked as if all her strength had been pulled out from her body.

"What is happening?" was the last thing Jasper said before his mind lost control over his body and he became a spirit once more.

OOC: tired.. but wanted to at least catch up a bit

ooc: read the rp message board before posting. sorry geco, i felt it pertinent to post here in case someone didn't see your questions and some possible answers.

Geco- feel free to use weka'u in your post to land the finishing blows.

tip to the mages- I doubt an obsidian spear-tip would be able to destroy the stone alone. anyone know any magacite liquidating techniques? ^_^

OOC: I guess it's after hockey now =P

IC:

He had expected Pu'aki to attack them just as he had, he just hadn't expected it this quickly. A wave of flame extended from the Chieftain's hands and threatened to incinerate them all without a second thought.

Gabe could almost hear Drice and Kaltor standing over his smoldering corpse, "I tried to tell him it was a stupid idea," as they both shook their heads. Of course his plan was stupid, but it was the right thing to do. Some people didn't believe in trust. For them, it was like handing your life over to fate and saying, "Do what you want with me." And while the captain was known to chance his fortunes in a game of cards or dice every now and then, he rarely toyed with the lives of his crew so freely. It might have looked stupid, but he trusted the people beside him would come through when the time came.

It all happened to fast though. The tongues of flame were lapping at him, salivating over his delicious flammable body, ready to burn him to a crisp. Instinctively he raised his hands to his face and began to fall backwards, but someone tackled him to the ground, keeping their body in between himself and the fire. Heat enveloped them, and he caught a whiff of the dreadful stench of scorched flesh. It made him want to vomit.

When the heat dissipated he opened his eyes and saw the majority of his crew unharmed. Cyradis had taken a defensive stance and had done the job he'd asked of her. Meanwhile the fighters had pulled their weapons free, having thrown a punch at them they were ready to punch back. On the ground not five feet away was Jade. He couldn't tell immediately what had happened, but he supposed that perhaps the heat itself had been enough to overwhelm her. And in between them lay a shining red stone. Gabe's eyes locked on it for a moment. It could have been their deaths just as easily as their salvation.

With no doctor to call upon he rose to his knees and rolled over the body of Arlen. Fool of a man. Why'd he do that? Gabe felt a rush of anger swell inside him. Anger at everything. At himself, at Pu'aki, at the damned Orcs who'd forced them here. It had been a long time since he'd seen someone die under his command, and he hoped it would be awhile yet still.

"You have shown yourself false father!" Weka'u had somehow stayed upright during the magical assault and was pointing the tip of his flaming spear directly at his father's heart. "You would kill us all, these strangers and even your own son, to silence the truth. To keep our people ignorant and to keep power to yourself!"

"I have protected our people these many years," Pu'aki screamed in defiance, "The decisions I made kept our people from harm. I could not abandon them now, not when they still needed me!"

"Stop this charade father. Give up now. Reclaim some honor and return to the ways of our people."

"No! NO! NO!!!" the fat on his chin jiggled as he shook his head violently in protest. Pu'aki began to lift his hands once more.

"Don't do this father, I beg you!"

A fierce roar erupted from Pu'aki as a fireball swirled to life in his hands, and he threw it directly at his son. The fire vanished before it reached Weka'u who had not moved. The islander lowered his head in sadness and Gabe thought he saw the man's eyes glisten with tears.

Pu'aki's expression had turned to surprise, then fear. He stumbled back a few steps, "You cannot do this! I am your Chief! I am the blessed one! Chosen by T'a'u'weke to lead you!" he said flustered. The big man turned and sprinted towards his hut. Weka'u caught the motion and with primal instinct lifted his head and tossed his spear all in one motion. The flame-tipped weapons soared through the air and plunged into Pu'aki's back. With a final sigh the Chieftain flopped to the ground and laid there splayed out with his limbs slightly contorted. Weka'u's shot must have severed the man's spine because he did not even so must as twitch after that.

"I'm sorry father..." Weka'u dropped to his knees and pressed his head against the earth.

Amateira watched in shock as Pu'aki's glowing red stone broke off from his neck and floated to the ground behind Weka'u and the strangers. The powerful elder still seemed to be able to use the stone from a distance and attempted to throw a fireball at Weka'u, fortunately it fizzled out before reaching its intended target. Next the old man ran back toward his hut and Weka'u's strong arm drew back then flung his flaming spear right into Pu'aki's exposed back. It sizzled away flesh as it struck, Amateira could only look on in shock rooted to the spot. Never in her life time had she expected to see the Cheiftan pass on.

"T'a'u'weke has decided, a new cheiftan has been chosen! T'a'u'weke bless him, may his reign be just and bright as the Eternal flame! Come see your new leader, villagers!" she spoke the words stone faced in her native tounge but the words were understood by all, even the strangers. "Cheiftan Weka'u, let the Eternal Flame be your guidance. Let your guidance be long and just. Let the people speak their mind and always give them your ear, no matter the time," she told him stone-faced.

Amateira's voice was loud and clear, as she had always been taught from a young age. But despite all her teachings, Amateira felt like she was in a dream, she would never have been allowed to say such words. It seemed the other priests were still in the temple but a few began to stumble out dazedly looking up at the volcano.

"Amateira, will you tend to my friends here? The flames injured them," the new Chieftan asked.

"Of course, Weka'u," she said subserviently. She moved toward the strangers cautiously, making sure to keep them all in view.

"Any hurt?" she asked showing her lack of knowledge she bent down to a man who had been standing at the front of the strangers. He had moderate burns covering his back, already some were crusting over with pus and blood, she knelt before "T'a'u'weke, oh mighty Eternal Flame, our father will you help this kind flame live out his full years, enough blood has been spilt this day," she nearly had tears in her eyes.

Amateira's soft hands brushed the burns lightly, causing a low moan from the man. Make sure to touch every inch of burnt skin, she removed her hands and awaited something to happen. Slowly the man's skin began to bubble where a bubble burst unblemished skin was revealed as burnt flesh flaked off onto the well trodden ground.

"T'a'u'weke must like you man, I have only seen that work once before in my life," she told him forgetting about the language differences.

"Yes, I guess he must, miss," the older man spoke back. Amateira had a shocked look on her face.

"You speak my tounge?" The man nodded.

"I'm Arlen. Your a priestess?" asked the man. Amateira responded with a similar nod absent-mindedly.
How had this Arlen-man learned her language? What had she missed up on the mountaintop? Who exactly were these people? Friendly Cloud-riders?

...

"I see," remarked Arlen in response. Maybe T'a'u'weke isn't real after all... Yet... if that's so, how to I know so much about the island? The idea struck him with a smile and a sort of light hearted laughter. Perhaps in the case of the magicite, it played off of his already overactive imagination and analyzing mind. At the same time, he might have doomed a perfectly pleasant chieftain to his untimely death. No... He'd lived long enough to see himself become the enemy.

"There is one thing left I must do, if Jasper is able to do it. I'm sure he has already passed the old Chief to the next realm, but I have one more favor to ask of him," Thanking those helping him with a gesture, he took himself out from under their care and turned. Stopping, he looked back to Gabriel and nodded, "With your permission, Captain, I'm taking a temporary leave. I'll be back post haste - fear not."

Arlen realized that without the stone, it was still possible, but only with an intermediary. The refined magicite allowed the transfer of experiences between chieftains before passing away. Unrefined Magicite though, perhaps not. A being of pure astral existence like Jasper might just be able to bridge the gap of minds, though.

He reached the village and some eyes caught him as he exited the jungle. Some smiled and some watched with looks of suspicion as he approached the new village head. Arlen couldn't tell if Jasper was with him, but who could, a being such as he? Standing in front of the man, he spoke in Weka'u's native tongue. "Pu'aki left this world without giving you his gifts. You're the first Elder in many generations this is so. Perhaps the first since it's start. T'a'u'weke came to me in dream last night and I didn't understand what he wanted, until now." Arlen, of course, did know what had to be done - he'd known all day. Weka'u also knew. That didn't mean that the villagers had to. This was for Weka'u's benefit alone, to ensure his transition without any dispute. Without this gift, others might make a move for leadership without having anything but doubt as their ally.

"What about the gift?" they could ask - justly so. "T'a'u'weke curses his actions." No longer. Arlen could already see grim faces, their plans shattered so. Here stands the newcomer, a member of two tribes and he speaks for T'a'u'weke. Even Pu'aki didn't doubt it. It was obvious to all when Arlen spoke in voices of his disapproval that Pu'aki was shaken into violent action.

"Weka'u, do you accept the gift of wisdom from an old outsider?" Arlen asked, giving him the option to decline. For a moment Weka'u was surprised. Arlen knew what he was thinking: "Without the stone how would it be possible?"

Weka'u nodded and grinned, "I do, Arlen-man. I agree to a Gift of Wisdom from one who rode the clouds, but is now one of T'a'u'weke's own. Not an outsider. Your wisdom shall be cherished."

"Come, then. Let us have only one witness," Arlen said. "Without the stone, the transfer may be... shocking. Your people have had enough today to talk about for generations without seeing this thing."

"Agreed, then. Come," Weka'u said, motioning to come into his hut. Smaller than Pu'aki's was, but still quite large for the rest of the villagers. "Amateira, you will see, and no other. I would like the Priesthood to be satisfied."

She bowed silently and thoughtfully before following after them. Not a bad choice, she stayed neutral in the conflict though of the priesthood, Arlen noted.

In Weka'u's common room stood many spears, probably all made by him and all very deadly. In addition were the heads of what Arlen presumed to be those of unfortunate smugglers. "They deserved it," Arlen said, motioning to the heads with a grin.

"Yes... They did," Weka'u smiled back.

"Amateira, I thank you for healing me. I noticed that you have a Fire Stone. May we borrow it?" Arlen asked, hand outstretched. She looked to Weka'u, who nodded, but removed it. "Thank you, my young lady." He motioned for Weka'u to sit and Arlen sat opposite.

"Amateira, touch my head with one hand, and touch Weka'u's with the other. You will be our channel." He held his hand out with the stone in his palm. Weka'u wrapped his powerful hand around Arlen's, palm against palm, as if to test the other's strength in a match. Though Jasper was not to be seen or heard, Arlen knew he was there. He was a curious, if not dead, young man. He would have to be here for his interest alone.

To queue him, Arlen spoke. "Ancestors, hear us. May this stone be the catalyst between us. With this priestess as a conduit, may my wisdom be Weka'u's."

At first it was as a warming tingle in his hand, before long it was a burning. Both Weka'u and Arlen held fast, despite a smoke rising from their palms. Something is happening anyway... Suddenly it was like when he was asleep, but much worse. His life was flashing before his eyes, what he wished to pass on and somethings he wished to keep for himself, it made no difference to the bond. No doubt, Jasper had no control either, if he was here. Who knew if he was even necessary now anyway?

The pain was almost unbearable, physically and mentally. The images stopped a moment, frozen in time as a woman's face appeared. It was white as porcelain, beautiful as the spring. She was wrapped in mist and green grass. Arlen's heart stopped, Not again... I don't want to see this! Tears rimmed his eyes as he saw the rivulet of blood from the corner of her mouth. His hands, younger than they were now, stained by blood came into view. They wrapped behind the woman's head and lifted her to his breast. He could still feel her body growing cold against it as if it were yesterday. How beautiful she had been, and how lovely had she smelled. The image of a man clad in metal machinery unlike the world had known when Arlen was a young lad appeared above her. Arlen's hands lowered the woman, grabbed a spear that crackled with enchantments of lightning, and he stood.

Arlen sobbed and the smell of burning flesh entered his nostrils. Weka'u sobbed with him. Good experiences and bad, Weka'u would have it all. As Arlen ran toward the metal enwrapped man, more memories poured like a great waterfall against stones beneath, drowning out that particular low point in Arlen's life. Images of the island now enveloped his mind, things he had seen and things Weka'u had seen. It seemed the bond went both ways.

They could hold onto the stone no longer, so hot it was. Then men peeled their hands from the other and yelled from the agony of it. As they panted, Arlen thought he saw a shimmer beside him pass through the wall. "So there... you have it... my brother," Arlen wheezed in common. "I trust, you'll remember who you are and who I am. That you have not made my mistakes..."

Weka'u lay back, his hand still smoking, just as Arlen's. The stone burning a black hole in the wooden floor, but not catching it aflame. "Mistakes and success, are they not both victories? A man is not defined by what he says, but as how he works. It saddens me, the godless world in which you live. I see clearly where our people should go from here."

Weka'u looked to Amateira, who gathered her stone from it's leather thong, strangely unburnt. "You will go with them. You must find the Awai'aka and bring them back. Arlen will help you. Until then, you must learn of the outside world. Bring back your wisdom so that I may not be the only mouth that has tasted it's poison and it's fruit."

Amateira started to protest, but knew it would do no good. "Take her with you Arlen, as my gift to your Captain. He is a good man, through your eyes. She will be a good companion. Watch over her until you bring her to the Awai'aka, and so she is not strayed from her path in the world beyond the sea."

Arlen nodded, but it would be up to Gabriel. He knew Weka'u understood this. Somehow, Arlen also knew that Gabriel would accept. This was the best for the people, and she would be a capable deckhand, once taught. "As you wish, Chieftain."

Arlen stood, shakily and so did Weka'u. Both of their hands were burned in the center and blistered. It would be a mark that would stay forever. Perhaps the bond of eternal friendship as well. As they walked out, there was an unease. Weka'u smiled and raised his burned hand, Arlen followed. The people cheered. The sign of a true chieftain was accepted by the people, then. Amateira followed, her disposition diminished no doubt. After Weka'u explained the situation, Arlen walked through the people with Amateira behind him.

He was tired, worn out, and burned quite too often for one day. For another, he had seen the death of his beloved Raedett anew. As if it weren't enough for one lifetime. To watch the love of your life die twice was sin. The burning of his hand was nothing in comparison. Before he realized it, they were walking up the gangplank of the ship. What he now knew so warmly as home. Would Gabriel be happy with this new addition? Probably not, heh.

"Its cold."

It was as all mornings tended to be in the dense thickness of the Juvarian wilderness. The dampness clung to his shirt as he pulled it over his head ignoring the the chill in the air. The sun had yet to rise but it would humid and hot by the afternoon. Cold nights, blistering muggy days...enough to wear down a foreign invasion. Or so he hoped.

He stiffened nearly melting at the unbidden touch that followed the words that broke the silence. Delicate fingernails traced down his spine removing the tension in his muscles as they journeyed. He turned failing to hide the blush that warmed his cheeks.

"I like when you do that." Arieko whispered wrapping her arms around his neck. "Reminds me that you are human. Though after what we did..." she left it unsaid though she looked at him amused. Perhaps it was the constant strain of impending death from the war, or the budding of their youth, perhaps even a combination of both but somehow they had found comfort within each others arms.

It had been two weeks since the raid and nearly a month since the start of the war. He knew little of what happened beyond his own sight but the whole thing felt wrong. They were winning and yet...where were those damned airships? They had fought minimal incursion forces, more like light scouts and they had even raided into Dominion territory and yet the fleets had not come. That worried him.

He glanced out into the woods from beneath the thin tarp that veiled their underground den they shared at the base camp. Arieko nodded in understanding to the unsaid comment. It would be light soon and he needed to get into position while he still had the cover of darkness. "Where are you going today?" he whispered.

Arieko shrugged. "Wolf pack with Draven and a few others. Berak said there were some reports of a few squads trying to scout just north of here. We are to make sure they find something." she smirked.

Drice nodded. Checking his gear one last time he rose to his feet. Arieko frowned. "Alone? You know he is trying to kill you?" she hissed.

He shrugged. "We follow the orders given..."

A blade flashed into her fingertips. He raised an eyebrow, now just where had she hidden that gem?

"I know you Drice, more then you realize. How can you not see what Gavin is doing? No one else travels alone, no else is given entire sectors to patrol and no one else is given a quota either?" The quota had been the latest suprise placed upon him. A dozen dead ears every time he left camp. "He is pushing you until you die."

He leaned forward brushing his lips upon her forhead. "I know, but you should be careful with that talk. He is still the clan cheif and we are Maktah."

He thought he saw her eyes moisten but she turned away to quickly for him to confirm it. "Damn him I don't care. He is trying to take you away from me which makes me mad. And you've seen me mad."

Drice laughed. "Then I am sure that thought alone will keep me protected I doubt Gavin wants a visit from you in the middle of the night." He paused a grin playing at his lips. "Though I must say I have enjoyed those visits." He stumbled back as the pillow hit him square in the face preoccuping him enough that he did not catch the right hook to the stomach. He sucked in air and tasted her lips as she kissed him deeply. It was a moment before the kiss broke off.

"I know why you put up with it all." She seemed to let the words hang in the air. He knew it too. A little girl who looked up to him, who thought the world of him. "But you better keep surviving you better come back to me." he nodded as he lifted the tarp, the feint smell of roses carrying on the wind as he scurried into the darkness....
______

.....his fingers tapped the twin blades at his side and he blinked. A sad smile played at his lips as his mind tried to make sense of his surroundings. Why? Why was the past coming back to haunt him now? Why the glimpses and memories why were the shadows of the dead restless now of all times? He tried to push the thoughts aside and concentrate on the business at hand.

He caught a worried glance from Cailey but he offered a sad smile that he felt. He had honestly hoped that their captain had been correct that the morally correct choice would work. In a way he knew that he was drawn to the crew because possibly in another life he might have turned out like the captain. He seemed to have a toughness to him yet somehow he had kept his morals something that Drice had long ago abandoned. Perhaps at the conclusion of all of this it might be time to retrieve them...

Although he could not speak the language he could easily translate emotion and body language. He left the Kamir hanging loosely in the still air around his neck keeping an eye on the locals that ventured to close, while also watching the confrontation between Weka'u amd Pu'aki. He never even flinched as the fire waved roared out towards them. He had faith in Cailey and sure enough it broke just before him like a wave upon a reef. Oh he could still feel the residual heat but just enough to crack a sweat.

He dropped his fingers and closed his eyes waiting for Cailey to catch the signal. A brilliant pulse of white light burned through the darkness of his lids threating to invade its way in. He opened his eyes accustomed to the spell and bared a few inches of steel towards the locals in case any of them had the idea to get involved.

It was a wasted effort the commotion ended with a spear through the formers chiefs body. Drice nodded. The way it should end. He moved catching Cailey as her knees buckled. She smiled and looked tired. He knew that she had prepared the entire track and although she had a few days to rest since her near death experience it was no where near long enough to recover her strength. She reached into her pocket producing a piece of bread from the morning meal. She knawed on it trying to regain her strength.

The rest of the day was uneventful. The locals offered a feast one that Drice was not of the right mind to enjoy. His thoughts kept drifting back to the memories that seemed to be haunting him. He was dreaming while awake. That was bad, he was losing his focus, losing his edge. A maktah without an edge was buried six feet below the ground.

Upon the completion of the festivities the group made their way back to the airship. As the pilot explained the magicite and its connections to the islands religion he heard Cailey respond with a very short but disagreeing hmph at the notion. Her faith in Nepheli was rather unquestioning and he had to admit that there were many times that he was firm believer as well. There were just to many things that were impossible to explain. Be it a god or demi god or just some more powerful being, he did believe in a higher or many higher powers then himself.

ooc: Will stop here getting real sleepy

...

When Jade regained her consciousness the first thing, or first someone, she saw was Kaltor. Green eyes met hers. He was carrying her through the jungle, she soon realized. Back to the ship? Was it over then, she wondered. Where was Jasper? She tried to move a little but the pirate's strong arms held her in a firm grip. Her instinct was to protest, but she felt week as a kitten and all she could muster was a week smile.

"Jasper?" she finally managed to ask a couple of minutes later. She had seen most of the crew, that had journeyed to the village, by now. The only ones she had yet to spot was Jasper and Arlen.

"If you can't see him, I sure as hell can't," Kaltor replied lightly. "That devil brother of yours is around somewhere, not to worry."

Jade couldn't help but to worry though. Last she had seen him was when he had knocked her down on the ground, after that it was all a blur.

"Arlen?" she asked Greycloak. She remembered having seen him got hit by the fire. Did that mean that he had not made it? Suddenly she felt ashamed at her own incapacitated state. If she had not fainted, perhaps she could have...

"The old man is just a couple of minutes behind. He must have gotten slow of old age," Kaltor jested. Jade gave him another smile in return, warmed by knowing that Arlen was okay. The group continued in silence, it seemed as if everyone was deep in their own thoughts. When they got closer to the beach Jade felt a bit stronger, but she had yet to see Jasper.

"I think you can let me down now," she said, and after a minute re-assuring Kaltor that she was well enough he put her down on the ground, surprisingly gently. "Thank you," she said with a warm smile. "I owe you one!"

"I won't forget," Kaltor merely replied with a wide smile of his own.

Making her way, though very slow, towards the ship she saw Arlen emerge from the treeline with a native woman in tow. Her heart felt even lighter when she saw Jasper walking behind them. However when they got closed she wasn't sure she liked the look of Jasper's otherwise handsome face. Something was wrong, she knew it, but the others around them kept her from saying something outloud.

OOC: Rensha - Jasper was with them as a "connector", just too tired to write it up, my body is hurting quite a bit at the moment. So I skipped that part from Jasper's angle. I'll work some in later though!

Amateira followed Arlen into the new Chieftan's hut. When the man asked for her stone, the symbol of her office she pouted childishly then reluctantly handed it over. "Careful old man, you damage it I promise you won't leave the island alive," she remarked to him in a way that told him she meant it.

The man merely nodded and clasped hands with Weka'u the stone inbetween them. At Arlen's request Amateira grabbed both Weka'u and Arlen himself firmly by the wrist. She gritted her teeth, eyes darting back and forth between Arlen, the stone and the chieftan. All sounds became a blur as she watched her precious stone turn cherry red in their hands. She barely noticed the pained looks of the two men as the Fire stone sizzled and burnt flesh. The stone was soon dropped roughly to the floor as if it were as worthless as gravel. Hastily she picked it up as sound came back to her as her ears had popped from too long on the volcano.

"You will go with them..." her chieftan told her among other things. Once again she pouted resigned to her fate. Before she left Weka'u spoke to her again. "You will need to know the language of those you live amongst give me your stone," he said holding his hand out for the stone.

"I don't want to do what Arlen and you did," she said gripping the still warm stone resting between her breasts. Weka'u shook his head leaving no choice but for her to hand over the stone, for the final time she hoped.

Weka'u grabbed her hand for a second or two and the stone heated up once again before he released it. "It is done," he told her. "I have another gift to bestow upon you, you will need protection in the world I have seen." He stepped behind a curtained doorway returning with an intricately carved bow, carved flames twisted right around the bowstave. He also gave her a bristling quiver of broadheaded obsidian arrows with black swan feathers on the shaft.

"I-I thank you Weka'u, I have never seen such a fine weapon. It shall serve me well." She grinned at him forgetting for a moment her predicament. For a man to give a woman any gift meant a lot to any woman of her people. "I suppose I must be going." She hugged him tight then turned away blushing. Weka'u's grin was just as wide the priestess had been talking in common and not even realised it.

The trek to the airship was long and uneventful compared to the rest of the day, Arlen wasn't young anymore and didn't go as fast as Amateira would have liked, yet it felt all too fast for her. Each step carried her further away from the beloved village. She had been this far away many times but the idea she would fly away with the Cloud-riders made her glad of the slow pace.

The pair spoke a little of things they both remembered like the times the children of the village got into mischief and sabotaged old man Dan'ak's hut so that the thatched roof caved in. She knew that Arlen's memories weren't truly his but it comforted her greatly that there would be someone who knew the same things she did.

Arlen would be the rock she clung to against the sea of strange people and places. She wondered how Arlen's friends would treat her, especially since she couldn't speak their language. When she arrived on the obsidian-strewn beach she glanced up at the large wooden ship. How could such a contraption fly? She would find out soon enough.

Amateira's mind was diverted to other things she bent down she picked up a loose piece of the black rock and remembered another time on this very beach where she and Weka'u had first spoken alone without the other village children in the way.

Frowning she slipped the black stone into her leather pouch on her hip and continued up the gangplank onto the wonderous ship. Had Arlen realised what she had been thinking after all he did share Weka'u's memories.

OOC: @Ren/Everyone, Amateira is talking in common and doesn't realise it. =)

OOC: Well, Since this island adventure is finally over with, I think that it is FINALLY time to post my sheet up. ^-^

Name: LaRire Amiri

Gender: female

Age: 19

Race: Human

Profession: Spirit Woman-in-training

Description: Larire, being of a tribal nature, is very toned with very little body fat on her person. She stands 5’6 in height, and weighs around 145 lbs. She has dark, olive-toned skin and vibrant blue-green eyes. Her hair, though naturally dark chocolate in color, has been bleached white to symbolize the position that she holds in her tribe as a spiritual leader. The fact that she has only minimal ornamentation in her white hair also state that she is only in her training phase. What ornamentation she dose possess, however, is made from carved bone dyed in different colors, and carved obsidian birds depicted in different stances; some in flight, others perched or ready to take off. She wears earrings that are both made of obsidian. Around her neck is a magnificent choker that starts from the middle of her neck and spans down to the middle of her chest. It is made of woven grass and is heavily beaded with carved bone and stone. Around her wrists and ankles are braided white and black horsehair. However, the bracelets around her wrist are decorated with feathers.

For clothing, she carries a long cloak of deerskins and lined with the dense fur of an animal native to the mountains from which she hails called a Kopla (think something like a badger, if you would. It is just the native name for the animal, and she won’t use another term for it.) The cloak itself possess many pockets so that she can carry her supplies on her person when she has to wear it. On her person, she wears a fitted deerskin top that has one strap that reaches over her right shoulder. The bottom hem of her top goes to the top of her medium-length skirt made of deerskin which is tied with woven fibers up the outsides of her thighs. These ties are easily undone if she needs the maneuverability in a fight, leaving the waistband intact. These have been decorated with embroidery depicting her totem animal, a falcon. She wears thick padding on her right shoulder, and under her left bracer, the only one that she wears. Both have been left undecorated.

She has a bird that she takes with her everywhere as a representative of her totem animal. Said bird’s name is Guiliani, and she is a Crested Caracara. The Caracara’s are revered by her tribe for their resourcefulness in gathering food, even if the birds do eat carrion when no other food source is available. (a site to see what the Crested Caracara is all about is located at: http://www.peregrinefund.org/Explore.../crstcara.html )

Her cloak can be manipulated, using a series of folds and leather ties, to make a medium-sized pack that holds dried food, carved products that she trades while in villages or towns, and her ceremonial supplies, including the products that bleach her hair. Also, in her pack are two long blades, wrapped up, that are able to be tied onto the staff that she carries.

Personality: Fairly calm, but seeing as she is a fairly young woman, can be quick to any emotion if she lets that emotion take control of her. She loves Guiliani almost more than she loves her own life, and cares for the bird as if it were a member of her family. Once she makes friends, she makes them for life, and would do nearly anything for them…as long as Guiliani is kept safe.

Special Abilities: In LaRire’s tribe, she has been called a Weather Which, for she can make some minor changes to the temperature, make winds blow, and even make it precipitate. It takes a long time and a lot of energy, but she is able to do it.

History: Born to the cousin of the current Spirit Woman and the brother of the current chief, many people expected great things from her even before she was born. After she was three years old, the tribe told her parents that she was to be the next Spirit Woman, and was to go to her aunt to be trained form them on out. And, to LaRire, her aunt became a surrogate mother, and was far more connected to LaRire than her real mother could ever hope to be. By the time she was 12, she was taking over many of the minor duties of the Spirit Woman. This was also the year that she was to choose her other name, or what the city people called a Surname.

She went through the process of a dreamsearch, when she was exiled from the tribe to a lone grove of trees. She had many herbs with he to help induce her dream-search, but on the second day, when an eagle flew overhead, she entered this dreamscape. During her search, the eagle that was flying overhead was bombarded by many small birds, and the eagle dived and dropped what it was carrying as it was closer to the ground. When LaRire awoke, she knew that her name was to be Amiri, literally meaning, “one who flies above.” This was later confirmed in her mind when she discovered the nearly-dead hatchling whom she named Guiliani, and ended up being the month old Crested Caracara that is still in her possession to this day.

As time passed, she raised the bird and taught it to hunt, scout, and even search for some things. On her 19th birthday, however, she had been ordered by the Spirit Woman that she must make her “journey” to find her “story,” the ceremony that set Spirit Women apart from the rest of the tribe. She was only allowed to take Guiliani, her pack, and her quarterstaff with its blades for protection. The Spirit Woman told her before she left that her totem animal was to help her with her journey. It would tell her where she needed to be, and help her to find her “story.”

She had entered the town of _______ in order to trade some supplies when Guiliani disappeared, and reappeared later with a bit of cloth hanging from her talons…(The fabric will be from some unsuspecting person on board the ship…she will meet said person, return the fabric, then feel that she MUST be on that ship when it leaves, because her bird showed her the sign of the fabric…)

Race/Tribe: LaRire hails from the tribe of Barra, which is about 80 miles away from the city. The tribe loves to decorate with rocks and stones, and they save up to barter for the obsidian that is worn by the Spirit Women and the Healing Men.

Gabe stood, dusting himself off, and crossed the ground between where he'd been protectively strewn over Arlen's body to the fallen corpse of Pu'aki. Bending down he rolled the bloated body on its side, at least as far as the spear still in his back would allow. Scanning the body for any final signs of life, Gabe took a moment to contemplate his fate. Was it truly malice and evil that had done him in, or had it been something simpler, more innocent. A genuine belief that he was helping his people which forced a compromise, and once the first decision was made, it couldn't be undone.

Overhead the fire on the roof of the hut crackled in delight, and so he dropped the body and headed back to his group. A native islander, a priestess, had somehow brought Arlen around and healed his wounds. Just one more crazy thing that had happened in the past week.

Offering his hand, he helped the old man to his feet, "I suppose I should thank you for that act of idiotic loyalty," there was a visible relief in his eyes that the wanderer would be alright. Although they hadn't spent much time together, Arlen had become someone Gabe might have once called a friend. But the captain had been captain for too long to remember what a simple friend was anymore.

"I figured Sephara would have killed me herself if I hadn't," his whimsical reply caught Gabe by surprise, and he burst into laughter. Given the circumstances, Gabe must have looked hysterical.

"That might just be true. Make sure the doc takes a look at you, just to be sure. And Arlen," he paused as he throat swelled slightly, "Thanks."

Crowds of natives were returning to the street, and it was easy to see that it was time they left this village and let Weka'u start the long, difficult rebuilding process that was bound to follow Pu'aki's demise. With that in mind they said their goodbyes and departed with a large piece of unrefined magicite as their reward.

As they walked back towards the Dawn he managed to pull alongside Cyradis so they could talk. "I'm sorry if any of what I said hurt you. We all have pasts," he was looking off into the sky as he spoke about their personal histories, "And normally I wouldn't have brought it up, but like I said, we needed you with us," he turned to face her, "And I'd like to think I was right." He beamed a smile at her, "You definitely saved our asses today. I don't think I'd look very handsome as a barbecued entree." He left her believing all would be forgiven, if it wasn't already, but the rift between her and Arch was another matter entirely.

In the first reaches of night they returned to the ship, the silver moon above looked like it had kept a protective eye on his baby while they'd been away. He gave the magicite to Sephara, "Have Xavier put this in the reaction chamber. I feel like flying..."

When the familiar hum of life came back into the body of his girl, he let out a contented smile. They cast off the island and returned to the skies, where they belonged. It had felt like ages since they'd been in the air, and Gabe felt happy as he stood at the wheel looking out on the night sky. Finally, he was home again.

...

It had been a long two months since the last time he had seen his step father and the he had to smother the urge to kill him. Gavin stood lost in thought contemplating the map of Juvaro that was spread across the table of the assembly room. Pieces were decorated across the map, representing everything from troop movement to skirmish sights. He would frown at a piece nodding to himself as he moved it. It was like watching a master chess player seeing a hundred moves in advance.

Except he was one of those damned pieces! It infuriated him, to realize that Gavin wouldn't think twice about sacrificing him. Nor Arieko, or Cailey. With that last thought his hand twitched to his twin blade before he caught himself smothering the burning inferno within him. For his part Gavin just grinned at him innocently probably wondering if his pet was ready to turn on his master. Beyond that point in truth. Drice no longer questioned his own skills.

He had always wondered why he had never trained with the other Maktah but after seeing them fight he was starting to understand. He was better. It was a lowsome self conceited belief but the facts that he had witnessed the way the others looked to him. Arieko thought she understood but she didn't. None of the others could kill...no could erradicate people like vermin as efficiently as he had been trained. Berak had always hinted that he was different it was until now he saw the truth behind it.

That was the reason he held his blade. Gavin was no fool he knew how strong he was. Yet he still never required guards in Drice's presenance. That spoke alot of how Gavin felt about his own abilities. Now was not the time to test them.

Gavin nodded as if knowing what Drice was thinking before turning his attention to the other two men at the table. Berak towered over the table glaring at it like a bear looking over its meal. He didn't speak just watched. The other man Drice had not seen before and he was starting to get an idea of just why he had been summoned from his latest excursion.

"You understand that I have been sent as simply an observer. My presance is not by no means shows that my kingdom will take action in this skirmish." the man whispered. He was young just a little older then Drice with long braided dark hair.

"And I am sure that your opposite is saying such pleasantries to the Empire as they watch from that side as well." Gavin chuckled and shook his head. "Merik please do not belittle me or my people with such comments. A skirmish? That maybe what the Empire's propaganda tool is blasting to everyone but you are no fool. Their losses have been horrific to say the least. We are a hard people thrown against the rocks of life, our blood has built this kingdom in more ways then one. And if you continue to not watch your mouth and spit such disdain you will offend me but more importantly the Maktah within this room who bleeds even now on the battlefield."

Merik's eyes were calm as he looked at Drice who for his part narrowed his eyes of disdain on the man. "My apologies I meant no offense."

"You would no I am offended when you feel the blood running from your throat." Drice hissed.

The calmness vanished for a brief moment before Merik nodded. Drice swallowed he had not meant to speak those thoughts aloud. He heard Berak bellow out a laugh and Gavin looked...pleased. He had been played again. His pet Maktah hear to inspire loyalty through fear.

"As I said no offenses were meant but you can hardly call this a war? They consider you nothing more then terrorists who have killed more civilians then actual soldiers." He paused. "Not to mention that they think so greatly of your talents that they have barely comissioned a fleet to attack you. The outdated 27th for the Campaign."

Gavin shook his head. "I have sent word to every kingdom asking for assistance. Our continent is something like a school yard. The empire is the bully who runs it. Everyone is afraid that they will be next but no one wants to fight they would rather someone do the dirty work. They ignore the beatings, ignore their friends while they get swallowed whole all the while whispering what they would do if they had a chance. Cowards all of you and so the Juvarians will make a stand. With my Maktah our clans united behind the Jelom we will irradicate them."

He snapped his fingers and Drice moved forward handing Merik the box he held. Merik gave him a perplexed look and Drice hid the smirk he felt. The man opened the box and lost all composure dropping it on the table with a shriek and empting his stomach on the flood. As the box landed the head rolled out. "May I introduce to you the late Admiral of the 27th fleet. Tell the empire to send someone better. Tell them where I am tell them to come and I will show the world by bloodying this bully's nose. I will show you all that if they bleed they can lose. And then I expect you to rally behind our banners and we will drive this abomination to the ends of the earth."

After he left Berak let out a sigh. "You did well Drice." he turned his attention to the table the blood steins still soaking the map. "They will come now."

Gavin nodded. "Its what we wanted. We cant win by ourselves so we have to show them, show them how to let go of the fear that makes them nothing more then a flock of sheep awaiting the wolf to pick them off one by one. We can not be their sheppards forever."

He stared down at the map. "Hopefully they will be angry enough to take the bait. The secondary trenches have been finished. When the assault comes we will pull back to the second trenches." He ran his fingers back to a point between the two lines. "The Maktah will hold here and await the withdraw of our main line. When the empire begins to dig in for the offensive you will hit them from behind. Cause as much damage as you can to keep their focus on you and buy time for the mages to prepare our surprise."
_______

The ship rocked and Drice nearly lost his balance as they began to climb. He had never felt this before. The wind sheered around him Cailey looked mezmorized as she leaned against the railing one of Drice's hand clutching her cloak just in case. She smiled and giggled. "It's amazing." she shouted.

Amazing was not the word he wanted to use to describe it. Ironic. So much time fighting these damned things...

After a moment his stomach settled and he let go of Cailey. "Where are you going?" she asked.

He thought back about the events that had plagued him. About the dismissed hand that he had scoffed at. "To see someone." he whispered winding his way through the ship. Something had plagued him about one of the women he had met but it hadn't been until they had returned that he had put it together. Better him then his sister he supposed. After a few minutes of searching his feet carried him to the the bridge.

He cleared his throat so as not to startle the pilot. "I thought I had recognized that weapon. You were an imperial pilot." he didn't ask he didn't feel like it was needed. It was a statement that obvious. "An imperial pilot, a Kellan mage, and now a Juvarian Maktah."

"I should reintroduce myself. I am Drice Malehn, Maktah of the Jelom clan one of the last survivors of the Juvarian massacre." He was still unsure of why he had wanted to talk to her maybe it was the memories of the war, maybe he was worried that he had killed someone she knew. Either way he was here flying on an airship flown by an imperial pilot. If only Arieko could see him now.

...

He stilled himself offering a lazy smile even after hearing the soft click, a sound that had announced many a battles. Inwardly he was puzzled by her expression not mention her reaction. Fear seemed to radiate from her in a soft glow as he stood there even with his Kamir hanging loosely around his neck in a sign of peace. She was...no...this whole crew was a cruel joke of unpredictability.

"You give me far to much credit." he whispered his eyes focusing past her into the darkness of the sky that passed them by. "I would like to say that I took notice of your hair of your skin..." he hadn't and that was enough to frighten him. He had been worried that he had lost a step but now the evidence was self evident. He was losing focus. He had been trained to notice such subtle features and he had ignored them. At this rate...

"....in truth I simply used an educated guess." He frowned. "You carry yourself with a military presicion, that weapon of yours I have seen many like it though not nessarily in a position where I would like." The damned things fired bolts faster then he wanted to admit the old wound in his shoulder throbbed. "And of course there was that tension growing between you and the mage. The outfit clearly identifies her as Kellen and as little as I know about them I know that the one thing that really gets under their skin is an Imp."

"It was a theory of course, one that I needed to test with your reaction." he held his hands up. "It makes no difference to me one way or another."

He crossed the deck making sure not to get to close to her as he stared out into the darkness trying his best, though admittingly failing, to sooth the tension that he felt. "I am not sure why I came up here." He reached into his pocket producing a small flask. He took a small sip feeling the liquid warm his throat. It slid smoothly down with the barest hint of berry. Luduanna red was one of the few wines he had ever found that agreed with him. As Berak had confided sometimes the drink could keep the demons at bay. With his swirling thoughts he wondered how likely that was.

Not looking back he offered the flask searching the darkness for answers that plagued. "Maybe I thought I could find someone else who has been touched by darkness. Love is born from cruelty a great man once told me that. Perhaps it was the opposite." He sighed. "In war we do things, some to be regretted, some to be haunted by. But war is war. I killed women...children..." he voice dropped to a bare mutter. "...I did it so someone on the otherside wouldn't do the same to those I care about."

"Its not personal...yet it is." he sighed unsure of why or what he was rambling on about. Yet these memories were huanting him for a reason. "War is war, is brutal and nasty but what happens happens. I think what I am trying to say is that you can not hold a grudge for the actions taken it simply continues the cycle."

He turned shaking his head. "I apologize for rambling..." he turned to go.

The scene following Pu'aki's unceremonial succession by Weka'u was one of somewhat subdued panic. Villagers were scrambling to extinguish spot fires before they grew into a real problem while still keeping a suspicious eye on the mysterious outsiders. Cyradis was familiar with the calm after the end of a battle. The events beforehand couldn't really be called a battle by her standards, but win or lose, the effect was the same. While Arlen and the new chieftain disappeared with a village priest to discuss, presumably, the future of the once obscure village.

Cyradis wandered about for the few minutes they spent waiting for Arlen to return. Near the center of the village, an extinguished fire pit drew the mage's attention. Gathered around the pit and in a small pile next to it were the shiny black rocks Cyradis had been searching for since she left Kell. Though mountainous, there were very few volcanos from which to drew material for arcana which would help her. Even her staff while in the military was made of a simple granite core. It took her months to attune the resistant stone to acceptable levels of focus. Now, some years later, she stood not three feet from enough obsidian to craft ten staves.

She knelt and took a fist-sized sample in her armored hand. With her free hand, she lifted the visor on her circlet and sighed. The rock was nicely polished, but obviously unimportant to the villagers. They used the readily accessble material for every tool and weapon they used. the glassy surface seemed to smile at her as she looked up, still holding the stone. At least this trip proved valuable in at least one way. Kneeling to gather a few more stones, a young village girl scurried over with a small wicker basket. She quickly piled in all the obsidian it would carry and extended the gift to Cyradis with a wide smile. Cyradis accepted the basket and bowed her head to the girl while pressing her index and middle fingers together at the center of her forehead. The youth giggled and ran off to an older woman. Apparantly, Cyradis managed to win the affection of at least one villager.

--------

Back at the ship, it was Archamae who greeted each crewman at the top of the gankplank. Cyradis had managed to push her mixed feelings about the pilot out of her head. In truth, she wished it had never come up, and wasn't sure if she ever really would have wanted to know. In the end, history was unchangeable, and dwelling on it would only serve to exaggerate her issues. So it was, though still jaded with the actions of Dominia, Cyradis took Archamae's hand, and met her eyes briefly. They each knew thier relationship was damaged, but Cyradis wasn't ready to fully approach her about it. For now, her tolerant gaze would have to siffice.

Some time later, Cyradis found herself on the deck across from Drice and his sister Cailey. The young mage-acolyte was experienceing her first flight aboard an airship, though her brother seemed indifferent. Cyradis turned her eyes back to the black ocean and reflected starlight blurring past far below. Indeed, she had done her share of bringing these constructs down, but never viewed them with anything but admiration. Dominia was a collection of nations. Crediting the advent of the airship to them alone was shortsighted. Indeed, many minds went into the design of these engineering masterpieces. Tearing them from the sky and killing hundreds with a single spell was the abhorable act. Besides, the Dawn was no warship, despite the darker side of the technology used to make it fly.

Cyradis glanced back across the deck. Drice was gone and she caught Cailey quickly averting her eyes. Cyradis smiled and crossed the deck to stand beside the girl. She clung to a cloak to ward off the wind.

She extended her hand to Cailey, "I don't think we've met formally. I'm Cyradis of Kellei."

Cailey frowned as Drice excused himself with a dismissive look. He seemed more rattled then normal, in fact it was getting worse. She could sense beneath the calmness that he projected was something troubling him. She sighed, he would talk when he was ready. Whispering a silent prayer to Nepheli for guidance she turned her eyes sparkling at the sight of the mage. She attempted to avert her gaze so as not to be obvious in her staring. However it seemed that she was to slow as the woman moved towards her.

She felt her face flush and heart skip. Why was she so nervous? Perhaps because this was the first real mage she had encountered since they left Juvaro? Or was it something else?

The woman extended her hand politely , "I don't think we've met formally. I'm Cyradis of Kellei."

Cailey licked her lips as she took the womans hand offering an awkward curtsy in respect. "I am Cailey of Juvaro priestess of Nepheli." she chocked out. A thousand thoughts screamed through her mind. A thousand questions to ask. She could sense the immense power within the woman something similar to her own and far more then the healer that looked after her when she had boarded the ship.

She admired that strength and the way she handled the power that she summoned. Unlike herself, the woman stood with grace and had a presance of strength backed by self confidence. "I wanted to...." she paused. "...I wanted to thank you for when we met. If not for you..." she left it unsaid. She very likely would have died. She was still unsure how she had calmed the magical energies around her. Somehow the woman wielded the currents differently then she had been taught.

She smiled warmly. "I was greatly impressed by how you managed that fire as well. I do not think I could cast my magic near so fast as you did."

...

As boot touched plank, Arlen seemed to get a second wind. It was nice to talk to the young Amateira using some of his borrowed memories. And in common tongue, no less. It seemed... strange... Almost as if behind a fog. He knew Weka'u's life was there, leaking slowly into his own. Memories came unbidden from it, and randomly. Probably no different than his own memories; he just hadn't noticed before. Archamae's hand was welcome to the man now feeling his age. He looked at his hands as he strolled along the deck.

How young they used to be. Skin loosening gradually with age and tanning like leather from years of traveling under a beating sun... At least I still look younger than others my age. Arlen's fingers felt the railing as he looked at the island with a different perspective than before. How much his life had changed from such a simple accident as falling into Gabriel's crew.

Now he had a new purpose. To pass on his experiences in a different manner than before. Again, Arlen looked at his hand, the pink blistered flesh of his palm. He was literally cooked. The thought made him chuckle. So, at least someone will read my journals after all, he mused. He would pass the current iteration on to the priestess, and it would supplement her experiences in the big world. "I'll have to get hold of the others, for her to read those too..." he mumbled, barely audible. "If she can... I'll have to teach her, maybe."

The ship rumbled and the turbines lurched as they tried starting them, startling him. Arlen had heard the noise before, years ago, but hadn't known its origin until now. Again, they tried and the turbines were running. Amazing sound, the whirring of turbines. Soon they were in the air. Arlen spotted Amateira and gently took her arm, walking her over to the balcony. He could tell she was apprehensive to the motion and to the sensation. He simply smiled, as there was nothing to say. For some unknown reason, he knew she would enjoy seeing the volcano from above. As would he.

He pointed to the smoke, rising and rising, and the red glow at its base. "T'a'u'weke gives his approval to Weka'u. And to you. Be still, Daughter of the Fire. Take strength, for it is a hard path you have been assigned. I recommend you take record of it for a reminder. To yourself, and to..." He paused and nodded reassuringly, "our people..." He looked near the base and pointed again, "Look, the village."

His face darkened, however. "It will not be as you remembered, when you return. I know this on personal knowledge. Some will have forgotten your fair face and strong will. Some will resent you, others will be jealous." Arlen's, no, Weka'u's thoughts supplemented him seemingly without a step. "And yet, some will love you..." He let that thought sink in for a moment before he made another sound. They passed the island and he watched as it sank into the horizon. "In either case, it will never feel again as home. Neither will you have one in the sky or on the ground. You will be torn by many places. There will be people, places, and things you love and hate with more passion than you have ever felt."

He looked at the priestess, seeing what Weka'u saw. Knowing her from a child, but first as a woman. An odd concept, as if glimpsing the future. "Weka'u chose well the person for his task. During the journey I will teach you to read and give you my journal, so you can get a feel of what to expect. I trust you don't think me a perfect or honorable man, and that you will find quite clearly in my writings. I will keep you alive, and keep you on your path."

He pointed to his chest, "I speak not now as one man, but as two. I will not fail you, Priestess of the Eternal Flame."

Turning abruptly, he walked the length of the ship to the stairway leading to the cabins. On his way he saw the young assassin on the edge of the bridge, about to walk down and the lovely pilot. He's been wrenched from his sister's side. It can be done... Arlen grinned as he realized how, By the hand of other women. Ones that can make him feel the pain of memory. I will remember this.

His angle of view on the bridge passed and he walked to the back and up the stairs to where Gabriel's cabin is and where he might be found. Standing before the door, he sighed and raised his hand. The man had thanked him before and he hadn't returned it. Perhaps this was the "You're quite welcome," he deserved. The man so did remind Arlen of himself before... before Raedette.

OOC:

I think it's obvious Arlen is somewhat different now than when I first envisioned him. Note that he makes a lot of assumptions and guesses. Some correct, others not. This IS intentional, but he by no means has my knowledge of what is being said or done. He knows what he is present for or able to observe. Over time, his speculation has served him well, and he will always continue to do it. :)

I'm not trying to PRP. Just wanted to get that out there. :)

"Oohhhhhhhh yyeeeaahhhhhhh..." he purred as he crumpled into the rocking chair in his cabin. "I've missed you."

Gently rocking himself, he folded his hands over the arms of the sanded wood, closed his eyes, and let himself drift away.

The creak of his door and the sudden brush of salty air and a hint of jasmine made his nose twitch. He shifted ever so slightly, letting his head roll back as a steady clap of footsteps made their way towards his desk just behind him.

"Can there really be ship matters we need to discuss already?"

"I wanted to see how you were doing," a playful tone tried to mask her concern.

"We made it off the island, didn't we?"

Wood scraped against wood as she pulled out the desk chair and sat down, "Some wounds you can't see."

"Are all you nature loving, spirit seeing, house hating people so philosophical... or just you?" A sensation ran through his body, the hair on his arms seemed to inhale deeply and stand erect. It reminded him of sunshine brushing across his skin.

"Just the ones that leave their tribes."

He opened his eyes at her response. Humour wasn't something she displayed a lot of. Bending forward he unlatched a small chest near the large glass window and retrieved a small metal flask. "Want some?" he offered, holding it up above his head.

"You know I don't drink."

"That's why I offered it," he undid the lid and took a prolonged drink.

The silent inquisition that followed was her way of breaking him down. Pale shards of moonlight fractured the room into oddly shaped silhouettes on inanimate objects. The gentle rocking of his chair soothed his weathered mind like a tribal hymn from the Kirirai'narri Savannah.

"You know when we started this little enterprise, the whole reason behind it was to avoid getting involved in things like what just happened."

"The world has it's reasons," she spoke softly.

"You've never approved, have you?" he pressed the flask to his lips.

Her shrug was like a hurricane, "Unlike you, I am not burdened by such things. I chose to walk a path, and so I walk it."

"Why do I think there's more meaning behind that then you let on?"

"If it is greater meaning you're seeking, I'd suggest looking somewhere else besides my words."

"I hate it when you do this," he whined.

"Do what?" she questioned innocently.

"Twist the conversation."

"Only you can-"

"You're doing it again."

She stood up and replaced the chair in its original resting place, "I'll leave you in agony then." Before she reached the door, she turned back, "If you're so unsettled, perhaps you've strayed from your path."

"I chose my path many years ago. You know that."

She contemplated her response for a moment, "No, you chose a path, not your path. There is only one path that keeps our souls quiet and makes us feel truly alive. Have a goodnight Gabe."

His eyes stared blankly into an endless coal sky, "Goodnight Seph," he mumbled.

The captain of the Requiem Dawn felt a profound sense of loneliness that night as he rocked himself gently to sleep.

Arlen had hardly rapped the door when Sephara opened it, startling them both. "Oh, hello Ma'am. Is the Capt-"

"He's... indisposed, Arlen. Can I see to it?" She informed him. Arlen opened his mouth but promptly closed it bearing a grin. Arlen's signature smile that he was happy to be bearing again. Something about being on the move kept his disposition positive. As positive as can be, anyway.

"No... I suppose not. Just wanted to talk to him is all. Haven't had a chance, really, what with crashing and everything, to get to know him better. Another time, then." He bowed his head and made ready to leave but stopped.

"Not that I wouldn't want to talk to you, Sephara. It's just that with Gabriel busy with his thoughts, that would mean you're acting supervisor and I wouldn't want to keep you for simple talk." Again, Arlen smiled, "unless you feel it wouldn't make much difference on as calm a night as this to talk to a poor aging soul eighty days over fifty. You're by all means welcome to feel however you wish."

Sephara grinned, rather uncharacteristically, at Arlen's contradictory way of speaking. "You try very hard to break your formal training don't you? Where do you come from, Arlen? I'm curious to know."

The grin on Arlen's face remained, but the warmth of happiness behind it immediately went cold. "I was exiled by the Dominion, in point of fact, by force for not surrendering. My, um, surrogate father begged for my exile rather than my execution... On a map of the world today, I could nary ever tell you where it was, the world has changed that much. Being an orphan, I was trained by my people to be a servant in any capacity necessary." His eyes stared off into space beyond Sephara. Arlen lied, but doubted Sephara would notice. He was indeed trained to serve in many capacities, but he was no simple servant. Nor was he entirely honest about having no clue as to the location.

Arlen could still feel the eyes of his former people scan him over with not a hint of recognition. His training complimented his natural affinity for minutia - if it was there Arlen would have seen it instantly. At least they had been treated well, by Dominion standards, and they had kept their side of the bargain. "I come from flat grassland that gives way to rolling hills and creeks, a river, and tall mountains, the other side of which is ocean. Apparently, we belonged to another nation and never knew of them, or they of us."

Refreshing his grin, a twinkle formed in his eye as he remember watching the ocean from the peak of the nameless mountains as a young man. The first time he'd seen true freedom and true emptiness, rather than a rocky border to a cage. "Ciribaque is where I come from. Somewhere in the North. But that was almost half my lifetime ago now. I have called myself a person of many peoples. As I have no parentage to know of, I could very well be from any place other than Ciribaque, and so feel most at home when I have none to speak of."

He thought of his "Siblings" and how each called him a fool for staying after the Dominion's first messenger. They were trained for things much greater than death, they said. When Arlen told them he lived, along with the village, they said it was luck. Arlen reminded each of them that they were taught never to believe in a thing so fickle as luck or good fortune. Things happen because they happen - no more or less. "You're the fools for being cowards! abandoning those who relied on the skills they gave freely." he remembered telling them before... Before they got what they deserved...

His eyes snapped back onto Sephara and pressed his lips together stifly, "And I ramble. Enough talk for one night, eh?" Arlen smiled briefly and looked away, "Thank you for having a kind word with me, even if its not as cryptic as usual. Sometimes a plain answer is better than weaving words carefully." He gestured his leave and turned to go to his cabin but Sephara stopped him with a word.

"Arlen." Stopping, Arlen turned his head. His back was bare with fresh skin and muscles like steel rope beneath it. His jacket and tunic was burned to shreds below his shoulders, hair singed and needing to be cut to be presentable. "Thank you for shielding Gabriel before the flames could be stifled. He's as close to a friend as either of us have."

"I've been burned before..." he stated symbolically, touching on the point of their odd relationship with a smile. "You're welcome, First Mate. You can tell me where you hail from next time, perhaps." Leave it to time and you'll want a friend again. Trust me on this, young lady. Heh, I talk to make up for the time I couldn't.

------------

His cot had never felt more comfortable as it did that night. Perhaps not the best sleep, but far better than it had been on the island. Arlen's reaction to the magicite on the island seemed to be residual now. After speaking to Sephara, his demons resurfaced in force in the dreaming world. The faces of the dead haunted him. For whatever reason, Jasper's was also there. Awaking in a startle, Arlen looked about the room, wondering. Could he have seen my memories? Would he have received it? Perhaps not... I have none of his... It still plagued him as he dressed in pants only and went onto the deck only minutes before the sun rose. Arlen procured a small knife from his pocket and started cutting his long hair while he thought.

"Gabriel," Arlen mumbled. "I still haven't talked to him." Some crew walked about as the sun came up, performing their morning routine and switching shifts. He noticed Archamae just relinquishing her post to the secondary helmsman and walking down the steps.

"I didn't feel her sway an inch while I slept," Arlen addressed to her as she reached the bottom. "It attests to your no doubt well-earned ability." The last chunk of hair drifted in the wind over the banister and he ran his hands through his short hair. "Not a bad look for an old man from the Northern mountains, eh?" he asked the pilot as he passed her by to walk to Gabe's room.

Standing in front of the door, again he took a deeper than usual breath and let it out. Making sure to replace the knife in its sheath and in his pocket first, he knocked on Gabriel's door. He would answer Gabriel's thank you by asking for a shirt, among other things.

Amateira Tsumè

Amateira stared back at the darkening horizon from the Airship's railing leaning as far out as she could regardless of the altitude she was at. The rising smoke of the volcano barely visible to her keen eyes, so far she was from home. Arlen's words echoed in her mind over and over. "And yet, some will love you..." Amateira was not so certain why else would she be sent away? she questioned herself.

Gripping the smooth wooden railing that still held a slight scent of freshly cut wood, tears welled in her eyes then slowly rolled down her cheeks and into the ocean far below. Only now did it hit her full force the grief she felt at being sent away from her home. "So this is how the Awa'aki felt," she mumbled to herself, "I will find them, but if Arlen is right will they want to return? Will it feel like home?"

Teary-eyed the girl followed a crewman down below into the bowels of the ship where the many numbered doors lead to cabins. Walking right to the far end she opened the door on the left and entered the abandoned room. There was a pillow and blanket left by the last inhabitant but it was clear no one had been in here for a while by the musky smell.

Leaving the door wide open to release the smell propped by a brass candleholder. Amateira unburdened her self of the small bag of keepsakes, her newly gifted bow and quiver full of obsidian-tipped arrows. She wondered if the captain knew she were here yet, she had sighted the man going below deck as she and Arlen arrived. Despite her anxiety over the matter she left it for another time when the sunlight shone bright.

Amateira flopped down on the bunk onto the soft blanket, she tried to sleep but so many things went through her mind it eluded her. Her mind raced with so many emotions attempting to engulf her, anger, grief, anxiety and fear of the unknown. Rising from her bunk she returned to the deck and walked to the prow where she stayed for the rest of the night looking at the strange stars appearing as they rose over the dark ocean.

So when the sun rose she was still at her self-proclaimed post watching the lightening sky over the blue ocean. She saw the watch change as the current crew went below and others arrived to take their place after breakfast. Amateira herself was more than a little hungry and so followed the smell of scrambled eggs into the kitchen. Grabbing a plateful herself she ate it with the strange utensil called a 'fork' by the man who gave it to her, Aram. She enjoyed the meal but found it rather awkward with the strange ways of these people. She sat alone and awaited the handsome man who was the captain, maybe he had time to meet her now... or at least someone in charge could acknowledge her.

Cyradis smiled at Cailey as she admired her abilities. She had seen the sheer destructive power of several dozen mages casting in unison. The result of that spell paled any natural or man made force she had seen since. Of course, it was only after the war that the technique was perfected. If they had that power when the airships were flying over the Wildes... well, the war would have been much shorter and infinitely less bloody.

Cyradis motioned for Cailey to follow as she moved to the center of the deck. The wind breakers around the ship made conversation in the center much easier. Here, all they had to contend with was the gentle hum of the turbines. Cyradis sat on a box secured by a number of ropes, and Cailey took a similar box across from her.

"A priestess?" She looked at Cailey with a glint in her eye. Clergy usually attribute the source of thier power to thier respective gods. In fact, few priests are actual mages by Kellan standards. "I'll admit, I'm not familiar with your religion. In Kell, we recognize all faiths, but endorse none. Understanding other cultures furthers our knowledge of the world, and thus, enriches our own society. We have temples to over two dozen different religions, but I'm sorry to say Nepheli isn't counted among them.

"If we ever make it to Kell, I'd be happy to see about entering Nepheli into our records." Cyradis shifter her weight to cross her legs and lean her elbows on her knees. She rested her jaw on her uplifted hand, "You, on the other hand, I can help now. In the jungle when we first met, and again at the village were instances where you saw magic much different than before. Usually, years of practice brings control, but the University has been studying magic for a millenia."

Cyradis stood and took a few steps towards the port, "Nepheli has given you gift, and you are her priestess. If it is allowed, I would like to teach you some things to help you understand not only what magic really is, but also where it comes from. We can even start tomorrow, if you wish." Cyradis wasn't sure what her response would be. Even suggesting she could teach her might be viewed as blasphemy. It certainly earned some distain among other religions.

OOC: Drice, you can move ahead to the next morning, or continue the scene where it is. Either way is fine with me.

...

A real mage? She couldn't help but show the excitement at that thought. She giggled as her lips curved into a full smile blossoming across her face. Even her eyes lit up at the perspective of learning magic. Her brother had tried, and considering he could wield no magic of his own he had been exceptional in honing her abilities so far. His lack of knowledge of the subject allowed him to consider possible uses that she herself would never had considered.

"I would be honored." she bowed her head belatedly in respect. "There are few granted the gift of magic in Juvaro." She frowned slightly considering the mages other words. "You have not heard of Nepheli?" her eyes twinkled. "Then perhaps you can teach me, and I will teach you?"

With a sudden yawn she blushed slightly. She hadn't realized how tired she was. "Then in the morning then?" She did not wait for a reply before hoping down from the box and heading for her room. She wasn't sure where exactly it was but she could feel her brother's presence close by. After a few wrong turns she found her brother already fast asleep on the top bunk. She knelt as the head of her bed, her head down.

"Please goddess help your followers. Give him strength of mind and heart as he faces the troubles haunting him."

"I will be fine." Drice whispered from above.

She could sense the disbelief in his voice. Behind the stern focus, the wall of confidence there was an inferno of...pain? She wasn't sure but it was getting worse. She closed her eyes wondering if her brother would ever find the peace she knew he deserved.
_______

She awoke to find her brother already gone. She fumbled through their bag removing a much cleaner gown and tunic then the tattered one she had worn in the forest. They would need new clothes soon she had but one outfit left. She sniffed she needed a shower but she was unsure of where they were located nor exactly what they were allowed to do. She considered asking her new found teacher. She smiled at that thought.

After brushing her hair back she exited the room. She knew that Drice was worried about something. He had probably over stepped his bounds, so she was sure that the captain would have talk if not make a judgement upon their stay on the ship. She hoped feverently that they would be allowed to stay. She was starting to like it here. To think she was flying!

She found the mess not surprised that there were few there so early. The local priestess was eating at a table by herself studying the fork in her fingertips like it was a new creation. Though it might be she knew very little of the locals other then the fact that their spears hurt. She sat down at the opposite end of the table taking a slices of bread and a small portion of fruit. Still unsure of exactly how much she and her brothers privileges extended to she did not feel right pushing things.

She ate quietly offering a few glances and polite smiles to the woman before excusing herself when her meal was finished. Putting away her plate she thanked the cook, Aram, she thought his name was. As she exited the mess she could feel her brother nearby. She found him upon the deck not surprisingly deep within his excersises. As she neared he turned showing her his naked back, tattered with scars. Everytime she saw it she involuntarily cringed. It had been a miracle from Nepheli that he had lived but she was still unhappy that she couldnt heal him any better then that. Not when it had been her that had nearly killed him.

His fingers flinched and with a thump two knives buried themselves into a target he had set upon a crate. He rolled backwards and again his hands flashed and two more knives centered the target with ease. It was a wonder to watch him, many people were scared of him. He was an animal trained to kill ruthlessly and effieciently. She had felt fear radiate off of people when they met him and yet....

She had seen his darker side unleashed but she had also seen his otherside. His fierce loyalty his overbearing heart. He was a monster to those that threatened him or the ones he cared about but he was her brother she only felt pride when she saw him. And yet she could feel that torrent of emotions still growing inside him. Soon he would face his demons she just hoped her brother was still standing when it was done.

She found a place slightly to his side and knelt upon her knees. She closed her eyes and began to pray. She could feel the power growing within her as she whispered each the word of the prayer. The chenkari burst from her fingertips a dozen fireflys swarming around her. She waited wondering when Cyradis would come calling.

Neither of Weka'u or Arlen was aware of his presence where he stood as an invisible string allowing the connection between their two minds. Images were flashing before him of people he did not recognise, of things he could not understand. It felt like a world of wisdom flooded through him, all spoken in a language he did not know. If it was Wek'au's native tongue or something else entirely he could not tell.

Then suddenly all became silent again and the words and the images were gone. It was all over. The connection was broken. He looked at the native, and saw wisdom beyond the man's age within his eyes. Something had changed.

He followed Arlen back towards the ship, with a native woman in their tow. Both of them were blissfully unaware of his presence, and afraid of what would happen to Jade he decided not to show himself. Something had happened earlier, something that never had happened before. They both knew that there was an invisible connection between them. If he stayed in solid form Jade would become more and more tired, thus he did not stay so for long. Seeing his wounds appear on her had frightened him. That was new. He wished that he could understand. If he understood perhaps he could prevent it. The last thing he wanted to do was to cause more harm to Jade. She had been through enough. He had sworn that he would protect her, no matter what. What if he was the one to do her more harm? What then could he do?

Fear. Pain. Anguish. Death.

An image flashed before his mind of a man lying on the ground. His white shirt was coloured red. He had never seen this man before, and yet it all seemed so familiar. He could almost smell the fresh air. No, he was sure that the memory was not his. But if it was not his, then whose was it?

Deep in thought he arrived at the ship, still unable to shrug the image off.

Jade had already gone down to her cabin, but instead of following her he made her way to Sephara's cabin. It was empty inside and he kept himself busy with pacing back and forth until she finally returned.

Still feeling more than a little reluctant to turn into solid form he began to shout at her.

<Sephara!> He waved with his arms as if she would be able to see them.

<Sephara!>

He was standing right in front of her, but there was no reaction from her eyes. Nothing that hinted at that she had heard him at all. Despite Jasper's effort Sephara sat down behind her desk. He continued to shout at her for a while before he took two steps forward and walked right through her. Even if she did not see or hear him, he was certain that she would feel that. He quickly turned around and placed his lips against her ear.

<I need your help>

-----------------------

For the first time in days Jade slept through the night without any haunting nightmares. When she woke up the next morning she felt refreshed. Jasper was still nowhere to be seen, and she couldn't help but to feel a bit worried. What had transpired the day before was something new. She could remember the pain. Looking down at her arms the wounds had healed, but some parts of her skin remained pink as if to remind her that it had happened. Gently she pressed a finger against it. Nothing.

After cleaning herself up a bit and with a change of clothes she wandered aimlessly around the ship for a while until she found herself up on the deck. She ought to be hungry, her mind told her that, and yet she felt no hunger at all. She sat down on an empty crate, looking out at the blue sky for a while. After a while something demanded her interest, and she turned her head around almost as if someone had pulled a string, as she saw Drice training not far from her. His clean and sharp movements almost mesmerized her and she was unaware of the fact that she was staring at him.

Cyradis was up with the sun that morning. She felt suprisingly refreshed, probably because they were now leagues away from that damnable island. In the short time she spent there, she developed two bad memories and more then enough comtempt for isolated and hostile islands. Maybe thier departure was friendly, but after the pirates and takign down Pu'aki, Cyradis decided to keep herself clear of the remote parts of the Haloed Sea for a while.

Somehow, the ship's ever dilligent cook was up even before Cyradis and was busy preparing the gally for breakfast. From what she saw, Cyradis guessed he was attempting to purge the hold of any remaining fruit from the island before it went bad. It was an easy meal, at least. She strayed from the more acidic fruits and instead choose a handful of sweet, berry-like fruits and some bread. She decided to brave a bright yellow juice Aram had undoubtly invented that very morning, and was pleasantly suprised at how well it complimented the berries.

Everything on that island seemed to coexist. From the lush growth provided by the fertile volcanic soil, to the natives worshipping the volcano, or at least a spirit living within it. She doubted T'a'u'weke was much more than a powerful fire elemental, but then again, Cyradis was no expert in celestiology. After all, Cailey's god Nepheli was new to her as well, and apparantly one who was open to outsiders. Cyradis had never really taken much interest in religion. Most Kellans generally accepted that believers had a right to worship whom they wish, and as long as thier practices were clean and didn't involve sacrifice of the unwilling, they were allowed to practice in Kellei. There were some things proven as fact when it came to magic, however. Cyradis hoped Cailey had an open mind.

Having finished her breakfast, she thanked Aram for the meal and the delightful juice and headed for the spar deck. There, the turned aft and made her way to the dishelved platfrom from which she fought off the orc raid. It seemed like months ago, but was barely over a week. The polished mirrors were all either broken or missing after the crash, and parts of the rigging that held them up were splintered. It would need some work to fix, but hopefully Gabe still had some money left. Once they got to Gebron, the Dawn would still need some repairs. You can only do so much with refitted driftwood, afterall. Cyradis didn't relish the thought of bringing the ship into dock only to have it sink in the port. Still, the relatively wind-shielded platform would be a good place to get Cailey started.

After some time, other crewmen were beginning to filter out from the cabins below. First was Drice who went into a practiced form of martial meditation. Cyradis had seen similar arts and was always intrigued. It was almost like a dance, but one very obviously meant to hone grace on the battlefield, rather than the ballroom. A little while later, Cailey herself found her way to the deck. She briefly observed her brother before kneeling in prayer. Cyradis always admired the truely devout. They always found something to believe in when others turned to despair. It was... inspiring.

Cyradis gave Cailey some time with her prayers, using the few minutes to appreaciate the sun's warmth without the island's humidity, as well as get a sense of her surroundings magically. Eventually, she descended the small staircase from the quarterdeck and approached the young priestess as her brother was concluding his exercises.

"Drice isn't it?" she asked as she came within conversation distance, "I'm Cyradis." They exchanged a handshake, and Cyradis could feel that same confidence in his hand as he showed in his movements. This was a very well discplined young man. One could wonder where he might learn such a thing. Releasing his hand, Cyradis continued, "I offered to teach your sister some things about magic last night. She seemed very excited." Cyradis turned her attention to Cailey, "I hope you're feeling rested, young lady, we have a lot to talk about," Cyradis smiled brightly at the girl. She was actually starting to get a little apprehensive as well.

Sephara slid the door to Gabe's quarters closed behind her, only to find Arlen waiting on the other side. She smiled as they chatted about their Captain, she found it put people at ease. The old adventurer had a way about him that made himself stranger than even her own people she thought. He spoke funny, and acted funny.

"Sometimes a plain answer is better than weaving words carefully." The First Mate contemplated the irony of him uttering such words, but soon noticed his intention to retire for the evening.

"Arlen," she stopped him and he turned his head. "Thank you for what you did in the village. I... appreciate it." The full weight of what had almost happened hours ago had not been lost on her, and she was struggling with how she'd been a spectator of the whole thing, unable to do anything but watch.

(OOC: I rewrote a bit Ren)

It had left her feeling useless and incompetent. Two things she hated deeply. Gabe would know doubt have told her she was being ridiculous and not to worry about it. That was why she remained silent, but he was not of her people. She had failed. A life debt was no small matter, and when he had needed protection, she was not there. Could such a thing ever be forgiven?

"I've been burned before..." he stated symbolically, touching on the point of their odd relationship with a smile. "You're welcome, First Mate. You can tell me where you hail from next time, perhaps." Leave it to time and you'll want a friend again. Trust me on this, young lady. Heh, I talk to make up for the time I couldn't."

He talked as her Elder, but Arlen too was not of her people, no matter how many cultures he had visited. She wanted to to tell him to stop being so bizarre. Gabe was more than her friend, he was family, and that was better. Instead, she held tongue. Something told her just to let it pass.

"The Emiru," she blurted out. He looked back at her confused. "We call ourselves the Emiru. From the Northwestern plain of the Occident." Arlen merely smiled, accepting the offer, nodded, and made his way below deck.

Sephara followed, but ended up in the dining room where she saw one half of the siblings they'd found in the forest. The young girl seemed to be just sitting alone, looking over everything around her.

"Good evening," Sephara said, and took a seat across the table.

"Evening," she replied in kind.

"We're heading for the city of Gebron, about a day's flight inland from the coast. When we get there you and your brother are free to do as you will, until then, consider this your home." Sephara took a few minutes to go over the list of rules and expectations she had for anyone aboard their ship. The girl remained silent, listening closely to what she was being told. What happened to the pair once they set down again was up to them. She didn't think the two belonged on a ship like this, but then she wasn't sure they belonged anywhere.

"Thank you again, for getting us off the island... and saving our lives," she giggled at the last part. Being in peril wasn't usually cause for laughter, but even Sephara smile broadly, understanding full well the absurdity of their situation.

"And to you," she replied, "you're efforts in the village helped a lot. Dream bravely," she startled herself with those two words. It was a common expression used amongst her own people when saying goodnight to children, and one she hadn't used since she left.

"Goodnight Sephara." The first mate got up and left. She fell onto her bed with her eyes wide open thinking about the family she'd left behind. When she couldn't fall asleep, she rose from her bed at side beside her desk, looking out onto the night sky. As she did so she felt a jolt run through her body, and it paralyzed her for a moment.

From out of nowhere she heard the words, "I need your help."

She jumped to her feet, wondering what was going on, but calmed herself when she realized the voice belonged to the spirit of Jasper. Conversing with the dead was not something she made a habit of, and she felt like her privacy had been invaded knowing that Jasper could be anywhere at any moment, watching her and the others without reprieve.

"What do you want?" the question was both forceful and unsure.

When Sephara jumped quickly to her feet again Jasper knew that she had heard him. Well maybe he did not know, but at least he was certain that she had felt his presence. Not long after she asked him what he wanted, while her eyes went looking out into the empty air around her, as if searching for him. He wasn't sure himself of why, but he remained silent for a while, observing her. After a while her eyes were almost looking straight at him. He couldn't help but to smile as he took a step to the right, placing himself a couple of steps in front of her. He could play his version of hide and seek for ages, thrilled by the fact that Sephara seemed to be able to pinpoint his whereabouts, even if not exactly. The feeling of someone other than his sister recognising his presence without having to pretend to become something that he was not. If only he was not here in such an important matter.

"With Jade. I need your help. Something happened today. You saw it, didn't you?" he finally said to her in reply. Had anyone else been in the room with them he or she would have heard nothing, but he was convinced that Sephara could hear him now that she knew that he was here. She was special in that way.

He hesitated slightly. Sharing his heart and inner feelings with someone was not Jasper's strong side, even if this person was the first one he had felt a connection with in a long long time, no matter how small it was. He knew that he needed to say these words even if they were difficult to speak. For Jade, but also for himself. He took a deep breath before continuing.

"Her safety means more to me than anything."

The words were spoken simply, on the edge of being too silent, but they sounded honest and pure.

...

OOC: I would actually like to keep the conversation ... in the background, Geco. For now anyway. We haven't even gotten to Gebron yet. No point rushing things. :) I'll shoot you a pm or wave. Pretty much talking about Zran's char being aboard and a shirt. ^_^


IC:

It was nice to be sailing again, instead of under a giant balloon. Arlen could feel the sun beating on his skin and it felt good. It was a different feeling than on the ground. The wind was a nice temperature, for being so high. His eyes were closed and smile wide as he bared his face to his everlasting companion in the sky. Deciding to let the young priestess have her time to herself. Time to get accustomed to the intermittent shudder of "dead air," as he'd heard such turbulence called before. To see new skies, new oceans, and most of all new horizons.

"If you wish to see new horizons," Arlen had been told, and repeated to her as he passed by in his deckhand duties, "You must have the courage to leave the shore."

For the moment, he sat on a fastened crate on the top deck, mending his jacket. In reality, he was letting the wind billow through his newly acquired white tunic with his sleeves rolled up; rather fine of Gabriel to acquiesce one in return for his life. As he patiently snipped burned pieces away from his patchwork jacket and sewed new hem to keep it from fraying, he lounged and watched the silent opera of emotions between the young pilot and the young archmage. Archamae realized she was lost in daydream and started to walk off after submitting her defeat in shame. She was still lost in thought as she started to pass Arlen, who simply took his eyes off of his sewing and pulled a secondary needle from his mouth, should he drop the first.

"If that was true she would see the pain as clear as the dawn," he could faintly discern.

"Perhaps she's blinded by her own demons, Archamae," he quietly told her, knowing that with the faint rushing of the wind, no others could hear. "Just as we all are. I understand why you say you're from Faroese. It's the same reason - well, similar anyway - that I tell no one that I come from the same mother land you no doubt remember and miss as well. By the way, in Acacia, have you ever heard of Ciribaque?" Arlen chuckled then, "I won't tell if you don't..."

Arlen gestured to their interim pilot, "I think we both noticed your exercise, after the crash. Some more than others perhaps," he grinned, thinking of the young men. Kaltor not the least of which who stared at her rare display of relaxed attire and composition. " I suspected as much beforehand. I had a similar routine as a young boy."

OOC: Feel free to have me delete my post, if you want, Arch. I just figure I need to get Arlen into the rest of the characters more, instead of hanging back and watching like a hawk. Now is as good a time as any, since Weka'u is so outgoing.

...

OOC: LOL, I love the fish thing Arc. Ren, I figured you'd do as much, was all I had planned to. Well boys and girls, here we go at last ^_^

IC:

*Knock Knock Knock*

"No more bananas and fish," Gabe stumbled out of his drunken coma. This morning, the sun was no friend. Actually, that's exactly what it was. It was just like a friend that loved torment you when you were already hurting, chuckling ever so delightedly as they did so. Still curled gingerly between his fingers and propped against the floor was the half empty bottle of rum from last night. His mouth, nose, and just about everything else felt either dry, sore, or both. Nothing was responding like it should. He shifted around like a snail in his chair, desperately trying to find some relief for his eyes.

Finally, by sitting up straight with his head tilted slightly forward he found the sanctuary he desired. He groaned in relief, "Not how I expected to feel the day after leaving that dung heap," he mumbled to himself. The knocking at his door came again, and he sighed with displeasure. Easing himself out of his chair, he put the rum back into the chest, closed it, and walked over to the door.

"Arlen," he swallowed trying to ease the pain he felt in his throat, "What is it?"

"Good morning Cap... are you okay?" Arlen's face twisted with concern at Gabe's appearance.

"Please just skip to the reason why you woke me up," Gabe's eyes were having a hard time focusing, so instead he just stared at nothing and retreated back into his head.

"Uh... right. Um, I need a shirt. I believe you'll recall how mine was burnt, so I was hoping I could borrow one from you?"

Gabe almost scoffed at the request. Of course it could only be something so stupidly insignificant that brought him out of his blissful dreams and back into the horror that was a hangover. Instead, he just groaned, "Yeah sure. Wait here a sec," and he moved away from his door, letting it swing inward, and towards the large chest at the foot of bed, messing with his hair as he did so. Rummaging inside he found a simple linen tunic. Taking it, he threw it at Arlen who smiled as he felt the fabric with his hands.

"Thanks Captain."

"No problem."

"I'll just leave you-"

"Best you do."

"Right."

"Arlen?"

"Yes Captain?" there was some excitement in his voice. Gabe pointed to the still open door to his cabin. Arlen laughed, "Right, sorry," and closed the door on his way out.

Falling backwards Gabe plunked down on his bed like an anchor splashing into the sea. He left the ripples of the sheets swallow him, falling deeper into their grasp, until he felt the world melt away.

-o0o-

The almost two day trip to Gebron passed by fairly uneventfully, although when a passing seagull crapped on Kaltor's shoulder, the rage the man flew into was more entertaining than any theater performance Gabe had been to. Their small crew seemed a bit quieter, and a bit more serious after their detour. If anything, he thought what happened to them had brought them closer together, bonded them in a way that was unseen, and he was extremely proud of that. Nerves were getting the best of him. Gebron was no more than a few hours away, and his first real lead to finding Shandalaar with it. And now, with this crew, he truly believed he could do it.

Walking the decks calmed him and focused him on the present. He watched as his crew performed their tasks as they always did, and watched as Sephara inspected and then rejected their futile attempts at perfection.

It was until an hour before their scheduled landing that he sent a runner to find Meg. He'd held off on chatting with her this entire time, but he couldn't resist any longer. Shandalaar had called to him since he was a boy, and now was the time to indulge. A soft tapping came from the other side of his door. Closing the notebook he'd taken out, he turned in his chair to face his guest.

"Come in," he said.

The enchanting silhouette of Meg slid into view, smiling coyly as she closed the door behind her. "A private invitation to the Captain's quarters. Did you have something naughty in mind Gabe?"

It was a game he'd played many times over, but one that Meg made feel as new and amazing as his first taste of chocolate. "Nothing as naughty as what you can imagine, I assure you."

She squinted her eyes as she studied his face, then broke into a wide grin, "What can I do for you?"

"Ending the game already? I was just beginning to enjoy myself."

"There's playing the game when you're trying to win, and then there's playing the game just to try to make someone else lose. The latter isn't nearly as fun," she paused in thought, "most of the time," she winked at him, and they shared a laugh.

Once they regained themselves it was Gabe who began, "I think it's time you tell me what's in Gebron that is going to lead us to Shandalaar."

"My dear captain, I was beginning to think you'd forgotten all about that. I see patience has become an asset." She sat down on the edge of his bed, hands braced her as she leaned back a bit and crossed her legs.

"Have you ever heard of Ramez Durlane?" she asked softly.

Gabe's face tightened as he search his memory for any recognition of the name, "Can't say I have."

"Most people haven't. He was once a scholar of little importance teaching ancient languages at the university in Lanvaldear. That was until he went crazy, quit his job, and fled the city to live as a hermit in the Sarisian Woods. Keep in mind this is before the Confederacy was even founded."

"Okay, so what's the connection?"

"When he died they found, amongst the other piles of dribble he'd written, one paper containing a theory about the legend of Shandalaar. In it, he talk about the significance of the number eight to the founders of Shandalaar."

Gabe nodded, "Right. There were originally eight founders, it took eight years to build the first city, they believe in the eightfold path of enlightenment and peace."

"And more," she added. "It seems Durlane picked up on a pattern everyone else missed. How the number eight appears in many of their legends, in the images, like the guiding star, that we associate with Shandalaar today. Included in his revelations, was the tale of the Friendly Spider."

Gabe's ears perked up at the mention of the child's bedtime story. It was common enough that almost every child heard some version of it as they grew up. Historians had traced the story back to a book titled, "The Spider's Way," which was believe to have originated from Shandalaar itself. Most accepted the story for what it was, a testament to the ideals of the mythical city's inhabitants. In the story, the Spider travels the world and is tested eight times. Each time he was to use a different virtue in the Eightfold Way to help him solve a conflict. It's a morale tale that to teach children good values, but little more than that. Or so Gabe had thought.

"He thought the story was more than a story," she continued, "it was left as a guide, for the worthy, to find Shandalaar."

"A children's story?" he asked incredulously.

"A book for those who are still innocent and uncorrupted. A book for the pure. A perfect hiding place, no?"

"Okay, but there are several different versions of the story now. How do you know which ones true?"

"Actually, I don't think one is right," the same coy smile she wore when she entered returned to her lips. "I think there's eight partially true stories."

Gabe couldn't help but chuckle. He wanted to believe Meg, but it seemed to simple, something too good to be true. No matter how much he wanted to find Shandalaar, his mind had become convinced over the years that it wasn't really true, but in holding onto the dream he kept the city alive.

She didn't take kindly to his mocking laughter, "Tell me, what's the book the tale comes from. You have studied the Shandalaar and at least know that much I hope."

That wiped the smile from his face, "The Spider's Way."

"How many perfectly preserved copies of that text did they unearth at Wyndamere?"

"Eight..." Gabe barely whispered.

"What if there were only ever eight? Everyone thought only eight copies had been found, but what if those copies had been left behind on purpose? Preserved by magic, they were left deliberately, so that people who truly wanted to find them could."

"Okay, so then what, eight copies of the same story, so we-"

"No no no. Eight copies, eight slightly different stories. They left a key, but they didn't hide it in just one book, they hid it in all eight. The Spider's Way, the Guiding Star, eight legs, eight points. Eight differences that reveal the truth."

It sounded so plausible Gabe felt years shedding away from his life. He was a child again, listening to his mother tell him about the spider's adventures, and how he always wanted to grow up to be like the spider.

"And one of these books is in Gebron?" he connected the dots.

She leaned forward, elbows on her knee, "That's right."

"One more question."

"Shoot."

"How did you find out about this guy Durlane? You just happen to come across his one paper in a library somewhere? Did faeries hand it to you?"

She laughed loudly, "You know the university in Lanvaldear right?"

"I've been a guest once or twice," he replied.

"They have a tradition there. On the first day of school every year, they take the first year students on a tour that ends in the library where Durlane's paper is sealed in glass and presented to all the students as an example of what happens when academic protocols aren't followed. You become forgotten and mocked," she grinned.

"Imagine that."

"Oh don't worry," she said, "The university in Lanvaldear is complete devoid of imagination." They both shared a laugh, and Gabe felt every new breathe of air bring new life into his aging body.

-o0o-

"Arch!" he shouted from below the pilot's dome.

"Yes Captain?" she answered.

"Let's take our girl into port. She needs a little TLC."

"Aye sir."

The Requiem Dawn banked gently to starboard as it steadily dropped towards the ground. An entire small forest had been cleared next to Gebron to make space for an airship dock right next to the city. Tree stumps had been left in as artificial partitions. The fields surrounding the city were an edible mosaic of color. Gebron sat in a fertile valley surrounded by low lying hills which had been steeped and cultivated. Stone aqueducts brought water from beyond the hills into the fields and city. And in the middle of the valley sat Gebron itself. An unspectacular urban center with three large palaces and indifferent gray architecture.

It was the perfect place for a band of scoundrels who were up to no good.