Forums » General Roleplay » The Thirteenth Sea

FOy heard the sounds as the dead serpent fell into the water, taking with it the giantess and Sylass. Foy dropped her walking stick to abandon the doorway, and look for some rope or something to throw to the crew members that had fallen overboard. It unfortunately took a minute for her to locate the rope hung on the bow, and then several more for her to tie a clumsy not and toss it overboard, round abouts where she figured they'd fallen.

It was too late though, not a sign of either of them, Foy figured they'd drowned, and reacted with grief. There had been so much death today, barely into their adventure and they'd already lost a good portion of their crew. One of whom the old beggar had identified as someone important to their journey.

"They are gone... they've sunk..." She muttered sadly for the benefit of anyone listening, if indeed anyone was left standing near her.

She turned to look around the rest of the boat, it was in bad repair, she wondered if it was still holding water, or i the ship was doomed to sink. The captain had retired to his cabin saying that he would ready himself for repairs, she wondered what that meant, and more over, how useful it would be to try and repair the mangled boat. What happened if the rest of the serpents came back? What happened if the repairs could not be made??!

She didn't want to think about it. She couldn't swim at all, and the idea of death by drowning was too terrible to comprehend for long.

Narla’s cloth covered feet had carried her form towards the side of the ship, her sharp gaze snapping to each patch of water, her right hand drawing another plain arrow from her quiver and notching it against her bow, drawing the string back with her right hand, arrow fitted between the middle and pointer finger. Narla’s amethyst gaze snaps to Bakir, then to the water, asking briefly, “Where?”

Bakir’s marked scale would drift down, into the watery depths. Bakir’s gauntlet loosened its grip upon the hiltless blade, to the point where it almost slipped past his fingers. They lift up, subtly, before his right hand places the blade flatly, upon his shoulder. Bakir’s gaze drifts towards the side of the ship, before his lips form a white-toothed smile, “Where have they gone? Where all valiant fighters have gone.”

Narla’s amethyst gaze snaps back to the water, before releasing the tension within her bow, placing the arrow back within her quiver. Narla’s hands grasp the mahogany bow’s midsection, lifting it upwards and placing the string underneath her lifted arms, the mahogany bow pressed against her shoulders, behind her neck. Narla’s cloth covered feet back-peddled deftly, her hands pulling upon a string and tying it, securing the arrows within her quiver, before her form rushes forward, her cloth covered foot placing itself upon the railing of the ship and pushing off. Narla’s arms push together, as her form enters the water, swimming downward.

Bakir’s gaze drifts towards the ship’s railing, before his leather-bound sandals carried his form towards the captain’s door, turning around and bending his knees near it, his right gauntlet lifting the hiltless blade from his shoulders, laying it flatly across his bent knees, his forearms placing themselves upon it, as his gauntlets hang idly.

The woods were mysterious. Every motion they poised with by the 'would be' gentle winds could very well be interpreted into something to the familiar, were it that there was a one. No wind. Just the trees moving like it existed. The ground quaked vigorously for just a moment then it ceased. No signs of life could be seen aside from the plantation that filled the environment around. Only adding to the strangeness of this wood were the sounds. Just the trees as their windless motions causing their leaves to whisper quietly with a continual hiss. From the initial look of their surroundings, yes, it could be said to be a jungle or some kind. That is, until either of them ventured beyond the immediate tree line. What lies beyond the brush could possibly be something incredible. There was however, something in the distance that could not be seen so clearly. It alone.

What should be rock, dirt and grass was easiest to be said as a window of water. Sylass' question was sure to be answered by looking down. The ship was there, however the physics of what they were looking at are impossible. Something heinous was afoot. This window of water acted as a solid to those that tread upon its mystic tangibility. Ripples where each foot step upon echoed outward into the perceived endlessness of this 'jungle'. Here, all can be seen. The serpents that were speeding sporadically beneath the ship and even Narla as she leapt from the ship's railing into the ocean after her lost comrades as clear as day by an unexplained omnipotent light. For those still on the other side of this mirror though, dusk was turning into night and yet the ship has still not yet begun its repairs. The water's surface could be assumed to be getting closer. Was the ship sinking by water intake? Very much so. Standing at the entrance of the lower deck the rushing waters could be heard pouring in, flooding the lower decks beneath the barracks.

When Narla leapt off the ship at the corner of her eye, if attentive enough, something was amiss. Sand was creeping its way up the side of the ship. As Narla swam deeper into the ocean she'd get bumped around by the serpents a lot like the first two, however it was in a much different manner as far as how aggressive each are to be. The last thing to be seen through this mirror would be one of the serpents coming in behind Narla to consume her. Jaws wide open to make it a one-bite meal for it, then a sudden light erupted from the water's window. That was it. Their very into the natural realm had been cut as the water now posed as it should. Reflecting an object's images. While the observers suffered from the brief blinding of the light, Narla was granted darkness. When she is to awaken. She will not find herself amongst the comrades she so bravely went in to save, but instead she will regain her senses on the sanded, rocky shore of the object shown by the book.

[Temporarily Removing]Greyonji, who was still standing by the railing amid his own thoughts of what course of action to take next found himself feeling a tingle crawling up his legs. Looking to see what it was by padding his legs down assuming it to be just an itch will find that it was more than just an itch. Sand was tumbling its way up his legs acting much like a casing that could not be peeled off. This did not take long for the larger quantity to creep up and onto the deck. The same fate as the Bartender from the porter town had befallen Greyonji. This mass sand that did not appear to be drenched at all by the sea that it would have had to assumingly traversed to arrive at their location enveloped. Covering over his entire body, Greyonji had been unable to use his cryo-abilities. The sand was draining away at them noted only by the chilling haze that permeated from the surface of this object. When Greyonji had been completely taken into the sand, it was noted that there was still a battle going on inside, but the struggles were in a gradual decline until there was nought.

When Greyonji had been fully and thoroughly assimilated by the sand it began to take shape. The shape of a person, but it bore no identity. "You seek the path into the Thirteenth Sea. This is clear to us." This humanoid figure of sand with female tone did not appear to be talking to anyone in specific, but to anyone that acknowledged; which was most likely those still on deck. Any attacks against this harbinger would go through like it would ordinary sand, but leave no affliction of damage. "You are not to be permitted into through the Gates of our Lord." It pivoted to face outward. Were any questions to be asked, it denied response. However, it did not appear to be aware of their comrade's locations. Both arms raised. "Your Captain will be allowed only death should he continue pursuit. You may follow in his footsteps if you'd like." Were the entity's last words as the serpents rose out from the sea almost by the command of this creature of sand, even the serpent that had been slain arose with all of its damage and wounds open for all to see. Had it been resurrected? By order of one swipe through the vacant air the serpents roared with a great might and charged into the ship. Breaking in the lower hulls causing more water to gush in.

The ship was in peril.

On Kildra's and Sylass' side of the water's window they would soon have their own problems. Their reflections had stopped mimicking them and begun to stand still. "Soul of the Hydra keep he reborn. The body and Spirit of our Leviathan. Feed him forever, thus." That was Sylass and Kildra, yeah? Partially correct. The reflections were speaking on their own.

Pelagia hadn't the slightest idea that they lost three of their crew-mates. Not yet, anyway. The girl thought that going below the deck would offer her safety, as Sylass suggested, but after the abuse the ship took, she found herself crumpled in a corner, attempting to regain composure. She'd obviously been knocked over by the jerking motions of the ship.

Shakily, when everything died down, when voices fell quiet and she ship was still, she began to hear the water. It was a confusing noise at first, but she realized quickly what it was. In a rush, the girl hurried up to the deck, only to catch the captain's words that they were going to sink. If she could have grown paler, she would have. There was a wave of nausea bubbling up in her stomach at those words and she found herself moving slower, as if in disbelief. They just narrowly escaped the last creature in the port town, and after all that... they're going to sink?

She wasn't worried too much about herself. Sure, she couldn't swim - her body was too awkward to be able to stay afloat - but she could breathe beneath the water's surface. She'd starve to death before she drowned. But everyone else... they could drown. There was a chance of that. (As far as she knew, anyway.)

Now on the deck, Pela looked around and noted the missing few. She inched closer to Foy, still clutching the book, and looked out past the deck and onto the water. "Gone...?" she asked quietly, then cleared her throat since the first word didn't emerge. "They're gone...?" She chewed on her lower lip and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. "They're not going to be able to fix the ship in time, are they? We're going to s-"

Greyonji. What was happening to him? She wheeled around and gawked and quickly realized just how similar he was at this present moment to the beggar in his last. One hand slipped from the book and cupped her mouth, the other remaining snugly wrapped around it. Oh no...

But then it spoke. It spoke an unfamiliar voice about ominous things and Pela just wanted to hide. The moment it stopped speaking, she noticed the hand raise in silent command, sending the serpents charging into the ship. Pela stumbled and tried to steady herself at the edge of the ship, clutching the railing and trying her damnedest not to fall over. It took her a moment to realize the creatures weren't trying to directly kill them with their own mouths or bodies or what-have-you. They were trying to sink the ship.

"Are-are there any ah... emergency boats?" she squeaked, panicked. She was trying to remain calm. Should there be no lifeboats or any such thing, she'd probably panic a bit more freely, but for now she was trying so, so hard to look strong. Despite that, her eyes were watered down and threatened to spill over her cheeks at any given moment.

Spotting her hammer within arm's reach, Desecra would wrap her thick fingers about its handle and pull it from the muck with a low grunt. The goliath examined her weapon fondly, briefly reminiscing the great crack it made when smashing into the sea serpent's skull, raising her hand to wipe away a bit of mud. The hammer was then slung over her shoulder as she looked about.
Her bushy brows knit together as her lips fell into a firm frown.
She had absolutely no clue where she had ended up, or how, or why for that matter. The half giantess grumbled unintelligibly to herself. She would turn from the lake, intending to lumber off aimlessly in search of the sea. Desecra took a few steps only to wheel about at the sound of Sylass breaking the water's surface. For a moment, her hammer was shifted into the ready, those beady eyes of hers glaring at the figure. She lowered it as he neared and was identified.
"Ah dunno," she admitted discontentedly. "Ah was aboot ta donder off, look for tha beach. Ah feel pure blootered." With that she rubbed at her head again, eyeing him with a "not all there" look, blank expression then turning to stare into the trees. "Y'know this place?"

Narla’s arms moved, bringing her form further into the water. Her mouth was closed, her breath held, as her form is bumped upwards, her swimming sporadic, as she flips over herself. Narla’s right hand snaps upward, grasping the top of the quiver, before another serpent bumps into her side, sending her spinning. Narla’s form ends upright, after her limbs move about. Her amethyst eyes snapping in-between the darkness, glancing over her shoulder, just as the last serpent opened its mouth. Narla’s right hand formed a claw, her arm pulling back, before the darkness consumed her.

Narla’s amethyst gaze slowly opens, her veiled cheek against the sands and rocks, and her front laying upon the beach, right hand holding its claw shape, until relaxing. Narla’s amethyst gaze blinks once, before her hands push against the shore, her amethyst gaze drifting to the left, and to the right, then down, as her right hand picks up one of the rocks and brings it before her veiled nose, sniffing it once, before laying it back down. Narla’s left hand drifts upwards to touch the quiver upon her back, then her hands push against the bow string, lifting it upwards, over her head, before her right hand clasps the middle of the mahogany bow in the middle, her cloth-covered feet carrying her form upon the rocky shore.

Bakir’s right gauntlet taps its pointer finger against the hiltless blade’s flat-side, his lips curling into a weary smile, his eyes remaining upon the reflection of himself. His form remained beside the Captain’s door, his knees bent, and his back leaning over the blade’s length which lay flatly against his thighs. Bakir’s head lifts, as his gaze drifts towards the sand-being, his gaze lingering, as he rasps “How unfortunate.” Bakir’s form slowly straightens, as his legs stretch outward, his right gauntlet lifting the hiltless blade upward, laying it flatly upon his shoulder. Bakir’s head shakes from side-to-side, very subtly, “There are no lifeboats upon this ship. I suggest you prepare yourself.” Bakir’s left hand lifts upward, stretching his fingers outward.

Sylass' nostrils flared."Bah! Magic! Sylass knows nothing of jungle." The rest Kildra said he simply didn't understand, not knowing the Common Tongue enough to distinguish her accent. He did understand that last part, though.

"Won't find much in lake. Giant woman follow Sylass. Will make it through yet." He said as he assumed the lead, cutting through the bushes with his axe as he suddenly came upon the watery mirror that showed what was happening back at the sea.

What he saw he could barely comprehend! What was this?! Why was the ship beyond his reach? It was angering the Lizardman."Sylass and giant woman trapped! Trapped in... bubble! Magic bubble!" The Lizard yelled.

Seeing his reflection speak words that were not his made him even more angry."That not Sylass! Imposter!" He yelled once more as his throat seemed to expand. Instead of trying to his his false self, he tried vomiting acid over it instead. The bile smelled rancid and the acid actually burned the Blackscale's tongue.

Foy opened her mouth to try and stop the woman from jumping overboard as well, but she was unableto find the words. She peered with fear down into the water that had just swallowed half of their crew, waiting for her to resurface, but like the others she did not.

Foy choked back a sob after a minute or two. She was now pretty sure that they were all going to die. She regretted having left home suddenly... a belated understanding of why hobbits were homebodies and not brave adventurers. She certainly didn't feel brave, the idea of sinking into the sea had left her knees weak and her stomach unsettled. She really didn't want to die like this.

It was then that she noticed the creeping sand, too late as it was already taking over Greyonji. Foy could only watch in horrified dismay, suddenly death by drowning didn't seem all that bad... but of course the reality was crushing her again soon, as the seas serpants charged the ship again, and water rushed in with alarming quickness.

She looked over at Pelagia with fear in her eyes as the girl joined her with a similar expression. Her fear fuelled Foy's and she found herself suddenly trembling with panic, more so as Bakir informed them that they were without emergency boats, not that they would have stood up any better to the serpents in the water.

"S-so... so that's it then? W-w-we're going to .. to die..."

The ship continued its descent into the ocean. Although it was a slow pace, it was sure enough notable if focused on long enough. The ship creaked some. There was little that could be done, except for the key that Pel possessed. The Captain was left powerless over the ship now that the lower decks had been destroyed, which was where a majority of his influence over this vehicle was stored. Inside the Captain's quarters he slammed his head into the wall once or twice out of frustration of what he might have to resort to. He desired to enter the Thirteenth Sea for his own reasons, but was unable to do so without that book. "I never thought I'd see the day where I'd need yer' help..." Mumbling to himself with deep disgust.

The door to the captain's quarters opened up after a few hard knocks that signaled for anyone in the way of the door to move, particularly Barkir, having grown accustom to his perch in front of the door due to their travels after having hijacked this very ship to sail to the now destroyed porter town. If and when Bakir moved aside he'd step forth and announce, "There is no way for me to repair the ship. It has been too heavily damaged and with not enough time fer' me to get it all done. Save fer' all the water that we'd need to remove. This ship will be apart of the sea in just a few moments." Not a moment too soon. Just when he finished speaking, the water had begun to pour onto the deck. Directing his eyes to Pelagia, he'd speak with authority. "Pelagia. You hold the key to saving us from these creatures of the sea." There was a short pause. He dared not speak the name again himself. The one time he spoke it whilst on the gangplank was out of sheer shock that she knew it and now it was time to utilize just that. "You're going to have to call on the name spoken to you by the old man back from town.."

If Pelegia speaks the name Sharall, asking for help, the book she carried will slip once again from her grasp, but this time it held no proper shape. Like spilling water onto the floor it splattered, becoming one with the sea in the mix. For a solid minute, nothing else happened. "Damn you!" The Captain clearly growing impatient as the serpents that were still within the sea rared their heads from the waters looking for a final strike on the sailing crew. "Hurry up and come out already!!" The Captain having finally lost his nerve shouted. From the waters itself came a laughter, a low, rumbling laughter were there anything to shake but the water itself. "I never thought to see your putrid face again." The voice from the water spoke again accompanied by glowing eyes right where they were all standing. "I come to save the girl, yet I see a crew of you." By this time the water was already neck high according to Foy's height. The voice seemed to stall the serpents also. The way this, Sharall, entity was speaking seemed to be as if it were looking to save just Pelegia and leave the rest here to be devoured or even drown; for those who could not swim. "But before I am to do anything. The girl must give me shape and form."

[Pelegia gets to choose Sharall's appearance. Have her describe it as best you(or she) can and just Link the picture among the words]

On the other side of the sea, or, from its underside, Sylass and Desecra had dawning problems of their own. Where was this place? And what of their self-aware reflections? When Sylass spewed his bile toward the reflections, because they had yet to emerge from the other side of this assumed thin surface of water it was a futile attack since it only splashed as another liquid hitting another. The water's ripples though did cause the reflections to fade away from sight, so in a way it was effective! "The Guardian is coming!" Were the last words spoken from both reflections, however. Meaning? The trees ceased their self-influenced motions. From lush, green clusters of leaves and branches turned brown and withering decay within a matter of seconds. A terrifying roar erupted from beyond the withering trees that caused the uncountable number of drying leaves to burst free from the trees from which they grew from.

From the cluster of leaves that rained from the trees around came a solid object that wished to inflict harm upon the two warriors. Two heads of a hydra pushed forward through the leaves to collide into both Sylass and Descra individually.

[If fail roll on -Hydra VS-] The impact will throw back whom was hit.
[If success] The beast will continue to rush forward, but unaware of the location of whom had evaded due to the leaves that trailed behind in it's tailwind. [+2 Modifier for counter-attack, if going to]

On the island where Narla had been mysteriously transported, the sand near the Island's main structure began to move. Crawling up the archway of the structure. "You are looking for your comrades? You dove into the ocean in search of them. This is admirable.." A female's voice echoed from within the archway as the sand began joining together at a single point to form the upper half of a person, although no distinctive features. The sand was in constant motion, accumulating more sand to make up for what happened to fall off of the semi-humanoid formation. "Your bravery is one to be admired. I give you an offer. Join the Occult of Sand. Serve our Lord and Master by surrendering your blood to his cause and take in the sand as your life force..you may possess infinitely greater power than what you already do. Join us."

Greyonji. Not dead, only.. moved. Having had a majority of his mystical energies drained from him during the assault on the ship by the creature of sand, it would come conscious to being dragged. It was not a constant pull whoever it was that had him by the ankles, but the ground was soft... warm, even. WHen Greyonji opened his eyes he would behold a marvelous spectacle. The accent to the atmosphere was golden and with a constant, low frequency hissing sound. The buildings around were constructed of sandrock. "You can't stay here." A struggling voice warned, unaware of Greyonji's awakening. They turned a corner into what could be said to be an alley. When Greyonji finally got to look upon the man's face, it was the Bartender from the porter town! Although.. his face was dripping of sand. "It's all real. I should've listened to that damned ol' beggar!" The outer perimeter of the city from what could be seen was a wall of falling sand the whole way around from this circular structure above that matched the cities diameter, if not were only a bit wider by several meters. What held this structure above the city of sand was a sturdy pillar at the very center. "We need to get you out of here." The Bartender went on to say when he let go of Greyonji to peek around the corner to see if they were followed.. by what?

[Notes. Gaining Modifier rolls, do separately. Also if there's any confusion anywhere just ask for explanations or a revamping of whatever!]

Pelagia looked down upon hearing Bakir's words. She seemed almost hopeless. No life boats, no chance of survival. They were going to die. Foy's words caused her to feel even more-so that that was to be their fate. "Oh...," she finally squeaked, looking down and wringing her hands around one another, clutching the book as she always had.

Her head lifted when the captain emerged from his quarters, staring especially surprised when she was addressed. She, too, was fairly small, so the water was likely coming up to her waist or chest by now. Maybe somewhere in between. The girl held the book higher than the water in order to keep it dry, unsure why she was protecting it if they were all doomed. Perhaps because she knew she could survive a while, and perhaps reading the thing could let her die easily from starvation beneath the water's surface.

The words that followed his addressing her made her think for a moment, a confused and terrified expression plastered on her face. "What? What name, Sh-Sharall?" she asked. But hey, at least she said it! During the time nothing happened, she said the name again, this time a bit more sure of herself. For a while, nothing happened, and that began to concern her.

The laughter caught her off-guard and she nearly pissed herself! She was quite a coward, so things of that nature just terrified her to her bones. The conversation between the two people, one moreso an entity than anything, caused her another bout of confusion. He'd come only to save her? They knew eachother, too? What was going on here?

Frantically, she tried to think of a good enough form that would benefit them. "Ah... uhm... a ship... big enough to fit us all? Can you do that?? AH... maybe... like this one, a little bit? Oh I don't know -- are these details really necessary?!" she cried, nearly panicking. "I wish you could read my mind..." she whined. She invisioned the ship well enough, but she had a terrible time describing it in her current state of panic.

She just wanted to cry and hop on a boat and float away somewhere safe. But that obviously wasn't going to happen today.

"I don't knooowww!" She squeezed the book. "I'm... I'm not very creative! Just please do something, if ah... if you can! I don't want to die..."

While he was still in that dazed state the soft ground almost convinced him to sleep before he remembered what happened, albeit the memory vague to start with. When he opened his eyes the brightness got to him a bit so he shook the sand from his mask and pulled it on. Grey sat up calmly even though his mind was racing. Where was he? How was this man alive? where was this sand coming from, or going for that matter? Then a more serious question was muttered, "Is the hydra here?"

The voice of Sharall did not give response back, however it also did not take the amount of time to show it was doing what was requested. The waters around the sinking ship lit up in a glorious royal blue. The group will find themselves being lifted out of the waters as a ship was being rapidly constructed just beneath their feet. Planks of wood materializing from the royal blue glow. Down from the lowest deck on up to the upper most. The mast and sails were readily stitched and woven together ready for an immediate departure. With all of the hectic magicks at work, the serpents dove back beneath the sea in fright. When the top deck was finished the group was placed back down upon the wooden surface and the sails dropped. There was no wind, unfortunately to naturally carry the ship to its destination.

No sign of the serpents or anything of a threat.

The captain went to reside back into the captain's quarters, but upon reaching to pull the door open it would not budge. He growled and tugged harder until Sharall spoke. "You are not the captain of this ship and therefore you do not bare the rights to such luxury." The Captain scowled. "Don't start this!" There was no denying it, for the time being he was to be dismissed to the barracks. "You have no power, dear Captain." Sharall spoke the last bit of this claim in sarcasm that stung quite a bit as the Captain trudged his way to descend into the second deck barracks.

When the Captain entered the barracks he immediately sat on one of the hammocks tied between two beams. "For now."

"Aye," Desecra would mumble simply when instructed to follow Sylass. She trudged along, scowling when the ground trembled briefly beneath them, but otherwise seeming unfased. Whether her lack of fear was because she was too confident or too unintelligent was to be debated.

Upon spotting the strange mirror, she was initially boggled, but when Sylass hissed about magic she grew angry. "Trapped?" Des would repeat, hefting her hammer from her shoulder. "Not iffah have somefing ta say aboot dat!" She readied her swing, but paused when her reflection went out of sync from her own actions. The goliath shook her head defiantly, swinging with all her might, but was dismayed to find it was as if she'd struck the surface of water. She wheeled about when the roar sounded behind them.

A startled grunt was given as the beast collided into her and knocked her back into the sand.
The shock was quick to pass, however, and with a berserker's fury she gave a mighty roar and attempted to scramble to her feet.

Sylass hissed. At least the reflection left. But the voice was still haunting in Sylass' skull. It wasn't him! It couldn't be him! This was some sort of illusion! Sylass was strong than an illusion. He has the name of Blackscale to uphold! He was stronger than anything that would be thrown against him!

He quickly wiped off the acid slobber hanging from his lips. His nostrils flared again. He could see the flora around him die, yet he didn't smell it. Just more illusions. His resolve was strong and he vowed not to let this non existing place to get to him. Thus the veil of dead leaves bothered him less than it normally would. He squinted his eyes. This leaf storm was not going to stop him.

What broke through the leaves might, though. He could see some sort of serpentine head coming straight for him, ahd he jumped to get out of the way...

...Only to jump straight into the head of the Hydra that had swept for Kildra. The creature's scaled scathed over his own, and the Lizardman dropped to the ground. To make matters worse, his legs had been hit fronally by the Hydra he was trying to get away from, leaving him on the ground far longer than he wished to!

Eventually the Blackscale got up, though. But his legs ached. It made him angry. His breathing got heavyer as he took his weaponry off of his belt, looking through the veil of leaves."Come face Sylass, worthless maggots!" He yelled."Come find out why Sylass is nicknamed Foul Fury!"

The ship was falling apart around them, and the water was flooding in at an alarming rate. Foy could only watch with dread,clinging to what little was left of the rail, as the water climber higher and higher, until she was craning her neck to keep her head above water. She held tight to whatever she could to stop the water pouring on board from carrying her off to join their comrades at the bottom of the sea.

It was then that the Captain offered an option, and she looked over at Pelagia to see what would happen as she called Sharall to save them from certain death. At first it seemed as if nothing was going to happen at all, and then suddenly they were being lifted from their watery grave onto a quickly forming, brand new ship at Pelagia's say so.

It wasn't until she feet were solid on a fully formed wooden deck, that Foy's knees collapsed from the stress below her, and she gave a shaky long sigh of relief. She took a quick second to silently make promises and thanks to her chosen deities before turning to the others on the ship, just in time to see that Sharall had refused the captain the appropriate quarters.

... It would seem that the ship itself was now their Captain. "Sweet heavens, what a harrowing adventure this has been so far..." She trailed off and looked back out to the water where half of the crew had drowned. "How sad that we were unable to give them proper service.."

Pelagia backpedaled when the glow began. She leaned against the railing with Foy. She had to steady her breathing some as she watched the ship form. She felt anxious and panicked but forcing her breath to remain steady somehow helped.

When it was finished forming, the drained woman collapsed with her back against the rails. She exhaled a sigh of relief and let out a long whine. "We're alive...," she breathed to the smaller woman nearby.

Pela pulled the book away from her chest and examined its cover with a thankful smile.

"Thank you, Sharall... thanks so much," she muttered. She wasn't sure if it could hear her, but she figured a thank you was due in any case. Hearing their voice speak to the captain, she perked up. Maybe they could he a her after all!

So... the ship had no captain now? But it was sentient so warm that a bad thing...?

How would it know where to go?

((I'm posting from my phone so there may be errors!))

Narla’s amethyst gaze drifts from the sands to the water of the island, before lingering upon the rock formation. Her cloth covered feet sink lightly into the sand, making soft sounds, before her form comes to a slowing stop. Narla’s amethyst gaze snaps to the stone structure, before her form back peddles, her right hand to grasp the middle of her mahogany bow, “Kum canaver.” Narla’s left hand moved to pinch its fingers around a feathered tip of an arrow, before her form pauses. Narla’s gaze snaps towards the sand form, before her head slowly nods, once, her form’s muscles tensed. Narla’s amethyst gaze drifts between the bottom and top of the sand form, her partially crouched form slowly standing upright, her right hand pressing its fingers into the mahogany wood with pressure, before her voice calls out in its barbaric tongue, “Narla is Narla! Narla is Ra’ Kothre!” Her left hand grasps an arrow’s midsection, before lifting it upwards, holding it upwards.

Bakir’s form slowly rises from the water, his dark locks flat against his head, in front of his gaze and clinging about his neck. The dull, golden metal upon his body glistens as water pours out from underneath the breastplate. Bakir’s facial features dripped with sand and water, before his head shakes back and forth, specks of golden sand and water being sent to the planks below him. His uncut locks stick to his chin line, as his form slowly stands up. Bakir’s left hand slowly closes, the gauntlet dropping to his side. His right hand presses the dull, golden gauntlet’s fingers upon the flat of the hiltless blade, his gaze drifting towards the left, then to the right, his lips curling into a smile of white teeth, before his left hand raises to form a fist in front of his mouth, the rasp of a cough escaping his throat, before, “Fortune smiles upon us, friends.” Bakir’s soaked, leather-strapped sandals carried his form slowly towards the bow of the ship, his right hand lowering the hiltless blade to trail the very tip against the wooden planks, before his form slows to a stop, his gaze lifting towards the waters ahead.

This new ship, built upon the wreckage of the old were of mythical properties given that it was Sharall that comprised its every plank of wood and every stitch of rope and linen. There would be only one reason for his being brought about and that would be to course for the Thirteenth Sea. It even furthered the initial assumption that he'd be shipping 'The Captain' along for the ride. The ship jerked as it begun to rotation, aligning itself with the large monument in the distance. The sun had just recently set, opening up a plane of stars and mysterious lights. The ship jerked again to set sail influenced by Sharall's will. "This voyage will be a short one." Sharlal's voice rung throughout the ship

The Captain remained on the lower deck cradling something of a fish's egg at a glance. Something was up his sleeve.

Back up on deck the captain's quarters swung open. "Come in." A voice called out from within its poorly lit chambers. "And do make sure to bring the book with you." For those who entered would be greeted by the visage of a male poised with sophistication and a small glass of wine on the table. WHen all who was to enter entered he introduced himself by standing up and giving a pleasant bow. "Good evening. I am Sharall." Charming, no? The room's illumination was limited to the pale light that crawled in through the window and the lantern that hung from the ceiling giving it decent light for maneuverability around any mess that may be on the floor. "It has been sometime since last I was called upon, let alone the last time a prophetic raunt was beginning to take place on the other side.." Raising his hand, the wood behind those whom had entered bent and remolded into sturdy chairs. "Please, have a seat." Any who refused, their chair would recede back into the wood. "I am going to come forth with this quite plainly. You are all in danger. Your Captain is not all that he plays himself to be and I dare not let him free into the ocean."

This was a time for any questions the group may have to be asked. Sharall seemed well versed in the matter at hand and those to come.

On the isle where Narla was confronted by one of the entities of sand. "Very well." The voice spoke to her. "If you are not going to join our cause then your life of meaningless to be set free." More of the sand was being stripped from the beach to join with the creature on the side of the rocky wall. Its size was growing immensely at a gradual rate leaving the once sandy shores barren and rocky. Upon the creature's chest emerged a jewel visible to Narla at first, were it not for the creature's sandy appendage reaching out after her to swat her back onto the rocky shoreline.

Greyonji had been left almost virtually powerless aside from his acute affinity to sense magicks. As far as using his cryo-abilities he was left with little offense that involved magic. [5 turns. Rounded the roll numbers to 50 and 100]. "Hydra?" The Bartender reiterated. "I haven't seen anything here aside from these serpent looking things and sand people walking around." The answer was discerning for him to even repeat. "Listen. What they are doing is terrible. I only managed to escape because my wife is among these people and she remembered me." For a second there he seemed a little choked up. Approaching Greyonji and kneeling down beside him. "She told me what they do to you once they take you up in that pillar thing. They take your soul and turn it into some sort of jewel. It's green. That's all I know." Sliding his hand underneath Greyonji's back in order to try and help him to his feet. "When I saw you being brought in I just couldn't sit back and let something this horrific happen to you too. So I fought off the serpents creatures that were bringing you in. I somehow can use sand as my weapon, but I don't know for how long. I'm dieing, sir. I can feel it. They only managed to do some of the soul transformation stuff on me leaving my soul torn." There was a sudden fluctuation in the hissing sound approaching the corner of their alleyway that immediately caught his attention. Two snake-like creatures rounded the corner with intent to kill. Releasing Greyonji the Bartender thrust both hands forward which brought up a wave of sand that consumed the two threats. Using the ability seemed to take a more than moderate toll on him. Turning around, half of the man's face was of pouring sand, his eye frozen in place like a statue. "We have to get you to the cities edge. Can you walk on your own?" If Greyonji replied that he could then the Bartender should inform him to follow.

Down the sand path he'd lead Greyonji until they came upon the very edge. Of course during the run they accumulated a multitude of those snake beasts that pursued them until the very edge.

Beneath the ocean on the other side of that mirrored layer the bout between Sylass and Desecra resumed. The leaves finally fell completely to the ground revealing their surroundings to move from a once lush, green landscape to a decrepit, dying land. Two of the five heads this hydra had focused solely on Sylass, assuming the goliath to have been knocked out of the fight. The other three heads moved slower than the other two. On its chest was a green gem visible to the warriors now that the leaves were no longer blocking view. One of the other three heads moved in toward Sylass to inflict another bludgeon blow to the lizardman.

Greyonji sat and listened to the mans story, he believed him, and was a little touched that the bartender was kind to him. He felt a little sadness for him, but upon hearing his belief of his impending death he decided to view him as a tool for his escape. He was sure death was better then what these - things, were doing to people.

Grey stumbled in the loose sand as he was released and found him self on the ground again. He was expecting them to look more like the titanic eels he saw before and was surprised to see they had a humanoid torso. This sand power he had seemed kind of like his ice abilities, however, the back lash seemed a lot more severe. Standing he would test his legs, "Yes, I Can move." As they ran he became painfully aware of how helpless he was and how slowly he was getting his power back. "If only the air wasn't so dry," he cursed in Elven.

Upon reaching the perimeter of the city he wouldn't see a way through or around the constantly falling sand. Turning his back to the wall and facing the group of hostiles, "What now?"

Narla’s right hand places the mahogany bow upon her left shoulder diagonally, the bowstring strung across her front, her left hand placing the arrow within her right, as her right hand closes about its form. Narla’s veiled expression shifts, as a bestial snarl escapes, her form lowering itself partially, as her amethyst gaze snaps towards the sand beast. Narla’s left foot places itself firmly upon the sand, the fabric of the cloth that covered her feet make a soft sound. As the appendage swiped at her, Narla’s left foot pushes off of the sand beneath, her form rapidly moving forward, before throwing her shoulder forward upon the sand beneath. As Narla’s form rises, her cloth covered feet carry her form rapidly towards the sand beast, before her feet push off of the sand beneath, her form sent upwards, as her right hand swings forward, attempting to lodge the metal head of the arrow into the sand beast’s jewel.

Bakir’s still moist and sandy hair shifts subtly, as his dulled gaze drifts upward towards the moon, his lips curling into a white toothed smile, his voice rasping quietly, scraping at his lungs as he speaks, “Bu biraz zaman oldu. (It has been some time)” Bakir’s right, dull golden gauntlet drifts upward, clasping the hiltless blade, and resting it flatly against his right shoulder. His dull gaze remains upon the moon, his head tilted partially back, until his dull gaze drifts towards the captain’s quarters, lingering for a few moments, before his form turns, his leather-strapped sandals carrying his form towards the quarters. Once inside, his back would press against the wall, after his right gauntlet lifts the flat of the hiltless blade downward, its very tip pressing against the wooden planks below. His dull gaze drifts towards Sharall, lingering.