Forums » General Roleplay » The Thirteenth Sea

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.

Good thing the leaves left. Now Sylass could witness his doom. He knew the roars were familliar. The same Hydra that had destroyed the port town. The Lizardman quickly got up, trying to recollect himself. He couldn't go down without a fight! If he was to die today, let it be known that Sylass scarred his foe through a grand battle.

But boy, that thing was big. Fighting a mythical creature was never easy, but this one had five able heads! And if the legends are true, that cutting off one head spawns two more, this was not going to be an easy fight. Sylass' grip around his weapons tightened.

The Lizardman's eyes widened. A crystal. Crystals were power scources for many magical beings, he knew. Perhaps it was the same for this thing. He was so focused on it that he did not have enough time to dodge the giant heads headed for him."Giant woman, get up! Crystal! Scource of po- GAH!"

The sudden blow made Sylass catapult back into a decaying tree's trunk and his axe flew off after he was forced to release it. The Lizardman groaned in pain as he could feel the blackened splinters of wood having pierced through his scales. It served to make the creature angry as he hissed, trying to get up. The red haze before his eyes returned and scrambled upwards in a fit of rage, charging for one of the heads with only his mace in his claws.

Foy would move hesitantly towards the Captain's quarters when the door swung open, and a voice beckoned those of them still on deck inside.

She was surprised to find the man inside, though perhaps she shouldn't have been, they were obviously dealing with some very odd magic, the ship had been repaired, she'd seen creatures that she felt certain could not exist, so really, Sharall taking a human visage and entertaining them in the captains quarters wasn't the weirdest thing.

Foy took a seat in one of the chairs, her legs dangling like a child's over the edge, inches above the ground. She watched with concern and awe, as Sharall explained that their captain was dangerous. "What sort of danger, exactly?" She asked nervously.

Desecra's infuriated snarling faded as she find herself partially blinded by the falling foliage. She struggled to her feet, hammer in hand, but her over-all awareness was considerably low and she find herself terribly disoriented. In a pure fit of anger, she swung her weapon blindly.
It wasn't until the raining leaves desisted and Sylass called out to her that she regained her senses. The dullard's thick brows knit, and she didn't seen to comprehend what he was saying. That is, not until the crystal caught her eye as light glinted off of it. The beasts were fortunately paying her little heed. It appeared she had been grounded long enough to lose their attention, and this allowed her to compose herself before barreling towards the gem, hammer at the ready.

Pelagia couldn't get over the fact that they were now safe. There was a constant sense of relief and the urge to break down and cry out of happiness, but she managed to stifle any tears. She didn't like doing that, really. Her head jerked this way and that once she heard that short statement Sharall had made over the ship, but couldn't locate the source of the noise.

The sound of the captain's quarters door opening and colliding with the wood wall beside of it caught her attention, and she could only guess that the invitation was to go inside of there. At first, she was hesitant, but whenever it was said to bring the book, she reluctantly dragged herself toward the door, likely behind someone else since she was far too shy to just barge in.

Pela yelped with surprise at the forming chairs, scampering a few steps forward and watching in surprise. The invitation to sit caused her to look between Sharall and the chairs, the latter of which she regarded nervously, before settling down. She freed one hand to tug anxiously down at her skirt, careful to keep it touching the floor.

Foy stole the words out of her mouth, though, and she was glad she didn't have to ask. Though she did have so many questions! Unfortunately, she couldn't put them all in words.

"Ah, i-if I may, hah... can I um... May I ask just ah... just what you, er... are...?" she stammered, offering a very tight-lipped smile. Her lips barely parted when she spoke and her head had dipped down considerably. Suddenly she straightened up, head lifting and eyes becoming round. "Oh! And... and! What uhm... what happened to ah, to the uh... to the man? That I received this from? Why did he just..." She couldn't find the words to describe it. Instead, she retrieved the little coinpurse at her hip and shook it. "Sand."

Translation: Why did the beggar turn into a pile of sand pls answer.

Sharall answered in a first-come first-serve manner and fortunately Foy was the first to ask about the danger having been mentioned. This slender male picked up the finely crafted glass and caressed its surface with the tip of his thumb. "The item in your adored Captain is something that will corrupt my very essence, or on the bright side, shatter the Arenceous Empire. It's all a matter of how it is used and how its use is percieved that determines whether it was for the greater good or for naught." Although Sharall spoke of what could potentially alter him he did not seem phased in the slightest by its presence. The fact he himself has not yet stopped the danger in their midst could be spoken to be a tad bit concerning. On to Palagia's question which held a bit more depth despite the short length of what she wanted answered, despite the stutter. "What I am is-" He paused to take a casual sip of the savory beverage. "A conscience." One word? Perhaps. There was definitely more to be said, but first the taste of the sweet wine has captivated him briefly and so he finished the remainder. A pleasant smile forged itself on thin lips. "It's been so long since I stepped foot on this world to enjoy its luxuries." Placing the glass on the table before resuming his answer. "A higher conscience taking the form of the intangible and..." Pursing his lips together as though looking for the words, eyes drifting upward some to the ceiling. "making it tangible." This was the best way he could explain it while also co-explaining the formation of the ship while he himself being able to coexist aboard the very same ship.

Sharall rose from his seat in fluid motion, placing both hands behind his back with one holding the wrist of the other. Staring out onto the ever shifting waters of the sea. "The old man. Why did he turn into sand?" The question was reiterated in.. proper common tongue. "His purpose was served. Transferring the book of the Thirteenth Sea into capable hands he was no longer of use to them. Know this, travelers." He reached for the wine bottle and began to slowly pour himself another half glass of the red wine. The way the liquid flowed into the glass was soothing by its own element grasped by the bowl of the glass' dip. "Your paths will not be a straight one. You will have decisions to make that may cross with your beliefs. I advise to cast aside your self-pity and press forward with the most pristine of mind before you tread upon their land." His answers prior to the last of his statements were fairly straight forward for the most part. There could be nothing more said towards their question unless they wished to hear the lore and past events that caused such, but even then he'd refuse such trivial explanations by the sake of their short time.

The ship was nearing the monumental isle where Narla was fighting her battle.

"Our time is nigh before we arrive." Sharall added for awareness. "You have two more questions before this session of insight will come to an end." Picking up the wine glass once more to bring it to his nose and inhale the luscious aroma. "The sky will go black on the eve of this revival..The tricks and folly are meant to delay its demise. Seek to what is real." Murmuring to himself, or more or less speaking into the wine glass before indulging another sip.

The arrow was on point. The gem did have arcane attributes, but the force of the arrow was all that was needed. Accuracy to magic items were key to their traits being properly used and by the displacement and fracture caused by the arrow's penetration green sparkles rained from the sky. "You cannot defeat us! You will join us!" The creature of sand shouted toward Narla. Another arm was slung back to hurl a grabbing hand in her direction, but without the power of the gem it could not retain solid shape and Narla was instead sprinkled with sand as it fell apart mid-travel.

Within the city of sand.. [Turn 4/5] of Mana Recooperation - Trait Recovered! Faint Mana Sensory.

The bartender could only look over to Greyonji with a half smile, the other half of his face was hardened over and petrified. "You will save her." Was his only answer to Greyonji before positioning himself in between the incoming enemies and Greyonji."I know you will find a way!" Spreading out his arms he was able to cause the sand between the serpent-like inhabitants and them to jut upward into a solid column of hardened sandrock! It was wearing on him. His arm was beginning to fall apart, flesh converting into pellets of sand. "I guess they converted more of my soul than I thought.. I'm not the strongest, but it's all I can do to help you beat these guys!!" Deep within the bartender's body he could feel something solidifying. In the back of his mind he knew it was the gem taking shape. On the other side of the sandrock column the armed warriors slithered to the side to allow another one dressed much like they were however instead of a scimitar it was donned in accessories embedded with emeralds. It placed a single hand upon the sandrock and the bartender knew something was wrong. "No.." Turning around quickly he shouted at Greyonji. "RUN!" As if there was anywhere else to run to. The column of this golden sandrock exploded in their direction. In that instant, it was over. The bartender was blown toward Greyonji and if he were to collide into him they would both be blown off into the shifting quicksand below, however the Bartender's body would be as solid rock laying upon Greyonji as they sunk into the depths. "Sir... I can feel that the gem or whatever it's called has finally taken full hold.. I want you to take it.. I want to be there when you save her. This is my only request.." From a heavy-weighted solid rock his body was gradually getting lighter until his exterior began to crack and a green gem the size of a baseball would be left to lay upon Greyonji's chest.

If however, Greyonji were to evade the flying body the gem would therefore be lost within the quicksand and Greyonji to be left to deal with both the flying debris from the blast and the serpent seer with its accompanying warriors.

Were the first option to come to pass, after being within the darkness of the quicksand for a few brief, very brief moments he will feel a sort of freedom approaching his backside. The cool nightly air. In fact, he was to emerge from the top of the arched rock and fall into the cushioned sand below, although from Narla's recent victory against her foe the sand that filled the archway was fairly soft and unsettled.

Beneath the sea, however...a battle still raged on.

The beast roared again with its multitude of heads and took to charging forward with full focus on Sylass. It is beyond mobile with how heavy the beast is and was taking the route of trampling its chosen target. Around it's feet with every step was wet leaves being kicked up. The gem embedded on the Hydra's chest being fully exposed in this all-out assault!

{Just a heads up guys: whenever we start this back up again, I'll be dropping Desecra's outrageous Scottish slang. It was fun, but tedious, and while she'll be keeping her accent I'll be toning her dialogue down tremendously. I hate to make OC changes in the middle of an RP, but it's been awhile and I've lost my luster for her nearly unintelligible dialogue}

Sylass was indeed wounded. He could feel the rotten splinters cut through his flesh. In this state, however, the Blackscale was so furious he couldn't even feel the pain his body was going through. He wanted one thing: for the Hydra to die. Preferably painfully. That would really make Sylass' day.

This time the Lizard was ready for the Hydra. Its slow movements would be its downfall, and with as much finesse as his painful body would allow, the Lizard leapt up, clutching his mace in both of his hands and bringing down the heavy ball of death right between the head's eyes. After that he clung on to it. If he couldn't cut it off, he could sure as hell smash it to a pulp, and that was exactly what Sylass planned on doing! His mace smashed into the beast's skull multiple times without mercy!