"Exactly. We are dragged around by him with warning of danger. But as things seem grim, he just pulls out another trick out of his sleeve. The messenger appeared and was instantly scared away by his blood. The cultists had the upper hand in numbers then." Reginald snaps his fingers "Keel over dead. And the demon. That thing looked like a Mainstreat theater show with how dramatic it was. Not to mention our new friend conveniently making an appearance to set up act two. Oh sure, he gave us a nice little book to look over so we can be prepared for what is in the blasted sea, but how complete is that information? I've seen this con before. It doesn't end pretty." Fontained looked towards the driver. He had noticed Krantz shooting glances at the driver, Varadi not so much. Wine was still holding him. Still, he shared the captain's suspicion. "Son, if you are what my colleagues suspect you are, I hope you remembered every word I said. Saves me from repeating myself the next time we have a meeting."
Cattapoli, Gothian Perimeter
The rifle shots cracked into the ground, sending up splinters of rock. Those nearest panicked and ran back. Most were unwilling to go up against guns - but the grenades from earlier had stirred up an already stressed crowd. Most of the charging beastfolk stopped a few feet before the perimeter line and threw more rocks before running back into the avenue and scattering. The guardsmen on the side of the avenue were bewildered, but were taking the side of the Gothian's and chasing down rock throwers. A number of Cattan were tackled on the wide street and in a couple places a brawl started between guards and agitated civilians.
In addition to the gunshots, the loud clatter of the machine guns being readied made a terrifying mechanical chorus which added to the general fear. The crowd was dispersing, while the most ardent agitators were tossing more rocks and trash as they fled. Some joined the civilians on the side of the streets who were just spectators in order to blend in and escape prosecution from the guardsmen.
A pair of Omaen males in cloaks hurried out of the crowd and into one of the nearby buildings, an apartment from the looks of it. There was a closed cafe on the bottom floor that was open to the street with three levels of floors above. A few people were peering out from behind the shutters of their windows.
There was still some commotion in the streets, but it was clear the crowd had broken and no one really wanted to fight. Most of the beastfolk were just scared and whipped into a fury, while the real malcontents were being hunted down.
On the rooftop of the apartment building, a head with two large rabbit ears poked up over the top and watched the Gothian troops for a moment before disappearing. There was the flicker of a match or firestarter, followed by a larger blaze of fire.
Like a comet streaking across the sky, a bottle with a lit rag in it came sailing from the apartment roof and right down towards the Gothians. The firebomb landed right in one of the jeeps and shattered, sending out fire all around it and catching some of the men alight.
More civilians screamed and began to flee.
Abyss, Raum's Cathedral
The Messenger nodded, the motion apparent only by the slight inclination of his empty hood.
"Good. I have faith in your determination and fervor, Sabine. You will face adversity but no doubt prevail with your perseverance. Our Lord wills it," he said, taking a step away from the table. "For now, it may be wise for you to return home. The scouring winds of the Abyss are weak here, and partially held in check by ancient means. But your soul has been through a lot tonight. Death and your first visit to the Abyss, along with the unseen damages it brings, is no small feat."
He pointed to the floor a few feet away from them, the ground covered in a thin layer of ash. "The return trip will not be without some pain, either. Your body has died and your soul currently exists without a mortal tether. Your corpse lays where it has fallen. Cold and lifeless. The body which entered this place was not your original body, but one your soul has constructed for you. An exact copy, certainly, but not the true original. That one always remains behind on the mortal plain after death. However, a resurrection of this nature is well within my power."
A small circle began to glow on the ground where he had pointed to. It was a simple purple-black ring of energy that flickered like fire.
"A fraction of your soul will forever remain here because of your death. That is simply the nature of it. Its possible for a soul to be fractured many times, even willingly, but it can be harmful. As you are in good hands, your return will be without permanent damage. Mostly. Your blood will not replenish, and as such you will have no pulse and no breath. You will have to make an effort to breathe for appearances. It is not as difficult as it sounds, as your mind is already used to it. There is a ritual you can perform in time after you have recovered which will fill your veins with imitation blood - it appears as black ink but restores your skin to a natural pallor, and some of your organs will function again. Its only for appearances, of course - you are still dead. You simply exist now in a more... ethereal state. Shedding your physical body will not be so difficult anymore, but it is still an essential form to have. Further and more... curious transformations are not out of the question, however."
The circle continued to glow lightly as he spoke. "If you are ready to return, then step within the ring. Otherwise ask what you wish."
Cattapoli, Dagger Rock
The second jeep - containing Krantz, Varadi, Fontaine and two marines - made for the road and departed the old dungeon. With its headlights on bright, the vehicle sped along the dirt road to return to the city.
About a dozen marines from the Revenant and a couple beastfolk remained behind, along with the admiral and Therasmus. The Cattan guardsmen were busy with securing the remains of the dungeon, and several of the marines were loitering around the remaining jeep and wagons. Some of the marines eyed the departing jeep closely as it hurried out of the area, and only when it was gone did some of the them relax.
One of the marines sighed and removed his pith helmet. He hooked it onto his belt and dug around in a pouch for something before popping whatever it was into his mouth. His head twitched sharply after he swallowed it, but his body started to relax. Two more marines drank from small flasks that they had on their belts. One such man with a flask was shaking, and when he pulled the flask away from his mouth a trickle of red ran down his lip as he capped it closed. He wiped it away with the back of his hand and passed the flask to another man.
Mannfred watched his men for a moment now that they were all alone, and when he turned to look at Therasmus finally, his left eye was a simple black orb - not the normal green human eye he had earlier.
"You'll have to forgive my manners from earlier, though I must admit my ilk are very territorial. Your arrival was unexpected," he explained, taking his hand out from his coat pocket. Like his eye, there had been some kind of transformation to his body. His left hand was slightly longer, the fingers thinner and ending in sharpened talons. Mannfred stretched his fingers out and examined his hand with some idle interest.
"It irritated me greatly, and I got somewhat... impatient. I haven't lost control like that in some time - and it would have been... uncomfortable, to say the least, for the others to see me in such a way. I'll be paying the price for my sorcery soon enough. I shouldn't have killed those cultists like I did, despite the expediency of it," he sighed. He winced again and put his hand up to his covered eye, and a trickle of blood seeped out from beneath the eyepatch.
"This eye will never return, I'm afraid. One of my many curses. I always relish my years of rebirth when I'm born with both eyes again, though I'll always end up loosing it. My senses are fortunately strong enough that it doesn't hamper me, but its an inconvenience."
"Mmm... anyways, for a stray not of my plane, you can still undoubtedly sense me as I can you. The shock of your arrival has unraveled me somewhat," Mannfred said, looking Therasmus over from head to toe. "A clever projection, by the way, though it does make me see double. Perhaps having you stay on another vessel will spare me the headache - and I don't mean this in offense. You are far more accustomed to seeing than I am, regardless of what sight is being used."
"I have you remaining behind so I can grow accustomed to you, for the moment. If I don't attune to your presence, I'll feel irritable every time you're near. Such a sensation makes me feel like a juvenile again," the admiral said as he paced slightly on the grass, eyeing his men who were unwinding. Some kept watch, while others took a moment to breathe - either eating or drinking something that didn't quite appear to be food.
"Your appearance fits your habit to babble like a mad scholar, though I suspect you understand that referring or speaking of me as anything other than Viktor Mannfred - human admiral - will not result in a pleasant outcome. I don't think you need to see strands of the future for that."
For Therasmus, his mind of course sought out such pieces of the future which were visible to him at that moment. Nearly all of them led to situations where he would have to return to the Abyss for one reason or another, or be stuck wandering this plane. Death - not always his, but of others - haunted each connection to the future in this regard. For the foreseeable future, the currently apparent best options certainly aligned with retaining the knowledge of the admiral's identity. Past that, it was difficult to tell what could happen later.
"Tell me - what has truly led you here, and why here, of all places? And what do you sense me as?"
---
The marine driver and passenger of the jeep remained quiet as Fontaine spoke, their focus mostly on the road and their surroundings. When Fontaine finally addressed the driver, the man glanced over his shoulder with a blank face before looking back to the road.
"Your feelings are understandable, sir, but misplaced. This Sea aggravates the mind. It can muddle logic and spark paranoia, among other things. I've sailed with Admiral Mannfred since his first expedition - about, oh, seven years now," the man said. His jacket sleeve had the rank of a corporal, with a Brunswick naval insignia higher up near the shoulder. However, below it was another insignia of a little white skull with a red tear drop. Not all of the marines had this emblem, or the sailors, but it seemed that many of those around Mannfred did.
"I can't speak for the admiral, sir. But the mission is important. Many of us old hands realized it over the years. Gods? Demons? Magic? Nonsense, until you see it with your own eyes. This place is an entirely different world, sir. It took years for some of us to adjust. Those that haven't aren't with us anymore."
The second marine, the passenger, glanced slightly over at the driver. The corporal went silent for a few moments. "The admiral is an experienced man, sir. Forgive me if I speak out of line, sir, but you should be grateful that his so-called tricks are even there. He didn't always have them. A lot of people die when there isn't a plan or contingency, and those early years were not good. We aren't even in the Wild Sea, yet. Regardless, the demon - Therasmus, was it? has the admiral on alert. He'll be vetting it to ensure its safe enough to keep around. It may seem convenient that it has arrived here, but there is a term for these things. The Moth Effect. Creatures and anomalies are often drawn to people or areas of interest and power."
Cattapoli, Alleyway
The captured cultist was a Niakoman, a short feline with orange fur and yellow eyes. Their face had a nasty scar along one side which resulted in no whiskers on the right side of their snout. They hissed at Graves as he leveled a gun at their back, but they stepped along in the direction they were being forced in as soldiers - human and Cattan - secured the area.
A Vulakine guardsmen which looked more like a jackal than a wolf snarled at the cultist as they moved along the alleyway towards the others.
"What are your plans for this one?" The Vulkaine guardsmen barked at Graves, standing over a head taller than both of them. "This one couldn't have any less honor than they already have. Their head should be hanging from a post."
Cattapoli, Ephraim
One of the marines helping up the wounded men had a white and red armband, and he climbed down into the Magpisk. "A good idea, sir. I can look after these three for the time being," the marine said as he looked over at the remaining three men who were too hurt to move. Two had significant burns, and one had a broken arm somehow. He knelt down beside them and opened up his satchel and pulled out some bottles and bandages.
"Once we get a few more survivors, it may be best to take these three back to a ship," he explained grimly, glancing over his shoulder. "This one won't live long otherwise."
The one he pointed out was a man with burns across his head, face, and upper body - and he was currently unconscious.
Cattapoli, Kahleen
Kahleen assembled the rocks before herself and Ackermann, with the others watching on. The letters were picked out to spell either word to validate Ackermann's story. However, after they were set down and she spoke her prayer, the rocks didn't move. At first.
Slowly, the rocks trembled and slid gently around on the ground until they formed a word. True.
"They're scattering!" Yelled Torsson as the crowd dispersed out into the adjacent streets. Several of the marines holstered their weapons and subdued rioters still present on the main avenue. With his men asserting control Torsson looked for more threats and spotted the Omae rushing into the apartment. Just as he was about to point out the building a molotov came soaring through the air.
The men caught in the blast screamed. Their coats may be fireproof but everything else was not. Ontop of that their plate armor only served to increase the temperature as the flames engulfed them.
Several soldiers rushed to aid their comrades while the gunner ontop of the jeep tossed himself off the roof screaming.
Torsson gritted his teeth. "ATTACK!"
In a mere second volleys of bullets had already been sent flying towards the apartment building. Marines with rifles kneeled down and aimed for the windows while the submachine gun soldiers opened fire in the general direction of the apartment. The gunner on the second jeep swiveled around, trained his spotlight at the building and fired several high-caliber armor piercing salvos.
---
Kahleen smiled with relief. "The gods have spoken." She looked at Ackermann. "Fallensteller will not get away with this. Tell Dobbs to keep you safe. I will need to find us some allies."
Therasmus curled his index finger and rested it just below his lips, absorbing the admiral's words quietly as he multi-tasked and tried to tap into those glimpses of the future. It wasn't too taxing, for he had the mental capabilities to do both without skipping a beat. The demon had been fortunate thus far, as many a timeline ended with him getting shot to bits for simply not phrasing his words properly. With how often his mind raced with no clear finish line in sight, it was a nasty habit, but thankfully the admiral was an intelligent sort himself and was willing to hear him out. All very fortunate... Yet there is always the risk of uncertainy, a very clear divide that can get events to tumble and avalanche beyond control and prediction. So far so good, though...
"Oh? You were quite involved in that fight with the creature. I took no personal offense to the rudeness, yes. Many questions were likely racing through your head - fight or flight, how and why, friend or foe... It can be an overwhelming situation indeed." he said with a thoughtful nod, soon spreading his arms out just to bring them back in to steeple his fingers. "This region of your realm, it is ripe with the mark of the Abyss and Ether. As well as other forces, perhaps? Hmm. Something to research later, perhaps."
At the mention of his illusion he nodded a bit more rapidly this time, his way of showing thanks for the compliment yet he was still terribly inept at displaying this in his false form, a wry smirk appearing on his visage and nothing else. 'Seeing double' was in fact the most apt term for what was taking place, though the projection itself was altering the psychic interference of his presence to be more pleasant as well as fooling the eyes, the admiral's more attuned vision could see through it halfway. It gave him insight in how it was working; a projected skin over the demon's actual body that functioned as some sort of ethereal costume he was cloaked in. It had the slightest amount of transparency to it, and the form beneath could be made out with tucked in tentacles and a grounded stance.
"It is your fleet, to my understanding, so you are free to place me wherever you wish." he says, palms rotating so he could quietly clasp his hands together from their previous position. "But you getting accustomed to the certain... eccentrics of my form, both visual and otherwise, is more than welcome." Therasmus turns his head just a tiny bit, glancing back toward the marines and their various activities and coping mechanisms, trying to discern their thoughts and why such things bring them comfort. The slightest scrap of information is valuable, he had learned that, anything might give him an edge to weave time to the appropriate outcome.
"Aah, questions, good. Do I hold concrete answers? Perhaps. While I would like to see myself as a well of answers my expertise can be limited at times, though I do know a great deal." the demon begins, the projection shutting its eyes as he went into thought, recalling what he had seen.
"I will share with you my history, now that tensions have dropped significantly. Though you will have to forgive me, for those first memories are as old as I am, and I can assume that I am exceedingly ancient at this point. I remember beginning existence as a simple thought, like this realm when it first existed I was in a primordial state - a form that even I have difficulty comprehending or putting into words. Perhaps... gaseous is one that shall suffice, unbound and free to expand as pure energy and consciousness. Primitive, but with the potential to become so much more, given time." he explains, rubbing his hands together for a few seconds before he continued. "I do not know how long I was there, adrift in this blissful state of existence, I do not even recall wear I had been housed, but it was the closest thing to paradise I had ever experienced."
Another pause, this time he began to look down at the ground for some time before speaking yet again. "But the war... it took much from us, even bystanders such as my infantile self. It brought ruin to us all, and my version of ruin would be a forceful ejection, reality-tearing gods needed to only enter my realm for a split second to teeter things off balance. I found myself traveling through the twisting paths of the Ether, possible destinations eradicated before I could reach there. Fate left me little choice, like many others I was forcefully pulled down to the Abyss, the refuge for the displaced such as myself. My form was forced to adapt to survive, its ethereal nature compressed and twisted into what you see before you. Was it subconscious design or purely coincidental? Is that a relevant detail..? Hmm... That had been the other side effect - being in contact with the Ether that first time and for so long gave me the only purpose I have. It was a glimpse, a map of all timelines delivered to me in rapid flashes of past, present, and future. Yet in my early state I lacked the ability to decipher it or see its relevance... The exact details on how I gained such ability? I'll leave that out for now." he explained, understanding that things may be getting long-winded at this point.
"The path I follow is one I actively weave, one where I try to restore myself to my home. I do not know where it is, or how I will get there and yet... I feel it calling for me, as if my next purpose shall be known once I get there. I had thought the answers lied in the Abyss, the fragments of other realms might point me to a shard of mine, yet I felt your presence, this place... it called to me. Several powerful beings congregating, gods themselves, or rather their wounded and broken remnants - gathering and planning. What exactly? I do not know. But I do know that I must see these events first hand. I will obtain my answers somehow, this timeline is far too rich with possibility to ignore."
With all of that finished, he looked back up to the admiral, extending a finger at him to level at his person. "What I see you as? That is a simple question with a far shorter answer. You are a powerful being putting on a facade, you have answered that yourself. Yet... there is certainly MORE to it than just that. You hide yourself well, but the stress you have experienced shows cracks that I can somewhat decipher... You are far more powerful than just a regular demon, I see that now. And you do hold some significance in the events I foresee, that much is certain."
Ephraim looked towards the unconscious man that the marine gestured towards, his pained expression unchanging. He sighed.
"I, ehm, I see," he forced himself to say, "Alright, let's get a move on!" he yelled, as he moved to steer the Magpisk back into the rescuing fray.
As he steered, he chose to ask the marine a question: "Is there any ship in particular that you recommend we leave these three at? I'm not that familiar with the medical care on board the other ships."
Tobey had been documenting his new knowledge about the artifacts, the rifts, Ryza and magic in general when Andria said that she were not familiar with the Sorcerers scars or tattoos.
With a bitter, disappointed, almost scolding expression on his face he looked up to see Andria gazing at one of the pens on the table.
"Is there something... peculiar with this pen?" he asked?
---
At the docks, Norrys watched as all hell broke loose when the molotov was thrown into the gothian rungs.
Fortunately, he had had a good vantage point to locate which house it was thrown from.
"There! In that house! Open fire at will!" he shouted as pointed at the house.
Norrys men began firing wildly but with slight coordination on the house their Captain had pointed out. Some were unable to fire, when cattan folks ran away in the streets, either into their line of fire or bumping into them, preventing them from aiming properly.
Norrys then motioned to his three closest men, "You three! With me!" he shouted as he began pushing himself through the tide of fleeing spectators towards the house.
The guards watched curiously as the stones rearranged themselves to answer Kahleen's prayer. Ackermann felt as if a massive weight had been taken off his shoulders, as he was no longer alone. "Hurry," he said. "She's apparently got the trust of the riflemen now, which means there's not a whole lot anyone can do from the inside, anymore. If we leave Cattan with her still in charge of that ship, it's going to turn into a real freak show. You two-" he said, addressing the guards, "you're my witnesses. The Vice Admiral needs to know about Kahleen's test."
The two men looked at each other before nodding at the officers. "Yes sir," one of them replied, showing more respect than Ackermann had received from them before. "Ma'am, you have our word," the other said to Kahleen.
---
Fallensteller looked down on the burning ring and took in what the Messenger had just told her. She had already suspected it, but now there was confirmation: in the process of dying, she had become something else, something which continued to move, think, and feel without life, something that would exist on terms apart from the human race. The rules would be different now; she couldn't be drowned or strangled, and other things which would have been lethal were now only hazardous... and in fact it wasn't entirely clear what it would take to separate her soul from her body once more, but she still knew that it was possible and that she should avoid taking her new form for granted.
She glanced once more at the Messenger, a smile on her lips. "I have much to explore, and much to do for the sake of our Lord, but for now I have no more questions. I thank you, and take my leave now. I suppose we'll meet again quite soon, so... auf wiedersehen." She bowed politely and turned to the circle on the floor, stepping into it and awaiting the pain that the Messenger had warned her would accompany her return to the mortal world.
Cattapoli, Gothian Perimeter
The fusillade of bullets tore into the three-story apartment building with ease. Many of the buildings here were constructed of brick and stone, but upper floors and cheaper housing were usually constructed with simplistic wattle and daub - clay reinforced with an internal lattice of wood. It served well to protect buildings against the elements, as well as providing some fair insulation during the cold seasons. These walls offered no protection against bullets.
Plaster and wood splintered outwards as rounds broke through the material, tearing into the interior hallways and rooms. There had been civilians already in the windows when the shooting broke out, and the screams of trapped civilians was hard to ignore. People trapped on the first floor took cover behind the bar of the cafe, while some tried to flee. Even the smaller caliber submachine gun rounds could penetrate the wood and plaster. A guardsmen had entered the building only minutes earlier, and his body came tumbling down the stairs into the open, his limbs tangled up in his cloak.
Norrys and his group joined the fray and began shooting at the building as well, aiming for windows and simply shooting in that general direction. The streets were fast being cleared completely of beastfolk who were simply fleeing for their lives.
There was no sign of the Omaen assailants on the roof as they disappeared once the shooting began, likely taking cover further down the rooftop.
Cattan guardsmen who had one moment been making arrests were watching in stunned horror as the building was shot up. Many were shouting at the soldiers to stop, and some had drawn their swords in desperation.
Further down the avenue back towards the bay, the mass sound of numerous guns going off got the attention of some marines and sailors. A few men from the Revenant, unaware of what was happening, came running up the avenue to the Gothian perimeter.
As the shooting died down, Norrys and three of his men rushed for the apartment building with their weapons ready.
Cattapoli, Ephraim
By this point, most of the people who had fallen into the bay had been rescued or had swam to land. The wounded had been taken out of the water first, and only a dozen or so able-bodied swimmers were drifting around in the water. They happily climbed aboard the Magpisk, completely exhausted from the exertion of staying afloat and helping wounded men from drowning.
"I'm stationed with the Revenant, so I know the facilities there are good. We essentially have a hospital on board," the medic explained, dressing the wounds of one of the recent men they had pulled out of the water.
Veranhal, Mariner's Boon
Andria eyed him carefully, before looking back at the pen and nodding. "Yes... ah, I could draw something out for you that could... help. With these pictures."
Her demeanor remained closed off and uncertain, but she placed one hand up on the table in anticipation to take the pen. She even seemed slightly poised to snatch for it herself.
Abyss, Raum's Cathedral
A warm and slightly tingling sensation flooded over Fallensteller's limbs as she stepped into the circle on the floor. The Messenger nodded once more, and he raised his hands up to her and the circle as if he was warming his hands at a fireplace. The ring flared up like actual flames around her, and her vision became awash with static and a bright white light.
When her vision returned not a second later, she was laying on the floor in darkness. Her body felt stiff, numb, and exhausted. In fact, her limbs were entirely unresponsive for a moment. It was like she was suffering from sleep paralysis, with her mind and eyes aware while her body remained blissfully asleep. There was a distinct throbbing pain in her chest and a more acute stabbing pain in the back of her head. Her throat felt... strange, and then the realization came that it was still slit. The skin there had miraculously scarred over so that there was no longer an open gash, but just from feeling it with her fingers it was obvious it would raise many questions if her lower neck was seen.
She was laying in the exact position she had fallen when she died, her chest and stomach a mess with sticky dried blood. She had remembered sinking beneath an inky puddle after what seemed like hours, but now it was unclear if that was a hallucination or not. The Messenger did say that her original body remained... and here it was.
The candles in her cabin had all gone out some time ago, though the room still smelled faintly of smoke. Looking over at the mirror revealed a pale figure, covered in dried blood, with their hair a complete mess. The sensation of reentering her body as something not quite human was utterly foreign to her, and for a moment it was difficult to even recognize herself. She felt trapped in a prison of flesh. Her limbs moved too slowly, and her chest refused to rise when she took in a breath until several times trying to breath again. It was a labored effort, but the more she performed other tasks, the more the breathing became an autonomic function again. But as soon as she focused on it - she would stop breathing.
Likewise, she could distinctly feel that she had no pulse. She looked and felt like a dead body. In fact, she was in a dead body. Her soul had already been severed from her corpse and had been replanted into it. These feelings were as unnatural as they could possibly be.
Cattapoli, Dagger Rock
Mannfred listened silently to the demon speak as he went on another long winded talk, though he seemed to be paying close attention.
"That is all very... curious. We're both alike yet so entirely different in nearly every way. My initial existence was nothing quite like yours, though this isn't very surprising - we both originate from different planes of existence," he nodded. "I do remember those ending days of the war when the damage began to impact other planes. I had always wondered what happened to those caught in the rifts. I figured most died, though here you stand before me as a survivor of such an event."
"Of course, your nature of being so connected to seeing and viewing tethers has led you here. It is almost fate, in a way, though logical circumstances would have dictated your arrival regardless. Like a moth to a flame," he mused. "I also know how that feels."
Just from briefly examining the marines, Therasmus would be able to skim some information off of them quite easily. Visually, it was apparent that a flask being passed around was full of red blood. It could mistakenly be considered red wine to some, but Therasmus could easily distinguish the difference in the dark and half-illumination from lanterns. Some of the marines seemed to have an illness, or a condition at the very least, which was magical in nature. It seemed that every once in a while a fleck of a red aura would drift away from them, like tiny embers being stirred up by wind.
Some of the marines were watching him steadily back as he glanced them over.
After hearing what Therasmus had to say in regards to his last question, Mannfred actually chuckled lightly. "As I figured. The bindings still hold well enough, though I will have to replace some and repair others. Perhaps it does not affect you as much as we are from different planes, but other demons may be more... strongly affected by my presence. My 'facade,' as you call it, is just as much a form of defense and method of convenience as it is truly an appearance I am putting up. Powerful demon is a good enough label for myself."
Krantz glanced up towards the front after the pair of marines finished speaking. "Logic would tell you not to trust the man with as many secrets as Mannfred. Logic would also tell you not to trust the men that follow under him, as they'll simply defend him or disregard questions and comments about him as paranoia."
He finally sighed after a moment. "I understand that Mannfred is a defensive type, but from what he's shown since we've arrived...you should understand how the rest of us feel. From what we just saw in there, Mannfred can easily eliminate most that opposes him. Its as though we're being dragged along for something else entirely. So forgive us for not trusting Mannfred so easily. Even if he's slain sorcerers, and dealt with demons. Good intentions and kind gestures still doesn't overrule the plethora of secrets that are being kept from us."
Váradi finally spoke up. "I've had quite enough of cults and the supernatural for one night." he said simply.
Cattapoli, On the Road
"Sorcery takes a lot out of someone, sir," the marine explained after a moment. "What he did back there was something he only does in emergencies. With that demon showing up, wouldn't you agree things took a turn for the worse back there?"
The jeep continued to smoothly drive down the dirt road, the journey little more than a simple ride through the countryside. The night air was cool, and it all would have been pleasant if it wasn't for the inferno down at the docks framing the horizon.
"We always need all the help we can get out here. But look at it this way, sir - you find it hard to trust him, but has he done anything bad? Have we done anything bad? We're trying to stop a rampaging god. Wars are never over, sir, and this is just another in a long line of 'em. The admiral has to think ahead, and if he said something that could worry the expedition, then that could weaken us in a bad moment."
The passenger grunted and shook his head. "What is it you lot are wanting to know, anyway? Kraken? Sea monsters? Whats it like to see people's skin melt off? Maybe what the sound of a ship being crunched in half sounds like? Maybe you want to hear the story about Lieutenant Wellers? Aye, the admiral can do some sorcery. You're better off not knowing half of the shit that happens out here. Following orders keeps you alive," the man said hotly.
And there's one of the defenders that Krantz had spoken of before. He had a point. Following orders did keep you alive. Most of the time. Following them blindly, though, had the tendency to lead to something else. And he seriously doubted the admiral could do just 'some' sorcery. He killed a room full of cultists with a motion of his hand. That much more than simple sorcery.
"'Better off not knowing' doesn't mean we shouldn't know, marine." said Krantz. He glanced to Fontaine, wondering if he had anything else to say on the matter.
As both the carriage and the jeep came to a still, Vunor immediately spotted Nita, and vice versa. He was stunned for a moment to see here, thinking she was on another island completely. "Can we have a minute please." Vunor said as he exited his jeep. Nita jumped out of the carriage and walked over to him quickly. The two were silent for a moment before Vunor kneeled and hugged her. ["Nita... where were you? When did you-"] he said in his native language.
["I came back earlier today. I'm sorry if I worried you, but I was followed."] she replied.
["Followed? By whom? They didnt-?"]
["I'm fine, uncle. It was some cultist attack that me and the masked captain dealt with."]
Vunor shook his head. They had attacked Nita, these cultists. Now it was personal for him. ["Head back for the Consulate with us. The city isn't safe. We will speak more later."] he said to her before turning to Spaghetti. "Thank you, and your men, for helping her. You have my eternal gratitude." he said, shaking Spaghetti's hand. He returned to his jeep, and nita to her carriage, and took a seat. "Lets head back now."
Torsson lowered his rifle. "CEASE FIRE! CEASE FUCKING FIRE!"
Complying immediately his men stopped shooting at the building. Suddenly the only sounds were from shell casings falling off from the jeep roof and down onto the street as well as moans from the wounded.
Torsson spotted Norrys and his men. "We have allies going inside!" He looked to his left. "Kaspersen!"
A soldier, still kneeling and pointing his rifle at the building, looked up. "Sir "
Torsson gestured towards the building. "Follow me!" Kaspersen nodded and got up. Soon Kaspersen and Torsson were right behind Norrys and his men. "They must somewhere on the upper levels," said Torsson as he mounted his bayonet.
---
Kahleen nodded. She placed a hand on Ackermann's shoulder. "I will return." She then collected her rocks and walked off the skiff. Kahleen did a quick salute followed by the Zameri gesture for gratitude directed at both the guards before departing the docks. Dahl followed closely behind.
"What's our next step? We can't rely on Captain Jäger for this."
Kahleen grunted. "We don't need to. Once we return to the ship you will gather the Phantoms. I will speak to our First Mate."
Coming to on the floor of her own quarters, Fallensteller felt mildly disgusted by her appearance in the mirror. Her mortal body had proven to be a temporary shell, one which she had clearly outgrown but was now painfully jammed back inside of. The familiar red eyes and the hideous scar on her neck, both signs of her deep devotion to the Lord, were the only pieces of herself that she continued to identify with. She sat up and looked at her hand; the pale skin felt like a glove over top of something real that lurked inside, but no amount of cutting would ever reveal it. Thinking of which, she searched around herself and found the knife and picked it up, and was disappointed to find that she no longer felt the dark attraction she once did. Thankfully, she found that it was merely a matter with the blade itself, and not her inability to feel it. Whatever powerful magic it once possessed, she now saw that it was gone, as the blade had no aura, unlike the Necrolan, which had been resting under her palm when she awoke.
Forcing herself to take in air, she held her hand up to her face and found that her breath was ice cold. In fact, her entire body was cold to the touch. When she felt strong enough to move, she did so, crawling on her hands and knees into her personal bathroom and turning the shower on. With time and effort, she scrubbed the blood away, but in the end the warmth of the water didn't stay with her. The absence of body heat made her feel as if she had been standing outside in winter for an extended period of time until she had become desensitized. Annoyed, she moved on, gathering her black uniform to clothe and cover herself as much as possible and wearing the collar up to ensure that the scar was well-covered. Eventually, she added her overcoat with the crimson lining as well, and placed her black cap upon her head. She turned the electric lighting on and took a long, critical look at herself. Even cloaked as she was, the pallor of death was still eerily visible on her face. To the untrained eye, she looked very sick. To Calcifer, she would be obvious.
The Necrolan still lay on the floor before her, and she considered searching for the method to conceal her present condition that was described by the Messenger, but the simple thought of exerting herself any further made her feel like breaking down. She sat, and then laid herself down to rest on her bed, knowing that strength would return to her in time. The next few days, however, would be difficult and dangerous. Her room would need a deep cleaning to hide the evidence of what she had done, Jäger wished to meet with her, Mesahri and the other new recruits would be wanting direction, the artifacts from the auction would need testing, Tobey would want to hear about everything, Ackermann needed killing, and unbeknownst to her, von Strass wanted to have tea time again. She shook her head as she thought about it all; she couldn't shoulder it all herself in this condition. It was time to ask Reverend Pfeiffer for his list.
Or rather, it would be in a few hours, when she had enjoyed some well-deserved rest. She had no blood with which to mark herself, but she trusted that Raum would provide a brief respite.
"Of course we don't need to know how a man's heart looks like if it was pulled through his nose. Or what the sound of a skull makes when it's squeezed by a tentacle." Fontained replied. He already pinned the second soldier for an idiot, but he maintained a calm tone. "That's useless information that we can do without. What is useful information is knowing exactly what the enemy is and what they can do and what your allies are and what they can do. Orders keeps us alive, yes. You are right. But knowing the exact match-up, scales and consequences makes for far better decision making and keeps you alive longer."
---
"Tell you the truth, we were just going to hand em over to you to decide. Where I come from, shit that they pulled nets you a trip to the hangman's tree." Graves replied to the guard "But I know someone who might have some use of this prick. After he's done with em, we'll toss him into the sea. See how big of a splash a cultist can make."
Therasmus had finished recalling his past, the motions of his animated hands slowing to a crawl before he awkwardly placed them behind his back yet again. With thoughts so jumbled it could be difficult to get it all out there, so he was somewhat glad that he had managed to do so without too much of a hitch. Mannfred's words got him thinking yet again, the demon pacing just a few steps back and forth. "Alike yet different. I believe that is an oxymoron, yes. Though I do understand your point. Should archives care to recount these tales I should technically be classified as something other than 'demon', I would think. That might muddy the waters with irrelevant information, however, hm..." he says, off on a tangent again. "But indeed, tethers as well as my prescience guide my actions, I am just as logical as I am 'faithful' as you were inclined to put it."
His gaze met the marines that were looking back at him, the demon only offering a tilt of his head in curiosity as he made note of their condition. They were certainly human, so these were all afflictions they had gained in their travels here. What sort of demon or force would care to cause such afflictions on humans? They still serve the admiral, so it is not exactly making pawns out of the easily swayed souls. Curious indeed...
"My assumption is based on the fact we have had no prior history. Had we met in the past I am certain that your unique aura would be most recognizable through those cracks. Factors such as distance and those who wish to be chasing you from your past are also something to take note of. Most would just assume it was some fluke or anomaly, I believe, yes. But is your disguise enough to hide from your enemies, or your men for that matter, for an indefinite amount of time? Hmm... It is difficult to say."
Cattapoli, On the Road
"There's a lot of things to know, sir. Too much, even, and its something you have to learn as they come up. As much as the expedition is here to learn and explore, the admiral doesn't have the ability to offer a university style lecture, sir. What you see as secrets may just be irrelevant information for now. Thats how it was for us."
They were already getting closer to the city, and they were speeding through the outskirts as the road changed back into stone and cobble. A few guardsmen with lanterns were already stationed along this road to watch the area, and one waved as they drove past.
"The admiral sometimes hands out codexes for convenience. Didn't he issue a volume already for this expedition? I remember where they were only a dozen pages long."
---
A jeep of humans had driven past not long ago, and it was clear the night was wrapping up. Most importantly, the consul was safe and back in good hands. Everyone climbed back into their vehicles - Nita into the wagon, Vunor back into the jeep with Fawnstar - and they both set off back towards the capital. The jeep kept speed with the slower wagon as they drove along the road. In the distance, the flames down at the docks seemed to be growing less intense, though a core segment was still burning. The docks in the immediate vicinity of the blast were already destroyed.
Cattapoli, Main Avenue
The guns ceased fire. An almost stunned silence had fallen among everyone who was left nearby, many of the guardsmen unsure on how to approach the situation. The floors of the apartment building were riddled with bullets and there was no signs of life within. Some guards were talking hotly among themselves with swords drawn. Three sailors and two marines from the Revenant arrived and looked around the scene in bewilderment. The marines split off to talk to the beastfolk, while the three sailors walked up to the Gothian line.
"What the hell happened here?" One of them asked, looking at the scorch marks and burned Gothians while also peering uneasily up at the apartment building.
---
Torsson, Kaspersen, Norrys, and his two goons had already peeled off and were entering the apartment. The bottom floor cafe didn't take too much damage, but plenty of stray rounds from wild firing had ended up down here. Bottles and plates were smashed to pieces, and the plaster down here was ruined. The wooden bar was splintered in some places and a few cowering beastfolk were trapped behind it, covering their heads as the men moved past.
The stairs leading up to the second floor were partially blocked by a dead guardsmen, an Agios, who had been shot twice. He must have been at the top of the stairs when the shooting started. Moving past him and onto the second floor revealed a grimmer scene - about eight or so dead beastfolk in the main hallway by the windows, who had earlier been looking out of them when the commotion outside was growing. Most were half clothed in cloaks and nightgowns. Some doors leading to their small apartments were crooked open, and a few moans from others who were wounded or dying could be heard. On the third floor, it was a similar situation. More dead beastfolk who had been caught in the gunfire. Finally, the roof was next and they carefully made their way up the last set of stairs.
The roof was deserted. A satchel had been left at the corner of the building, damp from another broken bottle within, and it had apparently been dropped or tossed away when the Gothian's started shooting. At the corner angle of the roof where the Omaen had been, they had ducked back when the shooting began and must have simply ran off and hopped to another roof - and kept going. The small ledge which surrounded the roof at that corner was torn up from bullets, but as it was brick up here it served as better protection than the plaster walls on the lower floors.
All around them were other buildings the assailants could have fled to. There were no fire escapes, but some buildings had back entrances that they could have jumped down on and taken to the streets safely.
Cattapoli, Alleyway
The jackal-vulkaine grunted as he stared down at the cultist, and his nose flared as he glanced over at Graves. "The only use I see in him is testing the sharpness of my blade. Do as you wish with him," the guard said, turning away and stalking further into the smokey alley. The cultist hissed back but didn't try to run, not with all the people around.
Cattapoli, Dagger Rock
"Among my own crew and marines, I don't need to hide myself. They all know what I am to varying extent. Some of the newer recruits still think I am a sorcerer, but in time they'll learn the truth. The veterans have ways of being persuasive, and most are... accepting. Not all, of course, but that has never been much of an issue," Mannfred explained.
"Naturally, the biggest issue is concealing myself from other demons and entities - and the rest of the expedition. My plans have been thoroughly tested by Raum's ploys. By this point they should have still been partially unaware of the circumstances of the mission. They weren't ready to know. My fault for not being ready for such a situation, but I must admit I did not expect my credibility to be a target of attack. Regardless, my efforts of disguise remain sufficient for now."
Some of the marines were stowing gear on the remaining jeep, and it was evident about half of them would be marching back as they wouldn't all fit on the single jeep. Mannfred motioned for Therasmus to get aboard the vehicle as four marines joined them, the others forming up into a small platoon.
"Its time for us to return. For tonight, you'll be aboard my vessel. Your introduction to the rest of the fleet will occur tomorrow, along with the vessel you wish to serve aboard."
"Fortunate indeed that you have allies to trust. I myself have been weary to surround myself with others, be they thralls or those who pledge their loyalty to me. Many benefits, I believe, to working alone. Hm, though strength in numbers is always a factor, yet it is impossible to be betrayed if you never give people the opportunity to be close to you. Benefits and drawbacks, yes." he surmised, only shooting occasional glances to the marines at this point. "I have been subject to many cults and such surrounding both myself and the futures I see, though when things grew too... cumbersome, I was one to cut off such links. Or perhaps create new ones entirely? Hm."
Therasmus nods yet again, human face smirking as he gets back on the subject. "Sounds splendid. I will do my best to make a better impression than I did moments before. Though I think many of the fleet will spread word about my true nature at this point. It is of little matter, for I was content with foregoing the use of this illusion from the start but... your insistence did persuade me to use it. Again, irrelevant at this point." he says with a wave of his hand. "I will be happy to meet with the rest of your, in any case."
"The admiral sometimes hands out codexes for convenience. Didn't he issue a volume already for this expedition? I remember where they were only a dozen pages long."
"Yes. He did. I'm quite sure a few important details have been left out intentionally, though. But that's a topic that will need to be discussed with the admiral himself tomorrow." stated Krantz, finally. After that, he went silent, peering out into the night at the soldiers as they passed by them.
Ephraim nodded at the medic, before turning his gaze towards the sea once more.
"Alright, we'll make one more quick round to see if we haven't missed anyone, just in case, and then we'll head on over to the Revenant," Ephraim explained, as he steered the Magpisk to do just that.
"I just hope the homeless, if any got caught in this mess, are fine," he sighed aloud, sharing his empathies for his furry peers, if there were any.
Torsson cursed. "Shit!" He looked at the other roofs and then at the satchel left behinz. Torsson grabbed it, searched it and shook his head. "What a mes." EventuallyTorsson and Kaspersen walked down the stairs and out onto the street. Torsson waved at the guardsmen and the marines from the Revenant.
"The attacker escaped. All that was left was this," said Torsson as he handed over the satchel to the guardsmen. He shook his head. "There's several people still alive in there. Urgent medical care is required." He studied his own men, of which four had been badly burned.
"I need to tend to my own people."
---
Kahleen walked from one edge of the dock to the other. She tried looking for Vice Admiral Dobbs but deemed the task impossible as there was simply too many people at the docks. Her pointed ears attracted some whispers from the growing crowd watching the final stages of the firefighting effort.
She ignored that attention however. It was nothing new.
With Dahl following closely behind, with his hood masking his face, Kahleen walked up to the same group of marines from the Revenant which she had spoken with before.
"The situation seems to be under our control. My men and I will depart soon."
Tobey's expression changed yet again, this time yet again to one of intrigue. He leaned back in his chair and pulled an empty page out of his notebook.
"Go on." He calmly said as he handed the paper to Andria.
---
Norrys swore as he looked around the rooftop, the assailant having escaped them easily.
He stormed down the stairs and into the street, zoning in on one of the marines that were talking to one of the cattan guards
"Where's the admiral?" he interjected, with the voice of a man who clearly had little to no patience left in his being.
Cattapoli, On the Road
The jeep continued along through the city, passing guardsmen and stationed marines or sailors at various intersections. It was well past midnight by now and the excitement of the fire had died down enough that many citizens had returned to their homes, though some still lingered in the streets. More than a few taverns that were usually closed at this time were open and full of raucous beastfolk. Volunteers and fire teams still remained at the docks, clearing away goods and cargo from the path of the fire, but the efforts of everyone involved in keeping it contained was finally paying off. At times the blaze threatened to break containment, but the chance of that now seemed impossible. Blackened concrete and charred docks were slowly being retaken from the intense flames, and aside from a number of the piers and some small warehouses, no major structure had been burned down.
Passing a checkpoint, the jeep came to a stop at an area of the docks that was acting as a headquarters for the fire fighting efforts. A triage center had been set up on one block, and several dozen wounded humans and beastfolk were laying out and being treated. Another dozen or so bodies were covered entirely with blankets.
Small skiffs and dinghy craft were bobbing along the water near the headquarters, where men and supplies were being ferried back and forth. Krantz, Varadi, and Fontaine could get a ride back to their ships from here.
---
Elsewhere on the docks, some of the sailors and marines from the Revenant exchanged words with Kahleen and Dahl.
"Aye, things are shaping up for the better. We'll handle the rest and pass it off to the locals."
Cattapoli, Ephraim
The Magpisk made another course over the bay near the docks, making sure no one else was left in the water. Thankfully, it seemed everyone had been rescued. It was uncertain if any homeless had been caught up in the blaze, but Ephraim knew that it was a possibility even if few other people considered it. In the Old World many of the destitute were often forgotten, and blazes like this that took up old abandoned buildings could kill numerous homeless - but no casualties were ever reported.
Sailing back over the bay, the Magpisk made for the Revenant where numerous sailors were already on deck near the back and loading and off loading skiffs. Seeing Ephraim arrive with wounded, they readied a small elevator on the side to place the wounded onto stretchers and bring them up. One sailor tossed Ephraim a hot thermos which had a small cup attached to the top.
"Some coffee if yer going to be workin' all night!" The man called out with a wave.
Cattapoli, Main Avenue
Three sailors and two guardsmen approached Torsson, the beastfolk looking unhappy and the humans looking not too far off.
"You people just lit up a fucking apartment and didn't even get the guy you were shooting at? Fucks sake," one of the sailors muttered, eying the shot up building. "What a fucking mess. How many people did you kill in there?"
Both of the guardsmen spoke angrily in their language, one of the sailors speaking back haltingly in their tongue to try and calm them down. He took them aside and kept talking with them, leaving the other two sailors with Torsson and Kaspersen - who were already moving on to attend to their own wounded.
"I'm not defending that idiot," one of the sailors said privately to the other, taking his beret and crushing it in his hands. "This shit wouldn't fly even among Pavlovians. Who the fuck opens fire on an apartment? Looks like the bloody Fifth Street Massacre."
The other man stroked his goatee, frowning. "Its pretty messy. Yeah. I think the admiral will be pissed, same with the consul. Come on, lets get some lads to help out the wounded inside. The Gothian's clearly have themselves covered."
On the other side of the street, one of the two marines who had been talking with the beastfolk this entire time turned to look at Norrys as the man approached.
"Admiral Mannfred is away on mission, at least as of an hour ago he was. I'm sure you all will be hearing from him soon enough," he added, matching Norrys' impatient expression.
Veranhal, Mariner's Boon
Andria quietly took the paper, eying Tobey over, before she took up the pen and held it firmly in her hand. She stared at it for a moment... before quickly lashing out with it, stabbing it into Tobey's arm. She darted up from the table, crawling up over it and making for the door to his cabin. She fumbled with opening it for a moment, but she finally got it open and dashed out into the hallway.
The Heran was intent on escape, and she would make to dart past anyone she came across and hop overboard if possible. She was nimble and quick, but not very strong.
Catching the hot thermos, Ephraim looked at it for a brief moment before looking back up at the sailor, eyes sparkling as a result of this generous action. He saluted him, and aloud said::
"Thank thee kindly, mister!" he shouted in a gleeful manner. He placed the thermos somewhere aboard the Magpisk before joining the effort of helping the wounded onto stretchers. After all was said and done, Ephraim, Gawain, Lanzo and Dagobert waved farewell to the Revenant and moved back to the sea. Dagobert was the first to pour some coffee into the small cup, seemingly having already decided not to rest for the night. He passed the thermos and the cup to Lanzo, before he asked a critical question:
"So, now what?" a question no one really anticipated, with Lanzo concentrating on the thermos, Gawain being the silent type that he is, and Ephraim looking anxious but chipper. Dagobert chuckled a tad, realizing the awkwardness of the situation.
"How about we head over to the shore then? I'm sure they'd be glad to have a few more hands helping with the aftermath," Dagobert suggested. Before Ephraim could give his thoughts, Lanzo finished his cup and spoke up, whilst handing a cup of coffee over to the vagabond.
"Yeah! And maybe we can check on the homeless too! Maybe even get some to join us!" Lanzo said excitedly, not hiding the fact that he just wanted to interact with the people of the islands. Ephraim drank his cup as he steered, as he wasn't doing any major movements that required precision. Finishing up with a sigh of satisfaction, he looked at the three on board.
"Might as well head for shore. I mean, we're not about to sleep anytime soon, and we'd be of more use out here!" he answered the suggestion, as he handed over the cup back to Lanzo and steered the Magpisk towards shore.
It didn't take very long for Krantz and Váradi to make their way back to the Eisenstrasse from the jeep, the airship moving down low enough to deploy the cargo elevator to fetch them from a skiff. As they patiently waited for the elevator to rise back up into the zeppelin, Krantz turned to Váradi.
"You saw his hands, right? When he killed those cultists. And his face. A little sharp for someone that's supposed to be human. The marines also wouldn't allow any light near his face, either." said Krantz. Váradi nodded, glancing to him. "Mannfred's far from human." he muttered in response.
Krantz nodded. "We have much to discuss in the morning with the Admiral."
------
Minutes later, Krantz had returned to the bridge. "Welcome back, Captain. As you can see below, the dock was lost in an explosion. Ephraim and Gawain are down below helping with the survivors." said von Strauss, looking back to him as he strolled across the lower bridge towards her at the observation windows.
"So I've heard. I also heard from another officer that you've recruited some of the locals to serve with us. Kobolds." he responded, stepping up next to her and peering down at the docks below.
"Indeed, sir. They'll prove useful, I'm sure. Some of them do not speak the same language as us, but they'll learn soon enough. I also plan to have them taught how to use firearms as well as our battle tactics." stated von Strauss. Krantz nodded, glancing to her for a moment.
"...I'll assume command. You should get some sleep." he finally said, turning to face her. Von Strauss nodded, and gave a quick salute. "As you wish, Captain. I'll check on the Kobolds and get them assigned to their bunks."
Krantz nodded, before returning his attention to the situation below as von Strauss departed.
------
"Fucking finally." said Váradi, as he shed his coat and dress clothes. He tossed it all onto the dresser in his quarters, choosing to deal with them in the morning. He simply wanted to sleep. That wine from earlier was kicking his ass.
Once he was down to his boxers and undershirt, he clicked off the lamp on the table across from his bunk before slipping beneath the covers.
As he drifted off to sleep, the cross that usually adorned his forehead in blood was missing. He had completely forgotten about it, due to his drowsiness.
-----
After dealing with the Kobolds, assigning each of the sixteen lizardmen and women a bunk and making sure they were comfortable for the night, she returned to her own quarters. She quietly shut the door and locked it, before breathing a sigh followed by a chuckle. It was time to talk to her favorite doll!
She had so much to tell him about the night, but first and foremost she needed to know something. The location of the first mask piece! She simply had to find it, and the sooner she did the better! Once she had changed into her sleeping attire, she simply plopped down into her bed. Nighty-night!
Torsson ignored the comments made by the Revenant marines. You would've done the same if someone tried to torch your men.
He relayed his orders and soon enough the Gothians were loading up. Torsson would drive the damaged recon vehicle himself back to the Raven and Falcon while the wounded were loaded up inside the second recon vehicle.
---
Back at the docks Kahleen ordered her men to regroup at the vehicles. She did a quick headcount to make sure that none of her soldiers were left behind. Once that was done the soldiers loaded up. Kahleen's jeep took the lead as the convoy departed from the docks.
Eventually both convoys would meet up at the landing craft. After a brief report from Torsson the two convoys loaded up onboard their respective crafts.
---
Jäger woke up with a twitch. He looked around his room and spotted Yarah still sleeping in his bed. He looked down at the book infront of him and realized that he must've fallen asleep after finishing his journal entry describing the entire day in detail.
He sighed and pushed the journal aside, alongside his pen and the small inkwell. Jäger looked towards his bed and the slender figure in it. For a second he was tempted he lie down next to Yarah. He then reminded himself of Yarah's threat to claw his heart out.
Wilhelm shook his head. Tempting fate rarely grants rewards worth the risk.
He reached underneath his chair and pulled a lever, making the back of the chair move back while the support for the legs folded upwards. Jäger sighed and closed his eyes.
Fontaine waited patiently on the docks for his me to come back. The burning smell and ash filled the air. 'What did we miss? Locals not being happy with us or one of our own setting himself on fire out of madness?' He leaned on his cane and observed the clean up. A quick look towards the road revealed Grave's group returning from their task. Fontaine frowned as he got a closer look at his underlings. Some looked fine, but others looked bruised and beaten. Others were being carried due to their injuries. And his enforcer was trailing behind a robed figure with a gun pointing to it's back. Those robes looked like the ones at the cave.
"What happened to you?"
"Local cultists." Graves gave a answer with little hesitation "We were told to look for any suspicious types in the alleys. Found this group of robed upstanding citizens and then they attacked us." He pushed the cultist "This one survived, figure we can use him."
"We'll see if interrogation can get us something. Leopold can later dissect him. He would like to see how these people look and work on the inside."
The group climbed on board the skifs. It wouldn't be long until they were back on board. Where they would prepare for the morning.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=urV8MIcLDFk
Masterson stood guard outside of Tobey's quarters, calmly eating a sour apple with greedy bites.
Suddenly there was a scream from the Captains room and the heran slave suddenly came bursting out. He didn't have time to react before he showed him aside and ran out onto the bridge's balcony.
Tobey shuffled into the doorway, clutching the arm with the pencil still sticking out out of it. "What are you gawping at, you idiotic welp!? AFTER HER!"
Masterson pulled out his pistol and ran out onto the balcony and could just spot Andria jumping over the railing onto the main deck before he could shoot at her.
Andria ran and breathed like possessed. At first she could hear a single shrill whistle blow, which turned into several. Lights began to scan the entire ship, and the sounds of voices and running footsteps could be heard all over.
She tried to move carefully in the shadows, but once she was spotted by one of the lanterns she knew she had to make a desperate run for it.
All lights were shining on her back and she ran for her life towards the railing to jump over board.
Time seemed to move at an almost standstill as she got closer and closer to her jump.
But suddenly she felt a nasty tug around her neck, and was abruptly pulled to the deck. Someone had thrown a lasso around her neck and she squirmed on the floor as she gasped for air.
Soon enough she was surrounded by terrifying faces, with glistening blades and the barrels of guns as empty as the bottomless abyss.
She tried to scream, but two of the crew members pulled a cloth into her mouth to gag her.
All she could do was lay there, terrified. The crew dispersed slightly as Tobey emerged among them, his face far from the emotionless mask he usually wore.
Tobey was positively seething with anger.
"I'd normally say that you've exhausted your usefulness." he said with a voice dripping with contempt, "But I've still got a use for you."
"Take her to the cell."
Andria wanted to scream and fight, but could do neither. She was swallowed up in the mob as they laughed mockingly. She tried to look at their faces, but she only saw distorted grimaces and terrifying grins cloaked in shadows from the little light on deck during the night.
The only on she could see was Tobey, standing determined and wild eyed at his spot. But soon even he faded away as Andria passed out of fright.
Cattapoli, Revenant
Viktor Mannfred quietly entered his cabin once he had returned to the dreadnought. The incident at the docks with the fire was well under control now, and a contingent of marines and sailors from several ships were remaining on shore overnight to ensure the efforts continued smoothly. There had already been numerous cultists killed or captured as they launched smaller and rasher attacks in various parts of the city, but property damage was ramping up to be the big casualty for the night. Still, there had been the report of an incident where human soldiers had ended up shooting a residential building, killing and wounding dozens. Even had the target been apprehended, it would have been a nightmare. Now it was simply a travesty that he would have to deal with in the morning.
The admiral stripped off his tattered coat and laid it on his bed, along with the rest of his dirty and torn clothes. He had plenty of other clothes to choose from, but it was another small inconvenience to have some of his apparel be so thoroughly ruined.
He had a deep gash on his left side from where the demon had slashed at him, and then dug its claws in. There were numerous other slashes and stab wounds across his arms and torso, but the only serious appearing wound was the one on his flank. He eyed it wearily, running a hand across it and watching the dried blood flake away while some of the fresher blood slowly retreat back into his flesh. It already stung and itched terribly so, but regeneration was never comfortable. A considerable scar would be left behind.
His stomach convulsed briefly and he stood still, least he let the sudden nausea take him. Blood swelled up in his throat and it burned his tongue, and he could feel something else. He reached into his mouth and pulled out a long and thin red string.
"That much damage, I see..." he sighed, grabbing a cloth and wiping his bloody mouth on it. He took another couple steps before he convulsed again, more violently this time, and he fell to the floor. He coughed up more blood as his hands began to tremble, cracking loudly as they morphed into sharp inhuman claws. His eye turned back into a black orb, as he had only been able to hide it for a short time when he reached the docks earlier.
Cursing, he fought against the changes as more string ended up in his mouth, forcing him to spit it aside. His skin along his upper back and shoulders began to prickle like hot needles were being forced into him.
"Is it finally time?" A figure asked above him, lurking into his vision. The creature was tall, with the pale porcelain skin so common to those with an affinity for blood magic. However, their hair was jet black and fell neatly around the face, which was sharp and arrogant like a sneering nobleman's visage. Their eyes were the same as Mannfred's, with one black orb visible while the left eye was simply a blank socket, surrounded by vicious scarring. A double set of horns emerged from the skull - two long and pointed horns jutting upwards from the forehead, while the sides were dominated by large curling ram-like horns. The most striking feature was the large set of black wings the figure had sprouting from their back, shrouding their neck and shoulders in dark feathers.
"How much more can you take?" It asked again, revealing sharpened teeth as it grinned. "All those little bindings are coming undone. You know its what you want, yet you fight so much against it. Perhaps you'd like me to reach in and... snip the remaining string?" The creature brought up a clawed hand and clicked two talon-like fingers together.
"N-no," Mannfred coughed, "I won't have my efforts undone by you of all people."
"Don't be dull. There's so much more we can do if you simply get rid of those silly little bindings," the figure snapped back. "No more hiding your power. You show a fraction of what you are capable of, and then you end up laying here on the floor."
They knelt beside Mannfred and examined his wounds and halted transformation. "I wonder how the others would feel, seeing you this way. Another sorcerer's trick? An illness, perhaps? You can't hide it forever, though I'll admit you've been doing well. But you've been living as a doll for centuries now. Isn't it time to let yourself be free?"
Mannfred spat out more blood and twine, and then took in a deep, rattling breath. "It isn't time for that. Not yet."
"You'll end up like Shalo, or even worse, Farryn if you keep this up," the figure sighed. "And it will all have been your fault. Not even a wound dealt by an enemy - but by yourself instead."
The admiral said nothing, instead simply focused on taking a few more labored breaths.
"Oh, fine, be that way," it said petulantly. However, after a moment, the figure softened up. "I suppose it must be bad if even you are trying to breathe again. Here, hold still."
The winged creature slipped one arm under Mannfred's back, helping him up, before sliding another under his legs and lifting him up from the floor. Splatters of blood, and even a couple of black feathers, remained behind where he had been laying.
Gently, the creature set Mannfred down in his bed. It brushed away his ragged clothes and placed a pillow under his head.
"I'll summon Farryn. If I came near the bindings, you know I'd break them without a second thought."
By now, Mannfred had closed his eyes and stopped breathing again. "You're too kind," he whispered wryly.
The figure took Mannfred's hand, holding it in a way so that the fingers were interwoven together. A shimmer of light appeared in the air beside the bed. A skull with red gemstone eyes drifted out of this light and came to a stop after a second as white fog began to appear from the floor and streak up to the skull. The fog consolidated and became opaque, and gradually a human form emerged from it. Farryn.
Farryn glanced between Mannfred laying on the bed, and the figure kneeling beside it and clutching his hand.
"It must be bad if you're here," Farryn said with a sigh. "Not to worry, I can help him. Sooner or later, these bindings won't work anymore. You know that, don't you Calcifer?"
Mannfred's eyes opened a fraction. "I know. If all goes well... I won't need to do this to myself anymore."
Sweet Dreams
Von Strauss
Anticipation made it difficult to sleep. She had a feeling her newfound god would be visiting her again tonight, so she forwent the blood cross on her head and simply settled into bed. The excitement of a visit with Veritas again made it hard for her to fall asleep easily. More than a few times she would awaken, only to realize she wasn't dreaming. She even had a few false dreams where she felt a presence, or something touching her, only to realize it was her mind playing tricks on her.
Finally, she awoke again, feeling a mixture of desperation and aggravation.
Tack, tack, tack. The sound of little wooden feet running on the floor of her cabin. She glanced up quickly from her bed, yet saw nothing. Von Strauss looked over to her dresser where he had originally appeared, but he wasn't there either. Was this another false dream? Was she just hearing things now?
Something fell onto her bed by her legs.
"Surprise!"
Veritas had somehow appeared over here after running across the floor on the other side of the cabin. The little wooden doll had his arms splayed out wide happily, and his grinning mask was over his face. He excitedly jumped up and down, bouncing slightly on the cot, and spun in circles.
"Wow, what a day! It was so boring until that crazy deer lady showed up and woosh!" As he waved his arms upwards, there was a little spark of flame. "Fire everywhere! Everyone was so surprised. All those little people waking up, expecting to sleep, and then suddenly there are lots of loud noises outside! Ah, I love surprises. The more unexpected the better. Even confusion is a type of surprise, don't you know? And there was a lot of that. Its sad some people became crispy little corpses, but a death like that is the greatest surprise of all!"
He jumped up into the air again and then crossed his legs, so that when he fell back onto the blanket he did a little roll. Carefully, he climbed atop of Von Strauss' leg and balanced himself on her shin.
"I just wanted to say hi again, but I also saw your thoughts. I'm happy you are still trying to help me. And lucky us - you're going to just the right place. Mister Mannfred is going to take everyone to Nadesh. Pretty island, scary and mean people. They have part of my mask. Locked up in a little box, inside of a box, inside of a box. And the lock burns my little hands," he said sadly, showing Von Strauss his tiny wooden mittens.
"Anyways, the box inside of a box is inside a box called the Citadel. Its big and has lots of fun toys inside of it, but also lots of sharp pointy things and even angrier people. They call themselves Inquisitors! They aren't a lot of fun. They're expecting Mister Mannfred, which means thats not a surprise at all!"
He jumped off of her leg, landed poorly on the cot, and then tumbled over the side of the bed and onto the floor with a little thunk. Suddenly, he reappeared by her side on the bed.
"Surprise again!"
Veritas crawled back along the bed and then he clutched his head, coming to a stop.
"Ouchie... my head hurts. Oh... oh, there are some scary people nearby. I better leave before they catch me and put me in jail!"
He hopped back up and started running for the edge of the bed again, and he leaped off into the air. "Bye-bye!"
The thunk of him hitting the floor never happened, and as Von Strauss looked around the room, she would realize now she was awake. Veritas was already gone.
---
Varadi
The music from the orchestra was rather enchanting tonight, and the banquet hall was packed with colorful and wealthy guests. Bachelors and ladies in waiting exchanged glances with each other from across the hall, all the while chatting among themselves and laughing at bawdy jokes. A long table covered in a satin cloth stretched along one section of the wall, and it was covered in delicacies and enticing snacks. Hundreds of wine glasses were stacked at one end of the table, but they were gradually being chipped away as guests snatched up a glass and sought out some wine. From the looks of it, the Emperor had opened up the private reserves of the palace. A dozen servants were pouring wine out to empty glasses while some workers in tuxedos carried in some more casks.
High up on the wall, flanked by elaborate wreathing and circled in powerful electric lights was the flag of the mightiest empire in the Old World - Ungria. An honor guard of twelve men stood below the flag, wearing their full ceremonial gear with tall plumed shakos, shining cuirass breastplates, and tall black boots. Each held a sword in their right hand, with the blade resting against their shoulder as they stood absolutely still.
Among the guests were foreign nobles and dignitaries, and plenty of military officers from Brunswick in their red trousers were scatted throughout the crowd, while others from nearby allied nations like Teutonia and Gothia were visble. There were even some guests from Corsou and Albion, and at least one elderly Pavlovian officer in a long white jacket with a tall furred cap was seen having a mirthful conversation with some Ungrian officers.
Varadi wandered the banquet hall alone, observing the finery of high society with a mixture of distaste and longing. What was he even doing here? Had his friends talked him into it? Or did the Emperor request his attendance again? It was difficult to say. Few people paid him any attention, despite him being alone and dressed in his best attire. He didn't even know what this celebration was for, though that was a common thing these days. It seemed like there was a party every other night.
"Oh, Dominik, must you always look so boorish?" A female voice laughed, and he turned to see his older sister, Cornelia, standing among a group of women and men dressed in the richest apparel he had seen tonight. "Really, you're quite the embarrassment." Everyone nearby laughed again.
Varadi realized that he wasn't wearing his dress uniform - he was in his fatigues, which were filthy and dirty from a long day in the field. He could even smell gunpowder and oil on himself.
Still - who were these fools, even his sister, to laugh at him? He had done far more than they ever would in their entire lives. There was no shame in his uniform, and he felt none. Only a growing anger at them for being such useless fawns who did nothing with their lives. They were worthless to the Empire - but men like him were instrumental in its continued existence.
"He thinks of himself as a hero," another voice said mockingly, and he turned around and saw his brother in equal splendor, surrounded by a group of sycophants. "What are his accomplishments? Crawling around in the mud playing soldier?"
His anger flared up again, but in the corner of his vision he could see Krantz through the crowd, smiling and talking to a group of men and women who were utterly intent on listening to whatever he was saying. They smiled and nodded, and laughed at all the right times. A few of the men offered Krantz some wine and cigars, while several women offered him their hand to dance. His dress uniform was pristine and his medals and accolades were displayed for all to see.
Varadi simply stood by himself, covered in mud and sweat. Why was Krantz getting all the attention? He had done just as much, if not more, than he had in the war. He was already taking a step in that direction when a hand took his arm, spinning him around in place once again.
Admiral Viktor Mannfred was smiling at him, holding a glass of red wine and sipping on it casually. "Oh, I didn't expect to see you here. I couldn't help but overhear Krantz mention how much you hate these kind of arrangements."
What was he doing here? He had never met this man before... had he? He was dressed in the uniform of the Brunswick Royal Navy, and he didn't know anyone in service there.
"I was under the impression that you disliked such superfluous gatherings. I would expect a man of your standing to be doing something more useful than just standing around a party. Though I suppose it isn't very surprising, after all. You are royalty. Its in your blood to do these things. How foolish you must feel to think you'd accomplish anything of merit when your bloodline will always overshadow your deeds," the admiral laughed. "Of course, you'll only ever be respected if you actually do something really worthwhile. A few little medals is hardly anything to get worked up over."
He directed Varadi's attention back to Krantz.
"There's a real man. The hero of the Siege of Eissenstrasse. You were there, weren't you? Why aren't they calling you that instead? You're royalty. He isn't. How strange, don't you think?"
How strange indeed. His mind battled with his hatred of his lineage, while also feeling slighted at not being treated as his blood dictated. He had accomplished so much, yet in the eyes of many it was so little.
He needed to do better.
Continued in Part 2...
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