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| >> Campfire Creative >> Other >> Fantasy >> ID #1286029 |   |
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| [Introduction]
For the past half of eternity, absolute good and absolute evil have dominated over all else. Eventually, however, the forces of Heaven and Hell left, shattering the old order irrevokably. Once Heaven and Hell left the mortal races to decide their own destinies, even in the spiritual realms, confusion and chaos arose to fill the void. Hoping to take control of the power vacuum left in the multiverse, new factions and nations have arisen within the past few centuries- each with their own improvised governments to replace Angelic and Demonic law. As these new states struggle to survive and compete to prove their set of laws to be the correct one, the only ones to truly prosper are the criminals and thieves who prey on their corruption. Upon the endless silver seas of the Astral Realms, pirate fleets sail unopposed by any navy, plying their trade and perpetuating the anarchy to fill their own pockets. Unbeknownst to anyone- especially themselves- the desperate crew of one old astral frigate is about to change the course of the history of existence forever. This is the story of the ship called Pandora’s Redemption. The Rise of Mortals: Eons ago, the Eternal War between Angelkind and Demonkind escalated to such a scale that entire planes became vast battlefields of horrors and bloodshed. Within less than a century, the infinitely vast Astral Realm was emptied of all presence of both good and evil. Entire planes were laid to waste, reduced to untamed wilderness. Suddenly aware that their masters had either died in battle or abandoned them, the countless mortal races of the Astral found themselves very alone. Some allowed themselves to devolve into savage animals or brutal barbarians, denying themselves true intellect in favor of primal instinct. Some chose extinction preferable to the absence of definite purpose and lack of any visible higher power to watch over them. But a few, rallied to unity by strong leaders promising not only survival but prosperity, chose to equate crisis with opportunity. Centuries passed. Cities, countries, and empires rose and fell throughout the planes. Now, however, is an age when no civilized country is truly dominant, but all struggle against each other for control. Now is the golden age of the thief, the rebel, and the pirate. The Planes: The ‘planes’ are as much places as they are concepts. The thought, feeling, or concept is, therefore, the plane itself- and can be anywhere from the size of an infinite universe to the size of a small closet. The Plane of Fire, as an example, isn’t simply world where everything is made up of fire. It is the concept of fire- the thought of what fire is in its purest essence and everything that fire is in its elemental ideal. The Plane of Fear is the emotion of fear itself in its purest form. The heaven-like plane called Elysium is made up of the philosophy that it doesn’t matter if one follows the law or their own moral compass, just so long as he does so with the intention to help others and do what he feels is right out of pure love. The hellish plane called Gahenna is made up of the philosophy that survival only comes through dominating others and the weak are meant to suffer. There are no visible borders between the planes, nor can any plane be mapped out in relation to any others. One cannot simply walk from one plane to another. Most, however, can be reached by magick or meditation. Sometimes enchanted portals can be found leading between planes, and some require long ritual ceremonies to access. Some can be reached through more unusual and often complex means. Sometimes to reach a specific place it becomes necessary to die. The Races: Though the number of sentient species- both mortal and immortal- that inhabit the multiverse is nothing less than infinity, the following is a list of the most common and most powerful races of the Astral Planes. This list is only provided to give a basic idea- a participant in this campfire may feel free to create their own race within the bounds of common sense (when in doubt, please ask). The planes are infinite. Note also: Angels are not in included here because they are bound to serve Heaven’s law and thus cannot take on a criminal profession such as piracy. To do so would make them Fallen Angels or Demons. Demons are not included for a similar reason- they must be evil and seek to make others suffer, for to commit any act of love would contradict their natures. Terrans: The most common breed of human, these beings are identical in every way to the humans that inhabit Earth- except that Terrans inhabiting the planes have the potential to become very powerful in the use of magic. They can be found in any plane where it’s possible for them to survive. Stygians: Through the planes of Hell winds the River Styx, which eventually falls to form a vast sea of ice. Bordering this sea is the frozen hell known as Stygia, throne of the Stygian Empire. The Stygians are the second most common breed of human. Don’t bother ever trying to find ones like these on Earth- only Hell could breed beings possessed of such a penchant for evil and death. Demons consider them to be expendable front-line fodder in their war against Heaven, but all other beings consider them to be ruthless oppressors rightly feared. The entire species is obsessed with an eternal unholy crusade to extinguish all life from the planes that refuses to bow down to their demon masters. Stygians look mostly like Terrans except that their skin is always albino- as white as the snow that blankets their homeworld. Their hair can be either black or red (or both), and their eyes are either blood-red or ice-blue. Every Stygian has at least elementary knowledge of necromancy and demon magick. The Zae: These are the third common human breed and the last of them worth mentioning here. Originally from a world called Caer, they came under constant attack from demons who sought to turn their world into a giant war camp. When their heroes and champions in battle defeated demonkind, Hell ordered the Stygians against them. The Zae defeated them, too, and even mounted a failed attack against Stygia itself. Seeking vengeance for millions of lost lives, the entire Zae race invaded Pandemonium- a hell of chaos and madness- and claimed it as their new home. Having left their ruined world of Caer behind forever, they evolved into the race of demonslayers they are today. As they have forged their empire within the depths of Hell itself, the Zae are constantly at war with the armies of the unholy. They believe equate evil with weakness, and thus consider demons- though powerful and fearsome- to in essence be weakness personified. Though most Zae will readily think of Angels as their friends and allies, some angels look down on them because most Zae have trouble understanding such concepts as mercy and forgiveness. Zae for the most part resemble Terrans except that their skin ranges from dark tan to almost black, they have glowing orange eyes that burn like fire in their sockets, and are usually taller, more muscular, and physically hardier. Every Zae is trained from childhood to fight demons. Dreamlings: These are the inhabitants of the Dreamworld and the Nightmareworld, the bringers of dreams. They are lighthearted pranksters who revel in causing mischief, often becoming thieves and outlaws simply for the fun of it. Seldom serious, Dreamlings are both loved and hated for their casual demeanors. Most serve either the Greek god of dreams Morpheus or the Aztec god of nightmares Chach’ahoul. They are vaguely humanoid, tall and slender with small frames. They have silver skin and hair of any color imaginable. Their eyes resemble multicolored whirlpools of light in their sockets. They have no noses or mouths, since they don’t need to eat or breathe. They communicate through images and subconscious symbolism- the same way they send dreams- and feed off of emotional energy transmitted by other races across the planes. They have razor-sharp claws, as well, sharp enough to rend stone. The Dead: As their name implies, these are the spirits of the dead, which have passed on to their respective afterlives to appear- quite suddenly- among the living beings of the Astral Planes. They mainly resemble whatever they did in life, but ghostly and incorporeal. Though a few of them remain sane enough in death to start new ‘lives’ in the planes, most lack the mental lucidity for simple conversation and can communicate only barely if at all. This is either because they are tormented by being tied to Hell, too blissfully apathetic because of Heaven’s infinite love, or broken and confused from being connected to some other place not influenced by either. Fallen Angels: Also known as Dark Angels, these are angels who have broken or turned away from Heaven’s law, yet still abhor Hell’s wickedness and refuse to give in to Demonhood. They are no longer angels, but may still serve the cause of goodness and love in other ways. Most choose to either serve Heaven still in a ‘mercenary’ fashion or to follow their own independent views of what’s good and right. No longer blessed or protected by Heaven’s light, nor enveloped by Hell’s all-consuming corruption, they can be killed as easily as any mortal being. They can be evil, true, but this would set them down the path towards Demonhood- in which all they know is hatred and suffering. They usually resemble humans with glowing eyes and black feathery wings. All other details are more an individual matter, as are the powers they possess. Elementals: Are the manifestations of a basic elemental concept. These may include the four basic elements (earth, air, fire, water) as well as- much more rarely- more abstract elements (electricity, stone, shadow, love, sorrow, apprehension, honor, etc.) All details of appearance, personality, and powers vary depending on the element they embody- which are as limitless as the planes. Animal Spirits: These are, of course, the sentient spirits of animals, such as shamanic spirit guides. They are closely tied to nature, primal instinct, and the typical traits of their species. A Few Rules: 1) This intro was written by neohuman  , but he passed care of this story on to me because he feels I'm a better campfire moderator. If you have any questions, I suggest you go to him, though I'm pretty damn sure I know enough of what he's on about to help, as well. Your characters in this story will be crewmen of Pandora's Redemption, and my character is captain. 2) Write in 3rd person limited, please. For non-English people, that means that you write from the perspective of your character, but in a 3rd person mode. Should your character be named Jack, for example, this would be what I want, "As he watched Sophie walk away, Jack felt the world around him crumble with every one of her steps." 3) Furthermore, my mother is an English teacher (Grammar Nazi might be a better term) and I hold everyone in here to the same grammatic standard. Typos are alright, but if your grammar is horrible, I will first correct it and let you know and, should the problem persist, you're gone. 4) Should your character have magickal ability, please limit it to something that is conceivable and try not to be all-powerful. This campfire is coming from a very Pagan view of magick, not a Harry Potter one; basically, everything is dependent on mental fortitude and focus, with lots of meditation and visualization. And your magickal ability WILL WEAR YOU OUT. If you've ever tried ritual...believe me, it wears you out. That is not to say that you need to sit and focus and meditate every time you want to use your Gift- ostensibly, you've got enough control over at least some aspects to use them instantly. Any questions, ask me. 5) Please put some thought and effort into your additions. If you can't write something worth a damn, tell me and I will skip you. Don't skip yourself because then the person after you doesn't get the "It's Your Turn" e-mail and things just become messed up. Yeah. 6) Basically, that's about it. Y'all know what's going on in the campfire world or we wouldn't be doing this, right? Any questions, drop me (or neohuman ) a line and we'll take care of it. Don't ask about plot, because I'm not quite sure yet what I want to do with this. Which is always best, I feel.7) OH! Bio-blocks first time around. Follow the format of mine and develop to your heart's content. Ooo...7 whole rules! I'm proud of myself. |
 Quaddy  Name: AlexianAge: Appears 27 Gender: Female Rank: Captain of Pandora's Redemption Race: Dark Angel- sent down by mutual decision of herself and Heaven instead of some wrongdoing that stole her Divinity. This makes her a little special. Magickal Ability: Being sent down with the blessings of the Divine Council, Alexian still bears their favor though she has lost her invincibility and many of her Angelic Gifts. As such, she is still tied to the Heavenly plane and can enter/exit it at will, still wields a flaming sword (that she keeps hidden most of the time to fully assimilate into her new self), and can come before the thrones of the Mother and Father without melting into nothingness. As far as Gifts are concerned, she is a Medium of inordinate skill- she can hear the voices of Divinity on the Heavenly plane and even some of the Hellish ones, though she ignores those- but she also has the ability to manipulate the ether around her; she calls it her Force of Will. Appearance: Alexian stands at 5'7 and is a powerfully built woman between her natural build that what she's built up through intense training. She has dark hair that waves down to just below her shoulders, which she either binds tight or leaves loose depending on her mood, and almond-shaped, equally dark eyes that glow when she uses any aspect of her Angelic self. After entering a more mortal form, her beauty was no longer the painful perfection, but she is still astoundingly beautiful due to her Divine heritage. Her features are perfectly proportionate- a straight nose, sultry mouth, wide eyes, with a noble chin and browline, high cheekbones, and otherwise beautiful features. There is a scar that crosses from just under her right eye, across the right side of her nose, and to the left corner of her mouth, but nothing else mars her. As a mortal being, she has a touch more softness to her body; more curvature and feminine roundness than she did as an Angel, when she was all muscle. Like all Dark Angels, she has black wings, but most people don't notice the veins of gold that run through them, the sign of Heaven's favor; she tries to keep people from knowing. There is no way to hide that she is of Angelic heritage, but most just assume that she is yet another Fallen Angel (there are many in these chaotic days), which is what Alexian wants them to believe. Normally, she is found in boots with loose-fitting breeches tucked into them, a free-flowing shirt, with her sword (the flaming one) in a back baldric. Personality: Alexian is a secretive woman; she has to be, or else everyone will find out about her continuing connection to Heaven. She is not an unfriendly individual; on the contrary, she feels that being open, carefree, and fun-loving is a better way to hide her secrets than being strong, stoic, and silent. Though she can be ruthless and a bit of a hardass when it comes to her crewmen and keeping her boat on the seas, Alexian is a really easygoing individual. She loves a laugh and has always been known to be an easy individual to get along with, but Alexian carries the very heavy secret of her Heavenly mission on her soul. Very duty bound, especially with her connection to Heaven, Alexian will to anything to ensure that her mission is completed, even if it means sacrificing the lives of herself and her crew. She keeps that fact a secret from even herself most of the time because it is that willingness to kill innocent people that holds her away from rejoining her bretheren in the Heavenly plane. Alexian's soul is always in turmoil at her separation from Heaven, and sometimes people can see a depth of sadness in her eyes that surprises them. She feels intensely and the weight of her duty is very heavy on her shoulders. Her cheerfulness is more a defense mechanism for herself than anything else. History: Alexian is aeons old, a member of the First Rank, and one of the officers of the Divine Host. She answers only to Michael in terms of Angelic duty, though she has been known to go above him and to the Father on certain cases. Alexian and Gabriel were very close- best friends, even- and she and Michael were even closer, though neither will admit it if you ask them. When it became apparent that the Heavenly and Hellish planes were abandoning the mortals to their own whims, the Mother and the Father decided that one of their own should go down and watch over them and make sure that the Demonic forces didn't continue to sneak into the planes and harm the mortals who lived there. Alexian, being a fine leader, powerful warrior, and loyal servant of the Father, was chosen to be the one to go down. It hurt her to agree to do so, but she was not bound to Heaven by human faith like Michael and Gabriel (or many of the others), so her loyalty to the Father made her decision for her. Sometimes, when she remembers her goodbyes to Gabriel, and especially Michael, Alexian bursts into tears...another thing that perplexes her crew immensely. Alexian has never shared the true meaning or exact details of her mission on the Planes with anyone, but she has been waiting for a long time for the events which will lead up to its culmination. After losing her Divine touch, Alexian fell ill for many a month; the Father ensured that she was taken care of, and then steered her toward a position on Pandora's Redemption. She started out as just a crewman, but moved up through the ranks over many years and eventually ended up as the Captain. When she became Captain, she picked up the crew that she has now; they have sailed the silver seas of the Realms pirating to subsist and making a fair amount of money doing so. Alexian admits that being able to be a pirate is hellishly good fun and it is the only thing that really seems like a positive aspect to her time on the Planes. She loves her crew very much, though she doesn't often admit it to them, and though she yearns to be back in Heaven, she knows she'll miss them when the time comes for her to return. neohuman (Note: I was going to make my character the First Mate, since it seemed at first the only logical thing to do, but thought of an even more important role. Someone else can be First Mate.) Name: Jaxes Vannah Age: 28 Gender: Male Rank: Scholor and record-keeper of Pandora's Redemption Race: Zae Weapons, skills, and magick: Wielding his traditional Zae scimitar and shamanic magicks with equal skill, he is master at neither swordsmanship nor sorcery but can hold his ground in a tussle using both. His true talent, however, is his knowledge of the planes. Wherever he travels, Jaxes will keep his scimitar strapped to his back but a notebook or two close to his side- and most crewmates can't count the number of times they've avoided an ugly situation because of Jaxes' ability to identify a hazardous creature, plant, or place. His chamber is nearly filled with mountains of books on all subjects, and he keeps several journals and notebooks at a time. Due to his heratige, his specialty is knowledge regarding the Hells and the Lower Planes of Demonkind. Appearance: Jaxes is rather short and thin, standing at 5’2 and weighing about 140 lbs. By normal standards, he appears muscular and athletic, but his fellow Zae would consider him frail and weak in appearance. He appears Caucasian but deeply tanned, with fiery glowing orange eyes and long light-brown hair, most often pulled back in a pony tail. His face is longer than it is wide with a pointy nose, and he is very handsome- both in appearance and demeanor- in that charming gentleman-scholar sort of way. Most often, this makes most around him forget that he was raised amongst the brutality of war in the Hells and has spent many years as a fearless pirate. He stands out amongst the rest of the crew mostly for his style of dress, which is traditionally Zae. He wears black demon-hide boots that rise halfway to his knee, steel knee-guards, a quilted battle-kilt, an armored girdle with a reinforced steel plate protecting his groin, and a padded tunic with a loose chain-shirt worn over it. Zae upbringing and pirate experience has taught him to wear such protective raiment at all times, and to always keep his scimitar strapped to his back. Personality: More often than not, Jaxes appears deep in thought, pondering with a very far-away look to him. He is very mild-tempered, calm, and slow to anger. In times of danger, he is usually one of the most silent and composed crewmembers, being well acclimated to the horrors of Tartarus. He’s far from being the most skilled warrior aboard the ship, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be confident and laugh in the face of overwhelming peril. When he snaps back to reality from his usual contemplation, Jaxes is very optimistic and good-natured, able to see the bright side of any situation. He often prefers time alone to time with others, but when he chooses to be sociable, he is usually the one laughing the loudest and smiling the brightest. Most of the crew have difficulty understanding his accent and the fact that his Zae slang mixes with their pirate slang in his speech. More than anything else that can be said about him, however, is his curiosity. He is driven by a compulsive need to understand everything around him, to find answers to every question, and to catalogue anything he may come across when he can’t find it in any of his books. Many would find him downright irritating due to his unrealistic optimism and his never-ending list of questions. He is generally well-liked by the crew, however, if rather misunderstood. He looks up to Alexian as both an excellent captain and companion. History: Jaxes Vannah was born into the small Zae fortress-city of Dahstren, in the gloomy hell-plane known as Tartarus. While the children of other races played and laughed, Jaxes spent his childhood learning to fire cannons at flying furies and being instructed in swordsmanship and exorcist-magick by his schoolteachers. As he got older, Jaxes’ curiosity often outweighed both his fear of demons and his common sense, and he often went exploring alone- which almost always landed him in a situation he needed to be rescued from. As a soldier, Jaxes was often the one his comrades turned to whenever they found a type of demon or monster they had never encountered before; chances were, Jaxes could name the thing, and give details about its strengths and weaknesses. When he turned eighteen, Jaxes was removed from the ranks of the Dahstren militia itself and reassigned by the Zae capitol of Zengheland in the Pandemonian Blightlands. They commanded that he be assigned as a crewman of a small scout ship, a single-masted sloop called the Violet Isabella, with a small crew of eleven, all of them scholars, cartographers, and navigators. Their mission was to navigate the murky seas of Tartarus and report on everything they found- especially Stygian seaports, strategic natural harbors, and coastal ore deposits. What they found were a great many ramshackle harbor towns built by planar pirates as havens from both Zae and Stygian pirate hunters, erected upon the many craggy islands adrift in the slimy seas of Tartarus. Jaxes and his crew knew that they had stumbled upon a very important discovery, as Zae shipping lanes had been plagued by pirate vessels striking from an unknown source more and more in the past months. After returning home and making his report back to Zengheland, Jaxes was reassigned again, this time as head navigator of one of many newly-commissioned pirate-hunting schooners, the Yehevetza. After successfully sinking two pirate vessels within its first four months of service and participating in a massive raid against a pirate seaport during the fifth, the Yehevetza then received orders to hunt down and kill the notorious smoke elemental pirate captain Bartelby the Noose-Slipper. They tracked him for many months through the planes, with Jaxes’ knowledge helping them navigate through unknown waters, but Bartelby always managed to stay one step ahead. Wherever they landed, however, Jaxes and his crew found villages of previously-tormented souls who had ‘been made to see the error of their ways’ by a ‘mysterious smoke elemental pirate’, or villages of people once besieged by demons who had been ‘saved by a wondrous ship captain seemingly made of smoke.’ Upon the chilling, turbulent seas of the plane of Cocytus they found a town of people who ‘had been starving to death in the cold before that smoke elemental Bartelby came and gave us food to survive for months, stolen from the Zae’. It was upon hearing those words from a town of defenseless people deep within one of the worst of the hells that Jaxes first began to question his loyalty to his people. They were hunting a man who had saved innumerable innocents from numerous terrible fates, with the intention to kill him the moment they found him, because he was a pirate and criminal and therefore deserved death regardless of any other circumstances. After several days of introspection, thinking for himself rather than believing the things he had been told his entire life, he concluded that it was his duty as a Zae to do what was right and good and to fight evil to protect the innocent- which, he realized, would be the direct opposite of killing Bartelby. Two days later, the Yehevetzagot the lucky break it had been waiting for and cornered Bartelby’s ship as it attempted to take refuge from a storm in a secluded port. Caught by surprise, Bartelby’s crew barely had a chance to defend themselves before they were boarded and slaughtered to the man by the vengeful Zae crew. Jaxes, unable to bring himself to fight and unable to bring himself to run, could only watch helplessly as the man who had brought hope to so many in the hells was run through by his own people. When next the Yehevetza made port, Jaxes did the only thing his conscience could allow him to do. He left behind his ship, his crew, and his people, going ashore and hiding from them on the island of Takladhomi. He bought passage on a merchant vessel headed for the silver void of the Astral Plane, where he was determined to find a ship manned by a crew of pirates like Bartelby, who defied the law to do what they felt was right. Shortly after, he found the Pandora’s Redemption, and has been a member of its brave crew for the past four years. .Wolfie. Name: CoyoteAge: Unknown Gender: Male Rank: Crewman Race: Animal Spirit of Coyote the trickster Magickal Ability: He is a shape shifter, and as such can see through the illusions of others. He can also be very stealthy when he wants to be, though that may have nothing to do with magick and more to due with his nature. Appearance: Coyote is about 5'9 in height, with a lean build. He appears as though there isn't an ounce of fat on him, but he is not particularly muscular either. While he knows enough to hold his own in a fight and enjoys getting in fights, he is no master of combat. He is generally considered handsome, with golden-brown hair that is always ruffled and unkempt, and eyes that glow an animal gold. He has the grace and quiet footfalls of the animal he was named for, because he is that animal. He is the animal spirit of Coyote, and therefore a shape shifter, but true to his trickster nature, he likes to keep that little bit of information to himself. He doesn't appear to have any scars on his body, though he has plenty of black tattoos. Elaborate designs are tattooed around each arm, with an image of a coyote totem tattooed on his back. He has only one piercing, and that is a silver hoop through his right ear. He typically wears whatever strikes his fancy, though he is almost never seen without a black pirate coat he has claimed as his own. He rarely appears to be carrying weapons with him, though it is almost guaranteed that he has knives hidden somewhere on his person. Personality: He can be very fickle at times, and rarely seems to take anything seriously. He enjoys pushing people's buttons, but usually to make them see truths about themselves. While he can often appear chaotic and destruction, there is usually a good outcome in mind, though rarely anyone can see it but him. His eyes always seem to be sparking as if he has secrets hidden behind them, and he probably does. He has no responsibilities and is happy that way. The pirate lifestyle fits his roguish attitude perfectly, and it often seems as if he travels on the Pandora's Redemption simply because it pleases him. While it often seems as though he does not care for anyone, this is not always the case. He has a mercurial temperament, and is quick to anger, as well as quick to forgive. He usually seems to be carefree and chaotic in nature, but beyond this is a will to inspire goodness, even if it is through tricks and teases. He holds true to the belief that everything is sacred, and nothing is sacred. History: His history is a secret and a mystery to all but himself. He appears young, but occasionally the glint in his eyes reveals him to be much, much old than that first appearance. There are many rumors and whispers circulating both in the waters and on the ship, but whenever asked about his origins he just smiles and says "I am here. Once I was somewhere else," and leaves it at that. Much of the crew is unsure as to whether he is human or something else. Possibly the only one to know what he is, is the captain. The Man With The Golden Pen Name: ErdamonAge: Unknown Gender: Male Rank: Possible crew member eventually Race: Sorrow Elemental Magickal Ability: Erdamon's passion for study and magic has made him into an accomplished wizard, especially in the field of abjuration, meaning magics that protect from and prevent harm coming to himself and others. He prefers to only use magics that disable his enemies when engaging them as opposed to the more destructive attacks, since he seems to detest violence, never mind how common it is in today's day and age. Appearance: Sorrow Elementals come from the Plane of Loss, a bleak, dark, and all around sad realm, and the creatures and elementals that live in this plane reflect the dark atmosphere. Erdamon, like all the sorrow elementals, is a small humanoid at only three feet tall. Sorrow elementals possess the blackest of skin and round heads, with yellow orbs that pass as eyes. Of course, the orbs are only half open, and slanted downward to give the sad appeal that these creatures feel. Narrow stick-like arms end with two large fingers and an opposable thumb. A small black ball at the end of a pointed wire passes for a tail(which helps them balance themselves on their weak legs). Erdamon resembles this general look of the sorrow elemental though his tail is missing, and with traveling amongst humans and other races, he's taken to wearing clothes. He wears a long, navy-blue silk cloth that wraps all the way around his head, revealing only his eyes, and a navy-blue robe that covers the rest of his body, with a gold medallion around his neck. The medallion has a medieval shield with a cross on it, indicating abjuration school of magic that he specializes in. The robe seems a little big as it drags almost a foot behind him on the ground. Personality: Erdamon has no mouth to speak, and yet, he speaks as though any normal person might, though in a high pitched voice. Of course, mouth or no mouth, it does not stop him from being able to express his gloomy opinions about himself and the situations around him. He is one sad, depressed little man, and seems to expect the doom of him and all those in his vicinity to be immediate. He can hardly resist reminding everyone of this fact in dread, though one might get the feeling he approaches everything with a great feeling of dread. On the flip side, his loyalty to Alexian is unquestionable, and would follow her to that, all the while mumbling about it. Due to his limited time outside the Plane of Loss, he has a rather naive sense of the universe around him. All the same, he is a capable spellcaster, though probably not the best effect on morale. History: The Plane of Loss is a small, though exceedingly dark and bleak plane that lasts forever in darkness. All that really lays in the plane is a black mountain, with a circumference of twenty miles and about six miles high. On the surface, and within, races strive and compete with each other. The sorrow elementals are among the physically inferior races that infest this plane, and have been close to extinction for a long time. As such, the sorrow elementals strive to try and leave the plane and make a living elsewhere, though there are few of them left as it is, making the sight of one rather rare. Erdamon was only barely able to escape a mass slaughter on his clan's colony by shadow elementals with his own teleportation spell. His first day outside the Plane of Loss was not a good one; he was mugged within the first five minutes by some brutish thugs, and lost all the belongings and money he had brought with him. He was not sure where or who to turn to for aid, and looking for a place to sleep, stowed away in the cargo hold of Pandora's Redemption. He is currently sleeping in an empty barrel. dance into the fire Name: SinderfeinAge: 28 Gender: Male Rank: Traveller; Labourer, odd job man. Race: Terran Magickal Ability: In keeping with his nature and his beliefs, Sinderfein's powers are frivolous and by and large irreverent in nature. In fact the boundary between natural aptitude and magick appears blurred when it comes to his talents. His music inspires much euphoria and inner peace to most of his listeners, although it would have no effect on an enemy or one who would mean him harm. Only those who wish to let happiness within their souls are affected by it. He is particularly good at remaining hidden, camouflage and sneaking although again not to where he would be invisible in a wide open space. Whilst he does employ wards and cantrips, not even Sinderfein knows if they truly work or if it is merely a certain degree of natural ability. What cannot be doubted is his aptitude with the harp. On some evenings aboard the Pandora's Redemption the soulful music played by Sinderfein has attracted an otherworldly audience, gentle white lights that glow soothingly, who circle the bard, moving slowly around him. What they are he does not know, although the only time he truly feels at peace within himself is in their company. Appearance: Sinderfein is of an average height, standing at about six feet tall even, with rich brown eyes and chocolate coloured hair, more often than not the only trace of which can be seen peeking out as a fringe underneath a heavy hood. His features are quite angular and sharp, with a pointed chin and nose, although the quirk in the side of his lips that appear to be a permanent feature do much to soften his face. He wears two layers of clothes, one of leather armour and atop that, heavy cloth drawn tight over his body. Apart from his harp that he often has slung over his back, Sinderfein is never without his short sword or crossbow – quite a contradiction for a follower of a god of peace. Personality: Friendly without revealing too much, Sinderfein's character is as balanced as his skills and contributions to the crew. Whilst he is talkative and outgoing, he also has the sense of someone who is holding something back and is a little introverted in certain situations. Determined yet unsure, he seems confident and determined in those matters that seem to affect him directly or that he has a passion for, but indifferent or reluctant to decide on courses of action that are of little interest or have wider consequences. He certainly seems very anxious not to be officially tied down to Pandora's Redemption and has taken a role as something of a labourer on board the ship, doing any manual tasks that are required, which appears to fit his work ethic if not entirely his build. Sinderfein seems in his element when he comes into contact with either children or people who has a predisposition to having fun. Following what he believes is his gods mandate, Sinderfein encourages merry making and light heartedness wherever he goes. Having served alongside the Zae, Sinderfein feels a certain admiration for them and a sense of gratitude, as his mentors and tutors in the way of war, as well as a lingering resentment that the demon hunters turned his homeland into a battleground. He places little real faith in angels and since his experience at the hands of the Stygians, places very little trust in the talents of others, preferring to shoulder the responsibilities that he feels are important on his own. History: Whether his nature gave rise to his wandering spirit, or his wanderlust dictated his nature seems irrelevant as Sinderfein is very much a vagrant at heart. He is unsure of his birth place, although the little research he has done throws up several possibilities. His parents were wanderers much like him, so he might have been born in any number of locations, but based on his name the sages willing to help him have thrown up two possible locations. Being a bastardisation of 'Cinder' and with similar birth names chosen by its inhabitants, the Plane of Fire has been one suggestion, whereas other learned scholars have pointed, ironically, toward the Plane of Loss as “Sin” is a word often used in names and by some of the races of the plane. That said, with his parents penchant for the whimsical, his name could have as much relevance to his birthing place as a Stygian's contribution toward the peace process. Whilst it is something that interests him, Sinderfein has done little lately to discover his place of birth, perhaps writing it off as a mystery that he will never reach the bottom of. Much of his youth was taken up by travelling with his parents, going from port to port of the inhabited cities as well as some far more dangerous locales. As a result, by the age of thirteen upon their arrival at the Plane of Frivolity, Sinderfein had seen much more than many his age, both bad and good. Although having been there for only a few days by the time that his parents began the preparation to move on, Sinderfein announced that he was staying. His mother and father did little to try and persuade their son otherwise and left him there with their blessing, glad that he had found a place to call home. Sinderfein spent several blissfully happy years there, enjoying what was for all intents and purposes the barren landscape and City of Tents which he gladly embraced for the sense of freedom and the electric feeling of joy that coursed through the plane. It was then that Sinderfein took up worship of the god Lono, a fertility and music god and one of the pantheon worshipped there including Bacchus, Athena, Bastet, Belun, Bikeh Hozho, Cocomama, Quan-Yin and Xochipilli to name but a few. Shortly after his fifteenth birthday, the Stygians invaded. Nobody really expected the war to come to the Plane of Frivolity, a place devoid of any real resources or tactical merit but fighting for the pure pleasure of it and occupying land for its own sake, the Stygians advance was swift, bloody – and irresistible. Knowing that they faced a quick and easy task they allowed many of its inhabitants to flee into the mountainland which is where Sinderfein headed. Where the Stygians go, the Zae soon follow and the original inhabitants of the plane soon reluctantly found themselves a new ally in the form of the red skinned demon hunters. Caught between the two factions, those who were able quickly took to fighting the enemy, often helping the Zae by employing devastating hit and run tactics designed to weaken the Stygian advance before melting away into the mountains. Sinderfein became one of the founding members of his unit helping to soften up the forces of Hell alongside Joy Elementals and Boon Masters. After close to a year of aiding the Zae, the original plane inhabitants realised that their cause was hopeless and the battle an unending one. Leaving the ancient enemies to fight over the hollow land, they left and spread themselves amongst the planes, each one of them taking some small part of the plane with them. Since that time, Sinderfein's wanderlust has returned yet his devotion to the more frivolous side of life has grown stronger, along with his skill with weapons and his dedication to Lono. Travelling the planes and the spaces in-between them, he spreads the joy that all those who once experienced on the Plane of Frivolity – of whom he always makes time to visit in most of the places that he finds himself visiting - still hold dear to their hearts in an effort to keep it alive in some small way. Times may be dark, but there is always room for happiness and to be thankful for the gifts that we do have, a belief that Sinderfein is desperate to cling onto. Quaddy The silver waters of the Astral sea lapped playfully along the sides of the ship, calm and smooth as the skies arching to the horizon; jewels of light reflected the suns above, sparkling and disappearing with every eddy and wavelet that broke the serenity of the water plane. Dolphins, all children of the First Dolphin, frolicked along the surface, periodically breaking into flips and cheerful calls as fish schooled in all directions and, above, birds flocked in a mirror of their subaquatic counterparts. Along the shores of the terran-held landmasses, children played and laughed, enjoying the refreshing coolness of the waters. No wind blew, slowing ship progress to that which muscle or magick could procure, and the heat was unbearably heavy; any being of sense had long retreated indoors to escape its dangerous oppression or, like the children, sought refuge amongst the water's relief.Pandora's Redemption was a ship sailed by fools, pirates all, and as reckless as the realms were eternal. None of them hid from Helios and Amaterasu as the two suns raced across the sky toward nightfall and refuge with the Three Sisters of the Night. Under their fiery gazes, the crew worked tirelessly, poring over maps and consulting astrolabe and chart, plotting course for their next job. Some tapped into their magickal abilities to keep the ship in motion amongst the dead winds, while still others labored to keep the ship and its crew in tip top shape. Alexian, former Angel of the First Rank and now captain of the frigate Pandora's Redemption, leaned against the bow of her ship, gazing out at the waters as her resident record keeper and ship scholar interpreted the charts in a deep, clear drone. Her deep eyes stared into something beyond the dolphins, though they grinned and waved at her in their play, not listening to Jaxes though what he said was very important. Black wings nestled amongst her shoulders, though the tips of their feathers reached around her legs as if imitating a blanket, rustling in the oh so slight breeze of the ship in movement. Lost in her thoughts, Alexian reached into the images of her past, into the veil of memory and loss. "Alexian!" Gabriel smiled, seeing her first, and ran to take her into his arms. "You've returned from your training with the Greeks!" Kissing her hair, Gabriel gripped Alexian tight, ignoring the press of her baldric against his arms, lifting Alexian and twirling her excitedly. "I've missed you." Laughing, Alexian pounded lightly at Gabriel's shoulders. "Let me down, idiot." The larger Angel ignored her plea and continued to spin her around, ecstatic at her arrival in the Angelic Court. Alexian's laugh trickled into a shrieking giggle, most unlike the warrior she had trained so hard to be. "Put me down, Gabe, damnit." "Oh, alright. But only because you-know-who is coming and I don't want to get into trouble with the Leader of the Divine Host." Gabriel put Alexian down, his grin becomine a more sincere smile of genuine happiness. "Come and see me after you and Michael have whispered loving words into one another's ears. I want to hear how Athena and Ares are as trainers." Alexian rolled her eyes. "Michael and I do not whisper lovingly, Gabriel, but you shall have your tales of the Greek Court." Pulling her baldric from her back, Alexian handed it to Gabriel as he was leaving, smiling softly at her friend and letting her eyes sparkle with amusement. "By the Lightning Tree, Gabe?" "Of course." Gabriel took the weapon and hailed Michael, who walked toward the two of them from behind Alexian. She still hadn't turned around to look at him, instead gazing at the ground and trying to school her emotions. All of her training, her stioicism, her swordsmanship; all of it faded when he came near her. Finally, after Gabriel had retreated, Alexian looked up and over at Michael. He stood tall, his burnt gold hair falling below his shoulders, eyes the color of a mountain sky, broad and muscular; every inch the Angelic warrior his name demanded he be and beautiful almost beyond imagination. Sensual lips parted into a small smile as Michael reached Alexian and, before any words were spoken, pressed his lips against hers. "Captain?" Alexian blinked and realized that she had been crying. Hastily wiping the salty criminals from her face, Alexian spun to see Coyote, a sly whisper of a smile on his face. He had seen her crying, she knew. Straightening, Alexian rested her hands on her hips. "What is it, Coyote?" As beautiful a woman as she was, Alexian's voice was hard and deep, tasting sharply of leadership and a warrior's keen wit. "Any news from the charts?" Coyote shook his head, handsome face glowing with intrigue and trickery, and pulled a small, sad-looking creature from behind him. Alexian looked down at the creature, her eyes twinkling softly. "A Sorrow Elemental," she whispered. "Where did you find him?" "Down in the hold. In one of our empty storage barrels, Captain." Coyote looked down at the creature with a certain disdain and let go warily, poised to make a move should the Sorrow Elemental run for it. Alexian smiled. "What's your name, Elemental?" "Erdamon," he squeaked back, though no mouth moved to speak at all. Alexian had dealt with Sorrow Elementals before, back in her days in the First Rank, and knew that all one could do was treat them with kindness. They saw so little of it on their own plane. "Well, Erdamon, my name is Alexian. I'm Captain of this ship. Why is it you were hiding in our hold?" Alexian knelt to his level and gazed into the tilted, yellow eyes that seemed to convey so much sadness. Erdamon looked back at her fearfully, his diminuative body trembling slightly with dread. "It's ok. Nothing is going to happen to you." "I was mugged," Erdamon replied, finally. "I hid because I had nowhere else to do to sleep." Alexian looked up at Sinderfein. "I can have no doubt that it is very uncomfortable sleeping in a barrel, Erdamon. Why don't you go with my friend Sinderfein here and he'll see that you get a proper bath and a nice bed." Smiling as Sinderfein nodded, Alexian encouraged the elemental to follow him into the bowls of the ship. Rising, Alexian looked at Coyote again. "You weren't cruel to him, were you Coyote?" Coyote had the decency to look appalled. "Of course not, Captain. Fickle I may be, but cruel I am not." Recovering his roguish grin immediately, the animal spirit crossed his arms and leaned against the side of the ship. "Anything the matter, Captain?" Alexian raised an eyebrow. "Why would something be the matter?" "Usually people only cry when something's the matter. Is our wise and virtuous Captain getting a little weepy eyed? Thinking of quitting and handing the ship over to someone as witty and handsome as, say, myself?" Coyote puffed his chest slightly as Alexian held back a laugh. "Perhaps I was but weeping with boredom at listening to Jaxes explain the significance of Jupiter being in the 4th house or some such nonsense." Alexian glanced over at her scholar, who had delved once more into the scrolls and books that were his intellectual home. "I don't care what the charts say, we're stopping off at the Interplane Faire. Not even for a job. Just to stop in and see the sights." Coyote nodded. "You're the Captain, Captain. I, for one, look forward to some time at the market festival. Interesting experience." "Coming from you, Coyote, that is saying something." Alexian laughed and pounded Coyote on the back. "We should be there in a sennight at the most, right in the middle of its run." Jaxes walked over. "I don't think that we'll be stopping, Captain. The charts are adament that a trip to the festival is not in our future. Rather, it says that we will enter on a journey whose twists are deceptively simple, and that one whom we trusted is not as they seem, but not to our detriment." Alexian held her breath for a moment. "Alexian," Michael whispered, running his hands through her dark tresses. "When you return, I will be waiting for you." "If I return," Alexian whispered back, her voice barely audible even in the silence of their privacy. "It isn't a guarantee that I'll be able to come back, Michael. I could be leaving you forever." Michael leaned down and kissed her cheek softly. "I have faith, my love. You will return to me. And Heaven. You will not allow yourself to do anything other." Alexian sighed. "Let's not talk about the future. It will be a long time before I can come back at all. Let's concentrate on now and, right now, I have only a few hours left to be with you. Make the most of it." Smiling, Michael moved his lips from Alexian's cheek to her lips. "Of course, love." "Well, it's not to our detriment and adventure is always a good thing." Alexian pulled herself out of her memories before she got too emotional again. "But I say we head for the festival regardless." "I don't see why, Captain," Jaxes replied. "The charts..." Alexian pursed her lips for a moment and stood up straight. "Piss on the charts, Jaxes. I am not going to float aimlessly about on the seas while the charts decide what the fuck to do with us. Sailing for the Isle del Lune is as good a plan as any right now, isn't it?" Jaxes nodded. "Yes, ma'am." "Good. Coyote, set course for the Isle del Lune. Until Jaxes' beloved charts catch up with us, we'll sail toward the festival." Alexian turned toward Coyote. "When the charts send their messenger, we'll listen. Until then, we sail." neohuman An excerpt from the journals of Jaxes Vannah:I doubt that any of my crewmates would believe me if I told them that I miss my homeland. They find it perfectly understandable that our dear captain- quite noticably- longs for her paradise lost, and that Sinderfein plays mournful melodies on his harp of how he pines for the inherent joyful and carefree atmosphere of the Plane of Frivolity. But for me to hold such feelings for bleak and terrible Tartarus? I have only met three non-Zae in my life who had been to Tartarus and escaped alive- and all of them had been driven mad by the nightmares that torture them even long after they've awoken. I've heard others speak in whispers of how the ground itself shivers as if wracked with pain, of how the wind sounds more like the startled gasps of one who had been suddenly injured, and how instead of rain the clouds themselves bleed onto the land below. Yes, these things are true, but it's also true that not everything about the plane is so awful. Still, it seems only natural that everyone else would only see the negative. None of them have ever lived amongst the Zae. Jaxes took a deep breath and centered his mind, then opened his eyes and looked once more at the scrolls sprawled out on the table before him- the “charts” were as much a fortune telling device as a navigational tool, an invention of a band of plane-traveling gypsies who supported the Zae. Sinderfein and Jaxes were the only two aboard the ship who knew how to use them, and subsequently, were the only two aboard the ship who seemed to think of them as useful at all. His right hand tingled, and he followed the urging and ran a finger down across one of the pages, drawing a line of red light. His hand moved seemingly of its own accord, tracing lines across each other, forming shapes or sometimes words that were supposed to give some clue of where they should travel next and why. At the same time, before anything became clear on the paper, images began to form within his mind. He saw an image reflected as though in a pool, but not a reflection of himself, but that of a beautiful young woman. She was of Stygian descent, dressed in the trappings of a wealthy sailor, with long red hair that flowed unbound to slightly past her shoulders, like a waterfall of fire. In contrast her eyes were deep sapphire blue that pierced Jaxes with a determined intensity, and as he looked at them, it was almost as though he was being challenged. Needing to look away, he forced himself to see with his eyes again rather than with his mind, only to find that his finger had stopped tracing upon the page, and had written a full three sentences in the time he had been occupied by the imagined image of the strange Stygian woman. It read: “I have been hurt more deeply than you can imagine. I have avenged myself a hundred fold. I challenge anyone to hurt me.” That was peculiar. It was completely different from anything that had ever appeared on the charts- usually, they only gave directions. It seemed almost as though someone else had written a personal message upon them. As he watched the words fade and the page once again go blank, Jaxes tried to focus on the image of the woman once more. Immediately he saw her with even greater clarity. She was smiling wickedly, baring teeth almost as sharp as fangs, and her eyes twinkled with a predatory hunger. And then the image vanished, and Jaxes’ mind was empty. He listened to the ocean. The sudden realization that someone was standing over him would have caused him to jump if he weren’t so used to being startled. He quickly looked up to see Coyote regarding him with a half-cocked grin. “Still at it with the charts? You heard the captain, didn’t you? Our course is already decided. Why don’t you take a break from that and join me and some of the boys for some bumboo, salmagundi, and a game or two.” “Aye,” Jaxes nodded, standing. “Trying to get the magic in ‘em to work the way I want it to has been making my head hurt anyway.” Jaxes rarely played card games and wasn’t very good at it, and since he was losing anyway he allowed his mind to wander. Who was the sorrow elemental they had found, and how did it get there? With its robes, it looked to be a mage of some kind, though that possibility seemed rather unusual. In fact, it seemed rather unusual for a sorrow elemental to wear clothing at all, given what he knew of them from books. He was brought back to reality by a glance at the winning hand showed by Bledowyn, a particularly opportunistic dreamling who had joined the Pandora’s Redemption five months ago from the crew of a merchant vessel they had boarded and looted, and in that time had never ceased to prove his usefulness to Captain Alexian. <Four Major Arcana cards and an ace beats every hand at this table, ye swabs,> he thought triumphantly, loud enough for all at the table to ‘hear’ him with their minds (which was how dreamlings usually communicated to those around them). This elicited exasperated groans from Phuddux and Othian, a fire and water elemental who were never far from each other- though no one could tell whether that was because they loved or hated each other. “I had you!” exclaimed Coyote. “You’re luckier ‘an most to have weasel’d your way out of that, Dreamling.” <I make my own luck,> Bledowyn snapped back in thought before Coyote had even finished speaking. <It’s how I got here in the first place while the rest of my old crew went crying back to their mothers after Alexian sent them scurrying. Now count yourself lucky- had we been playing for anything more substantial you’d be sitting here naked by now.> “Well I’d’ve won if it weren’t for Phud trying to stop every move I made,” said Othian. “Stow it, bilge-sucker,” Phuddux returned. “You’re the one who kept lookin’ at me cards!” “And you’re the one who kept lettin’ ‘em show!” <These two are more entertaining than the game itself,> observed Bledowyn. <Different game?> Coyote tilted back a bottle and took a mouthful of rum, swallowed it with a sour but pleased expression, and then gathered the cards and started shuffling them. “The name of the game,” he said slowly, looking at everyone at the table, “Is Red Reginald’s Revenge. I just learned it back when we dropped anchor at Port Litefurn. Anyone else know how to play?” <I do. I was there when you learned. I watched.> “Good,” said Coyote. “It can be played with two people, but it’s not nearly as fun and kind of loses the point. Each player holds two cards, plus one for everyone at the table except themselves- there’s five of us, so we each hold six cards. We go around the table and take turns, and whoever’s turn it is can decide who they want to ‘challenge.’ You can challenge one person during your turn, and then you each pick a card to throw down. The one with the higher card takes both cards. You don’t always want to throw down your highest card- you might lose it, and you’ll want to decide which cards to save for the next challenge. Get it?” “No,” replied everyone except Bledowyn. “’Course not, and that’s why just Bledowyn and I will play for now. It’s a really simple game- good to play while drunk.” “Cork the grog before it gets to that point,” commanded Captain Alexian as she passed by their table, walking from the fore of the ship to the aft, apparently doing nothing more than supervising the ship. “I’ll not have my hands loaded to the gunwalls.” Hers was the calm and firm voice of one who knew without doubt that her word would be obeyed and that enforcement would seldom be necessary. “Aye, cap’n,” said Coyote absently as he focused on the three cards in his hands, then picked one and put it face-down on the table. Bledowyn did likewise. At the same time, they both turned their cards over. Coyote’s was a Six of Cups, and Bledowyn’s was a Seven of Wands. “Scupper that,” Coyote mumbled. Jaxes watched Captain Alexian as she walked away. As curious as he normally was, none he had ever met had instigated more interest to him than her. So assured was she of her authority- and so right she was to be- that her word was law to even the most lawless pirates aboard her ship, and that law was always obeyed. It never seemed to be out of fear of punishment. It was as though every member of the crew felt that Alexian knew what was better for them than they themselves did. How could any being- even an angel, Fallen or otherwise- hold so much respect from such a diverse rabble? She had been seen weeping earlier that day; at least four crewmen claimed to have seen the tears on her cheeks, and Coyote had even had the audacity to speak of it to her face. Word had spread quickly around the scuttlebutt and the whole ship knew. And yet Jaxes knew that while it would likely be taken for weakness and even be cause for a mutiny aboard any other pirate vessel, it was barely worth anyone’s concern aboard the Redemption. Alexian could cry like a child and none would think any less of her- they had seen her leadership in a fight, felt the almost palpable power of her charisma, and none doubted her strength of will. Jaxes marveled at the thought- because of this, Alexian seemed to be nothing short of a wonder to him. A loud commotion at the portside railing stirred Jaxes from his thoughts. Next to him, Coyote laid down his cards and turned around, standing. “Pipe down, ye addled…!” someone was bickering loudly. Jaxes and Coyote, followed by Bledowyn, walked towards the source of the commotion to see two unkempt and rather drunk-looking sailors arguing. Between them, on the railing, was a rat. “I’m tellin’ ye, it talked to me!” the other sailor was trying to defend himself. “Bilge, it’s all bilge! Ye’re drunk enough to be lying down with the dead men.” “Ye drank more than me!” “What’s going on here?” Jaxes demanded, stepping forward. The two men jumped as they turned to face him, startled at first by his burning orange eyes before they recognized who he was. “Oh, Jaxes,” said the first sailor. “Me partner here’s goin’ barmy on me. He claimed this rat talked to him.” “Told me that the rats aboard the ship’ve been watching me!” exclaimed the second sailor, sounding nothing short of totally paranoid. “They watch… everyone.” “See?” said the first, as if the second had just proven his point. Jaxes looked at the rat. It was small, completely albino white with light red eyes. It was definitely no common ship-rat; its fur was neat and clean, and it looked healthy and well-fed. It sat completely calm, unusually unbothered by the loud men around it. In one of its claws it held a small rolled-up bit of paper. The lines of its mouth were upturned and it almost seemed to be smiling. “I’m thinking we should just kill the stupid bilge-rat. At least then me mate here’ll pipe down,” the sailor suggested. “You’re a bilge-rat!” said the rat. Both sailors jumped back. “Oy! A talking rat!” Exclaimed the first sailor, sounding utterly shocked. “Oy! A talking human!” the rat mocked him sarcastically. Her voice had the pitch of that of a teenage girl but rang with the intellect of one with several decades of wisdom and experience. “Some of you humans can travel across the Multiverse and gaze upon Her infinite marvels and still be taken completely by suprise by the mundane. Listen, fools: before you go on killing everything that irritates you, you should first find if it has anything of interest to say.” Coyote and Bledowyn both took a step forward. “Who are you?” asked Coyote. “My name is Alice,” answered the rat. “Hello, Coyote. Hello, Jaxes. Hello, Bledowyn.” <How do you know our names?> Bledowyn thought. “The rats told me about you. You can learn just about anything about a ship and its crew by talking to its rats. Now listen- I was sent here on behalf of my captain- I won’t give a name yet, for reasons of my own safety. I’ve come to tell the crew of this ship to travel to the Plane of Fog- keep this course towards the Island of Freddyst, then sail due north and you’ll find the Gate. Shout out the words on this paper three times, and the Gate will activate. Once you travel through it, I will be the first to meet you, and guide you to my captain. All questions you may have will be answered then. Here, take it.” Alice stood on her hind legs and held out the bit of paper she held, which Jaxes gently took from her little hand. A trip to the festival is not in our future. Rather, it says that we will enter on a journey whose twists are deceptively simple, and that one whom we trusted is not as they seem, but not to our detriment, he thought to himself. “Until we meet again… as we certainly will,” said Alice. Then she turned and, without hesitation, walked towards the edge of the railing and allowed herself to fall into the ocean. Jaxes rushed to the railing and looked down, but saw no trace of the little white rat in the silvery waters below. He turned around and faced Coyote, who asked “Well, should we tell the captain?” Jaxes clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You go first; I’ll follow,” he said. .Wolfie. Coyote was not the type of person to settle in any one place for long. He had a tendency to suffer severely from cabin fever, and as such he had never worked on a ship for such an extended period of time. Being in confined quarters with the same people for so long was not in his nature. While he enjoyed sailing because it took him to so many new and interesting places, eventually it began to wear on him, and he would find himself wandering once more. Unlike so many on this ship, he did not miss his plane of origin, because he did not consider it home. Home was wherever his feet took him.Besides, home was supposedly where the heart was, and his heart was as fickle as his traitorous feet. Therefore, if he had told anyone who knew him just how long he had been on Pandora’s Redemption, they never would have believed him. He could not explain what it was about this ship that had drawn him. He could not explain why it was different from every other ship that sailed the seas and planes. Perhaps he was simply growing soft in his old age, though his pride rebelled at that idea. Maybe it was the feeling that emanated from its very boards, as though the ship itself had a destiny, not that he believed in such things. Or maybe it was that Pandora’s Redemption was as fickle as he was. The crew itself was constantly changing, and as such Coyote felt comfortable on it. It was as if the ship was a reflection of himself in some way, and it seemed to him sometimes that a ship like this was whatever the beholder made of it. Whatever the reason, his mercurial heart had actually grown attached to the old girl. And of course, he loved pirating. “Oh Captain, my Captain!” he called out, dodging his way across the ship. Jaxes was somewhere on his heels, though he didn’t bother to wait up for him. He figured that the Zae would catch up eventually, and besides, Jaxes had volunteered him to talk to Alexian first. Not that he minded. Something about this whole thing had struck him wrongly, and he wanted to have it said before the scholar could start rambling about fates and charts again. He didn’t think badly of the Zae, but his chosen career path was something the spirit had nothing but disdain for. He did not believe in fates or destiny. His future was what he made it. He finally spotted her along the railing, her hair blowing in the breeze and her eyes distant as always. Her past was weighing heavily on her these days; he could see it as clearly as day. That and her tears from earlier had given away her rampant emotions more than any of his gifts of insight could. She was interesting to him, interesting in her attitudes and sense of honor. She was not like anyone he had met before, not Terrans or fallen angels or any of their like. “Oy! You with the wings!” He shouted. That drew her attention. She blinked and turned around, eyes focusing on him as though he were a stranger. “Captain You With the Wings, if you please,” she told him with a smirk. He grinned in return, feeling better already. He liked playing the jester, the entertainer. It was just another form of slight of hand. “Sorry Captain. Beggin’ your pardon, Captain.” She rolled her eyes, but the faint smile was still on her lips. “Is there a reason you’re interrupting me again so soon? I trust my orders were carried out without issue.” “Yes ma’am they were. But unfortunately another matter came up, one that Jaxes and I felt needed your attention.” He went on to explain about Alice, the animal spirit on the side of their ship. He tried to keep his personal opinions out of it as he spoke, but he knew a sliver of disdain crept into his voice when he told her the directions she had given them. Alexian said nothing until he was done, and even then she was quiet a moment. Jaxes had come up behind him some time during the brief telling. “Here is the paper she gave me,” he said, holding it up to Alexian. She nodded, glancing at the words but not taking it. “This certainly does put a spin on things.” Coyote cleared his throat. “If I may speak plainly, Captain?” She laughed. “Don’t you always?” He grinned back, but it faded almost immediately. “This is a terrible idea.” The Captain raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, waiting for him to continue. “A spy appears on our ship, a spy who admits that she is a spy, and also admits that she is working for another Pirate Captain. But she will not tell us who. This to me, screams trap. It screams it in big screaming capital letters with exclamation points and underlining.” “You don’t know that,” Jaxes blurted. “This is likely the sign we were waiting for.” “You don’t know that it isn’t true!” The animal spirit snapped back. He turned his attention back to Alexian. “This ‘Alice’ has given us nothing to prove that they are worth trusting. You know as well as I that there are plenty of pirates roaming the waters that would be glad to destroy another pirate ship and take their loot. And we have been doing exceptionally well lately. That, and I have been a spy. Their loyalties are to one master, and one master only. She does not work for us. She has only the interests of her master at heart, and we are not her master.” “There is a reason she came to us,” Jaxes argued. “There is a reason she told us to go where she did, and I don’t think it was to rob us blind. The charts…” “Yes, I know,” Coyote sighed. “I’m just saying. Even if this is where we should be going, at least we should stop and load up on supplies before we go cavorting off to who knows where.” “I think we should follow the signs we’ve been given and go where we must.” Jaxes was looking stubborn. The scrap of paper was clenched in his hands. Alexian, on the other hand, was looking as cool as could be, and Coyote felt a sliver of respect for her. She usually made decisions like this all the time, behind closed doors. Do we go north, or do we go south? Do we trust that the white flag is truly a flag of surrender? He wondered how man of her crew she’d seen die over the years, just because of decisions like this. It made his wandering life seem almost frivolous. But then, since when did he care? “If I may say one more thing,” he didn’t wait for an answer. “It looks bad. It makes us look weak. We just go hauling off into the unknown at the beck and call of another pirate’s spy? If it is really that important, make them come to us. We are not some dog that is expected to come when called.” “I don’t think that’s what this is about,” Jaxes snapped. Coyote could tell he was irritating him, but he had said his peace. Alexian still hadn’t said anything. He could tell she was thinking hard about this. She glanced at Jaxes. “He makes some good points. Are there any other reasons why we should follow Alice’s directions?” Jaxes hesitated. He looked highly displeased. “It is what the charts say we should do. All the signs I have read tell me that the festival is not where our fates lie. Everything I feel tells me that we should be following the directions we have been given. I know of nothing else to convince you, but this is the truth of it is as I feel it.” The Captain nodded. “I understand.” She took a breath. “But your feelings are not enough for me to risk this crew on, I am sorry. This does smell very much like a trap. If it is not, then I do not see that we have lost anything that we cannot gain back. If it is where we should be, Alice will come again, and perhaps this time she can give me a good reason as to why we should be sailing towards a master whose name she will not reveal.” Jaxes nodded stiffly. “Understood Captain.” Coyote grinned, but muffled it when she shot a glare at him. “For the record, I do not need you to lecture me on things I already know.” “Absolutely, Captain my Captain.” He felt as if a weight had been lifted, as if once again he had dodged the hand of destiny. He didn’t waste time on the lingering feeling of uneasiness that stuck with him, even as the sun set that night and turned the waters red. dance into the fire “You want me to get into that?” The two oversized yellow orbs that passed as the sorrow elemental's eyes seemed to flash as the little creature blinked, looking at Sinderfein from the side of the bath. “I could drown!” Glancing down into the bath, Sinderfein looked back at Erdamon with a small smile. The water was no more than 8 inches deep, partly because he had already taken Erdamon's size into account and partly because it took some time to heat the water they had. The only way that he would drown in there was if he threw himself into it face forward and held his own head down – and judging by his personality so far, Sinderfein couldn't rule it out as a possibility.“I suppose it is a little deep...” Sinderfein said, picking up the bucket that he had used to heat the water. “I'll take a bit out.” As he dragged the bucket through the already shallow bathwater, Sinderfein watched Erdamon from the corner of his eye. The soulful eyes seemed transfixed on the bucket, although he suspected that there was a lot more to the elemental than just melancholy. He certainly hoped so anyway. “There” Sinderfein said after scooping up a fair amount of water. “How does that look?” Leaning slightly over the side of the bath whilst holding on to the ceramic rim with a death grip, Erdamon scanned the circumference of the bath before hurriedly leaning back. “That will do. Thank you.” Erdamon said glumly. Smiling, Sinderfein turned to leave. “Where are you going?” “I... was going to leave you to it.” Sinderfein said, turning his body around to look at Erdamon. “What if someone attacks me?” Erdamon said in a more excitable version of his high pitch voice, “Or if something just materialises in here and tries to kill me? Kill us all!” “I don't think anyone on board will try and kill you.” Sinderfein said, although for some reason Coyote suddenly drifted into his mind, “and the Captain has the ship warded pretty tightly. Anyone trying to get on board has a whole set of magical barriers to break down first. You'll be fine. I'll even wait outside until you're finished, make sure no miscreants come nearby.” Erdamon just looked up at Sinderfein, his yellow globe like eyes shining soulfully. Taking his silence as agreement, Sinderfein walked out of the door, closing it carefully behind him. Finding a spot on the floor next to the chamber, Sinderfein lowered himself to the ground before sprawling out with a long sigh. He didn't think that anything demanded his attention above deck and he doubted that the Captain would have a problem with him taking a little impromptu guard duty. Alexian seemed to collect waifs and strays wherever she went, perhaps because she had the feel of a vagrant herself about her, despite her regal stature and charisma, and her latest addition was certainly intriguing. It seemed as though chance had brought him to Pandora's Redemption, like every other soul on board, but something much more mysterious would make him stay, and stay he would. Different faces passed him by, some that he was familiar with, some he talked to often and some that barely gave him the time of day. Despite all that had happened and all that continued to across the planes, the ship was a haven of sorts that almost seemed detached from the horror that seemed to touch everything and everyone. The faces and hearts of every one of her crew were etched with pain and loss, him included, but laughter still rang out across the decks day or night and the energy of the crew was palpable. Back home, he had paid little heed to those that had argued that everything living or not had an essence, a lifeforce of some sort. Since being on the Redemption, he could believe it. That said, change was coming, if you put any faith in the charts – and Sinderfein did. Jaxes was much better with the charts than he and a good man to boot, with his fair share of followers on the ship although he was oblivious to them, of course. There were a few of gypsy descent onboard who followed Jaxes chart reading almost devotedly and next to the Captain he was probably the most respected member of crew. In fact if anything were to happen to the Captain, he would make an excellent candidate to replace her. It was a dark thought to have yet on the whole probably quite irrelevant, since Alexian seemed to live a charmed life. The ship rocked gently as it travelled the astral, her sleek build cutting through the eddies and forms effortlessly. Sinderfein had often missed the feel of a ship when he had been land bound, or as land bound as the Plane of Frivolity had been. Some days, the Plane could shift anything from a few metres to a few hundred miles, yet it always returned to the same spot. Like a husband to a wife after an argument, so the saying went. Things certainly seemed to have quietened down on board the ship, in fact the deck seemed silent, Sinderfein thought taking the time to properly listen for the first time in a while. For that matter, Erdamon seemed to be very quiet. Getting to his feet, Sinderfein cursed to himself. Some guard he was. Erdamon probably couldn't find the soap and had topped himself in desperation. “Erdamon, is everything alright in there?” Knocking gently on the door, Sinderfein bit his lip. Silence. “I'm coming in Erdamon.” Pushing down on the handle, Sinderfein pushed the door open and almost jumped out of his skin when he locked eyes with the sorrow elemental, standing fully clothed faced toward him. “Oh right. Are you finished?” Erdamon nodded once, very slowly and deliberately. Glancing at the bath, Sinderfein wondered how the little guy had managed to get in there much less out. For that matter, he wondered how a fully sized bath had come to be onboard a pirate ship. For some reason the thought had never crossed his mind before, but it was worth asking the Captain since he doubted that it infringed on her painfully guarded private life. “So how was your bath?” Sinderfein asked. “Warm. Warm and wet.” Erdamon answered in his high pitch, low volume voice. Such a wonderful contrast. “I think I like you Erdamon” Sinderfein said, smiling brightly. Erdamon just tilted his head, his eyes flashing gently. “We should probably go and find the Captain, unless you want to go and help me break into Coyote's cabin.” “Is it dangerous?” Erdamon said, his high pitch voice tinged with anxiety. “Yes.” Sinderfein said with a smile. “Very.” He'd got an electric shock the last time he tried that knocked him clear down the corridor. Coyote knew that he did it alright, but it was still a lark. “Come on Erdamon, I promise that everything will be fine.” Sinderfein turned on his heel and walked out, glancing back to see Erdamon trundling out of the chamber his long robe dragging across the wet floor and weighing his small frame down even further. Sinderfein had to fight the urge to hold his hand. Slowing his walk down to a crawl, Sinderfein put his hands in his pockets and looked down at Erdamon. “Tell me, what do you make of the Pandora's Revenge?” “It's big.” Erdamon said. “I don't like the way it moves.” “Are you always glum?” Sinderfein asked with a small smile. Erdamon looked up at Sinderfein as he walked along, what little facial features he had remaining unchanged. “I hardly know you.” The poor little guy had been robbed and slept in a barrel and this was after years of woe on his native plane. Sometimes the differences between the planes was so profound, yet so alien to Sinderfein. Turning the corner, Coyote's door came into view at the end of the passageway. Sinderfein swore that he had asked for that room so that there was a good corridor's worth of space to knock someone back. “What if this Coyote is in his room? What if he catches us?” “He isn't.” Sinderfein said, pulling his lockpicks out of his pockets and twisting them around his hand. “He'd have to walk passed me in the corridor to get to his room and I didn't see him. Come to think of it, I haven't seen anyone for quite a while...” Sinderfein mumbled to himself. “And if he catches us?” Erdamon asked. “That's all part of the fun.” Sinderfein said, winking at Erdamon. Kneeling in front of the door, Sinderfein sorted through his tools, biting on his lip in thought. “Now, which one of you shall I try first...” Erdamon glanced around nervously shifting weight from foot to foot like a child desperate for the toilet. “Don't worry, I haven't been caught yet...” Putting the pick in the door, Sinderfein barely finished the sentence as the cabin door slowly swung open. “That's strange.” Pushing the door open further, Sinderfein and Erdamon slowly walked in wide eyed, gazing around the cabin. “Does this Coyote live in here?” Erdamon asked, slowly looking around the empty cabin. “This can't be right. There's nothing in here. I mean I wasn't expecting a dead body, or some terrible hidden secret... well I was actually... but there isn't a bed or a chest, not even any dust.” Erdamon let out a low groan and shuffled toward Sinderfein's leg. "There must be a sensible explanation for this. Maybe it's a trick of some sort, or this is the wrong room.” Something suddenly caught Sinderfein's attention out of the corner of his eye and his head spun around, trying to chase the fleeting shadow. “What? What is it?” Erdamon asked, his high pitch voice spiking at the end of the sentence. “Did you see that? I could have sworn I saw a rat.” As Sinderfein folded his arms trying to make sense of it all, Erdamon raised his hands to his face, with only one word emitting for what passed as the little creatures mouth, which he dragged out into a mantra like word. “Doom...” -------------------------------------------------- It was later that day that they were found. Jaxes, somewhat irked at his discussion with the Captain and Coyote as well as intrigued by the new arrival set off to find Sinderfein and Erdamon, after some time spent reflecting on the charts and their meaning, especially since he hadn't seen the two of them since Sinderfein had escorted the sorrow elemental below deck. He had knocked on the chamber door gently at first, then louder before politely calling out their names. After getting no reply, he tried the handle and finding it unlocked pushed the door open. Sinderfein and Erdamon lay on the floor, their chests rising and falling slowly yet two large knife wounds ran across where their hearts were, each wound leaking an inky black substance. The two were certainly alive, although quite comatose, the deep wounds clearly magical rather than physical in nature. If that were not sinister enough, then the slip of paper that sat between the two of them chilled Jaxes to the bone. On it was a crude scrawled painting of sorts, in the same black substance that leaked from Sinderfein and Erdamon. On it was the outline of a rats head, with a single black tear dropping from its eye. The Man With The Golden Pen I’m a dead man, aren’t I? thought Erdamon dourly to himself. The sorrow elemental almost tripped on his oversized robes trying to pull himself to his feet. The smell of ash and considerable heat were the first things the sorrow elemental noticed upon waking. But it wasn’t just ash he smelled. Something a little fainter invaded his nostrils, two small little holes that were nearly invisible unless you were looking for them, and even then, it was difficult to tell on his black, alien head.. It smelled of the spoiled eggs of the Pikirisu, small rodents that survived by scavenging on the Plane of Loss, and also served as one of the few delicacies for the race of sorrow elementals. Few things resembled that smell. Sulfur, probably. Volcanoes, flames, molten rock… all bad things to be in the presence of. “And I’m in hell? As if death weren’t enough,” he mumbled, taking in his surroundings. The room was no more than seven feet in every direction, made up of black rocks and stones. And the only door into the room was blocked by bars, jagged with spikes. “Calm down. We’ll be fine, I think,” said Sinderfein behind him, causing Erdamon to jump a little. The young man was sitting cross legged, back straight. Calm and collected. “How can you say that? Look where we are,” said Erdamon, flinging his arms in opposite directions, the sleeves dangling from his hands. “We’re not dead, that much is for sure. But we are not quite… onboard Pandora’s Redemption, as we were previously before we were attacked,” said Sinderfein, pausing at certain points as if considering what to say in the presence of the elemental, so as not to alarm him. This fact would be lost on Erdamon anyways, since he’d always figure they were doomed no matter what. “What was that thing?” now Erdamon remembered what happened. It had been pretty quick, whatever it was, felling Erdamon with a knife stab in the heart first. As Erdamon was pushed onto his back, he caught a quick glimpse of it. The body of a small, crouched human, but the head of a giant rat, with two dirty ears, and buck teeth that chittered as it pulled the knife back out of his heart. He wasn’t able to see much more, as a blue cloud puffed in front of his face from the wound to his chest, and with the last seconds of his life aboard Pandora’s Redemption, he thought about how futile his whole life had been – leaving the Plane of Loss, studying abjuration spells, and stowing away on the ship. What was the point? Sinderfein’s right hand grabbed his chin and he looked down at the ground pensively before speaking, “Well, I’ve never seen that particular race of beings before, though I’d warrant a guess that, due to the magical nature of their attack, the creature served some other being, demonic or otherwise. Beyond that, I can’t really even be--” A metallic thrashing on the bars silenced Sinderfein, which was followed by a hoarse, beastly snort. The creature that lumbered by had to have stood seven or eight feet(it’s hard to tell when you see the world from a three foot tall perspective). It’s face resembled that of a hog’s, but with overgrown tusks in the lower jaw and two thick ram horns circling it’s head. Coarse brown fur covered the creature from head to black hoof. The pig creature carried a halberd in its thick hands, the spear end ready to impale any would be escaped prisoners. “Some kind of demon, I’d guess. So our captor hires out demonic forces,” mused Sinderfein quietly. Erdamon wanted to ask where they were. He wanted to ask the pig thing for a way out. And most of all, he wanted to know if he was dead. But he thought better of it when the thought of the pig demon more likely shoving the spike of the halberd into his head than even giving the time of day crossed his mind, and the sorrow elemental could only gaze across the hallway into the empty cell on the other side. “So you’re the Warden’s newest catch?” came a throaty, sultry female voice from the cell across the hall. Her face was black from the atmospheric ash, and her hair was darkened as well, possibly having once been a dark red color at some point in the past. She was dressed in rags, but she held her head high in an almost regal and haughty manner. Her arms were relatively well toned and muscled, though what she could be doing in here to keep her in that kind of shape, Erdamon didn’t know. “Who is the Warden?” asked Sinderfein. The woman’s eyes glazed over the man behind Erdamon, her brown eyes looking him up and down. She licked her upper lip and smiled at him before speaking. “He is the keeper of this plane. His word is law, and he keeps hundreds as his prisoners.” “And where are we, Mrs…” “Eva. Eva Ciora. And that’s Miss. There is no definitive name for the plane we’re on. Essentially, it’s a plane for those lacking souls. Nobody knows why he wants souls, but the physical manifestations that are in these cells, us right now, are our souls.” “Are we dead in the material plane?” piped in Erdamon, his yellow eyes giant with curiosity and perhaps even hope for a good answer. Eva simply shrugged. “Possibly.” Erdamon sighed loudly and fell on his bottom, staring at the ground. “We’ll get out of here. If not by ourselves, Alexian will find us, undoubtedly. You may not think so, but she’s quite resourceful,” assured Sinderfein, giving the sorrow elemental a pat on the shoulder, though he had to sit down to reach him. “Oh what is the point? We are doomed to fail in the end. You’ll eventually divine the same truth,” muttered the little elemental. Sinderfein shook his head before turning back to the prisoner across from their cell. “How long have you been here?” “I don’t know. It feels like an eternity, mister…” Sinderfein was about to speak before the metallic clink of a halberd hit the bars of his cell, and the pig demon lumbered by yet again., keeping a watchful, sinister eye on the new prisoners. Once he had passed, the human hissed, “ the name’s Sinderfein, sorry. And this,” he said, waving at the sorrow elemental, “is Erdamon.” “It’s a pleasure,” she said simply. “So did you have a plan to escape?” Quaddy Alexian pushed her way through the crowd of miscreants that gathered around Coyote's chambers. For his part, the animal spirit followed close behind, eager, no doubt, to distance himself from any accusatory thoughts threading their way amongst the sailors present. "Clear away," she called, her voice pitched just loud enough to pierce the caucophony of whispers and prayers. "Out of the way, everyone. Now!" The last of the sailors, the dreamling Bledowyn and a shaking Jaxes, stepped out of her path, Jaxes meeting her eyes in a sorrowful I told you so before returning to the scene that lay sprawled before her."What, by Elysium, happened to my men?" She cursed, forgetting for a moment that the average Fallen Angel could no more invoke the name of their former home than a demon could feel love, and knelt next to the Sorrow Elemental, Erdamon. Her dark eyes scanned the two men, each with a slash to their hearts, and touched the tar-like substance that seeped from the jagged edges of the wounds. Rubbing it between her fingers, Alexian first smelled it and then, slowly, touched the tip of her tongue to the ooze. "Piss it," she muttered. "How did a soul hunter get on board my ship?" Standing, Alexian turned to face her crew. "Who was on guard duty last night?" Her voice, already dark, fair growled with menace as her eyes began to take on the glow of an Angel accessing her power. "Who thought it would be wise to be lax on the protection spells? We're a pirate frigate, by Tartarus, we cannot afford to forget that no one protects us but ourselves. Without this ship, our lives are forfeit!" Scanning her crew, Alexian focused on a terran named Illya. The man refused to meet her eyes as he rocked and shifted, discomfitted by the situation. "Illya, step forward." The man did so, slowly enough that his bones creaked, his teeth clenched in terror. Coyote, arms crossed disapprovingly, leaned against the wall and clicked his tongue. "For shame, Illya." "None of that from you, Coyote," Alexian snapped. She struggled to wrest control over her emotions, to keep herself grounded in whatever humanity she had gained during her Fall. Every eye in the room was on her, including Jaxes' all-too-curious stare. He hadn't missed her earlier blunder, just as Coyote had not missed her tears. It would be no trouble at all for the scholar to interpret his charts well enough to guess at her secret. She relied on his loyalty for him not to do so, but Jaxes' curiosity was as fervent as his sense of duty, and too many foibles on Alexian's part would shatter the veneer she worked so hard to create. "Illya, do you know what has happened to Sinderfein and Erdamon?" Illya shook his head. "No, my captain." "Their souls have been stolen, taken to what the Divine hosts call the Island of the Lost, ruled by their dark king. It is, I fear, a punishment for not listening to Jaxes' charts and the invitation of a certain mouse I have heard so much about." Alexian held up her fingers and blew on them; the black sludge evaporated into nothingness, as if it had never been there. "This is the mark of a Dagger of Ammit, destroyer of souls. There are as many of these as Ammit had teeth in her mouth; when she was slain by the King of Lost Souls in his hunger, he smelted the fangs of the creature and forged these daggers. It seems this Alice has ties to the Dark King." Alexian stepped forward and gazed down at Illya. "Your mistake has cost me two crewmembers, whom I must now rescue from the Island of the Lost at a possible risk to many more crewmen. You must now, as loathe as I am to say this, be punished." Looking up at her crew, Alexian motioned slightly with her head. Coyote and Phuddux came forward and grabbed the man, who by now had soiled himself and was beginning to scream incoherently. No one now on the ship had a memory of the last time Alexian had had cause to dole out punishment, but not a one of them doubted it would be harsh. "Follow me. Two of you, please see to cleaning up our captured friends' bodies and take care to protect them. A Circle of Bast for each of them ought to suffice. The bodies are nothing to the Dark King; just their souls. Everyone else, set sale for the Plane of Fog. This Alice seems to have forced my hand, and we must meet with her mistress. If it turns out that the Dark King has any alliance with this rival Captain, I will see that it fares badly for her." Alexian headed toward her Ritual room. "Coyote, Jaxes, with me. Bring Illya." Coyote grabbed the man, leaving Jaxes free to scramble to Alexian's side. "What are you going to do him, Captain?" "There is only one way to retrieve a soul from the Island of the Lost." Alexian looked at her scholar. "Replace it." neohuman An excerpt from the journals of Jaxes Vannah:In service to Holy Zenghelend, there may be no room for mercy. To the Zae, there is no room for such foreign and deceptive concepts as compassion and redemption. There are only allies or enemies, good or evil. Either one is aligned with the divine forces of angel-kind, or they have cast their lot with the denizens of the hells. There is no middle ground. All who defy the laws of the Zae must be punished, with no chance for atonement. Such is the folly of my people. Jaxes stopped. Was she serious? “Pardon me for asking, captain, but Sinderfein hardly holds rank,” Jaxes said whilst scribbling notes in a small logbook. “Is one crewmate more valuable than any other? And even so, is he worth such an effort to retrieve?” “Such a thing would not be easy by any measure,” Alexian replied. “But necessary, I assure you. I can’t yet disclose why, but let it suffice that Sinderfein has uses beyond the common deckhand.” Seeing his searching look, she added “Stable your curiosity, scholar. I have my reasons, and would ask you to respect that.” Alexian, Jaxes, and Coyote entered the large, dimly-lit ritual chamber, their ‘sacrifice’ Illya in tow. “Jaxes, you know the key to the Island of the Lost?” Alexian asked. Jaxes shrugged. “For visitors, it’s simple. One must empty oneself of all hope, and then conjure the gate. If there is any trace of hope in the caster’s heart, the magic will fail and the gate will not appear. Since so many prisoners wind up there, they had to make the key easy for visitors wishing to bargain.” Alexian nodded. “Good. Then let us begin.” Jaxes moved to the far side of the room, where a heavy tome sat atop a stone pedestal, and deftly flipped through it to the portal conjuration section. It didn’t take long for him to find the exact ritual needed. The three of them emptied themselves of all hope, forcing all long-repressed notions of despair to well up within them, blotting out everything else. It was a terrible thing to do to oneself, but it wouldn’t do any permanent harm, and it had to be done. For Jaxes it was very easy, as despair was a common element that composed his dreary homeland. But he couldn’t help but notice that his captain was having a difficult time of it. To give up her hope seemed a sacrifice which she was reluctant to make, even temporarily. Alexian purified the space with salt. Coyote called the quarters and cast the circle, and Jaxes began reading the ancient words of power. In short order, a gate began to appear in the middle of the chamber, wrought of twisted, black iron. With a careful and tentative hand, Alexian grasped the gate and pulled it open. It creaked loudly on its rusted hinges. Beyond, a weathered stone bridge could be seen spanning a turbulent sea, at the end of which a foreboding, rocky island arose from the waters. Alexian turned to Jaxes and Coyote. “You know what you must do,” she said. “Take Illya, and trade him for the release of Sinderfein. This is a very important task I am charging you with, but I know that of all the members of my crew, the two of you will succeed.” “No, you can’t do this!” Illya was pleading. “I have served you loyally, my captain; please don’t send me there.” Alexian seemed pained for a moment, but that moment flitted like a shooting star before she regained her stern façade. “Take him and go,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “And don’t take too long. We’ll need both of you back here once we reach the Plane of Fog.” “And what of the sorrow elemental?” Coyote asked. “What of him?” Alexian asked, apathetic. “Retrieve him if you can, I suppose, but if not, it hardly seems a loss. Now go.” Coyote and Jaxes both obliged, dragging the struggling Illya through the gate into the dreary plane beyond. The sturdy stone bridge stretched on for what seemed to be over a mile. On either side of them, the waters churned and raged, rising and falling in no predictable pattern. The sky above them was obscured by swirling fog, and the air felt cold, chilling them to the bone. After a long trek, they came to an enormous black fortress built into a jagged cliff overlooking the sea. Its outer gates were wrought of twisted black iron and very closely resembled the portal they passed through in the ritual room. They opened the gate and passed through, and stood before the inner door, constructed of solid steel and large enough for an army to pass through with ease. Two brutish guards flanked the door, and stopped Jaxes and Coyote with their heavy halbards. “Stop! Who are you, and what is your business here?” one of them demanded in a rough and guttural voice. “I am Niran Kaarn, Templar-General of Holy Zenghelend,” Jaxes lied. “And this is Ethan Cay, emissary from the port city of Taslin. We have come to negotiate the release of a prisoner, an official who was sent here by political rivals.” “Hmm… so you say,” said the guard suspiciously. “But where are your guards?” “I am a Zae,” Jaxes said at once, standing straight and proud. “My people slay demons as a past-time. I need no one else to defend me.” “Yes, a Zae would be so arrogant as that,” the other guard chuckled softly. “Very well. You may enter.” With that the guard took a crude horn from his belt, and blew a low, reverberating note. A moment later, the sound of rustling chains and grinding gears echoed all around them, and the huge steel door slowly began to open. Coyote, Jaxes, and Illya proceeded inside. Though certainly cautious, Coyote and Jaxes made it a point to appear confident and show no fear. Illya, however, was visibly trembling, casting nervous glances all about. They found themselves in a large entrance hall, from which led several doors and hallways, all flanked by more pig-like guards. An aged, withered old man in an obscuring black cloak approached them and handed Coyote a folded slip of paper. “This is your number,” the strange man hissed, his voice sounding as though he had been severely wounded in the throat. “When your number is called, you will be granted an audience. Any questions?” “Yes, what-?” Jaxes started, before the old man cut him off. “Your questions will wait,” he said, turning away. “Do not waste my time.” Jaxes turned to Coyote. “What’s our number?” he asked. “Two-hundred and eighty-six,” Coyote replied, looking down at the paper. Just then, a small window in the wall opened up and a beautiful woman with horns and red eyes called “Number fifty-four!” she called. “Number fifty-fifty four! The warden will see you now.” With that, the window closed. Jaxes cussed. “We’ll be waiting here forever! We haven’t much time.” Off to the side of the room, a heavy door opened. A platoon of men with white skin in black armor marched in formation, around a very important-looking man with spiked black hair, horns, and strange eyes. “Stygians,” Jaxes whispered. At the sight of them, the fires of his eyes burned bright and hot, and his blood ignited with passionate fury. He felt compelled to engage the ancient enemies of his people in glorious combat, right then and there. The horned man, clearly their leader, handed one of the guards a folded slip of paper. “We have been waiting a long time, and been very patient,” he hissed impatiently. “Your warden is a very foolish man, to so insult a prince of the Stygian Empire.” “You bore me with your empty threats,” the guard replied, unlocking the door to the main audience hall. “This island is sovereign territory, protected by the Treaty of the Malebolge. Not even Stygia holds power here.” The Stygians proceeded into the audience hall, and the guard locked the door behind them. “Hmm. They seem very intelligent for pigs,” Coyote mused. “Most demons are smarter than they appear,” Jaxes replied. “Wait here. I’ll be back shortly.” “What? Where are you going?” Coyote asked, grabbing Jaxes by the arm. “No, don’t go running off, not this time. Your curiosity will get us all killed, or worse.” “You worry too much,” Jaxes told him, pulling away. “Just stay here, I won’t be long.” With that, Jaxes left down one of the side hallways leading to the bedrooms reserved for visitors. When there were no guards looking, he cautiously proceeded down a side hallway. He used his magick to cause the lock on a door to open, and proceeded through, and then up a flight of stairs. Cautiously creeping past another pair of guards, he unlocked another door and crept into a balcony overlooking the audience chamber. “I, Prince Vhaaglan Klezthorot of the Stygian Empire, have come to trade for the release of the prisoner named Alash,” the leader of the Stygians was saying. He was surrounded by his black-armored guards, who each carried a musket. Sheathed at each of their sides was a wicked-looking serrated cutlass. The prince himself was Stygian, but with clear indications of demonic heritage as well. His horns curled up from his forehead, and his cold eyes glowed slightly with a hidden, seething hate. He was devilishly handsome and carried himself with a regal demeanor of true confidence. “As you stated in your letter, oh prince,” grunted a hideously huge creature with bloated red skin and six long horns rising tall from its bulbous head. “Have you brought the agreed-upon payment?” The prince nodded towards the demonic warden, then motioned to his guards. “Bring them in.” The guards obliged, and opened a door off to the side. More piggish guards appeared from the doorway, leading along thirteen men in chains. Jaxes gasped. No, not men. Angels. Their wings were tied together, their wrists and ankles in chains. They looked dirty and haggard, thin and malnourished, and each of them wore an expression of deepest sorrow. “Thirteen once-proud soldiers of the Heavenly Host,” the prince declared, displaying them as a shopkeeper would display his wares. “Valuable slaves by any measure, and most difficult to acquire. I lost many men in capturing them, Warden. Don’t test my patience in asking for more.” The warden snarled. “Wouldn’t dream of it, oh prince,” he said sarcastically. “They appear to be fine specimens, still pure of heart, and their allegiance to despicable Elysium is still indisputable. Such was, indeed, the agreed upon payment, and this is sufficient.” With that, the warden turned to his piggish guards and bellowed “Bring in the prisoner!” Vaguely, Jaxes wondered what sort of prisoner would be worth the trade of thirteen angels. He was almost afraid to know. The guards returned a moment later. Trailing behind them, hovering in midair, was a black steel rectangle, covered in heavy chains and padlocks. Surrounding it was a crackling field of magical energy. “Dispel the wards,” the warden ordered. At once, several guards drew thin wands from their belt and began waving them, muttering words of arcane power. Little by little, the bubble of energy dissipated. “Now release him,” the warden said. Cautiously, the guards obeyed. They all seemed frightened of whatever was inside the box, seeming to tremble even as they turned keys into a great variety of different locks. At last, the box opened, spilling a strange, swirling fog into the room. The box descended to the ground, and within, a vaguely human form could be seen. It was covered all in some very flexible black material, its face covered in a strange mask. It had mechanical goggles for eyes, and its mouth was covered in some sort of complicated breathing apparatus. Its arms and legs were bound close to its body in heavy chains. Very carefully, clearly terrified, the guards inched closer to her and unlocked the chains. Once he was free, the prisoner quickly sprang into action, grabbing one guard by the throat and cutting a deep gash into another’s stomach with his claws. The second guard dropped to the ground, squealing in terror, as its steaming intestines spilled onto the granite floor. The first guard was still thrashing about in the prisoner’s grip, unable to breathe or make a sound. “Alash, enough. Release him,” Prince Vhaaglan commanded. The prisoner looked at the prince, and then after a long moment, released the guard. The piggish guard dropped to its knees, gasping desperately for air. “Now,” the prince continued, fearlessly approaching the strange prisoner. “Alash, I have ordered your release because I once again have need of your expertise.” Alash gave a bow of mock courtesy. “I am yours to command, my prince,” he said in a deep and artificial voice which sounded thoroughly inhuman. “But know that my first loyalty is neither to you nor to Stygia. Foremost, I obey the goddess Charriga, and any command from Her priesthood will supplant your own.” “I understand,” Prince Vhaaglan nodded. “I have already met with Charriga’s priesthood, and procured their blessing.” “You would not be so foolish as to speak untruthfully,” Alash replied, “for I trust you are aware of the consequences of attracting Her wrath. Very well. What is thy bidding, my prince?” “I have cornered one of my major enemies in the Plane of Fog,” Prince Vhaaglan told him. “The pirate queen, Molly Quill, is trapped by the Stygian fleet and faces her doom. But we know that she has recently sent out messengers, sending for help from other pirates. One, in particular, may answer her call, and may just be a threat.” “Who, my prince?” Alash asked. “Whose blood shall sate the thirst of my blades?” “A fallen angel,” the prince said. “Captain Alexian, of the Pandora’s Redemption. She is a very capable captain, and if she joins with Commadore Quill, my plans will face severe delays. I need you to see to it that the Pandora’s Redemption never reaches the Plane of Fog, and that this Captain Alexian doesn’t live long enough to become a nuisance.” Alash bowed again. “It shall be done, my prince.” © Copyright 2007 Quaddy, neohuman, .Wolfie., The Man With The Golden Pen, dance into the fire, (known as GROUP). All rights reserved. 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