[Global Event] The Humble Son

[Quio]

It was over. It was over.

The snake-woman who had dared put her hands on Jack was wrapped around him, speaking to him as if that alone might stop him, and in response he thrashed and kicked, trying to work his arms free of her grip, that was all he needed. He had already slashed through her once, a maddening spatter of blood from her stomach that, like Tristan's gory face and Faith's cracked bones, had only made him more angry. Once his arms were free, even just one arm, he just needed one, he could take the dagger and stick it through the snake's traitorous throat, finish her off, bathe the deck in her blood--

And then he heard a shout, and the air went heavy in his chest, and he was free.

On his hands and knees he scuttled away from the snake-woman, the hate inside him abruptly turning to fear and pain. Fear and pain. And confusion. Jack was pressed up against his side shaking and snarling at anyone who seemed to want to get near. One of his hands went to the dog, the other to the sharp awful pain radiating out from his shoulder. He dropped the dagger.

They had all stopped.

And were looking at him.

A Yludih's nightmare.

"I--" he said, wanting to do something, wanting to say something, but not knowing what to do or say.

And then, as if he had forgotten --but how could he have?-- he remembered what he had just been doing.

Fighting. Slashing. Killing. He had wanted to hurt, to kill these people. People he had worked with. Joined the ship with. U'frek. There was a sudden flash of horror. People he knew. Tristan. Faith. Lei'lira.

What had he done?

In the quiet there were the groans of those who had been hurt in the scrum-- mostly nameless sailors. He had thought he had killed more, but so far only one of the bodies on the deck held completely still. The others squirmed and cried out in pain. Two, three, more. People he had hurt. Why had he done that? Why? He didn't know.

"I don't... know what's happening," he said, and then put one hand to his mouth, feeling like he might throw up. Beside him, Jack whimpered and snarled.

"I--" He couldn't look at what he had done. The destruction and pain. Then he noticed the blood on his hands. He wiped it against his clothes, wanting it off of him, off, but it was stained into his skin.

What had he done? Why had he attacked these people?

He remembered being angry. So angry. But he couldn't remember why. Something about-- something about how they had betrayed them. How U'frek had betrayed him. But that was wrong. It was him-- he was the one. He had done the betraying. Not them. Not them.

Him.

"I--" He still didn't know what to say. "I'm--" There wasn't anything. No explanation. And I'm sorry wasn't enough. Eventually, breathing hard, he gripped the ship's railing and worked his way slowly to his feet. Somehow he wasn't hurt, only his shoulder, but he was so jittery he didn't know if he could be trusted to stand on his own. He couldn't be trusted at all. Jack pressed herself against his leg, ears back and tail down.

He tried to collect himself but it felt all wrong inside. "I-I need--" No. He didn't need anything. They needed. They needed him to be away from them. Immortals, what if it happened again? What if he got angry? Lashed out? Hurt more? Killed more? No. No.

His voice quivered when he spoke. "D-Does the ship have a brig?" He couldn't remember. He hadn't finished doing a walk-through of the hold yesterday. It probably did. It was a large ship. "Someone-- someone needs to take me to the brig. Now. O-Or--" He glanced at the bloody dagger on the deck. His dagger. He had used it to-- no no no no! Sick with what he'd done, eyes wet and frightened like Jack's, he kicked the weapon away from him to slide to the nearest person. Disarming himself completely. "The brig," he said weakly. "O-Or something."

"Speaking in Rakahi"
"Speaking in Common"
"Speaking in Ulehi"

[Lei'lira]

Ever since the giant shadow beast had appeared, Lei'lira had tried to keep an eye on it as she fought the smaller ones. That was easier said than done, for two reasons. The first being her near complete lack of experience in fighting anything. Her only real practice had been the brief session she had had with Quio. And while she had picked up a few tips on how to use the dagger she was now wielding, she didn't really know what she was doing. That meant that she had to devote her entire focus to the creature she was fighting. Otherwise, all she would be accomplishing was to exhaust herself by swinging her blade around wildly...and possibly hurt someone she didn't mean to in the process.

Since she was using her dagger rather than her katana, the reach of her blade was shorter, which meant that she had to get closer to the creature she was attacking. That, in turn, meant that she was more at risk of getting injured herself. The increased danger to herself had the effect of narrowing the entire world down to the fight at hand. Nothing else existed other than the creature she was trying to kill before it could kill her. Anything else was a distraction that she simply couldn't afford.

So she quickly lost track of the giant shadow beast entirely. She fought for what felt like an eternity. Her muscles burned with exhaustion, and she had taken dozens of minor cuts, bruises, and lacerations as she fought. Nothing that was too serious in and of itself, but the injuries ached, and stung, draining her rapidly dwindling strength even faster. Her growing pain and weakness made her clumsy, and she often stumbled as she lunged in to slash at a shadow beast. She knew that it was only a matter of time before she took a serious injury...or worse.

Then all of a sudden...it was over. The shadow beast she'd been fighting vanished before she could strike at it. And when she looked around dully in bewildered confusion, she saw that all of the other shadow beasts were gone, as well. Everywhere she looked, she saw injured and exhausted people who looked as relieved as she felt. She had been lucky to survive the battle more than anything else...and she knew it.

The only person she knew on board the ship was Quio, and she looked around to see if she could find him. She didn't exactly know him, but she had met him, and trained with him for a bit. She really hoped that he had survived, too. And he had...she found him just as he began speaking in what she figured must be Rakahi; she recognized the sound of the language even if she couldn't understand what he was saying.

She moved towards him, only to stop in confusion when he dropped his now bloody dagger, and kicked it away from himself. It skittered along the floor of the ship towards her, so she bent down, and picked it up. Didn't he want the weapon anymore? It didn't seem like a good idea to just throw it away. What if they had to fight again? Not sure what else to do, Lei'lira turned the dagger so the hilt was extended towards Quio, offering it back to him.

[Tristan Venora]

Everything on the ship was chaos. Tristan had absolutely no idea what was going on, and he barely had time to raise his weapon before the monster attacked. In that moment he desperately wished that he had listened to his father and gotten some combat training, become a squire or something, rather than studying art. Art wouldn’t be able to save him now. But alas, it was too late. He would die here, on the feking ship, and nobody would mourn his passing because he would die a coward who had wasted his life drinking, gambling and making naked sculptures of celebrities. What a way to go!

The beast was aiming straight for his head, and he closed his eyes – as if that would somehow make dying less painful. When the fatal blow didn’t come, he tentatively opened his eyes again – just in time to see the beast’s arm move towards his face at lightning speed. He heard a crack and felt a sharp pain race through his head, and a moment later he was lying on deck while the monster continued to plow through the group of wannabe adventurers that provided little resistance. For a bit he remained where he was, motionlessly, hoping that the beast would ignore him if it thought that he was dead, and then he carefully reached for his nose. As he removed his fingers again, there was blood on them.

Everything hurt. Still, he fumbled for his blade that he had dropped when the beast had hit him. Even though he barely knew what to do with it, having it made him feel better for some reason. It was only as he closed his fingers around the handle that he realized that it was gone. The gargantuan monstrosity had simply disappeared. He looked around, but his fellow adventurers seemed to be just as confused as he was. Some of them were hurt much worse than he was, he realized. What exactly had just happened?

“Faith?” he murmured his slave’s name, realizing that she was not next to him anymore. Something in his chest seemed to tighten as he saw her next to the railing. Had the beast done something to her as well? “Are you hurt?” he wanted to know. He rose to his feet, groaning slightly as he did so and made his way over to her to check on her.

It was just then that he spotted his brother’s boyfriend, Ruq, on his hands and knees. Why had he not seen him before? Where had he been when the monster had attacked? For a moment he felt as if he almost knew the answer, but then he just shook his head. That was nonsense. He was about to approach him - he was pretty sure that he had hit his head, judging by the things he said - but realized that Lei’lira was already next to him. It was better if he took care of himself now – and of Faith, of course.

[Yanahalqah]

The sailor led the way with Yana on his heels, hurrying to the storage as fast as they could. All the while sounds of battle could be heard from upstairs on the deck. Yana thought it was a good thing, at least that meant they were not dead yet. Which in turn would mean the ship would not sink to the bottom of the ocean just yet. Still, that did not give her an excuse to dilly-dally, and she urged the sailor to move faster.

Eventually they did reach the hold, and the Yludih's guide made quick work of finding her a sturdy rope, which Yana almost snatched out of his hands before rushing back towards the deck. She dashed up staircases and through narrow corridors, not bothering to slow down all that much when rounding corners, instead slamming into the walls and trusting her padded tunic to absorb the blows for the most part. It saved time.

However, by the time she once again emerged from below and set foot upon the deck, the slaughter was already ending. And it was a slaughter. A disaster. Yana frowned, alabaster eye searching the deck for someone who seemed to be in good shape still, be it physically or mentally. Immortals, what kind of incompetent group had she decided to join?! There was the snake, a healer with a penchant for getting injured badly herself, attracting trouble and harm, it seemed. In Saun she'd been the first target of a shadow beast, and now too she hadn't been able to avoid a similar fate, it appeared.

The slave was lying downed near the railing, a fellow with a broken nose scrambling to his feet and went to check on her. A woman had hidden herself behind some barrels, a bearded member of the ship's crew had been knocked over the deck. Some sailors had been felled by the beasts, but at least the captain seemed unharmed and unfazed. Well, that was something at least. Obviously, moving to fetch the rope herself had not been the brightest idea. If she'd just sent one of the sailors, she'd have been able to change the outcome of the situation... maybe. Ah well.

With large strides the false Eídisi approached the man who'd probably been responsible for incapacitating most of them, the man who'd turned into a beast and had rampaged. He was on hands and feet, but rose slowly, a mutt near his feet, protecting its master. He muttered something in Rakahi, trembling and looking very much distraught. It could be an act, and his disarming could be an attempt to regain lost trust, to fool everyone into believing he hadn't been doing it out of his free will. Well, it was possible he'd been manipulated, but the safety of the group came before debating whether or not the man was innocent.

A woman had picked up the man's weapon, offering it back to him, but by now Yana had closed the distance as well, and slapped the woman's hand aside. She said nothing to her, instead focusing on the possible traitor. “Calm dog,” she monotoned in Rakahi, not impressed by the mutt's aggressive and threatening body language, though preparing to kick the pet aside should it attack. “Not know brig be,” she continued in her calm neutral voice, “but this have.” She held up the rope, beckoning one of the surviving crew members who'd come onto the deck to assess the situation.

“Bind his hands and feet,” she commanded in Common, not able to tie a decent knot herself as she was not and had never been part of the crew of a ship. “Make sure there is a length of rope loose between his feet, so he can shuffle forwards, but not run. Like shackles.” She hoped the man understood what she meant, and handed over the rope so he could get started. Then she spoke to the former beast again, once more switching to Rakahi. “Can no trust you. Bind you. Ask you. Get grip of-- ” she made a wide gesture, not sure how to say 'situation'. “--happenings. Agree?” She did not exactly wait for an answer. “Hands,” she pointed, gesturing for him to put them behind his back. The sailor had cut up the length of rope in smaller ends that would be easier to use, and was ready to begin his task. Yana gave him a nod, reached to grab Quio's underarms and hold them in place, wrists crossed behind his back. She was not gentle in her actions, nor kind in her expression. Her face was blank as most times, showing no emotion whatsoever. Nothing but perhaps a bit of annoyance and irritation at the apparent incompetence of the motley crew of summoned people. “Also someone get the doctor to the doctor's office,” she nudged her head to Rita's form. “Or get the doctor here to patch everyone up.” The latter probably was the better option if they did not want to possibly worsen injuries.

[Padraig]

The shadowbeasts didn't appear to be as much of a threat as they'd first seemed to be. The real danger appeared to be the chaos that had unfolded, and then unfolded again around them all. Of those who'd been summoned aboard for the voyage, very few, himself among them, seemed to be experienced fighters. And their organizational skills were lacking to say the least. They were as likely to run afoul of each other's weapons and wild swings, as not. But as quickly as it had all started, it was over again and mid swing, one of the lesser beasts disappeared halfway through his blade's arc. Padraig spun round, weapon at the ready, taking in the rest of the deck and it appeared all of them were gone. Including their larger cousin.

Only the crew and the summoned were left behind. Beaten, battered, some of them bloody. He'd emerged largely unscathed. Not by skill, his was a fledgling's skill at best, but due more to luck and proximity than anything. There were few on board he knew, even fewer he knew personally. There was Faith by the rail, battered some but still upright. Finally he lowered his sword and returned it to his side, and then returned the torch to the place that he'd found it. Most of the activity seemed to be centered around a man who Padraig was sure Faith had referenced by name earlier, but he couldn't quite recall. Nonetheless, of one of the few left unscathed, he walked over to see if he could be of some help.

There was the yapping dog, guarding his apparent master. Snippets of an explanation, caught at its tail end left Padraig not quite convinced of a complete transformation in body and spirit. He'd prefer to err on the side of caution. So when the woman who'd tutored him on board just shortly ago, began to see the man secured, Padraig could only agree it was the wiser course. At least for now, so he'd make himself useful by going to fetch a doctor. "I'll go," he told her, and was off to find the closest approximation of a physician he could find, in order to get him or her up on deck to tend to the wounded.

[Faith Augustin]

It was chaos, but she stood there, doing her very best to simply do what was right and to protect the Captain, and her owner. But then, with one sweep of it's hand, the creature put paid to that notion ~ Faith felt a pain as he hit her in her stomach and she flew. It was funny, she thought, as she took flight over the deck of the ship, that she seemed to keep on ending up flying and really, it was a most odd experience. At least this time there was no dragon involved she considered and then pain exploded in her side. She let out a cry and saw spots of white in front of her vision as she tumbled to the floor, heaving out a laboured breath. It hurt to breathe, she considered, it really did.

But as quickly as it started, it was over again. Faith lifted her head in the moment of stillness, the split trill which accompanied the end of one thing and heralded the beginning of another, and then she saw her owner, moving towards her. "I'm here. Oh... your face!" she said and she stood and moved to him. Lifting her hands to his face with a slight wince at the pain in her ribs, she frowned "I think it's broken" she said and then she glanced over at where there appeared to be the majority of the issues. Ruq was there, on his hands and knees and there was the Ithecal, who Faith would swear seemed somewhat familiar, and she saw immediately that she was the one that was most wounded. So, the young slave moved forwards and knelt next to the Ithecal.

"My name is Faith. I have some skill, we're giong to need to bind and clean this, alright. Now, I'm just going to keep pressure here until the doctor comes, hopefully with some medical supplies" she looked up at Tristan and smiled at him with a gentle smile, wishing that he'd sit down and be safe. She wanted to be looking after him, but there was the danger that this Ithecal would die without medical treatment, after all, she was bleeding. Faith just kept talking, very calmly talking to the Ithecal and making sure that pressure was kept on the wound, although she would rope in the assisstance of someone else to do that after a few trills, explaining what needed to be done. She had taken long enough to look and had realised that the Ithecal wasn't in danger of death and so she left her with one of the sailors and she moved to tend to Tristan's wounds.

"What was that?" she asked, looking at him with fear in her eyes. Her hands were moving, dabbing away the blood so that she could see. "I think it is broken" she repeated and sighed "You should sit down, in case you feel feint" she said, her arm on his elbow and her silver eyes searching his to make sure that his pupils were not dilated or any such sign of concussion.

Off Topic

Faith has expert medicine FYI mod

[Rita Fenyo]

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The pain was immense, growing stronger as the adrenalin wore off. Rita did not remember letting go of Quio, nor dragging herself to the railing. The blood was warm in her hand, bringing back memories of the last time she fought against one of them. Which was only a few arcs ago and she hadn’t even fully healed from that time. Instinctively she reached for her pouches, finding her supplies to be lacking.
Right, I left them in my room. Checking her wound, the dark crimson made an interesting contrast against her ebony skin. If she wasn’t in so much pain she would call the image lustrous. Given the situation, though, she needed to bind herself and rather quickly.
Looking up, most of the crew were standing around unsure what to do. Quio was back to human form and the Eídisi, who’s name escaped her at this moment, was going about dealing with the prisoner and getting some movement back into the perplexed crew. She glanced at Rita.
“Also someone get the doctor to the doctor's office, or get the doctor here to patch everyone up.” The irony of the situation was not lost on the young Ithecal. Strangely from what Rita could recall she was the only healer on board and had taken the doctor's quarters. She shrugged it off as shock, and possibly too much alcohol the night before. Sailors drank some strong stuff.
“Someone get me my- Oh hello. “ She started calling for assistance but noticed a young woman of small stature and dark black hair. The woman introduced herself as Faith, stating that she had some skills. Rita found herself smiling as Faith finished her introduction, with a statement about ‘waiting for the doctor’
“Well you see the issue with that is, I am the doctor” She joked. For some reason, she looked familiar, not like someone she had seen in passing but something more. Try as she might Rita couldn’t place it, so shrugged it off.
“Hmmm so little knowledge here. Abdominal injuries are the hardest to stem. Limbs you can tourniquet off and then work on them. “ Mainly she was talking to keep herself concentrated on the here and now. Minds tend to wander when in shock.
“ Often you can just look at an abdominal wound and, based on its position, tell whether you can save the patient. “ Rita wasn’t sure whether the woman would be interested in this sort of thing. However, something in the back of her mind was telling her that education was important to her.
“Around here, just under the lower ribs, is your liver. That’s the organ that filters out any toxins in your diet. For example alcohol is something the body doesn’t like and the liver tries to filter it out from all the sugars in the drink, however, it can only process so much before the alcohol starts affecting the body. The only organ that grows back we believe. So that’s rather interesting as to why.” Rita continued talking sharing information and what she had learned.
A crew member came over, having gathered Rita’s supplies, yet the other doctor was not yet here. Perhaps I am the only doctor. I don’t remember This lapse in knowledge concerned her but not that much. It was easy to miss people on a ship this large. Then it could have a second physician office given its size, with she taken one and the other doctor taking the other. Faith left her going next to her, Friend maybe. Could be his servant or something. The word slave did not come naturally to the Ithecal mind. She prepared and cleaned the wound but was shaking too much to stitch it up. The sailor, however, knew how to sew and with little instruction was able to stitch her up quite well for an amateur. Faith was with her master seeing his broken arm.
“ Apply a cold damp cloth, let the swelling subside and then set the break straight. Make sure he drinks lots of fluids too. “ She called over, glancing back and forth between Faith and the sailor at work. Glancing up she saw another physician approaching Faith. Oh so there is another doctor. That settles that. She finished the stitching and thanked the sailor, getting his help to stand. Dressing herself and chewing on a leaf for the pain. No more fighting dogs naked.

[/style]

Template made by Aelius for Rita

[Doran]

His fellow adventurers, the Mortalborn realized, were astonishingly accident-prone, hard of hearing and lacking even a modicum of common sense. They didn’t seem to possess any sort of special abilities, unless the aforementioned unfortunate facts could be considered such. Was that snake woman really taunting the beast? That, he thought, was exactly the opposite of what she should have done. Rita seemed to have a death wish.

And so did the blonde woman he had offered to protect, he observed with a sigh as she ran forward and lunged at the creature, overestimating her own abilities. It only took a trill or two before she fell, as he had anticipated. He looked at her coldly for a moment before he too moved forward abruptly, grabbed her and pulled her back, towards safety with one hand while he held his sword in the other hand in case the creature decided to attack again.

“I told you to stay close to me if you want to live”, he reminded her. “Which part of my warning did you not understand?” The tone of his voice was harsh. A woman that had thrown caution to the wind and very nearly paid with her life in the process could not expect any pity from him, although he would not leave her to the monsters, at least not now.

“Are you hurt?” he inquired, somewhat reluctantly, and looked at her to see if she had any wounds that might require treatment. His skill in medicine was small, but he knew enough to take care of bruises, bite wounds or scratches. He had done such things before.

In the meantime the fight had continued without them. No more than a handful of bits seemed to have passed before half of his companions – although he was loath to use that word – were incapacitated, bleeding or too confused to be of any further use. Leaving them to their own advices became more and more appealing with every passing trill despite the fact that his father had come and personally asked him for his help.

They were weak.

Perhaps, he thought, he would abandon them once they had reached Ne’haer and try to solve the mystery on his own, but for now there didn’t seem to be any way out for him. It seemed impossible to leave the ship, to take a boat back to the safe harbour. He was trapped here with them, and if they died, so might he, although he preferred to think that he could offer those that had attacked something that would make them spare his life.

He stepped forward to take a more active role - out of necessity, not because he especially cared about them - only to realize that the gigantic shadow creature that had threatened them all was gone. Everything was back to normal which seemed strange to him as the shadow creatures had been close to winning. All around him he could hear the wounded groan as doctors – or people that claimed to be such – began to take care of them.

[Kingdom]

The danger had passed, the shadows had subsided, and the sea was still. Darkness, however, lingered, and the grey clouds that blocked out the sun overhead, didn't appear to be going anywhere fast. U’frek walked across the deck surveying the damage, not obviously, but in his own, quiet way. Without a word he returned to the bow of the boat and raised his right hand, the movement measured and cautious; the sea was a temperamental mistress, one he did not care to anger.
It was hard to say whether it was the sky that bowed to meet the ocean, or the rising water lifted to touch the sky. All around them thin funnels of water spiralled skyward, the rainclouds overhead pulled into their centres to create what looked like twisters. As if they were the mirrored image of U’frek’s digits, these strong funnels of water combed through the clouds like fingers through hair, brushing them aside with ease. With the sky cleared, the threat of shadow creatures had passed, and they were free to continue their journey.

The night that followed was one of relative calm, the ship cutting through the water at speed, scarcely jolted at all as it sped towards its destination. People were tended to by the doctor and any other helpful souls onboard. Even U’frek offered a hand where he could. It was Quio that he visited in the night, venturing to the man’s room to check on him. He did not say much, only that he was glad to see that the man was all right, and asked that he lead the people to The Council of Minäih, also known as the Judgement Halls, once they reached the City of Ne’hear, where U’frek explained that the meeting of the immortals would take place. Before he left, he set a pair of seashells down in the man’s hand, the colour and texture of white pearls.
“A home away from home,” he smiled, but never looked the man directly in the eye. “Keep them safe, keep them secret.”

Come dawn the ship was greeted by the distant shores of the west, and by lunch, it had docked in the port of Ne’haer. Once everyone had left the ship, the vessel was turned about and pointed back to sea. Within about a hundred and fifty metres though, it was returned to the depths, with the blind man at the helm, content to go down with it.

Notes

Wow, what an amazing thread. Kudos to all who stuck with us from start to finish and took part in the side quests. I will be announcing the winning team in three days when the thread will be officially completed and reviewed! The meeting of the immortals thread will be started soon in Ne'haer by Jade. A big thank you to Djinn for his guest appearance, and to Quio for being such a good sport. This is the final post I will make (other than the review), you have three days to reply. Review will be up by Monday (my Tuesday). Thank you to everyone who took part, feedback via PM is welcome.

[Quio]

Lei'lira held out the blade to him and he nearly broke down at the gesture. He didn't know how to respond. He had hurt people with that blade-- yet she offered it to him? Was it possible she didn't know? How could he ever explain--

But it turned out he didn't have to. The blue-skinned woman approached, knocking Lei'lira's offer aside, and he was almost relieved when she yanked his arms behind his back, telling another of the sailors to bind him. He held as still as he could-- though his heartstone was racing and he was frightened. Very frightened. He knew he needed to be bound, contained... but he was still so scared. There was something about being helpless that made him want to struggle, he wanted to fight back.

The urge to fight was even more terrifying, after what he had done. By the time the ropes were tied behind him he was pulling on them quite hard. As much trying to get free as he was testing the knots. Making sure he couldn't slip his hands out.

"Lei'lira," he said, before he was led away into the bowels of the ship. He fixed her with a pleading stare. "You take Jack?" The little dog had bared her teeth and nipped out at the blue-woman when she had grabbed Quio's arms, and he didn't want Jack to get hurt. Captured, at least for the remainder of the journey, he couldn't take care of her. "Please," he said, and then he was whisked away.

---

They didn't find a brig, but they found a secluded room away from everyone else and there Quio sat. If the blue-skinned woman questioned him at all he would answer as best he could. But he did not have many answers to give. "I don't know," he mumbled. Every once and a while his arms strained against his binds, and his shoulder was really hurting, it burned something awful... but he supposed he didn't deserve medical attention. The doctor was busy. He had tried to rip out her belly.

"I was angry. I was so angry." Again he tried to figure out what had happened to him. Why he had done what he had done. Voice breaking a little, he said, "I don't know why. I was fighting the beasts and then they-- something happened, I don't know, and people just began to attack me. And I didn't want to hurt them, I didn't mean to, o-or-- at least, n-not at first. After that I don't know. I don't know. I've never been so angry." He shook his head.

---

Time wore on. The ship sailed smoothly, its gentle rocking something of a comfort to one who felt very lost and confused. He wished he had Jack with him, to cuddle by his side. He wished Hart was here.

It must have been night. He had been allowed to have his hands in front of him, and he lay still on his side with his arms tucked close to his body. The burn, he had finally realized, was in a peculiar shape-- the shape of a sickle. He didn't know what it meant.

There was a slight creaking and then the blind man was there. Tears sprang to Quio's eyes and he sat up, wiping them away. The man --the immortal-- was kind. How could he be so kind? He asked Quio to lead the people he had ravaged. He didn't know how to say he couldn't. He couldn't. But neither could he deny the will of a god. Mutely, not knowing what else to do, he nodded his head. He would take the passengers of the ship, those who were willing, to the meeting of immortals. He would do it if it was U'frek's will.

Twin shells of pearl were pressed into his hands and he found himself choking up again. “A home away from home,” the immortal smiled, “Keep them safe, keep them secret.”

"I will," Quio whispered, and then the immortal was gone.

---

Morning came, and somehow, somehow in only three day's time they had made it to Ne'haer. Quio, like the rest of the chosen, departed the ship. He had agonized over the decision before asking the blue-skinned woman to allow him to retrieve his weapons, plus the shield and armor he had been supplied before. "We need to go to the Judgement Halls," he said listlessly to anyone who would listen. The irony struck him, that he, a prisoner, would be asked to bring them to a place of judgement. "The Council of Minäih," he said.

Message delivered and shells tucked into an inner pocket of his coat, he lost himself back in the crowd. Letting someone else lead them there. Someone who knew the way better than he. Jack came bounding up and he absently bent to scratch behind her ears.

Out, out past the shore, the beautiful ship and its captain sank once more back into the waves.

"Speaking in Rakahi"
"Speaking in Common"
"Speaking in Ulehi"