Ardent

Boj looked down at the bloodied mask, flimsy snaps of skin and tendon still clinging to the shaped bone-face. Behind him, the spirits shrieked in unholy cacophony. Boj awakened slowly from his stupor, focusing on Rynn's trophy. He bent and carefully picked the thing up, fingers hooked through the inhumanly flat zygoma. He turned and, seeing the voice-stealers fleeing, placed his foot back to steady himself and sent the damned mask sailing after them.

Rynn, oh, Rynn. How lucky she was Boj hadn't seen her take the voice-stone.

"It's time to go. Come." As if he hadn't been completely helpless just moments earlier, the bear-man turned and began to stride southwest--following the sky-veiled face of the red moon.

'Not even a damn thank you...' Rynn thought to herself, running to catch up with him. She would have liked for him to pick her up again, they moved so much more quickly that way, but Rynn didn't say anything. It seemed whatever momentary intimacy they'd had the night before was long gone.

As they walked she remembered the creepy girl that had warned her. "Boj, you may call me crazy for this, but last night, there was this odd girl in my dream. As I woke up, she told me not to trust the people from the Ardent. I doubt its anything to really think about, but I've heard of the Ardent. They tried to find the shift particle and failed. I don't know why my dreams would tell me that, I've never met anyone from the Ardent." She felt odd telling him about it, but Rynn needed to say it to someone, and if it was a true warning he should know.

Boj stopped mid-step and canted his head slightly, eyes on her. "You are not maddened, no." He continued on his way. "I suspect she is a spirit of these woods, like the voice-stealers. My father is on good terms with the crew and captain. Respectable people. Not likely to come here, regardless. Their ship crashed, too."

"Good to know I'm not going insane..." Rynn said, thinking to herself. The images of Randersvayne still haunted her. She didn't want to dream about him. "How come all those spirits found us? I thought we weren't supposed to encounter very many of them?" She shuddered. Those things creeped her out beyond anything. Rynn quickened her step, catching up to his long strides. She didn't want to get lost.

Boj shook his head as they walked. "I told you. You were screaming." He glanced back and slowed his pace somewhat, now that they were a reasonable distance from the voice-stealers. "This woman. Did she say anything else?"

"Sorry, I didn't catch you saying that when you said it. ..why was I screaming?" she asked no one in particular, but she already knew why. It was because of Nathaniel, that awful man. "No, not anything understandable. The said 'I-their guide' but I don't know that that means anything. And I'm sorry about the screaming. Nightmares. Hopefully I won't have them again."

"How should I know why?"

Boj shrugs when she mentions her confusion over the dream-woman's words, and clumsily hops over a small boulder in his path. "You will see her again, I think. But I would not listen to her words. The things in these woods..." he glances at her pointedly. "They are tricksters. Nothing in these woods can be trusted."

The day's travels are mostly without event until the late evening. Aside from a few interesting looking interests that, he could have sworn, hissed at him before scattering away, the two passed through the Gale woods with little incident. Boj began to speak more as the trees began to disperse, explaining that they were for the most part outside of the territory of the voice-stealers. He even stopped to crouch down and point out an odd set of tracks in the undergrowth--what looked like someone walking on two thin sticks. He shook his head and moved on.

When the sky was just beginning to turn from blue, they heard a high, sort of squawking male voice. Boj shoots Rynn a warning glance before jogging ahead in the direction of the voice. A few yards up, he stops in his tracks and stares at the strange sight.

http://dl.dropbox.com/u/4190910/bird.png

There stands a tree unlike anything either of them have seen, and a bird unlike anything either of them have seen. Deep brown branches bursting into thousands of blushing blossoms. Perched within, an enormous white bird crested with deepest red and black.

It squawks in an unfamiliar voice.

"Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!" it repeats, over and over and over again.

Prologue

City of Cann, Third Week of Summer, Evening

http://fc01.deviantart.net/fs32/f/20...ks_by_aora.jpg

http://i149.photobucket.com/albums/s...ey/music-1.png

It is a magnificent sight. The Ardent glistens with polish, its copperbrass and ironwood hull stitched together by no less than mage-fueled Bursian metalcrafting. Her infamous name glints in the orange-red glow of dusk and moon, the last rays of sunlight caught in the sheer fabric of her sails. Lines run taut to hold the sleek beast down, and she pulls at her restrains just as she did two years ago. She is ready.

Ready, but for a captain, crew, and purpose.

The beloved Queen of Tyrisia herself funds this second venture. Her sovereigns have ensured that some of the finest mercenaries are added to the roster, joining the already impressive crew. They have provided the means for new weaponry, more powerful engines, a larger flight deck, and more. But the same hand which spills coins for the Ardent has provided many other ships with the same. It will be up to the crew to make the difference.

In a few hours, the sails will have soaked the last of the daylight and will be ready to embark across the Vast Sea and into the uncharted lands to the west in their second attempt to take the Shift Particle for themselves. This time, they will succeed.

Fortinbras Carlyle was elated; he positively walking on air as he slung the duffel of personal effects that had served as his luggage during his stays in Cann's inns, seeking information and able bodies in equal proportion. Never mind that his brow was knit and low over his eyes, or that his jaw was already sore from clenching. Say nothing of the determined cant of his shoulders as he left the bean-counters and bawdy-houses of the Highstreet district behind. He was excited damn it. Absolutely overjoyed to be setting out on this glorious adventure...with a leash and collar and a stuff-shirt anchor to boot. Excited. Happy. Gainsay his rapture, and you'd more than likely find yourself bleeding from a new cornhole, compliments of Fort's bolter.

Throne, but it was good to have a job, for all of its ills. Too long on terra-firma. Too long by half. And for every strike against this contract (murderous rivals, long treacherous route, terrible history, direct supervision, an employer with her own Navy), at least it got the Ardent flying again.

Eastdown Docks, quay three. There she was.

Fort took a moment to just drink her in. Soarwood, ironwood, bronze, iron, copper; every lovely line restored with studious care. The little Bursian barque had risen from the ashes, wrapped around that spar of limestone. The keel swept in that sinuous arc that he'd loved so well (perhaps the Bursians had taken something out of the elves' aesthetic book for that one). The single primary mast set with its heavy solarsails had been restored from the original lumber; shorter now, sleeker as the sails caught the sun's last dying rays. The gunwhale had been restored, it's railing capped in bronze lightning-sinks. Even the gangplank which had been salvaged whole-sale from the wreckage was freshly varnished and set with new iron anchor-stays. Someone had even stencilled her name across her stern once more, sepia-gold against the burnished brown of cured soarwood: Ardent. Fort let the bag hang from his hand, his eyes watering like a groom's watching his bride advancing down the aisle; or a father watching his little girl make that same walk.

"Throne..." Fort whispered to himself, swinging the duffel back across a shoulder and making for the gangplank which connected the world of Cann with his little flying nation. Ten steps to the gunwhale, and fifteen further to the mizzen where he touched the chisel-marks set into the masts lower quarter; only an inch long, and no wider than a knife-edge, one had been carved for each member lost on the last voyage. "'Till it's done." It was simple, as far as oaths go, but it would serve.

Fort slung his sea-bag and made toward the door set offset into the aftcastle and the promise of his quarters. By the Golden Throne, but it was good to be home.

Cas Seingalt had had bided her time since the sun hung midsky, when the air was hot with summer and the sky-wharf buzzed with workers and insects alike. She had patrolled every inch of familiar wood and trailed thin fingers across the railing, smiled at the clunk of boot on wood. A sound she hadn't realized she missed. She counted her steps on the ladders, down the corridoors, to her old room and back up again. The rifle Vega felt lighter at her side when she was here, her heart as well. This was home.

Elaborate lace-ridden dresses had given way to simple, well-used attire which tucked away her bosom, padded her against fall, and made her feel less like the thing she had fled from becoming. Maquillage had given way to bare skin across which trailed the fibrous tissue that was her mother's legacy. Scowl had given way to smile.

These past two years had seen all too much change for her. The Ardent hadn't just been her home, it was sanctuary. No longer able to take refuge from her own kind in these hallowed halls, the young elf had been forced to make her own way in the world. She'd taken odd job after odd job, traded dignity for needed coin, joined crews and captains that had less patience and ability than her own. She'd learned to behave herself, mostly. Her mother had carved humility into her lovely face, these past two years finished the job. Mostly.

Topside, she laced her arms together and reclined against the ancient mast contentedly. Eyes on something beyond the sea. Her thoughts turned to the man whose brain had found her bullet, the stolen kiss of the ship's pilot, the broken lips of her captain, the face of the crew's escort in Kerria whose face she found herself unable to forget...she was lost in the fragmented reflections of the evening sun which rode the sea far below when the first arrived. She felt it.

Her captain.

Cas pushed herself from the mast and swung round with the sort of half-smile that might have left the old crew shaking in their beds two years ago: a genuine one.

But, no.

It was not only the captain, but the guide behind him politely heading into his quarters. Her eyes drew themselves to the old man despite themselves, before returning to the copper-haired commander she had not seen since the months after the crash. Reclining once again against the wood-tower, her smile slipped deeper into her features and her arms crossed themselves.

"Mon fusil est le vôtre, capitaine."

"I just was asking in general. But yeah, I'm starting to get the idea that these woods are very dangerous for the unwary." Rynn said, shrugging. She listened as she walked with him, expressing her relief as he talked about them being away from the voice stealers. She did not want to meet anymore of those strange, disconcerting creatures.

The tracks he'd pointed out where quite interesting and odd, also disconcerting. And Rynn told him as much. Rynn didn't like this place at all. It left her feeling chilled and a bit concerned. But fortunately for them, they had a fairly uneventful day. Rynn was smiling as she saw the night coming upon them. Perhaps she would get a full night's sleep tonight.

And then, of course, something had to pop up. The tree was beautiful, but quite strange. And the bird had glorious plumage, but then Rynn heard its voice. She looked at it, her face registering disbelief. "Boj... is that thing saying what I think its saying?" Rynn asked, crossing her arms across her chest as she stared at it. What a rude creature.

"Yes, it is saying what you think it is saying."

The bird didn't seem to so much as notice their presence, indeed, now that they looked at it more closely it didn't seem to be squawking at them. It ignored them entirely.

Boj circled the strange tree slowly, reaching up to pluck one of the pinkish blossoms from a low branch. The bird finally seemed to notice them and stopped cursing the skies for a moment to snap at his hand, sharp black beak piercing thick skin. Boj pulled it away and clutched it, a little blood already beginning to run down it. He looked down at the hand a little dumbly, only to murmur with a small chuckle.

"Perhaps we should eat it."

Fort felt Cas before he heard her...or saw her, for that matter. Had one of his less attuned senses been the first to sniff her out, he might've reached for a weapon, or started, or yelped like a frightened schoolgirl, or something else downright embarassing. As it was, he was already smiling his wolf's smile, a match for Cas' own unguarded grin. He looked her up and down, noting her change in bearing, in wardrobe, and in expression with no little bit of concern. Generally she was only this happy when she was putting bullets to men who badly needed them with the clockwork monster at her hip...and they didn't all have to need them all that badly, if Fort's memory could be trusted.

But damned if she didn't look happy, and double damned if that didn't make his own heart sing like a sparrow in springtime. Maybe she'd missed her captain, after all.

"Ensuite, je suis un homme chanceux," Fort offered back in somewhat poorly accented elvish. And he was. Never had the little bullet witch failed him when violence needed doing.

Fort seemed ready to go on, but as her eyes drifted he followed her gaze as it shifted toward the guide with a momentarily puzzled expression tugging at the corners of his eyes. When he saw the man they'd all called simply "Guide," Fort straightened up with a small nod to the older gentleman. "You do sneak about, sir. Welcome back aboard the Ardent."

A day of reunions is always sweet...wasn't that how the old Au proverb had gone? Or had Old Sam made that one up, too? No matter. Death and danger awaited, but as yet, let what lay ahead remain a vague threat, overshadowed by the warmth and laughter of the gleaming present.

Rynn walked up to the tree as well, examining it but not touching it. She especially didn't touch it after she saw it snap at Boj. A small laugh escaped her lips as he made the comment about eating it.

"You know, normally I'd say yes to eating a bird that cursed loudly and then bit my companion, but with the fact that its such an odd bird in such an odd tree in such a dangerous forest, I feel like eating it might cause us to suffer some terrible fate..." Rynn said with a small grin, looking around the tree to meet Boj's eyes.

Cas' eyes once again were drawn to the old sherpa before his head disappeared into the underbelly of the ship and Fort became the only face demanding her attention. Her grin widened.

"You look..." she struggled for a word that wouldn't be too forward. "...recovered." She glanced at his gloved hand and lifted herself off the mast. "Is your hand is still...?" She hadn't spotted any limp, though she couldn't be entirely sure. She glanced over his figure for any extra lumps under his clothing that might give away still-healing wounds. None. Her smile grew. The Ardent was fully repaired, as was its captain, it seemed.

She canted her head towards the empty deck, patting Vega's copper head. "I see Cain isn't here. Any chance he quit and decided to take up a life of solid-ground solitude?" she asked with a smile.

"Oh, by the way."

Cas turned a little and dug her hand into a side-pocket, retrieving a small, wrapped box before tossing it over with unsurprisingly stellar aim. It felt a little heavy, and if he chose to open it, inside was perhaps the world's oddest present: a small carved figurine of the Ardent, lettering and all, resting upon a simple mount. It wasn't the fanciest thing, but there was certainly a pleasant amount of detail.

"Happy launch."

A little grin twitched Boj's lips at her laugh, and he continued to look at the great bird with a great deal of thought as she spoke.

"You know, normally I'd say yes to eating a bird that cursed loudly and then bit my companion, but with the fact that its such an odd bird in such an odd tree in such a dangerous forest, I feel like eating it might cause us to suffer some terrible fate..."

The jest left Boj's expression and he nodded, reminded of the reality of the situation. Across the tree, his eyes met hers firmly.

"You laugh, but you are right. We should keep moving. We're still a few days from the caverns."

Rynn smiled as she got a grin out of Boj, it seemed progress was being made. That made her feel good. He seemed like a sweet person under that exterior.

"Yeah... Let's go. This is really suspicious." Rynn spoke, walking around to meet Boj on the other side of the tree before continuing into the words, taking a moment to look back at the expletive spitting bird.

The bird began squawking as they walked again. "Miranda! MIRANDA! Miranda!" Boj ignored it, and kept walking, nursing his hand as they went. The cut was deep, however, and wouldn't stop its bleeding. Boj was beginning to look a little pale as they continued, and finally he turned to Rynn with an embarrassed expression.

"Do you think you could...wrap this...in something?"

Rynn gave the bird one more confused look, then walked away. She looked around the forest in twilight, it was quite pretty, though she was ready to stop soon. She hadn't really taken much notice of Boj's injury until he asked her for help. Rynn flashed her eyes to his hand as he asked her help. She nodded quickly.

Rynn pulled a random cloth out of her pack, ripping into a few strips. She took his hand gently in hers and wiped the blood off with another piece of the cloth. Rynn then took the strips and starting wrapping it tightly, to staunch bleeding, but doing her very best not to hurt him. "Sorry if I hurt you doing this, but it needs to be tight."

Had she been a different sort of person, Alcy might have been intimidated by the legendary ship that stood before her. The Ardent. A legend among those in her profession, every self-respecting air mercenary/pirate/title of choice dreamed of working on that ship. Somehow, Alcy Covington had managed to score a spot. She was still wondering how she'd done it.

Actually, no she wasn't, that was her being modest. Realism was the knowledge that she deserved that spot. Perhaps it would come off to the wrong people as cockiness, but as Alcy had never vocalized this to anyone, there was no one to consider her cocky. Not to mention the fact that she knew no one on this ship besides the short interview to fill her position as gunner. She wouldn't be the only gunner, she knew that, and she knew she wouldn't be the best. But she had been good enough that even at the very young age of twenty Alcy had procured a spot upon the famous Ardent.

She stood upon the docks for a long while, staring up at the ship with her pack slung across her shoulders and hanging at the hip. Alcy's hip was jutted out and her face wore a bright grin. Her future lay on that vessel. If she survived this journey, the bouncy young woman would never have to hung for work again. Not that she had that much of a problem finding jobs. Her skills spoke for her, and her personality made most want her amongst their crews to lighten the often somber moods of jobs.

Well she'd stood here long enough. It was time to introduce herself.

She was intimidated, of course, she'd heard some of Captain Fort's crewmembers were unfriendly and mean, and Alcy already knew she had something to prove. A twenty year old who'd only been on the circuit three years didn't expect a warm welcome on the ship. On previous ships the crew had always bullied her, asking her if she thought she was better than them because she was so young and allowed to be more than a deck swabber. Normally, those conversations ending with Alcy punching them in the face. She was a bastard child of a noble abandoned to a life in the slums, she damn well knew how to handle a fight.

But fighting was not her intention. She would go into the crew with humbleness and a desire to learn from the much more experienced team. Alcy respected the Ardent's crew, unlike all the other ships she'd been on. And with that thought, Alcy climbed the gangplank and found herself on the deck. She saw an elven woman talking to the captain, and from the looks of her this woman wasn't new to the Ardent.. Alcy would've liked to have greeted the captain, but it was otherwise engaged and she wasn't the type to be rude, so she cast her attention elsewhere.

It seemed she was one of the first ready to embark. Alcy figured she had a right to take a look at the ships big guns, considering that was what she was hired for, and so she made her way over there, planning to greet the captain when she saw that he was free.

'This is it' Alcy thought to herself, leaning against the railing and looking off into the horizon.

Boj's jaw clenched as Rynn wrapped his massive hand in the tight grip of cloth-strips. He shook his head at her apology and did not complain. He tested the tightness of the wrapping and, satisfied, continued on.

They were moving steadily higher, bouts of rock jutting from the land and the trees growing more sparse, when Boj spoke up. "How did you end up in father's port?"

She smiled as he approved the bandages and they trodded on. He then asked about how she ended up in Ma'Deu. That was quite a story.

"Well, Nathaniel and I had our debut ball as a couple a few months ago. Due to some events that happened at the ball that showed me what kind of man he was, I decided that I had to run that night. I left the ball early, sneaking back to my house. After packing some things and stealing some mens clothes from my brother's closet, I took one of my families horses and rode south out of Cann. It was really tough, I had to learn to do a lot. Trust me, the first time I cooked food I'd caught, it wasn't pretty like it was last night."

"I struggled, even though I knew how to defend myself I wasn't very good at surviving. I abandoned the horse in the first village I came too, selling it to a man traveling east, lest they track the horse. I bought another one. Fortunately for me, I also met an odd Aun woman who seemed to know I'd run off. Probably from the fact I was still wearing my brother's clothes. She helped me buy a set of leather armor fitted for me and taught me how to skin animals. She was a butcher. She gave me some great advice and I continued on."

"I reached Athlos a while later and sold off my horse there. I bought passage on a ship, a very sketchy ship, that didn't require names for the passengers. And that ship took me to Ma'Deu, and you know what happened once I got there." Rynn said, shrugging.

The port-son quirked a thick brow at her. "Nathaniel, that being your...?" and nodded as she continued, keeping his eyes on the path ahead. They were making good time, despite her painfully slow pace. Fleeing the voice-stealers early in the morning had certainly helped. He let her finish before inquiring further, doing his best to be polite and make conversation as everyone seemed to want to do. He didn't, however, inquire as to what had tipped her off to this faceless nobleman's true colors.

"You rode all the way from Cann to deep Au? Or Bursia?" He glances at her, eyes glinting with curiosity. "Did you see Seboet? What was it like?"

"I did not go so far inward. I wanted to get to Kerria as quickly as safe." She spoke, in response to his question about Seboet. Rynn would've liked to have gone that, but the longer she was in Tyrisia the riskier it was. "It's harder to track people in Kerria. Also, I don't think Nathaniel would have thought I'd come here. He thinks I'm pretty stupid." Rynn said with a chuckle.

"I rode rather than taking other transportation because I didn't want to be tracked. Nathaniel is a much smart man than he lets on, and he would have thought to look at ferry records or ships out of Cann. I had to tack an untraceable way." Rynn looked around, it was dark now. "Perhaps we should find a place to make camp soon?" She asked, turning her eyes to Boj.

Boj grunted in response to her explanation, and then again as she suggested making camp. "It'll be a lot harder for them to track you out here, unless they know what they're doing and bother asking the locals. Your kind don't usually bother with asking the locals," he adds with a bitter snort.

He stops, and points to a natural alcove embedded in a nearby cliffside. "It looks like it might rain. Best to have something above our heads. You get the fire."

And so he was off, once again leaving her with the job he could have completed in mere minutes. Perhaps an hour later, he returned with a few rabbits clasped in his hand and a broad grin across his face.

DM Note: For the sake of simplicity, pre-launch roleplay will remain in the Docks of Cann location and only move to the onboard locations when I indicate.

Rynn nodded and went back to making the fire, doing it the same way this night that she had done the night before. She gathered the sticks and lit the match, throwing it onto the fire.

After she did so, she rolled out her bedroll towards the back of the alcove and reclined against the wall. Once he returned with the rabbits, Rynn smiled back at him. It looked like a good dinner. Hot food would be good on this night. "Nice... good haul."

The two fall asleep, neither expecting the events of the morning to come...

They moved quickly, silently, The alcove made it much easier to corner them. Five men, all large, all armed. The blocked off the exit of the alcove, and examined exactly how deep each of them slept. Considering the sheer size of companion, likely her lover, he was probably completely out. The leader of the guards motioned for two of them to bind his hands tightly, and keep a very close eye on him. He was dangerous. And then it was time for the girl.

The leader walked up to Rynn, grabbing her tightly and yanking her to her feet. She awoke with a start to find a man tying her hands at the wrist. "WHAT the fuck do you think you're doing!!?" She yelled, panicked as she felt the knots tightened and the guard threw her against the wall.

"It was a long search, Rynn Arokit.... but we've found you. You should've known you wouldn't get away, a little princess like you couldn't do it." He laughed, his rotted teeth showing.

"I am NOT a fucking princess!" Rynn yelled, struggling against him and slamming her shoulder into him. "BOJ!" Rynn yelled, trying to wake the man.

Boj was pulled from his stupor by the muffled shout of a voice he could not, in his sleep, quite place. He stirred a little, hearing his name called. Instinct driven by past experience straightened his legs and shot him up--right into the curve of the alcove. Boj groaned and lowered himself down, his stupor no less driven away thanks to the throbbing lump on his head.

He'd always been a heavy sleeper. Luckily, always had a thick skull as well. Boj slowly blinked away the haze of sleep and pain, frowning as he strained his hands a little this way and that.

Hells...?

Well, that woke him up. Boj's eyes shot open and he took in the scene with a sinking feeling that was soon accompanied by a rising tide of anger. It was times like these that Boj wished he'd bothered to hone his mind-skill a little more growing up. For all his concentration and squinting, he could do no more than send a few puny sparks in the direction of one of the guards.

Well, shit.