BountyOfTheSeas/Session17

START CHAPTER 17
The wind whips over the deck of the slave-ship, tousling the hair and loose clothing of the warriors as they strive and die. Blood mingles with the sea's mists as the waves seem to respond to the violence raging across the ship's deck. The crew of the Brilliance, led by a daring Solar charge, is locked in deadly combat with the sailors and mercenaries of the Guild - but, even as the mortals are tossed aside, a threat most unusual presents itself. Pyhrra, warrior of the Sun, has been challenged by a gaudily-dressed stranger presenting himself as Foame. And her comrades are still tied down by the furious opposition of the ship's crew. With crimson pools spreading across the planks and making footing even more treacherous than normal for a tossing boat, the tall, grey-skinned creature and the shining champion of the Sun face off. As Verdant Waves is being pressed against the railing by the mass of men and steel, however, a familiar, soft-spoken voice seems to float to his ears. "May I offer assistance, friend Verdant Waves?"
Verdant whirls about to face the source of the voice amongst the forest of blades, deflecting one sword blow and twisting out of the path of another as he does so.
Standing casually, but ramrod-straight as always, Hidden Victory presents a most unusual sight on the cramped battlefield. His long, white hair is immaculately braided, and his simple robes are a dark contrast with the riot of colors that comprise the sailors' uniforms. He inclines his head slightly to acknowledge Verdant, a smile playing across his face.
Verdant chuckles. "I'd be a fool to refuse such help."
A poor, misguided Guildman takes a swipe at the scholarly-looking fellow, and in the span of a heartbeat his arm is broken in three places. Hidden Victory gently pushes him aside.
Verdant thrusts his staff towards a guard's head. As the man desperately attempts to raise his weapon to block, Verdant twirls the staff about, sending the opposite end slamming into the man's unguarded knee. As the hapless man jerks in pain, Verdant whacks him in the face with his staff.
The guard narrowly predicts the feint in time, batting away the strike at his knee - but the second attack catches him full in the forehead, and with the sudden glaze of death darkening his eyes, he crumples to the deck.
Pyhrra presses her boots as flat on the bloodsprayed deck as she can, grounding herself for the massive ammount of essence that was about to surge through her body in a matter of moments. In a flash of gold sparks that spray off her weapons and heels she rushes against the fae like a tiger on a particularly dangerous gazelle. Sheathing her sword like lightning she wraps her gloved hand around the smooth crystaline plate on Foame's shoulder, holding the fae fast in an iron Dawn grip.
In a split-second snatch of vision, through the haze of Essence, Pyhrra can see the anticipatory grin on Foame's face.
With the power of momentum she summons almost godly force into her right leg which soars with a deep forbidding whoosh to crack into the seam of Foame's armour at his hip, smashing into the iron-hard glassen plate, then again into the side of his knee, a blow that would crush any mortal protection. Pyhrra whoops with the effort as the essence of more than one magic surges through her veins.
Pyhrra is aghast as the eerie stranger twists and writhes through her indomitable grip, bringing the shield-of-waves down and around to deftly absorb the entirety of the savage blow.
Pyhrra says, "Wha-?!" The blow reverberates through the shield, the essence flashing and dissipating in a gold shockwave blowing debris away from around the two combatants.
Foame slips away from his opponent. "An excellent opening gambit, m'lady. Most interestingly played. Perhaps I shall return the favor."
Zeleny glares at the trio of guild puppets in his way. Gore covers his arms past the elbows, and his hands and golden slashfists drip blood. Amazingly, the lackeys are brave, or at least well-disciplined, for they do not get out of his way. One looks slightly queasy, and the others have a grim look on their faces. They are men who know their death is nigh. And so Zeleny brings it to them.
Zeleny moves like a snake, striking instantly; he buries one slashfist in a soldier's heart between one breath and the next, smashing through the man's breastbone with the ease of a butcher. The other man makes a 'gah' sound, as he raises his axe to attempt some kind of attack. But the Solar does not give him a chance, bringing out his slashfist from the first shoulder's wet, awful sound, fresh blood coating its beautiful lines. The man with the axe dies to an ugly slice across his throat, a slice which nearly takes his head with it. The queasy-looking one- a 'soldier' no older than a boy - sees his fellows cut down and screams, charging at Zeleny as he holds a rusty cutlass high over his head. It would be the work of a moment to eviscerate him; whomever had trained him, hadn't done it well. Pity stirs in Zeleny's heart, and he speaks a single word says, "Stop." Inspiration of Men shudders, seeming to hum, and the boy stops, no more capable of denying that calm command than he could deny an earthquake or a storm. Zeleny steps around him to continue the slaughter. He does not see the grinning man who raises a whip behind him.
The two fighters facing Verdant rush to the attack, fanning out to attempt to flank him. Verdant half-expected Hidden Victory to break them, but their attacks turned out to be ineffectual, and were easily sidestepped.
More than 20 feet away, a whip was raised in savage anticipation of flaying the good Captain Zeleny. A loud crack meets the Captain's ears, but it is not the sound of a brutal lash - instead, the Captain whirls to find the simple-looking bureaucrat standing over the twisted wreckage of a former slavemaster. His face is that of a well-tanned young man, but his eyes belie a certainty and an experience only seen in the eyes of the wise.
Zeleny frowns in puzzlement, and nods briefly to the man. There would be a time for questions later.
Verdant barrels forward, staff held horizontally in front of him, catching both of his assailants in the midriff. Both raise their hands ineffectually to ward off the onrushing timber, but to no avail.
Verdant plows forward, propelling the hapless guards along his run. "If you can't swim, boys..." Verdant stops suddenly right by the edge of the ship. The guards do not stop anywhere near as rapidly. "...you'd better learn fast."
Pyhrra steps back, her first and most powerful move inneffective against Foame, a being so far beyond mortal that she had never considered styles to counter, she would have to improvise. He was fast, faster than her, but the best form of defense was a strong offense - Pyhrra never believed that, but nevertheless...
Taking the advantage that Foame was at least slightly off-balance from her sudden attack, she charges again, throwing her entire weight behind the shield ramming into Foame like a stampeding bison. Without pause she whirls around clockwise slashing at the air with memoir at the throat of the backpeddling fair folk warrior then reversing her spin to ram her shield in a savage low uppercut against his chestplate, the blow throwing debris across the deck.
A split-second before impact, Foame interposes his elegant glass rapier. The sword-strike meets only the wave-shield, skidding off in a spray of sparks. And the final shield strike is expertly guided away from the Fae's body with a deft turn of the rapier.
Unbelievably, the first - and most deadly - shield strike didn't harm the arrogant monster: instead, his entire body seemed to disappear in a flash of water droplets, only to reform in a flash, and continue to effortlessly bat aside Pyhrra's assault.
Pyhrra slows to a stop from her spin almost in slow motion, golden sparks dancing like fireflies off Ceaseless Journey, the sunlight gleams off her breastplate, caressed by golden hair. Her green eyes narrow as the fae frustratingly continues to evade her, almost... toying with her. She was outclassed and she knew it, but she did not let it show on her face, which remained steely and concentrated, with a glitter of a sunburst on her brow.
The two warriors pause momentarily in their duel. Foame's expression is serene, to contrast with Pyhrra's steely countenance. His expression seems genuinely interested as he asks, "So, Pyhrra... how's the family?"
Pyhrra says, "I hit you fair and square. That's cheating." Pyhrra counters, ignoring his question.
Foame replies, "Hmm? Oh, that. All's fair in love and war, my dear." He waves away her accusation with a casual toss of his shield arm.
Pyhrra lowers her stance again, bobbing lightly on her feet. "Talk is cheap in war as well."
Foame says, "Are not words always... 'cheap,' as you say?"
Pyhrra smiles slightly. Not necessarily. If worst came to worst she could try and magically transfix this warrior and his men while the crew of the Brilliance escaped...
Zeleny sees Pyhrra fight with a monster-thing across the deck and grimly, makes his way to her. The deck is slick with blood and other fluids.
During his exchange with Pyhrra, the elegant warrior spies Zeleny striding purposefully across the chaos-strewn deck. He pointedly returns his attention to the golden-haired Dawn, even as men and women dressed in the purple-and-gold of Foame's own garb storm up from the bowels of the ship. They purposefully heft finely-kept steel weapons: axes, cutlasses, and twin knives predominate. In all, there are eight of the menacing warriors, and they move to intercept Zeleny.
Zeleny scowls ferociously at them, his eyes helplessly seeking Pyhrra over the fray. He falls into a crouch as the thralls converge upon him, and then lashes out, becoming a dervish of destruction as he viciously prunes his opposition.
They move as a seamless whole, and their teeth are bared in snarls as they leap to the attack.
Zeleny steps aside in elegant counterpoint. He dances in bloody harmony with his Fae-love prey, slicing and cutting and jabbing; now spinning to block a kick, then ripping out a beautiful woman's throat. Her blood complements the gold and purple of her attire.
The woman with the torn throat falls back, but one of her brethren deftly deflects Zeleny's deadly thrust, and another takes only a glancing wound to the shoulder. As the battle rages, their flowing silk garb is torn to reveal concealed armor - and, more horrifyingly, bright tendrils of spectral colors float through the air about their head and shoulders. These red, orange, and yellow tentacles seem to offer some resistance to physical objects passing through them - the warriors are coordinated enough not to interfere with one another, but Zeleny's slashfists are slowed, and his blows dulled.
Foame makes a tiny bow to Pyhrra. "Now, if I may..." With a motion so fast his outline seems to blur, the Fae launches a devastating series of strikes against the Dawn. His blows rain down with all the fury of a storm at sea, rapier deadly-quick and shield hammering at her defenses.
Pyhrra crosses her sword over her left arm behind the shield to stablize it and raises ceaseless journey up to weather the torrent of strikes, the gambit she had considered, lost.
Foame says, "Excellent! Truly marvelous! I have yet to meet an opponent that can stand up under such punishment."
Pyhrra pulls the unblemished Ceaseless Journey aside, grinning menacingly at the fae. "I'm so *glad* you approve..."
Foame says, "Approve? Why, I am ecstatic! Now I won't have to hold back!"
Pyhrra says, "Crap..."

Verdant looks back and forth across the battle, from Pyhrra facing the fae creature to Zeleny facing his (its?) minions. "Decisions, decisions...here goes something."
Verdant mumbles "I hope" under his breath.
Verdant begins chanting, symbols swirling about his outstretched arm.
With practiced, easy brutality Zeleny brings suffering to thoes he fights. As a purple-suited man llunges at him, he steps aside, grabbing the bodyguards wrist as it passes by. With a simple hack, he seperates the man's hand from his wrist. He turns to catch another through the sternum with a golden blade, as the warrior does her level best to stab him. The attempt to skewer was handily deflected, and the unfortunate whose wrist Zeleny caught escaped with only minor arterial spray, falling back behind his comrades to nurse the wound. Surrounded by a purple and gold maelstrom of leering bloodlust, Zeleny is pressed back even as three of the unwounded warriors break away to bear down on Verdant Waves. One of the escaping warriors hacks a rope free from the rigging, wrapping it tightly around his wrist and swinging high above the heads of the warring men below. The other two instead savagely cut their way through the throngs of sailors, heedless of their victim's identities or allegiancees. Five remain embroiled in the conflict with Zeleny, two having already defended themselves from his attacks. Each of the gaudily-dressed warriors lunges in perfect synchronization, attempting to hamstring Zeleny or otherwise hamper his assault...but their blades taste only air, one stumbling on a coil of ill-placed rope so that his neck is dangerously exposed to reprisal.
Pyhrra pants, one eye squinted shut. She was so far uninjured, but that could not last and both combatants knew it. Could she weather another attack by this lunatic fae?
Foame winks at the winded Solar. "We shall find out. But first - watch my Glorious Anemone Warriors dispatch with these nuisances."
Pyhrra says, "Huh-Grrrrr..." Pyhrra growls annoyed, though it begins to sound closer to that of a cornered predator.
Verdant is assailed by three silent warriors, one swinging down from on-high, long knife clenched in his perfect teeth. The Warrior on the left spins in with a low sweeping kick, using the momentum to power an axe-strike as well. The right-most Warrior powers in with a straight lunge, short sword extended, then follows up by kicking savagely at the sorcerer's knees. And the swinging Warrior drops, heels first, knife ready to spill blood.
Verdant finds himself with no choice. His eyes show his determination, and a bit of fear...for the spell is too far into casting to stop voluntarily...
Verdant sees death coming for him from almost every direction. Twilight Solar or no, there is little hope of survival, much less keeping the spell going...and then Verdant no longer sees the battle on the Hearty Loaf, but instead something else.

A woman stands by his side, her bearing regal, of one who knows she is honored and respected. She is clad in white robes, a sword at her waist, and a long cloak about her shoulders. Verdant feels himself speaking, but the voice is not his own. "Teacher, how can one apply sorcery to the field of battle if it leaves one so vulnerable? Our foes will not let such a threat persist, no matter how well protected..."
The woman chuckles. "We were made to transcend possibility, student. And no matter how bleak, there is always a way."
Verdant finds himself speaking again. "But once the spell is begun, it cannot be stopped, it must be finished. And until then, I am helpless."
"Not helpless, young one," the woman replies. "If worst comes to worst, there is one last defense: just as you must gather Essence from the world to shape, so too can you push it away. If you push the Essence away from you before the spell can collapse, it will not burn you."
Verdant starts as the vision departs without warning, leaving him staring at the short sword coming straight for his chest.

Verdant throws his arms outward to his sides, the runes and patterns of the spell exploding outward, shattering into sparks of light that sizzle and disappear.
On the other side of the Hearty Loaf, Foame chuckles to himself.
The lunging warrior blinks for the barest of moments at the lights rush past him. But when his eyes open again, Verdant is to his right side. Frantically, he kicks at Verdant's legs, only to feel footsteps travel up his leg faster than heartbeats as Verdant uses the outstretched limb as a ramp. Verdant leaps into the air, twisting out of the way of the dropping warrior's knife. Using the falling warrior's arm like an acrobat uses a trapeze, Verdant swings away before the warrior has a chance to strike again. Verdant falls back towards the deck, landing in a handstand upon the third warrior's kicking leg. As the warrior's axe continues its deadly path, Verdant tucks into a roll, getting out of the way of the blade at the last moment, a few newly cut hairs wafting through the air. Verdant rolls to his feet on the other side of the onrushing warriors, face turned towards the sun, arms outstretched as if to welcome someone into a hug. "Thanks."
The Glorious Anemone Warriors swarm over Captain Zeleny in a frenzy of gaudy colors and shining steel. Four men, one woman, three of them mildly wounded - and all of them intent on nothing less than bacchanalian bloodshed.
The weapons of the ravagers wave in perfect symmetry, weaving an assault with lethal grace. Zeleny makes himself an unweaver. He slides to one side, and a scimitar lunges a shade too far; he ducks under an axe, and the axe cuts against the oak of the deck with a solid thunk. The harmony of their dance spoiled, they become a mere five mortal men and women, and mortals will fail against the Exalted.
Zeleny grunts as a blow scrapes him in passing.
Verdant swings his staff under the outstretched arm of the warrior holding the swortsword, striking the man's (creature's?) torso and dragging him along the weapon's path. Verdant slams the warrior down onto the deck, jumping with the momentum to pole vault himself upward, the staff still resting on the unfortunate's chest. As he reaches the apex of his assisted leap, Verdant jerks the staff upwards, momentarily letting go as the staff flies upwards, catching the weapon at its bottom end. As gravity begins to reassert itself, Verdant swings the staff downwards onto the creature that was once his assailant, but now his victim, letting the force of the swing and the force of his fall alike power the vicious strike. Verdant stands up from the now-unmoving warrior's body, returning his staff to a ready position as he faces the remaining warriors.
With the faintest of groans, the man releases consciousness. The killer drive in him extinguished, his face appears little more than that of a comely youth. The tendrils of the Glorious Anemone do not fade from around his shoulders, however.
As the battle rages on around him, Zeleny stomps on a loose board of the ship's deck, it creaks as it tears away from the ship. The ravager that stands on its other end is lifted like a seesaw, and stumbles back into the weapons of his brothers. Zeleny leaps onto a half-full rainbarrel. He balances on its rim. He can see the entire battle, the butchery Foame's warriors playfully sprayed about, the elegant skill of his comrades...and all those fighting can see him.
Zeleny says, "Sailors of the Brilliance! Of the Emancipation and the Hearty Loaf," Zeleny shouts, his voice ringing clear over the fray of the battle. "The enemy, the smiling shark walks among you, and his bloodthirsty minnows trails after him." He takes in a deep breath, and roars, "FIGHT! FIGHT TOGETHER, YOU MEN OF THE WEST, AND DESTROY THOSE WHO WOULD NAME YOU THEIR MEAT!" Three crews, scattered allegiances...but they will fight as one. They must.
Foame says, "The upper hand is mine, dear Pyhrra - and I think you have not yet begun to dance as you are truly able." The Fae blurs into motion again, blazing rapier and one knee raised to spring forward -
Pyhrra says, "Is that SO!" With nigh but the merest act of will upon her companion shield it roars and rings into blinding sunlight, engulfing the Dawn and the charging fae in a blaze of white and gold, covering the ship's deck in harsh illumination and even shredding the long black shadows cast by the combatants on the deck. Men close are pushed back by the magic, whipped at by the blown and torn sailcloth and ropes. All except the Solar's on deck of course, who feel nothing more adverse than a comfortable warmth.
Foame's melodious voice of bells rings out a sybilant hiss as he attempts to cover his eyes with his - sadly transparent - shield.
As Ceaseless Journey fades to a soft golden glow, Pyhrra quickly siezes Foame's outstretched arm, nearly crushing his nimble, dextrous fingers in an iron grip. She yanks the lightfooted fae against her and reaches around with her shield arm, grabbing the fae buy the collar plate around his neck.
Pyhrra says, "-Dance with me then Foame, if you can handle me!" She snarls, with her nose pressed against his, staring harshly into his squinted eyes.
Instead of resisting, as she might have anticipated, Foame deftly manuevers inside the clinch to try and seize control. Foame's inhumanly flexible joints give him an edge, and his lithe frame belies a formidable strength.
Pyhrra says, "Agh-!" Pyhrra grunts as the fae mirrors her move, taking hold of her left collar with his right hand, and presses his forarm against her throat, forcing the Dawn to her knees.
Foame says, "I appear to be able to -more- than handle you, my dear. Once again, I have bested you." Pyhrra feels the air squeezed from her lungs, and she imagines that she can hear her ribs creak beneath the strain.
Pyhrra says, "Uaaaaahhh!"
Foame says, "And so, as delightful as further combat would be..."
Pyhrra says, "This *pant* isn't over yet Foame!" she growls.
With a gentle motion, he releases her, and offers her his grey-skinned hand to help her stand.
Pyhrra sits limply on the deck like a child for a moment, then swats his hand away, rolling to her feet quickly and aiming Memoir at his face. "Just what are you playing at?!"
An involuntary smile creeps across his delicately-shaped jaw.
Foame says, "The duel is concluded to my satisfaction."
"What the %^&$#!!" Pyhrra yells. "To your satisfaction?!"
Foame says, "Take heart - you are a far better opponent than I imagined."
Pyhrra glares angrilly at him. "Now what?"
He calmly resheathes his sword, leaving it dangling from a purple sash around his effeminate waist. The Fae inspects his surrounds - the ruined deck of the ship, the dead or bleeding sailors and soldiers - with some small surprise, as if seeing it for the first time.
Foame says, "I suppose that shall depend on you." Foame gestures, beckoning, to the Glorious Anemone Warriors. Though they cannot see him, embroiled as they are in combat with Zeleny and Verdant, they immediately disengage and hurry to his side. He inspects them each in turn, bending down to peer at each of their faces, staring into their eyes.
The core of the Hearty Loaf's resistance has been broken over the course of the Solars' greater struggles.
Pyhrra stares at him, her face contorted in a mask of annoyance, confusion and disbelief.
Verdant stands, staff at the ready, eyes narrowed at the...creature.
Zeleny takes immediate advantage of the momentary breather, to order, and achieve, the surrender of the Hearty Loaf's sailors and soldiers. They drop their weapons, and are duly herded into a corner by bleeding men from the Brilliance .
The Brilliance's men round up the sailors and soldiers who have surrendered, and arrangements are made for the wounded on both sides.
Pyhrra coughs and wipes a small drop of blood that trickles down the corner of her lip. She looks at the red mark on the back of her glove and at Foame.
Having reassurred himself that all is well with his flock, the Fair One turns to regard once more Pyhrra, Verdant Waves - and, standing behind them, Hidden Victory. Foame delicately extends a hand to wipe away some of the smeared blood on Pyhrra's chin.
Pyhrra grabs his wrist. "Dont tempt me."
Foame calmly but firmly removes his wrist from the Dawn's grasp. "I trust you have someone to tend to your wounds?"
Pyhrra says, "Something like that. What, so you're just going to be leaving now, is that it?"
Foame smiles. "Of course."
"Then what are ya still doing here then?" Pyhrra retorts, letting no small ammount of sass into her voice. The adrenalin from the combat was rapidly fading, and it became a concious effort to halt the involuntary tremble in her muscles.
The flawless, almost alien face furrows its brow. "My transportation has been interrupted in a... most untimely manner."
Pyhrra says, "Get to the point. You want the ship?"
Foame offers up his palms. "I want transport. The means is entirely unimportant."
Pyhrra says, "Give us the Guild boys and the ship is yours. Sail her. Sink her. You can truck her up the Yanaze and hold a Lookshy dance recidal in Nexus for all I care."
The laughter of bells rings through the air. "Ahh, Pyhrra, you have the most charming way of speaking."
"I can dance on the head of a pin as well." Pyhrra answers without smile or humour.
Foame says, "Really? How quaint."
Pyhrra says, "I'm glad you think so. Is it a deal? The guild kids for this fine canoo?"
Foame sighs ruefully. "I sincerely doubt my Warriors and I can navigate this cumbersome vessel entirely on our own."
Pyhrra says, "Well I'm sure you can make some fine oars out of milk snails or laughing leaves or what have you. That's the deal. We take these people - and any they've got spirited away in the hold. And you get the ship."
Foame laughs again. "What would I do with the ship, my dear? You're not thinking, clearly."
Pyhrra says, "Clear enough to keep you well away from me."
Zeleny, at last satisfied the ship had been secured as well as was practical, strides over to join the knot of monster, monster-lackeys, and Exalts. He seems surprised to discover it is a peaceable knot. "What the hell is this?" he spits as he arrives.
Foame turns to the new arrival. "Ah! You are, no doubt, the captain of this fine vessel?" He gestures to encompass the Brilliance, berthed alongside the Loaf.
Zeleny says, "I am." His gaze, as he looks upon Foame, is cold and hard.
Foame extends his arms wide. "Well done, sir! You are a most formidable adversary, as my Glorious Anemone Warriors can attest!"
Zeleny looks at Verdant and Pyhrra, temporarily dismissing the Fae from his attention. "What is going on here?"
Verdant continues to scowl at the fey creature. "*THAT* is a fey creature wanting 'transportation'."
"I uh, well, that is to say ah... " Pyhrra stammers. "Foame was complaining that he has no transport and I think, well, I said that if we took the slaves and the Guildmen he could take the Loaf... I didn't expect that you'd altogether disagree considering we are alive now and all..." Sometimes Zeleny was downright intimidating.
Zeleny says, "Really." He turns back to Foame, raises his eyebrows at the creature's raiment. "I am afraid we cannot offer you transportation." His cold tones belies his apologetic words.
Foame makes a put-upon expression, and lets out an exaggerated sigh. "I require a seat if we are to discuss such mundane matters."
Zeleny says, "...nor am I interested in allowing you to remain aboard this vessel."
Immediately, two of the uninjured Warriors kneel on hands and knees to provide the Fae with a seat. He carefully crosses his legs as he is seated, assuming a regal air.
Zeleny eye's widen at the men's servility, and his impassive features twist into a black scowl.
Foame says, "Now then... where were we?"
Zeleny says, "I have no inclination to allow you aboard this ship. Or any other."
Foame says, "Ah yes, the matter of my conveyance to Dramoor. So, you would make me walk the rest of the way?"
"You could swim," Zeleny offers generously.
Foame tosses his head. The long purple cap he wears waves in the sea breeze. "I prefer to walk, thank you."
Zeleny says, "Then go."
Foame gestures to the men and women dressed in his livery. "But... my Warriors..."
Zeleny says, "I do not object if they care to walk with you."
Foame turns to Pyhrra. "Pyhrra, be a dear and reason with the man, will you?"
Pyhrra shrugs a 'dont look at me, cookie' but tries anyway.
Pyhrra says, "With respect, Captain, he did halt the fight."
Foame says, "And what a -glorious- battle it was!"
Zeleny eyes are flat. "It decided to stop fighting. That is its choice. But I will not permit it to remain aboard my ship, or these creatures it has mutilated either."
Pyhrra says, "Then leave them on *this* ship. We'll take the guildmen and the slaves."
Zeleny says, "Why should we leave a Fae creature a ship with which to carry its minions, so that it may go on ravaging?"
Foame says, "Ravaging?"
Pyhrra says, "Eating souls you poncy grey nitwit..."
Foame says, "Tsk tsk, Pyhrra. Sharp words for one so recently bested. And besides, I don't eat -souls-. I... occasionally consume dreams, I suppose..."
Pyhrra twitches in annoyance.
Zeleny says, "There is not an island in the West which has not suffered the depradations of bands of men made heartless and mad by Fair Folk feastings. Spare us your quibbling."
Foame says, "But... -I- was not responsible for such. I keep my pets close, and care for them." He indicates the Warriors with a nod of his head.
Zeleny glares at the Warriors. The sound of his teeth grinding is audible. "I suffer no creature which makes witless slaves of others."
Foame seems taken aback by the Captain's hostility. He searches for words.
Zeleny doens't give him an opportunity to respond. "Leave. Now."
Foame's countenance darkens. "And if I choose to stay and kill you all, instead?"
Zeleny says, "We will strenuously and forcefully object." Zeleny raises Inspiration of Men demonstratively.
Pyhrra says, "We?"
Verdant growls.
Zeleny includes Pyhrra in his glare. "Certainly 'we'."
A wicked grin creeps into Foame's expression. The youthful scholar places a restraining hand on Zeleny's slashfist. He turns to face the glowering Fae.
Hidden Victory says, "If we destroy your 'Warriors,' then you will have no objection to walking to Dramoor, yes?"
Foame cringes.
Pyhrra says, "Where he will make more..." Pyhrra says to Verdant quietly.
Foame says, "Who-"
Zeleny says, "An excellent question," Zeleny agrees, regarding the scholar narrowly. He hadn't forgotten the man with the whip.
Verdant glances from the scholar, to Foame, to his fellow Solars.
With a lunging open-palmed strike, the well-tanned man in scholar's robes smashes one of the Glorious Anemone Warriors square in the solar plexus. The body goes limp, hurled crashing into - and through - the railing surrounding the Hearty Loaf's deck.
Pyhrra says, "What the-?!" Pyhrra jumps back as the young man lunges suddenly.
His long white braid settles gently back into place as the scholar dusts his hands.
Verdant is also startled by the sudden motion.
Zeleny looks unsurprised. There was obviously more to this man than first appeared. He tilts his head to consider Foame.
Foame narrows his almond-shaped eyes at the sudden, unknown factor. "This has turned into quite the exciting journey, fellow traveler. I am pleased to have shared a vessel with one so... talented. If only I could have known sooner, perhaps we could have dueled."
Foame says, "As things are, however... I bid you all farewell." With a sudden soaring leap, Foame sails through the air, pirouetting in mid-flight to disappear, feet-first, over the edge of the ship. There is no splash.
Zeleny leans over the ship railing and looks down.
Standing on the heaving waters, the jauntily-dressed Fae tips his cap in salute to the Captain, then turns to walk north.
Zeleny says, "I hate him," Zeleny informs the others in a conversational tone. "I really do."
Verdant says, "As do I."
Pyhrra regards her companions. "So, uh... that was pretty wild, huh?"
Zeleny says, "It was." Zeleny straightens back up and looks over the 'Anenomes' to see how they took their sudden abandonment. "We should remember the use of iron."
Verdant turns to the scholar and speaks in Old Realm. "I presume you received my last messenger?"
The white-haired youth nods with a grave look. "There are matters of great import that we must discuss."
The Anemones stand (or kneel) exactly as Foame had left them, their eyes unfocused on anyone or anything present.
Verdant says in Old Realm, "A word of warning, while I'm sure you know that's...the individual's...sister, she is rather obsessed. Irrationally so."
Hidden Victory replies in the same tongue, "Duly noted. I will be as tactful as I know how."
As Verdant and his apparent friend speak, Zeleny begins to slaughter the frozen Anenmone Warriors. His hands are heavy, as he cuts them down. There is pity in his eyes, and distaste in the line of his mouth, but he is methodical and merciless nevertheless.
Verdant continues in Old Realm, "I take it you have some information then? I think she will be pleased to hear it, though how well she'll think matters through before running off headlong into who knows what is an open question."
Still speaking that ancient language, Hidden Victory replies, "Not as much information as she may have hoped. But I may be able to help. I wish to discuss matters with you, first, and then we shall gather your Circle together."
Kalto and his assistants try to tend to the Solars. Others from the Brilliance drag away the former Anemone Warriors.
Verdant is at first shocked by Zeleny's slaying of the warriors, but one look into the captain's eyes and Verdant's features soften in understanding.
Verdant turns back to Hidden Victory, nodding. In Old Realm, he says, "I suspect we will have much to discuss."
As the business of liberating the ship and it's cargo gets underway, the Solars - and their strange new guest - ponder the turn of events that transformed the day into such an unusual carnival of the beatiful and horrific. But, strange as this day was, stranger still lie ahead, as Fate's threads draw disparate elements from across Creation together...
END CHAPTER 17