Litta's face becomes even more mask-like when Rudabeh inquires casually about her god. Reflexively her hand goes to her throat, hiding the small holy symbol from even Rudabeh's keen sight.
"Oh, nothing like that." The archer says quickly, a bit too quickly. "Just herbs and poultices. Nothing magical..."
===
It is a welcome change to not sound like an iron-mongers cart rattling over cobblestones as she crosses the deck. Yes, Rudabeh is still a large person and her step is firm and strong but that is a far cry from the clatter of full armor on echoing wood decking. She even manages to surprise one or two of the sleepy mercenaries.
Assembling the mercenaries isn't as hard as it might have been. It is obvious to even the most anti-social and lazy fighter that clearly this Company would be an active one. Last night's bandit and drake attack showed that Rudabeh didn't hire them for their looks. In addition, it is equally clear they need to learn to work together. They might not be the seamless fighting machine that a real fighting Company was, but they should at least be able to stand next to each other.
Spears are picked up, shields strapped on, helmets seated on round heads with only a minimum of grumbling although a few do ask if food will always be this poorly organized. Rudabeh needed to do something, a poorly fed unit was a ill-feeling unit.
Aurelia, looking sleepy, rouses herself enough to stand by Rudabeh and ask, "Do you need me? I don't know anything about holding a sword."
Off to the side the bandits watch carefully, eyeing the weapons and armor. Most look apprehensive, as if concerned those tools of the mercenary trade are about to be turned on them, but a few with longing and desire. The big Kellid Rudabeh talked to last night lounges near the back, seeming to be at casual ease, but the paladin can see his bright eyes taking it all in.
The sun is fully over the horizon by now, promising a warm summer's day. No rain today, sadly. Still, probably better for drills if it stayed clear, Rudabeh knew her human allies preferred doing serious work in the sun. Weird.
Rudabeh casts Litta a sly and skeptical glance, but says nothing at first. Instead, the paladin begins to rise fom her knee, placing a hand on the young woman's shoulder as she does so. Yet, there is no pressure in that grip, an her armored hand rests easily on Litta's shoulder as she straightens. "I see. Well, if you ever wish to discuss your herbs and poultrices with me, I am bound by the sacred seal of confession and confidentiality. I will not judge."
Rudabeh is standing now, and bows her head to the human woman. "Thank you for taking care of Silvui. Tell me if you need anything." Is said before she moves on without pressing any matter further.
-------------------
Rudabeh nearly gets a laugh out of sneaking up on some of the mercenaries, except it showed just how little a few of them were paying attention.
As the paladin is strapped in and suited up with the help of two of the mercenaries while others suit up as well, she fields questions about food and the state of the company as a whole. She made it clear she was also concerned about the state of their meals, and intended to do something about it the next dock the stop at. Rudabeh intended to either solve Ostend's problem of not having a cookie, or she was going to get the company their own somehow.
"Of course." She replies to Aurelia before thanking the helpful mercenaries and lowering her helmet into place, quickly snapping the latches that held it to her gorget and bevor. "You don't need to know how to hold a sword to defend yourself." She continues, the first part of her sentence muffled by her visor until she pushes it upright.
Good morning, Teken. Weapon drills. Is broadcast to the ifrit residing in the dark red gem set in the middle of her breastplate even as she reaches for a polished but beat-up oak quarterstaff amongst the company's practice weapons...
At least a few of Rudabeh's mercenaries must have served in real battlefields because an old grizzled man with deep wrinkles and a nasty scar on his neck seems quite familiar with full plate. His aged, but strong fingers, quickly have Rudabeh ensconced in her usual metal cocoon.
Judging by the vaguely sour expression through the whole ordeal however, Rudabeh doubts she found a squire. The man looks likely to leap into the roiling river (or laugh) if she asked him to do this every morning. Maybe someone among the bandits?
As the last bit of the armor slides into place, Rudabeh feels the by now familiar surge of power from the protective gear. She offers Teken a quick morning before reaching for a spear-
and the world went bright white. Slowly the glare fades but as the world around her comes back into focus she finds she is no longer on the deck of the barge, or indeed in the River Kingdoms at all. That being said, she does recognize things.
She finds herself back on a dim, shadowy street paved with steel, a red sky, that taste of ash on her tongue.... Her vision from her first time putting on the armor...this was the Fire Plane, Teken's home! But why? Had something gone wrong?
There is something different though, then her last trip here. While her body felt whole and hale (more then it should), this time her vision is still only half of what it had been. This time, she was still missing an eye. But there was no time for that! This time, Rudabeh knew what was coming next.
Ahead, up the shadowy street, the roar of the troll fills the air. The scene is exactly the same. The charging, red-haired troll, roaring with fury and delight, iron road ringing with each heavy tread. Orange-tinged slaver drips from jutting jaws. Above and behind it, the flying imp-like creature cackles madly, flitting about.
As before, while the street and buildings were hazy as if made of smoke, her two foes are brightly colored and quite distinct.
She had to fight them again? Finn had always said you never had to fight the same fight twice. "You either win or die.".
Showed how much the old mercenary captain knew.
Rudabeh realizes she is running out of willing mercenaries to help her with her full plate, and she may have to resort to asking her goddess to gird her with a prayer every morning instead.
She found the idea of asking Alseta to dress her far too embarassing, outside of an emergency situation.
It was ironic she bid Teken good morning, expecting him to come to her, and instead she experiences the soul-crushing pain of being sucked into whatever hell the City of Brass was to her kind; it was as if she had knocked on his door and fell into the place.
Rudabeh's mouth works like a gaping fish for several seconds as she looks up at the dark red sky, or at least half of it. She reaches up a hand to the right side of her face, and could see nothing. Is it real this time? I'm not going to die here. Not here. Races through her mind as she struggles to get up, the leather of her boots scraping the steel-bound streets and the plate covering her body making an awful screeching as she rolls over to grasp for The Sixth Peak.
The sword was there, warm and familar in her grip, and she throws a knee under herself to start getting up. Casting her eye down the street, she can hear them before she sees them- the troll and the imp were on their way.
Teken! She thinks desperately, wishing she had asked the ifrit about the foes that brought about his demise forever ago. "Teken, what are these creatures?" Is said again over the sounds of pulling herself upright, even if she gets no response.
Around the corner the troll bounds, turning with disturbing agility for something so huge. Rudabeh's sword is still on her shoulder, and she stares at the repeated scene unfolding before her eye again with a grimmace. Reaching to the right side of her hip, her fingers curl around the holy symbol fastened to the fauld, its warm nothing like the dry heat of the shadow of the city around her.
The copper chain scrapes against the Iron Key as she raises it high, first towards the troll. She acts as a conduit to allow the displeasure of her goddess to settle about its aura, binding the beast to the Order of the universe and everything underlying it.
Then she shifts the holy symbol even higher and looks through the keyhole with one hard, sapphire-colored eye until the imp was squarely in the center. She remembered how it healed the troll last time, stealing the fight and causing her defeat.
"A door closes." Is her prayer as a perfectly straight line of hot white energy surges from her holy symbol, cutting through the ashy air to bathe the cackling creature in lawful power.
Rudabeh shouts, both mentally and literally for Teken but receives no answer. Indeed, she sense no presence in her mind and the armor feels inert and dead, merely a suit of metal. Even in this moment of crisis she takes a moment to reflect that for most warriors, that is all their armor ever is. But for now, she seems to be alone.
Lawful energy surges out of Rudabeh into the holy symbol and seems to magnify there, as if Alseta was adding something of her own disdain for Chaos. The perfectly straight arrow arcs through the soot-stained air and hits the flying creature in mid-chest, instantly cutting off the cackling laughter.
The thing doesn't explode but instead freezes into a perfectly square crystalline block, transparent with a slight golden glow. It falls out of the air and hits the steel street with a solid clang, unharmed by the fall.
The troll ducks instinctively from the ray, but rushes headlong toward Rudabeh. It doesn't seem too concerned with the fate of it's apparent comrade. Instead, mouth agape, it falls on Rudabeh, trying to rend her to shreds. The paladin's spine shivers as the beast attacks her, her mind remembering all too clearly, how this had gone last time.
The tusk-like teeth bite down hard enough to make Rudabeh wince, but the silversheen armor withstands the blow. Still gritting on metal, the troll lets out a low growl. Rudabeh is unfazed, and with a powerful wrench frees herself of the bite, and gets her feet solidly under her again. One foe down and not even blooded. It was going better then last time.
Rudabeh would smile as the imp-thing's egotistical laughter is cut off, and the power of Law and Order turns it into... a square crystalline block? Not the result she was expecting, and there was no time to smile or think about it anyway with a huge, deadly troll heading towards her. Using the power of the key she wills her helmet closed- bevor and visor slam together in front of her face, leaving only a thin slit for her to see the approaching enemy.
The Steward's Iron Key drops from her hand, catching on the copper chain swinging for a moment at her side. The sword at her shoulder swings down, and she grabs the blade part way of the length and moves it in front of herself, ready to intercept the troll's bite with a half-sword guard.
The beast was on her in a moment, and she thrusts up The Sixth Peak to try and get the edge under its neck, struggling to hold back the troll's slavering maw. But it was too strong, and Rudabeh's arms fail to beat back its assault. Tusks meet steel and she flinches, remembering how those massive incisors had so easily ripped through her flesh before. But this time it is caught on the thick metal of her gorget, and she manages to push the pommel of her sword into its face, then jerks cleanly away.
In the span of a second she has firm footing and both her hands back on the hilt. She flashes into a plow guard, the pommel held on the inside of her left thigh for the briefest moment before thrusting up and forward with her entire weight, the finely honed point of her greatsword aimed directly at the troll's neck from below. She quickly retracts, crossing her wrists and stepping backwards to bring the length of her blade down and across her foe's collarbone in a diagonal cut.
Rudabeh's blow has her full weight behind it, and the razor sharp steel parts the troll's hide like a paring knife cutting up fresh fish fillets. The paladin barely feels any resistance as she opens a huge wound in the troll's neck and throat, muscles and sinews sliced by her powerful thrust. Bright orange blood spills forth, gushing forward to coat Rudabeh from crown to elbow in the gory shower.
The troll's roar turns to a howl of pain as it reels back, arms waving madly. From the desperation of its movements, Rudabeh knows she has dealt this thing a deadly blow. Only one more strike should finish it, no matter how white-hot its rage...
The troll steps back, just out of reach. Hunching painfully, it glowers down at Rudabeh, still bleeding freely onto the iron-clad street. The blood hisses and bubbles there, creating small sticky pools. The fire within the troll seems to be stoked, a faint red aura surrounding it and then....it belches flame.
Like a dragon, roiling flames erupts from the gaping jaws and surround Rudabeh in a cloud of heat.
But the paladin is ready, having played this fight in her mind many times. She turns her shoulder to the flames, turning her face away. The heat is intense and she is still burned, but the armor takes most of the damage, with great gouts of blackened soot covering the glittering silversheen.
Rudabeh turns back, defiantly smoking, to the looming troll. Then, in the small fiery eyes she sees a new emotion lurking beneath the flames. Fear. The troll was afraid.
Blood showers over Rudabeh, an inevitablity she had come to expect when fighting creatures twice her size. Still, you never quite know where it was going to spray, and she is briefly blinded by the gout of orange fluids as it covers her side and faceplate.
Impressed that the troll was still standing after such a blow, she starts to step forward to finish it- until she sees the fiery aura manifest around its form. Turning quickly, the fire washes over her right side, leaving painful burns, but between turning her head away to prevent the hot air from entering her helmet and the insulating troll blood covering her upper right side, she is spared the worst of the damage.
When the troll shirks, she moves forward- neither she nor Alseta were feeling merciful today. Her blade springs up into an Ox stance, sword held paralell to the metal street before taking a quick and short jab at the creature to make it flinch- but it was a ruse never meant to connect, and she does not step forward with the strike.
Just as the tip of her sword approaches its maximum reach, she does step forward while simultaneously swinging her blade up and to the left in a circle above her head, turning it into a diagonal cut from above. The bloody dwarven steel bites into the troll's collarbone and she turns her hips into the strike, rending the creature from its left shoulder shoulder to its right thigh.
Leaving nothing to chance and even less to risk, Rudabeh allows herself a cry of victory and steps forward again, now with her left leg, putting herself mere inches form the troll. Elbows at her side and hilt low, she angles the tip of her sword towards the reeling foe's neck and shoves every foot of steel she can managed upward with as much force as her fresh muscles can produce. The Sixth Peak cuts through its jugular, throat, and jaw before slicing directly into its brain; the paladin only stops pushing when she feels the tip of her blade hit the inside part of its thick skull and she feels her legs now bearing the entire weight of the impaled troll balanced on her sword.
Sixth Peak's hard steel point grates audibly on the troll's thick skull. It dies instantly, it's final howl of pain cut off as the shard shard of cold-forged steel punctures it's brain. In fact Rudabeh almost buckles under the weight of nearly one thousand pounds of suddenly limp troll flesh. The paladin was experienced in fighting large beasts though and knew enough to expect the weight.
She let it fall off to one side, keeping a firm grip on her blade. It slipped cleanly out of the corpse with a silvery rasp, even as the troll clattered to the iron clad street. Instantly, Rudabeh had her guard up again, sword held low. There was no telling what other dangers the Fire Plane might hold.
Her eyes scanned the shadowy streets, but then it all started to fade. She felt dizzy, as if the troll really had wounded her and blood-loss was making her head swim. The world grew fuzzy and started to spin-
Blackness swallowed her.
When she woke up, she was looking up at a bright blue sky.
"Get that helmet off!" She heard a voice off to the side say angrily.
"I'm trying, I don't want to break anything!" Another voice answers, nervous. Rudabeh can, dimly, feel tugs and clangs around her neck and head, as if someone was trying to wrench her head clean off. Luckily they weren't very strong but it wasn't very comfortable.
Getting her wits back, Rudabeh could feel a wooden floor under her, even through the thick armor and padding. the scent of river-water and unwashed bodies hung in the air, and bird song floated into her ears. The smells and sounds of home.
Then, from inside her head she heard a voice. It was not Teken's smooth, proud tones with unmistakable male inflections. This voice was higher, almost nasally with a distinct female tone. It did however, have a very similar accent to Teken, that staccato, quick rhythm that Rudabeh mentally associated with the Fire Plane.
'Did you have to kill the troll? You could have let it retreat, you didn't seem to be in any danger.' It demands, voice rather terse. A hesitation and then, 'Whoever you are.'
Rudabeh side steps the troll's corpse, lifting up a hand to push up her visor. Relatively cooler air moves into her helmet with disappointing slowness, and she lets out a few quick breaths while turning to look down the street.
Suddenly, her head spins, and inwardly she starts to panic, not knowing where she was going to be taken next...
She blinks, on her back and looking upward at a bright, clear day. The paladin grunts as her head gets snapped to the side, and she begins to stir even as another voice floats into her head.
Teken? Rudabeh responds softly in confusion, knowing full well it wasn't Teken but at the same time at a loss for words towards the voice.
Sitting upright, she clatters into position and looks around briefly, blinking at the concerned faces before putting together what must have happened. "Oh." The paladin intones before waving everyone off. "I was just transported into a memory of a soul inhabiting this armor. It happened last week too, don't worry about it, I'm fine. Just give me a moment." Her legs, which still feel jelly-like, are pulled up closer to her chest, and she places her hands on the deck with a sigh. "I should really start sitting down when I put the full harness on."
Now in full control of her facilities, Rudabeh answers the voice's question. I am Rudabeh of Outsea, Paladin of Alseta, Representative of the Pact of Years. She introduces herself with her full title before continuing, and decides to ignore the comment about the troll for now, seeing how there were more important matters to attend. Welcome to the Material Plane, and the River Kingdoms. I'm no mage, but I'm going to assume your soul is also trapped in the fire whale's heart that occupies the armor I'm wearing. You are...?
To outside observers Rudabeh is just sitting there, staring off down the river with an unfocused gaze. She is trying to puzzle out why Teken said he was killed by that troll, but when Rudabeh defeated it, this other voice emerged... and more importantly, how were there two of them in the fire whale's heart? Is that just how... fire whale hearts worked?
Rudabeh's statement is met by a strained silence as the Company contemplates the fact their patron had gone off the deep end. Golarion is a strange place but it is still more likely the paladin has simply lost her grip then she is visiting other planes while her body lies on deck. Even distracted, and with one eye, Rudabeh can see doubtful and worried looks.
Meanwhile, inside her head another conversation continues. When Rudabeh tentatively asks if it is Teken, there is a pause and then, 'Teken?' with annoyed, peevish tones. Clearly the ifrit was known to the new voice.
'Material Plane...' The voice starts and then says, 'I am in a fire whale's heart?' The new presence seems horrified by this concept going on, voice rising, 'How barbaric! They are peaceful creatures, dwelling far from towns or cities, posing no threat. How could you bring yourself to kill it? Did you enjoy looking into its eyes as he slaughtered it to make a soul prison?'
'Disgusting.' The voice adds, audibly sniffs and says, 'So I am your prisoner? Servant? Or just a poacher's prized bauble?'
You know Teken Dabka? She infers from the tone of the uknown soul's voice, which opens up an entirely new avenue of confused questioning. The concerned faces surrounding her are a distraction from her interrogation, and she casts a glance about. "Truly, I am fine." Is said with complete confidence, and to prove a point she starts to rise from her cross-legged position. It was a bit more unsteady than she'd like, but a few hundred pounds of undine and armor more or less stands up under her own power in a few seconds. "I just need to discuss what happened with the soul inhabiting this armor."
Seeing their continued hesitation, Rudabeh puts on her Sergeant voice, long unhoned in the Outsea militia. "Return to your drills!" Is paired with a sweep of her hand, as if she were casting them away. It was difficult to concentrate with the voice still talking to her, but she does stop Aurelia from leaving with by offering her an outstretched palm. "Stay with me, please. We will still have your lesson once I am finished speaking with the voice in the armor."
My apologies. The paladin says sincerely to the aforementioned voice, as if she had not heard a single insult or evil insinuation the voice made towards her. Firstly, I have never seen a fire whale, let alone killed one, She begins, gravefully ackowledging the comments, though we do have... water whales... in the material plane and I have seen many of those. Usually dead and being butchered by an entire floating community of undines after being hauled miles acros the ocean by a whaling vessel, but that was beside the point. This heart was given to me. Secondly, I do not know how much free will you have inside the heart, but you are no prisoner of mine.
Rudabeh shifts in place, adopting a stance that Aurelia would recognize as the same body langauge she uses when the paladin is about to give a speech. Thankfully for the young sorceress it seemed to be internal. Allow me to briefly explain how this current situation came to be. Last week I encountered a salamander from the Plane of Fire here on the Material Plane named Gezzerbial, who was a slave of a magma dragon at that time. As a paladin of Alseta I am oath bound to enforce the laws of the land I am in, one of which in the River Kingdoms is that Slavery is an Abomination. Any slave that sets foot in these lands is freed. I sought out a wizard and a woman of great strength to sever Gezzerbiel's bonds with the dragon, and he was freed.
It was a poor explanation, but she could fill in the details later. If this new voice was going to be anything like Teken's existence, they would have a lot of time together. In appreciation, Gezzerbiel, a masterful armorer, made me the armor I am now wearing and set within it a heart of a fire whale he had stolen from the magma dragon's hoard. He had never done this before, but said it would imbue the armor with magical properties, and it has.. but apparently the hearts of fire whales are also used to store souls, one of which is yours.
Rudabeh shifts again, staring out across the deck without focusing on anything in particular. When the heart was first placed in the armor I was transported to the memory with the troll and the imp you witnessed, but I was not victorious. It "killed" me, and when I returned to "here", I was greeted by a voice in my head, speaking to me as you are now. But that voice belonged to Teken Dabka, and that death I experienced was HIS last living memory, according to him.
She tries to soften the blow as the realization surely sets in that this new voice is dead and trapped inside a gem stuck into the breastplate of an armor. He has been a constant companion when I wear this armor, and has been helpful in carrying out my duties as a paladin. Though, while it seems your soul and Teken's soul are sharing this whale's heart somehow, this is the first I have heard from you. The paladin ends her exposition with a question, now intrigued. The troll and the imp- how does that relate to you if it was Teken's last living memory? He knows how he was killed, but not how he was placed in this whale's heart. Do you?
Rudabeh's brisk command is natural and firm enough to set most back to their drills and practices. The sound of padded metal hitting armor, or wood clacking on wood fills the morning air again. More then a few keep risking glances back at Rudabeh though,a s if expecting her to either collapse to the deck again or begin declaiming in tongues.
Aurelai for her part remains nearby but does say, "This happens often?" Her voice is a mixture of doubt and curiosity. 'What does armor talk about?"
At this the voice in Rudabeh's head says, 'Inform the child I am not [i]armor but Seqhi Dabka Officer of the First Rank in the City of Brass.'[/i] Then Seqhi falls silent to listen to Rudabeh's tale.
Finally, after clearly digesting this torrent of backstory says, 'That was my last memory as well. But I will not speak of Teken anymore.' her tone is frosty and edged with bitterness. 'Do not speak of that man in my presence.'
Then, going on, 'So, this is the Material Plane?' A pause and then 'A cold and wet place, but seemingly full of wonders. Do we stand on top of a moving body of water?' The frost leaves her voice, replaced by open wonder, 'How extraordinary. Do you often enter the water? Are there creatures in it?'
Then, more business-like, 'You say you are a paladin? Of what sort of God is this Alseta? They are unknown to me. I knew some of the Material gods, from traders and travelers to the City of Brass but this was not one of them. Does it follow Law?' Rudabeh can hear the capital L fall into place.
"I have only seen that memory twice now, but there had always been the same voice, the same soul, when I put the armor on." She replies to Aurelia's question. "This one is different than the usual."
A small pause, and Rudabeh blinks at the name, clearly noting the identical surname to Teken, before repeating it. "The voice says she would like you to know her name is Seqhi Dabka, Officer of the First Rank in the City of Brass."
Hmm. Very well. The paladin responds to Seqhi's request not to speak of Teken, but if Teken ever came back she certainly had some questions for the ifrit about this supposed relation, clan member, or whatever Seqhi was to him.
Cold, wet, and wonderful, I do agree. At least this part, there are many places in this world unlike this one. Rudabeh tries not to smile when Seqhi asks if she often enters the water, or if there are creatures that live beneath the waves. I do, but I am an undine. My soul is as tied to the water as an ifrit's is to fire. My kind are rare here, though, and the River Kingdoms is comprised mostly of humans. They try to stay out of the water, for they can barely swim and there are just as many begnin and edible creatures as there are dangerous and poisonous ones beneath the waves. She is trying very hard not to smile, now. I will show you a fish later, they come in so many varieties!
Rudabeh's inner voice softens as she speaks of her goddess. Alseta is The Welcomer. She serves as a mediator between the gods and the great powers of the cosmos. Any celestial being seeking to peacefully resolve a conflict and wish to meet on safe, neutral ground may petition her to open the Argent Gates and come to an agreement under her Wise and Unjudging eyes. Here in the River Kingdoms she is worshiped as a goddess of communities, doorways, and gradual or predictable change, such as aging or the changing of the seasons.
Her heart swells as she speaks, knowing the touch and blessing of her goddess is there, always, and it reaches her even when her soul gets forced into an ancient memory of some ifrti's soul to fight their final battles. She is an agent of Law, and I follow her ways as well as my oaths to her. I have traveled the land for many years as a judge, mediator, and confessor, always putting the strength of words and bonds before strength of arms and steel. Yet, I am also my goddess' sword. I seek out and destroy the agent of chaos, bring to justice those that break mortal or natural laws, and I am the defender of those that turn to Law and Order for protection.
It was Rudabeh's turn for questions now, and while she had many, she did not want to delay the drills too long. After all, Seqhi and herself would have a long time to talk, just as she and Teken had. What does an Officer of the First Rank in the City of Brass do? Did was more proper, because she knew that Seqhi must have died thousands of years ago, but she decided to ease into that later. Are you an... ifrit? It was an educated guess.
Aurelia raises an eyebrow, the slim girl looking doubtful but it is clear that Rudabeh's isn't lying. Crazy maybe, but dishonest?
"Um, well, hello? My name is Aurelia." The young sorcerer says awkwardly.
Seqhi ignores the poorly clad girl and answers Rudabeh's last question first. "I was an Officer of the Law, keeping the peace and upholding the order of the city." The nasally, strident voice is full of pride at this, more like an announcement of accomplishment then a simple answer.
'And yes, I am an ifrit, the people of fire. How did you know....oh yes, I see.' She trails off.
After a pause she starts to speak again, turning over Rudabeh's words in her mind, 'Aging and changing of the season. A safe neutral ground. Her tone is less then impressed and actually says, 'There can be no neutrality with chaos. You either battle it with your whole soul or it devours you.'
'Still' Seqhi allows, clearly judging Rudabeh and her entire life's work in mere moments, 'You speak of destroying the agents of chaos and defending order. Perhaps we can be allies, of a sort.'
'And perhaps I have little choice in the matter, as much as that rankles.' The former law officer goes on, 'Have you begun to research how to free souls from this ill-gotten heart? You mention a wise wizard, perhaps he knows of a way to release me?'
Another pause while Senqhi clearly takes in the world around her, 'These are your troops? You fight as a company? Surely this girl is not a fellow paladin unless your Alseta allows every raggedy girl acceptance as a holy warrior?'
Thankfully Aurelia can't hear this cool remark or the sorcerer might have unleashed a fire that even the armor would have had a had time dealing with.
Rudabeh realizes once again how fortunate she is that not one, but two former officers of the law inhabit her armor. What would she had done if they were instead the souls of goblin beserkers? Would she have tried to pry out the fire whale's heart from her breastplate with a pair of pliers and a file?
Chaos in the material plane is not so well-defined as it is in the outer planes. Few mortal souls are so far aligned with Chaos or Law that they could be truly considered an agent of chaos, but instead many lie inbetween, or are not strong enough to perturb the balance. But there are some magical creatures, such as abberitions, or fey, whose souls or very forms embody Chaos, changing reality to their wim and bringing unwanted change. Those are the creatures I destroy... the humans, on the other hand, I can usually reason with. Rudabeh explains as Seqhi gives her black-and-white version of the battle between order and chaos. Surely she would see that on the material plane, it was not so easily cut as on the outer planes, were ideas take life and even pure concepts were dangerous... or so she had heard.
I would be honored to consider you an ally. The paladin says sincerely, pausing briefly as if waiting for something else... Teken had swore an oath, but it didn't seem the ifrit woman was going to be so forthcoming. That wizard was sadly the only one I know, and we are headed in the opposite direction of him. And while I believe I am on good enough terms with him to trade favors, his friends... are not as pleased with me, which is a story for another time. It will... hopefully... be a while before I see them all again. In any case, it has been a week, and I am no wizard, so no I cannot provide any information about how to extract souls from the heart.
There is a moment's thought, and Rudabeh decides if Seqhi would be serving the same role as Teken, with access to her mind and seemingly some control over her armor, the paladin would be more comfortable with an oath. I offer you this. Swear an oath to me that you will act as my ally and in my best interests so long as your soul inhabits this heart, and I too will be your ally and seek out a means for your release. I cannot promise it will be quick, or I will be able to afford the services of a powerful enough wizard right away, but if you assist me I will see if and how you can be freed.
Rudabeh turns her attention back to the imitation short spear that she was reaching towards before her trip down a literal memory lane. You do not have to swear right now, and I wish to inform you that one of the highest laws in the River Kingdoms is that Oathbreakers Die. We take oaths very seriously here, and it is my duty to enforce them as well. There was a small pause and Rudabeh thinks of a rolling motion- she hoped it came off like a shrug, if such a thing could be communicated. You do not seem the type to break an oath, but I wanted to make sure you knew the pertinent laws before swearing anything.
It's a long story how I came across this mercenary company, and asked them to join the organization I am part of, The Pact of Years. I can tell you all about it later. Rudadbeh says with the air of someone that really, truly meant it was a long story. But no, these are not paladins, though Aurelia would make a fine one with enough training. I know you only have appearances to judge by, but she is a capable sorcerer and has a good heart. A sigh escapes her thoughts as she picks up a blunted spear, turns it over in her hands, and puts it back, dissatisfied. There are no orders of Alseta paladins in the River Kingdoms. I would say we're even rarer than my own race here. I have heard of a few others personally and never met any others face-to-face, so there may only be ten... twenty or so of us in total in the Kingdoms. There are many priests and many more druids that worship The Welcomer, but paladins... well, not many warriors worship a goddess that prizes violence as a last resort. She had heard rumors that there were an order of Alsetan paladins in Kyonin, guarding some archways the elves held sacred, but she doubted she would ever have a reason to visit them, she would even be allowed in the country, or the paladins would have any reason to speak with her.
The undine's sharp eyes catch two mercenaries getting a bit rough, and raises her voice to carry over the deck. "Touch sparing only! If I see any bare edges or a real intent to harm, I'll throw your weapon into the river!" Accidents happen in the tiltyard, but she didn't want to encourage anyone swinging even a padded weapon faster than they could pull it back. I apologize, Seqhi, but I should attend to training and drills. We will have plenty of time to speak later, though.
"You should always have a backup weapon. I have yet to meet a spellcaster with infinite reserves." Rudabeh says to Aurelia as she recalls the fact that Zaih Clor, the monk-priest of Irori that made up one of the core members of The Bastard Brigade, had knocked Rudabeh flat on her ass with a quarterstaff so often in her youth it became a running joke.
Rudabeh hands the staff to Aurelia, and then grabs her own short stick of some unpolished hardwood that had been wittled down into a blunted spear. This one felt right. "Though if you'd prefer to use a knife, I can teach you about that too." Regardless, the undine starts to circle around the young girl, using the stick to gently move her legs. "Put your feet, here... here... back straight, lower your hips, and stand on the balls of your feet. Hold the staff higher, and to the right if you are right handed, left if not. I will teach you how to have an active defense. You don't just hold it in front of you, like a wall, and it's better to knock an opponent's weapon away than to merely block it where they could overpower you..."
The sun beats down on the deck, making Rudabeh a shining beacon that likely attracted every crow in a mile, she walks Aurelia through some basic guards and counters, focusing mostly on her footwork. She was a patient teacher and let the girl swing as hard as she liked- to an amatuer the paladin was practically invincible in her full harness.
The paladin's signature greatsword never makes an appearance, and instead she continued to use the short spear-like staff of sad, unfinished wood. After all, Rudabeh was not doing this to show off, nor make a fool out of anyone, but to foster community and pride in their skill amongst the mercenaries. She hoped the fact she was spending time teaching a novice with a stick projected that.
After ten minutes with Aurelia, the paladin stops and waves her off. "Good. Now go find Ractus and tell him I'd like him to teach you some more guards, and to teach you how to step in them properly. I intend to spar with everyone today so that's all the time I have for you, but I can teach you more later if you like." Rudabeh's plan was two-fold: get Aurelia some expert instruction, and get Ractus warmed back up to the thought of fighting in his current condition.
Rudabeh turns her head towards the huddled ex-bandits and lifts her visor with one hand. The cool air flows into the already hot confines of her faceplate like a kiss from her goddess, refreshing her. She locks a limpid blue eye onto the kellid that expressed interest in joining the company earlier, and she motions with her head for him to join her.
"What's your name?" She asks before pointing him towards the pile of bandit loot to retrieve his weapon, and she helps him pad it with a wooden sheath, thick jute cloth, or both.
With a flick of her wrist she closes her visor, retreating back into the hot, dark depths of her helmet. "Don't hold back on my account. I want to see what you can do." Her muffled voice instructs the giant of a man as she levels her imitation spear parallel to the deck and bends her knees into a defensive squat, now able to quickly move her whole body while keeping her weapon level... it always reminded her of a crab, though Finn never agreed. While the short spear was her secondary weapon of choice, she was still deadly with it and wasn't intending on letting any blows through.
Seqhi does admit, grudgingly "There is a place for forgiveness and education, yes. Indeed such transformations can be our highest calling. Do not think me over harsh, today has been a very trying day."
A pause and then, 'An oath?' her laugh is high, with a touch of condescension in it. 'Are you serious? Would you make an oath so lightly? Let me say what I know of you.'
'You are a formidable warrior who slew a troll without asking once for surrender or any clarification. You govern a pack of unknown mercenaries whose morals are in question. You also serve a goddess I have never heard of, and an organization unknown. Is it truly wise to throw my loyalty around so freely?"
'Let me observe and judge first, before such a commitment. Go about your training, I am curious.'
Aurelia is very uneasy with the staff, clearly never having used a real weapon before. She doesn't argue as to the practicality but Rudabeh does hear her mutter, "Usually I am trying to do less damage, not more."
'Curious.' Seqhi says.
Training the sorcerer is complicated by Seqhi's constant flow of advice and commentary. Nearly every correction Rudabeh offers is added or elaborated on. Some of it is good advice but much of it is just well-meaning yet superior blather. Seqhi might have been a good fighter, but she was an awful teacher.
Still, Aurelia seems to grasp the fundamentals. She grins when Rudabeh suggests she practice with Ractus and even says, "Maybe I can knock him down!" and hurries off to try her mettle against the old warrior. The undine hides her own smile. It wouldn't matter if Ractus had lost both arms, the elf wasn't likely to be defeated by a girl on her first day of training.
The bandits don't draw back from Rudabeh when she approaches, instead they look at her with interest. Clearly the fact they haven't all been killed and dumped in the lake had warmed them to their captor.
The large Kellid man stands out a bit from the rest, watching the mercenaries spar with careful eyes. Rudabeh can see something behind them. Judgement? Curiosity?
"Danngu" The Kellid says, inclining his head to Rudabeh. His voice is as rich as before, but now Rudabeh can detect an rolling accent behind it, unknown to her but one thing is clear. Common was not this man's first tongue.
He turns and chooses a weapon out of the pile. It is a long spear-like weapon, and it fits easily in his hand. It vaguely reminds Rudabeh of a fauchard. The dark wood handle is engraved with many totem signs and runes, and looks weathered from long use and wear. The head of the polearm is also old, with the steel tinged with age but well-kept. A razor sharp curved cutting edge, and a cruel looking spike out of the back.
Danngu mutters something in another language as he picks is up, turning it over a few times, as if testing the weight. He gladly allows the blade to be covered with heavy jute cloth, bound tight over both blade and spike.
The Kellid moves a few steps away and takes a fighting stance of his own, one that Rudabeh does not know (which is strange for Rudabeh is a student of such things). The big man bows formally when Rudabeh tells him to go ahead, a graceful and elegant movement borne of long practice.
A rough ring of sailors and mercenaries crowd over, eager to see. Even Ractus and Ostend come over, taking steps on the piled crates. The bandits stand as a solid bloc, watching carefully as if their own fate was tied to Danngu's performance. Silence falls over the ship as everyone stops practicing and turns toward the two. The only sound are those of the river, the gurgling of water over rocks and the soft cries of birds on the tree-lined shore.
A light breeze kicks up, and the Kelli'd bread floats lightly in it, blowing back. He murmurs something much like a prayer as he lifts the long weapon in experienced, callused hands.
"Îndrumă-mi brațul și, lasă-mă să mă dovedesc" Rudabeh notes one or two of the watchers around them seem to recognize it. Then he breaks off, nods and says in Common.
"We begin."
How many times has Rudabeh stood here, poised on the edge of violence? Hundreds of time, surely, both in sparring and in battle. Her heartbeat is steady, her breathing easy, the grip on her staff solid as a rock. Despite the heavy armor, Rudabeh holds her weight low, ready to react in a moment's notice. Still, even with all that, she is barely ready,
Danngu explodes out of his stance, rushing toward her in a sprint. He fairly leaps into place, ten feet away, feet thumping hard on the wooden deck. The long handled weapon strikes out like a snake, the wadded end slapping toward her face.
Rudabeh knocks the blow aside with her staff with reactions born of a thousand drills. How many times had Finn come at her with a spear? Even now she could hear the female mercenaries voice in her head.
'Spears. Simple, cheap and damn deadly. Get inside the reach or spend the fight dancing.'
As if holding a conversation Seqhi says, 'Do you often reminisce during fights?'
Danngu, standing foot forward in a stance to make any drill master nod with approval, risks a small grin at his failure. The end of the faluchard quivers slightly, revealing the hidden tension of the Kellid's grip.
Ah.
A test. The man was holding back.
I have taken many oaths, and none of them lightly. I do not expect you to do any differently. Take your time and see what I am for yourself, but I cannot promise I will try to find a way to assist your escape without knowing you will be repaying me with your allegiance first. Rudabeh responds calmly to Seqhi's assertion that such a quick oath would be foolish. The ifrit did not know the other reason why Rudabeh wanted the oath- Teken had already shown he can not only exert some control over the armor, but he had been able to tap into her surface thoughts and memories. That, and Gezzerbial warned her repeatedly of "losing herself"... what is RUdabeh's soul, being in such close contact with the whale heart, could be pulled in or swapped out as well?
There were too many questions with no answers, and she did not want to ask or bring them up without an oath in place in case Seqhi decides those are options to explore. And so, the paladin says nothing of her concerns.
Turning her attention to the mercenaries, the paladin gets back to work, waving over the tall Kellid so they may spar
"A pleasure to meet you on much better terms than last night, Danngu. Please call me Rudabeh." She says as they wrap his strange polearm, which was as curious as it was deadly-looking. Everything about it, and him, seems only to confuse her, from the runes, the man's words, to his fighting stance. Rudabeh did not like knowing things, and this man had become more than a potential hire, but a mystery to be solved.
The cooling wind across her back was quite refreshing, and she would usually be wistfully hoping for more wind or a rain to cool down her hot , padded and metal-clad frame, but at the moment she was focused intently on Danngu. Rudabeh returns a small nod to the man as he announces they begin, causing a glimmer from the morning sun that was as bright as a lantern to shine off of the crest of her helmet.
She is only vageuly aware of the ring of sailors and mercenaries coming to gawk, and if she wasn't so intent she would have told them to get back to their drills- this wasn't supposed to be a spectacle. Just as her annoyance at their crowding was reaching the point of her actually opening her mouth, her sparring partner explodes forward and erases all thought for a moment.
Most would flinch at having steel pointed at their face, and indeed it was one of her, and Finn's favorite tactics to thrust towards an opponent's face to force them into the defensive insinct to protect themselves. Rudabeh does not flinch, but she does react instantly, pushing the polearm to the side with the length of her makeshift training spear, and the two weapons are caught in a bind near her left leg.
Rudabeh would have instantly stepped to the side to deliver a counter-blow on Danngu's now undefended right shoulder, expect Seqhi gave a jarring commentary on a memory of her mentor. Finn, my blademaster, enters my mind often. Rudabeh replies politely to the answered question, but inwardly she is distrubed. It had taken Teken days to make any sort of commentary on her surface memories, and yet Seqhi had done so in... minutes?
Crushing the concerns under the weight of focus and instinct, Rudabeh notes Danngu's tense hands and finds herself disappointed he did not follow her instructions to not hold back. It seemed he would need some encouragement.
Rudabeh knocks Danngu's polearm out of the bind and to her left, stepping quickly to her right. If the weapon had been a spear she would have stepped in and to the left, negating his reach, but she knew if she put her leg anywhere near that curved blade on the end of the polearm he would merely jerk the weapon backward, either catching her calf with the tip or easily tripping her.
And so, as Finn would say, she dances, stepping quickly to the right and jabbing the blunt end of the staff into the man's abdomen, her eye locked with his even as she thrusts by leaning forward and keeping her hands far apart on the shaft. At the end of the stab she steps again around him and swings outward with her right hand, propelling the butt of the spear forward and around in an arc in front of her, either to catch his left arm with the butt of knock away his counter attack.
Rudabeh carefully works her way in past the guard of the spear-like weapon, swift and sure. Dannug is quick and looks strong, but so is Rudabeh and the paladin manages to have her first blow connect. It slams off his muscular torso, surely leaving a bruise. The big man's smile slips for a moment and he utters a curse in a language that is surely quite different then the words of his prayer.
"ਸਾਵਧਾਨ!"
The second blow also sneaks past his guard but just as it is about to contact his arm, there is a brief blur and flash. It is strange, it is dark, like a shard of night suddenly appeared just above the man's skin then vanished. Some sort of arcane shielding? In any case her blow does not seem to have connected.
The Kellid's enigmatic smile returns and he dances back, feet moving with a dancer's grace. So quick in fact Rudabeh can't follow up with a strike at her preferred range, and her carefully won space advantage slips away. The paladin is once again at mercy of the bigger man's longer reach.
He moves back fifteen feet, doing his best to make Rudabeh come to him. Then, he begins muttering the obvious start of a spell. His lips move in quick syllables and one hand quickly gives the arcane gestures. Rudabeh waits, ears and eyes peeled for changes. What was he conjuring? A fireball? A whip of lightning? A dazzle bolt of ice?
The silence grows and....nothing happens. Nothing but the birds calling and the hushed murmurs of the watching crowd. And yet...Danngu simply continues smiling, obviously not upset. The man breathes deeply, lightly bouncing on the balls of his feet. Then he gives her a slow nod, an invitation to approach.
If she dared.
Rudabeh shouldn't have been surprised when her blow bounces off the magical shielding, but it also felt so different than bouncing off armor. At least you could see steel and brace yourself for the impact, but the way magical force pushed back against her strikes always unnerved her.
Danngu dances backwards, too quick for her to even bother lunging forward and trying to stab him as he retreats. The man begins casting a spell, and Rudabeh grips her makeshift spear tightly in anticipation of the magic washing over her, ready to deflect it with her will, or feel the magic slide off the protection provided to her by of her goddess.
A moment passes, and... nothing happens. A trap. She thinks, and she briefly searches the deck, and the air around Danngu for any hint as to what may occur, indicated only by the sutble movements of her silversheen-encased head.
If this were a real combat situation she may have done something differently, but she was testing this man, and it was only right that she give him a fair chance to show his abilities. With a glance to the Kellid's eyes, she returns his slow nod in understanding, then charges forward.
Spear held low and to her left in two hands, the undine bounds across the deck in four great steps, boots pounding across the wood and metal shaking like a snake's rattle. She comes within five feet of her opponent, stops, and thrusts forward at his chest, putting all her momentum into the strike.
Rudabeh, hoping to see what the man is made of, charges in. The paladin moves quickly, despite the armor, and she fairly springs toward her foe. Despite the grace it isn't a quiet maneuver however, and the clanging of silversheen on wood sounds like a frenzied blacksmith falling through a floor.
As the undine closes, she comes within range of the strange, exotic weapon. Danngu's eyes track his quarry and then the weapon lashes out toward the paladin's head.
But Rudabeh bats the attack away with ease, the staff once again knocking the battened spear head away. Danngu would have to do better then that to impress her. As she slams with her weapon though, she notes his face seems distracted, concentrated. Still on the spell perhaps? In any case, Rudabeh's staff slams into his shoulder with a resounding whack, loud enough to make Aurelia visibly cringe. The Kellid's expression doesn't change however, and his face remains set but distant.
Then Rudabeh feels it. A sickening, cold sensation as if someone has dropped a cup of ice water down her back. A sudden sense of weakness and lassitude fills her usually strong limbs.
And Danngu's arms become visibly stronger, his muscles growing, shoulder's broadening. A weird creaking sound meets Rudabeh's sharp ears and she suddenly realizes she is hearing the Kellid's grip tighten on the spear shaft.
The man quickly steps back out of Rudabeh's reach a few steps, ten feet away.
'ਮਜ਼ਬੂਤ!" The man shouts, and his muscles develop even more. His arms become as thick as Rudabeh's leg, his back nearly hunched with over-built muscle. Even his neck becomes a thick pillar, veins visibly stretched taunt. Before Danngu was a tall, powerfully built man who already could have beaten Rudabeh at arm wrestling. Now? He looked like someone out of an Ulfen war saga. There are a few whistles from the watching crowd as the transformation.
And yet, he did not look in the grip of rage. His eyes were clear, focused, stance ready. The man was just as cool and collected as ever just...really, really strong.
Rudabeh is certinaly impressed by the impassive face of the kellid as she slams the length of wood into his shoulder- such a blow would have made her wince, at least, she tells herself.
She feels the spell fall over her, making her wish someone would have poured an entire bucket of cold water down her back, fresh from the well and on a frigid winter day, to boot. Her old armor, may it rest in peace at Torag's forge or wherever armor goes after it dies, was at least cool on a hot spring day. She finds herself momentarily distracted at the thought of having to wear this armor, a dread no foe could summon from her the depths of her heart that the oncoming summer and its unbearable heat brings.
She pauses briefly while watching Danngu's muscles grow, and behind her visor the undine's eyebrows raise. I have never seen any magic like... that. Rudabeh comments to Seqhi before actually breaking out into a laugh that echoed within her helmet.
Moving out of her stance, she places the makeshift spear in one hand and places the butt against the deck, left hand flipping up her visior to show smiliing eyes. "I may be a fool, but I'm not enough of a fool to spar against a man wth arm muscles bigger than my thigh." She admits with a bow of her head. "Well fought, Danngu, but there are many more I must spar today, and if you steal more of my strength I will have trouble moving in my armor."
With a wave of her hand (which felt more heavy than she wanted to admit), she dismisses him, but not in totality. "You may keep your belongings, and I will discuss you joining the company with Ractus. If anyone wishes to spar with this man in the meantime, you are braver than I." With that, she moves back to her initial staring position and waves the next ex-bandit forward to try their skill against hers.
Rudabeh is no stranger to the sparring ring, both as teacher or learner. She has seen her share of mistakes and accidents, often when one side tried to surrender or pause a fight. Ironically,t his was often harder with the more highly experienced professionals then the amateurs. A trained solider or fighter was so poised to take advantage, even the slight dropping of a guard of a foe to quit was taken advantage of before things could become obvious. The paladin had seen many nasty wounds preformed, by accident, when someone was trying to call a halt.
Even as she 'surrenders' Rudabeh sees she has stopped too abruptly, too quickly. As she flips up her helmet, Danngu's fist moves, the spear-head dancing into her field of view. But, luckily, the man's reaction is an instant too slow. While a potent fighter, Rudabeh gathers he is not a trained solider or mercenary. Here it saves her and the man has enough time to realize what Rudabeh is doing.
He stops, eyes Rudabeh carefully. Slowly he bows his head and says in his accented Common, "I am honored for your consideration."
Rudabeh notes one of the other bandits, a lean man with twinkling eyes and quick hands looks surprised, as if he expected the fight to go different.
Even as Danngu steps back, Rudabeh feels her muscles warm and flow again with strength, vigor pouring back into her. Whatever spell drained her was potent but not long lasting. Still, in a fight a few seconds was plenty.
The lean-faced man stands up and says with a more usual River Kingdoms twang, "Your offer open to everyone? Are you going to ask about previous jobs? Some employers are touchy about that."
Rudabeh realizes her mistake too late, fingers still on the visor of her helmet when Danngu starts to move forward. There was no time to curse, ask for him to stop, or even think, and she is already recoiling backward instinctively while the tip of the fulchard is traveling through the air.
The paladin has taken a full step backward by the time Danngu comes to a stop, and in her mind's eye she knows if he hadn't caught the blow it would have went right into her good eye. A bunch of jute wouldn't have saved her from possibly being completely blind and ultimately useless, and Rudabeh sends up a silent prayer of thanks to Alseta for giving this man a life where he can enough sense to stop in a fight, instead of the reactions many hardened or scarred warriors have baked into their muscles.
Clearing her throat to cover her embarassment at the sloppy finish to the sparring, the undine nevertheless recovers quickly and smiles at Danngu, though her mouth is covered by steel and he can only see it in her right eye. "Of course."
Moving back to her starting position, RUdabeh glances to the ex-bandit that had spoken up, and she finds herself instantly reminded of a fox for some reason. "The offer is open to anyone, though the choice ultimately belongs to myself and Ractus." She says plainly , before turning around an gesturing to the man with her blunted short spear. "I will not question your past, unless you wish to tell. Should you seek to leave your past behind and find a new beginning, perhaps you will find one here. You will be judged by your words and actions henceforth, but know insubordination will not be tolerated, if you are chosen." Rudabeh could always find, in both the big and the small, ways to further the teachings of her goddess.
Rudabeh spends the next few hours testing her body as well as the bandits. She spars with all comers, allowing them to use whatever weapons they prefer (always padded, of course). This is not a trivial exercise. An entire morning in full armor in even mock fights (which allow for breaks to catch your breath and hydrate) is draining. The paladin's muscles are sore, sweaty and bruised as she winds down through the assembled bandits. Not all try her out, of course. A few simply crowd near the back, nervously waiting for Rudabeh to let them go, hoping she doesn't change her mind. But most give the undine a try, to pass the time if nothing else.
As she expected, they aren't a very promising lot, with the enigmatic Danngu easily being the best. Most of the rest are jumped up thugs, used to beating on barely armed citizens at the behest of Irovetti's whims. Bullies mainly, and Rudabeh has little time for them. She does relish teaching them a few sharp lessons about combat however, and while she refrains from anything too harsh, a few of the more rough types will have a hard time sitting for too long.
The sun is reaching it's blazing zenith as she finished. The bandits are in three groups now. The largest are those she has already mentally dismissed, the incompetent and cruel. Next is the small band of untested and untried bandits who simply sat and waited out the demonstrations. Lastly are the bare handful of worthy recruits, including Danngu and the grinning man who fought bare-handed (and quite nearly pinned Rudabeh to the deck with his rather impressive wrestling). One or two others have potential but not much more.
The rest of the mercenaries watched with interest, clearly curious to see Rudabeh's own skill proved in the sparring ring. She catches approving looks from most, although a few seem bemused that Rudabeh never unfairly presses an advantage. Perhaps they do not see the difference in a life and death struggle, where such niceties have to be set aside, and a formal bout in the ring?
Rudabeh is just about to start expressing her views when a sailor at the prow shouts, "Ship ahead!" This cry is not unusual, traffic on the river is not unusual (although it has been unusually scarce since Pitax). The man's voice is pitched though, laden with concern. Glancing up river, Rudabeh can instantly see why.
Ahead, in the middle of the stream, a small flotilla of boats lies wrecked. Most are obviously damaged, half-sunk and resting on the shallow river bottom with prows or keels pointed skyward, creating ripples in the stream. With a sinking feeling Rudabeh can recognize some of the vessels. Most of them are made up of the 'Royal' fleet which Irovetti set out on, the gaudy paint visible even at this distance. What had happened? Surely Faro hadn't done this badly by accident, the man was too clearly an experienced sailor.
Something had gone wrong here. Very wrong.
Rudabeh stares harder at the collection of sad looking boats, the river sloshing over leaning decks. The paladin can't see any people, but she does see goods and crates strewn about, being tossed by the current.
She can also see the tell-tale splotches of blackened and charred wood that speak of fire.
Rudabeh looks over the three groups of bandits with the sun high above her, the clear skies and bright light of day turning her armor into a gleaming pillar of light. She felt tired, but unlike the previous week of exhaustion and pain, this felt good. The exertion had calmed and focused her, and she was far away from Pitax, the rebellion, the worries of Veleda and Irovetti and the gods and the Kingdom of the Free.
Just days ago I was bedridden, barely able to move. Now I'm back. Incredible. She thinks, wondering if it were the expert healing she recieved, a boon from the gods, her own hardiness, or all three. Some pain on her right side, which was basically one giant burn scar at this point, reminded her that maybe she shouldn't be pushing it so hard. But in the she couldn't help it, and every victory over her injuries simply made her push harder.
Visor up and bevor down to let in as much air into her armor as possible, she is about to address the four she deemed worthy of joining the mercenaries and speak with Ractus about their inclusion when the lookout makes his announcement.
The worry in the man's voice was obvious, as she looks upstream Rudabeh was surprised that's all the lookout said to indicate the massive wreck in their way. Her one sapphire eye stares at the gaudy, painted floastum and a sinking feeling plunges from her throat to her stomach at the signs of burnt paint and wood.
Turning on her heel, Rudabeh lifts a hand and shouts to the assembled men. "Weapons free! There's trouble ahead!" She turns her head to the four ex-bandits that had passed her inspection. "You have all earned your equipment back. Gear up and ready yourself with the others. Consider yourself temporarily employeed to the Pact of Years." The conversation with Ractus, the oaths, and everything else would have to wait, as she turns away and begins to jog towards the stern. As she moves, she catches Ractus' eye and waves for him to follow.
The exhaustion of the day seems to melt away as it is consumed by the latest crisis, and the paladin is quickly moving across the deck, and Ostend was sure to know she was coming as soon as she started towards him. "That is Irovetti's..." She can't say Royal Armada. She just couldn't do it. "Those are the ships he and his retainers left Pitax in. All the nobles and the palace guard and the remenants of the army that left with him." The last part was especially concerning as she points to the wreckage ahead. What had overwhelmed so many armed men so easily? "I don't think this is bandits. Do you see how the sun isn't reflecting off the black parts of those boats? That isn't paint. They've been burned. This could be another Flame Drake."
To Ractus, she asks: "Please organize the archers like last time and be on standby. If there is another drake we should be ready." There is a brief pause as she considers the situation, and thinks about what happned last time. The fireball that killed and maimed so many. "Should we send our front liners below deck to avoid another fireball?" It was a tactical question at its core, a battleground calculus that she was willing to leave to the more experienced elf.
Her head swings back to Ostend, steel plates rustling as they slide past one another. "We will protect the ship as best we can." The undine says, clearly indicating that any other decision, such as looking for survivors, collecting lost cargo, or even passing by the wreckage entirely was the Captain's decision. "I should tell you I swore an oath to protect Irovetti as part of the deal to get him to leave Pitax. If he is in danger, I must go to him, but I will go alone if I must."
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The noonday sun leeches all the color out of the world, bathing everything is tones of yellow and orange. Even from inside her helmet Rudabeh has to shade her eyes against the harsh rays to gaze out at the sunken vessels ahead.
There is a loud clatter as mercenaries (new and old) hastily grab equipment, the memory of the flame drake strong enough to hurry up even the most lazy. The chaos is only slightly controlled and Rudabeh winces at how often the men and women step on each others toes, both figuratively and literally.
Ractus and Ostend meet her at the prow, both looking up at the sad, water-logged remains of the Royal Armada. They listen quietly as Rudabeh speaks, sharing her thoughts, hunches and initial worries.
In her head Seqhi comments, 'Flame Drake? You have Flame Drakes in this land? Impressive creatures but I would not assume they would care for rivers and forests.'
Ractus, obviously not hearing that side conversation ponders Rudabeh's concerns about fireballs and packed ranks of mercenaries. He rubs his chin with his hand, and the paladin notes stubble there, when the elf usually went clean shaven.
"My first thought is we head for shore first, and unload everyone." The mercenary captain says finally, "Leave the sailors on board, wait for nightfall, and have the boat hurry past while we follow on foot. I don't want to have another fight in the water."
"And leave us unprotected?" Ostend says, raising an eyebrow. "That seems rather cowardly."
Ractus shrugs, "My men would be mostly useless on a ship anyway. If you stay close enough to the bank, we can help while standing on firm ground."
Ostend shakes his head, not voicing his obvious concerns.
Ractus speaks again, looking over the water with sharp eyes, "Some have to have survived. Even in Irovetti's entourage there would be survivors. The guards could swim, at least. They might be hiding out in the trees. Which bank is more likely, Captain?"
Ostend peers at the river for a moment and points, "The right bank. See how the current shifts inward slightly and the sand banks there? Anyone jumping overboard would naturally be pushed to the right bank." Then the half-elf sniffs the air and says, "Besides, the left bank is a swamp. Do you really want to unload your men in that muck?"
Ostend points to the other side of the river which looks the same to Rudabeh.
The barge captain turns to Rudabeh, "Sunken boats make me uneasy, Rudabeh. Especially if I don't know what caused it."
A Flame Drake attacked us last night, but we drove it off. First I've seen, and I thought it a dragon. I don't think they're... native. Rudabeh explains silently as Ractus thinks up some sort of plan. There was time for Rudabeh to note the stubble on his chin, and she wondered if two hands were needed for efficient shaving.
"We can leave a few men aboard the ship, as well, just in case. Five will be enough to set a watch and leave the sailors to their duties" The paladin intones as she stares out towards the water, hoping to assuage Ostend's concerns. Silvui was still recovering and should remain aboard anyway, and she could advise on the others later.
A skeptical look crosses the undine's face when Ractus mentions the guards swimming, though she keeps looking forward, eye squinted against the glaring sun. She doesn't say it, but she had yet to ever see a human "swim" in chainmail. Tire themselves out and nearly drown yes, but swim?
"Me either." She responds to Ostend, turning her head to meet his gaze. "I propose we land the barge on the right bank while I scout the waters ahead." Already set on this course of action, the paladin breaks Ostend's gaze and throws her bag down to extract her real spear. "If this is a water-borne threat, I will find it." It was left unsaid that she would probably try to kill it, too. "We can discuss our next course of action when I return, but I see no reason to sail into a mass of shipwrecks uninformed."
The well-oiled cold iron tip of her spear is freed from the arch of wood that sheaths the end, and she has both the bag over her shoulder and spear under her arm in an instant. "Could you throw a rope ladder over the port aft after you've landed?"
A hand drifts to the Iron Key on her hip, and dazzling smile flashes from inside of her helmet at Ostend moments before her helmet shuts over her face like a swimming clam. "Unless you want to haul me onto deck in a fishing net."
Grabbing the head of her spear with her left hand, she pulls it from her armpit and grabs the gunwale with her right hand, preparing to vault over the side and dive straight into the middle of the Pitax river.
'How did it get to this place, then?' Seqhi says, 'A flame drake would never used as a servant or even weapon, too wild and free of a creature. Curious.'
Ractus raises an eyebrow when Rudabeh suggest going alone, "By yourself? You want to find whatever sank half a dozen barges and boats....by yourself? Is that wise?"
Ostend grunted in asset but clearly doesn't feel he should chime in on a military operation.
Ractus then shrugs, "What do you want us to do if you don't come back? How long should we wait before sending out a rescue party?" he says this casually but with a edge in his voice, clearly trying to express his concern to Rudabeh without being dramatic.
The muddy water of the river rolls past, ripples glittering in the noonday sun like diamonds. It looks very tempting to the sweaty and sore Rudabeh, a cool and invigorating bath.
Castruccio Irovetti, whose ships these were, has a mirror that links to the Plane of Fire in his possession. It can only speak to some magma dragon, but apparently with the consent of both sides of the mirror physical objects can be sent through, including creatures. Rudabeh explains to Seqhi. I suspect the flame drakes have something to do with Irovetti, though given the state of his flotilla I doubt he intended this.
"No, it is not wise, but it's the safest course of action for everyone here." The paladin responds to Ractus' concern that she go alone to hunt whatever destroyed the ships and barges. In truth, if it were some giant freshwater squid or magically enhanced, invincible barricuda she was the only one on the ship that could deal with it. Yet she had no reason to be smug about it, and the burn marks on the boats indicated a different source of destruction.
A shrug, which was made nearly imperceptible by her heavy pauldrons, indicates she hadn't considered the possiblity of not coming back. "Give me an hour, then search along the bank you'll be making land on with the company."
Her entire body tenses and she preapres to vault into the river, but there is a pause. "Frankly, if I am killed in the river, I'll sink to the bottom and you'll never find me. But I do appreciate the sentiment of a rescue party." She turns her head to smile at Ractus behind her bevor, her one visible eye calm and confident behind the shining visor. "The water is my home. Alseta willing, I will be fine." Are her final words before grunting, leaping over the gunwale, and experincing a brief moment of freefall before landing into the waters below, feet-first, with a huge splash.
Rudabeh sighs as the cool waters of the PItax river completely and instantly engulf her, not just of pleasure but to void the air in her lungs. Massive bubbles churn and pop above her, though Ostend's barge quickly runs over them and casts its shadow over her form. As liquid enters every crevice of her armor, caressing her hot flesh and dulling the pain in both new and old wounds, she places her spear in both hand, held ready for any trouble.
Welcome to the Pitax River. This is what we call being "underwater". I can breathe water, but humans, and even some undine, cannot. She thinks to Seqhi while the two of them rapidly sink to the bottom of the river. Rudabeh was alert, but her visor blocked much of her sigh, and she had to sweep her visor in slow arcs in an effort to catch sight of any predators in the sun shafts piercing the water's surface.
Ractus rolls his eyes when Rudabeh places her trust in her god. The mercenary might worship Gorum, but no sane soldier placed much personal faith in Our Lord in iron, who would just as happily cut down a mighty warrior and protect him in an hour of need.
"Maybe Hanspur is the better one to ask for protection in a river?" Ostend offers mildly.
In her head Seqhi suddenly says, voice panicked 'We are going in-'
Her question is cut off as Rudabeh fairly vaults the gunwale of the barge and lands into the shining water with a splash.
'AHHHHH' Seqhi screams as the world turns into a swirl of bubbles and foam, the sound magnified as the rest of the world grows muffled.
With a soft thump Rudabeh hits the river bed, tossing up a small cloud of mud, which is quickly wafted away. The ifrit in her mind stops screaming as the world rightens itself and stabilizes, the foam and confusion for the descent giving way to the quiet peace of the river.
A flat plain of mud and silt stretched out ahead of them, peppered with exposed rocks and gravel along with the occasional sunken tree log. Shafts of sunlight lance through the water, shifting with the current, creating a subtle lighting reminiscent of a grand cathedral, soft and mysterious. Water plants sprout everywhere, waving and dancing int he current, long fronds sent to the surface in search of that elusive light source above.
Snails, slugs and other insects cling to both plants and rocks in great profusion and Rudabeh's experienced eye notes this is a healthy stream, a far cry from the tar-like river near Pitax's polluted docks. Event he water itself tastes...feels, clean and refreshing.
Schools of minnows dart among the foliage, looking almost like clouds of birds hovering in tree branches, while larger ones like bass and pike lazily circle int he current, keeping a bright eye out for wayward prey. Several turtles hang motionless in the channel, surveying the new intruder cautiously and Rudabeh salutes the holy animals with respect.
'It is....wonderful.' Seqhi says, her voice small and awestruck. Rudabeh can't help but compare this soft wonder tot he harsh arrogance of a few moments ago. Clearly Seqhi is a complicated person. 'Tell me the names of the creatures we pass, please!'
"Consdering what happened in Pitax, I am going to wait a little longer before asking Hanspur for any favors." Is the undine's response before vaulting over the side of the deck. Ractus could fill Ostend in on what she meant; there were more pressing matters at the moment.
Rudabeh bounces between laughing or being annoyed at the ifrit soul's reaction as they rapidly descend into the cool, crisp depths of the Pitax river. It was such a stark contrast to Teken; she was beginning to suspect he didn't even now how to have fun, though, Rudabeh muses that many people probably think the same about herself.
The paladin's armored feet touch the muddy river bottom, and she stands stll for a moment, breathing deeply of the fresh, clean waters. It tasted wonderful, and a few mouthfulness are greedily swallowed into her stomach to quench the near constant thirst she experiences on hot days in full harness such as this one.
The peaceful scene of the river bottom welomces the underwater warrior, and even the ever vigiliant Rudabeh loosens her grip on her spear for a oment. It is. She responds to Seqhhi's obersations about the wonders of the river, and when a wary turtle catches her eye the paladin bows her head in reverence. "Please grant me a sliver of your wisdom and tenacity today, shelled one." The undine says in aquan as her final salute to reptile. Of course. That is a turtle, which also happens to be the holy animal of my goddess Alseta. She begins to explain before moving forward, starting to trudge downsteam.
Not only is that a good omen, but it tells me something else. I don't think there is a dangerous aquatic predator here, at least not one that can sink ships. It is too calm here, everything feels... right. She explains, briefly kicking off of the bottom to be picked up by the current and pick up speed.
Rudabeh half-swims, half-walks toward the shipwrecks in the distance, enjoying the play of cool, clean water over her skin. Down here the armor weigh much less and the river acts as a lubricant for every metal joint and sharp edge, muffling the usually loud clanking. Granted, most river creatures would regard her as a very loud and intrusive disturbance but by surface standards, Rudabeh was quite quiet, gliding along with the current.
It would have been peaceful except for Seqhi's constant barrage of questions about the wildlife around them. From the clinging seaweed, to the skittering crabs to the humblest clump of algae the ifrit's curiosity seems insatiable, her voice high pitched with excitement. There is a thrill in her voice matching a child in a candy store.
A memory stirs. A much younger Rudabeh and her brother Ondev, playing on the Andoran coast. They had loved to explore the mud flats and tide pools, which seemed to change with each turn of the tide, depositing new treasures and creatures. Ondev, creative even then, had always been fascinated by weird sea animals washed up on shore. Rudabeh, of course, shared the names of those she knew and investigated those she did not. Happy days, under the southern sun.
Her smile fades as the paladin reaches her destination. From the surface the shipwrecks had been pathetic fragments, a few keels and decks barely visible above the rushing stream. below however the view is more of a small lumberyard, scattered by a giant's hand.
The Royal Flotilla lies in ruins, with ships at every conceivable angle. Hulls sunk deep into mud, while others lie upside down, while yet others lie on their sides. Rope and gear lie everywhere, pushed idly by the current, catching on gunwales and small masts. All the bright painted colors are muted, dimmed by the shifting beams of sunlight and the swirling current.
The undine gets closer, alert for trouble and clues.
She shortly finds the first body. A woman who is dressed like a servant, apron and bonnet still in place. She is caught in ropes, clearly having drowned after entanglement.
'Water can kill as surely as fire.' Seqhi says, voice solemn. Whatever else her faults, she did seem to take death seriously.
Rudabeh finds more bodies, but not nearly as many as she expected. Clearly, whatever had happened, had given most a time to disembark safely....or devoured them on the surface. She does not find anyone she knows or recognizes, let alone Irovetti himself.
Then she spots something...unusual. From one of the overturned boats, which rests on the muddy riverbed like a great shell, a stream of...something is coming out of a small hole, twisting toward the glittering surface.
A bubbling curl of steam?
The peaceful river jaunt was quickly turning into an outdoor classroom as Rudabeh tries, and fails, to adequately sate Seqhi's hunger for knowledge about the various plants and animals that lived in the river. The paladin was no scholar or wilderness expert, so her answers are limited in range to mostly fish, but she tried. However "river grass" apparently wasn't a good enough answer after the 5th time she named a completely different plant the same thing, and the ifrit stopped asking about those, at least.
The memory of her family's coast trading days floats into her mind, and for a moment she blocks out Seqhi to think about the carefree days she spent with her brother along the coast of Andoran. Everything in those tide pools that they found was so wonderous, special, and magical, just like the memory itself. A bit of home sickness, of which she had long thought had disappeared from her psyche, hits her. She had meant to send a letter to her family before leaving Pitax, but there had been no time and worse no one to carry the message to begin with. I will write them when we get to Volouse. Rudabeh tells herself, and she was about to start daydreaming about what her brother was up to when Seqhi confuses a nearby yellow bass for a small mouth bass and Rudabeh succinctly corrects the ifrit.
A sigh escapes Rudabeh's mouth, which was more a silent rushing of water through her visor that came back into her face, as she comes within sight of the wreck. A hand lifts up her visor to widen her vision, and she takes in the chaos strewn about the riverbed. What did this? She thinks aloud, summoning stories in her mind of kraken or other sea monsters that ripped vessels in two on the ocean... but there was no way a river could support such a massive creature.
The flame drake last night was barely bigger than a riding seahorse. Er, a horse. Er... A large pack animal. She struggles to relate to Seqhi's upbringing on the plane of fire before giving up and saying: It couldn't have ripped a ship in two and turned it upside down, right?
Keeping her visor up to improve her vision, Rudabeh cautiously hops along the bottom of the river bed, throwing up clouds of silt behind her, until she reaches the lady wrapped up in rope. Indeed. I always found it ironic how mortals need water to live, but too much and they die. For me, I don't think there is such a thing as too much water.
This was far from the first drowned body the undine had ever seen, and she had recovered many during her stint in the militia at Outsea. Rudabeh gets closer, trying to see if she could tell how long ago the woman had drowned...
Taking up her holy symbol, the paladin presses the Iron Key to her top of her high-crested helm. "May Hanspur take you aboard his raft on the astral plane and guide your soul to Pharamsa's court. " She intones in aquan, giving a send-off prayer to each drowned body she finds.
Something wasn't making sense to Rudabeh, and it was greatly concerning her. The attack was massive and damaging, but not instant as others had time to escape, or at least get off the boats, before they were killed. The lady in the ropes told her there was some kind of panic, and the fire on the burn marks on the hulls was another clue, but she just didn't know enough to point to a culprit.
She suddenly stops at the sighting of the bubble stream, eye following it all the way up to the surface. It could be some creature thinking it was cleverly hiding amongst the debris, or perhaps a well sealed (but not perfectly sealed) chest or footlocker slowly filling with water. Or, as she had heard some sailors spin yarns about, someone was under the boat and using the little bit of air trapped at the very top.
Lifting a hand to her face she slowly closes her visor, the silversheen descending over the upper half of her face to completely obscure it from the stray sunbeams above. She touches her holy symbol and invokes the power of her goddess, asking for the boon to see the auras of chaos as she approaches. Cautiously, Rudabeh places the tip of her spear underneath the boat and begins to slowly pry it upward, lifting it until she can catch the edge with a hand and quickly flip the entire sunken watercraft over.
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The boat was fairly large, if not as big as the hulking barge with her company. It would be heavy and the wood probably water-logged by now, but still Rudabeh was strong and loads were not nearly as heavy underwater. Bracing her feet firmly on the gravel river bed, she planted her spear point under the wooden rim of the upturned craft and started to pry it free. The mud was sucking and was reluctant to give way, forcing Rudabeh to heave with all of her might to make the boat shift even a few inches. But slowly her straining exertions were rewarded not just with a cloud of mud wafting in the breeze-like current, but with a growing gap between stream-bed and boat edge. Using the current like wind in a sail, she would soon have it turned over entirely-
Seqhi suddenly broke off a rattling monologue about fiery beasts of burden with 'What is that scent? Taste? Whatever you call it in water. It seems familiar...'
Rudabeh opens her mouth, exploring the feel of the water, both taste and scent. It seems the same, that clear freshwater that spoke of health and spring rains. there was a taste of fresh mud of course from unearthing the boat but nothing...wait, what was that? A faint oily scent. Something shifted in the muddy gloom of the boat and Rudabeh froze, looking at the vague outline.
Then something exploded out of the darkness under the boat, a dark shape slamming into her like a runaway cart. It knocked the armored paladin aside and shoved itself into the gap under the boat. For a moment it struggled there as the watercraft began to sink back down, no longer held up by Rudabeh's spear. Mud churned, blocking Rudabeh's view of the creature as it struggled to release itself from the prison of the upturned ship.
'That scent...' Seqhi repeated, in curious tones. 'I know it...but why.' The thick oily presence in the water was unmistakable now, hot and sharp, totally alien to Rudabeh's experience. Whatever this thing was, it wasn't native.
There was a sound of tearing wood and suddenly the dark shape darted forward, apparently free of the crushing weight. It soared out of the mud cloud and circled around, and Rudabeh got her first good look at the thing. It was...a shark?
'Oil shark' Seqhi says, breathless, that child-like wonder coming back into her voice. 'Some sages suggested they could live in water but we were never able to test it.....Fascinating!'
Rudabeh could see how the creature got it's name. It looked like an immense, eyeless shark over 10 feet long feet with blackish-blue, metallic scales gleam with bubbling iridescent oil. The sleek fins, powerful tail and gaping maw are all sheathed in a thin, barely visible bubble of steam. It aimed a pointed nose at Rudabeh and dove like a barracuda on a tuna.
With a single powerful thrust of its tail the fish-like creature barrels toward Rudabeh. Instead of opening the mighty jaws though, it keeps it's mouth close and simply tries to slam into the paladin like a battering ram, apparently trying to crush her against another sunken hulk.
It narrowly misses the paladin, instead crashing into the boat with enough force to splinter wood and throw up another cloud of mud. Rudabeh is shook just by the passage of the churning water but for now is unharmed.
Rudabeh nearly stops when Seqhi mentions there was some kind of scent in the water, partly because she had no idea what the ifrit was talking about, and partly because she had to wonder how Seqhi was "smelling" anything with her soul locked inside of a fire whale's heart.
It was a question for another time, as the oily taste on her tongue finally registers somewhere in the paladin's brain as being utterly foreign and frankly gross. This was about to be a subject of commentary when the oily something rushes her, and the force of the rushing water makes Rudabeh stagger backward.
Be ready! She warns mentally, bending her knees to absorb the shock of her feet sliding along the river bottom and coming to a stop only a few feet away. The thrashing mud cloud grows ever larger, but she finds her footing and adjusts the grip on her spear to hold the weapon in front of her.
There are many aquatic creatures that hide- The thought is cut off as the creature suddenly breaks free of its sunken fetters and explodes from the mud cloud; and Rudabeh is absolutely dumbstruck.
A shark! Here?! It was clear that the undine, despite her heritage, or perhaps because of it, was just as shocked to see a shark as Seqhi, let alone an "oil" one. This is freshwater! Why is it here! What do you mean "suggested"? Where else would it live!?
Though she tracks its quick circles with the tip of her spear, Rudabeh is still unsure exactly what to do. She had never fought a shark before, having spent her entire life avoiding and being warned not to fight sharks. Too young to have hunted in the sea and too wealthy to hunt for sustenance on the Andoran coast, she had never run afoul of an aggressive shark in the wild. In Outsea all the sharks were tame; pets or work animals of their Sahuagin masters, who share a natural telepathic bond with the creatures, and they were kept well fed and under tight control.
So when it finally turned to her, that swift and powerful flick of its boiling tail which nearly turned it 90 degrees, Rudabeh just stood there. Every bit of instinct told her to get out of the way, but her thorough and rigorous training could not tell her which way to go. Thus, she just grit her teeth, held up her spear, and hoped the thing ran right into it.
The result was spectacular and comical all in one- there stood the gleaming aquatic warrior, hips down and set into a stance so solid she looked like a statue, unmoving and unflinching as a deadly 10 foot shark charges and totally misses her. Briefly rocking to the side as the churning waters rush over her, Rudabeh wastes no time. She may not know what to do with a shark charging as her, but she knew what to do with one right next to her.
The cold iron tip of her spear flashes in the aquatic sunbeams as she jabs it forward into the shark's flank, burying the tip as deep as she could. To her surprise metallic scales part like button, and Rudabeh is briefly concerned her spear, which lacks a guard, would get lodged in the creature. She surges forward with a powerful kick off the ground, shouldering the creature and heaving the spear loose in the opposite direction.
Something sizzles and pops as her pauldron makes contact, but the sensation was only on the edge of her mind- now waterborne, the undine lets herself fall in the water, twisting until her back is paralell to the river bottom and jabbing her spear into the oil shark's underbelly. With a powerful sweep of her arms she is out from under it, turning in the water and righting herself. Seqhi, I need you to tell me everything about this shark before it kills us!
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Rudabeh's first stab seems to find a weak spot in the oiled hide, long slits in the side of the blunt head. Gills? Do oil sharks have gills? DO they even need to breath? In any case, the cold-iron slices through muscle and skin with razor sharpness, and dark blue blue pours from the sudden wound. To Rudabeh's dismay though, the hide is tough and stringy, and it doesn't do as much damage as she hoped.
Still, encouraged, she maneuvers around, finding herself below the shark and stabs upward. Again she is rewarded for her efforts, punches through the oiled scales of the creature. A new cloud of dark blood joins the first, mixing with the churned mud of the thrashing oil shark.
Meanwhile, in her head Seqhi begins speaking. To Rudabeh's annoyance and distraction the ifrit's voice is bubbly and excitied, as if this was the thrill of a lifetime.
'Oil sharks are poorly understood, even in my home. They range deep in the fire seas and oceans, far from cities and sages. They are hunted, occasionally, for those seeking to make armor out of their durable hides. Supposedly they mostly feed on firewhales and other such creatures. I've never seen one up close!' She finishes, even as the oil shark turns its taut body to face Rudabeh. 'Fascinating!'
Now facing downward, toward Rudabeh, the oil shark finally opens its wide jaws, which seem to unhidge, reminding the paladin of the great strangling snakes travelers told stories of. The shark's mouth is full of razor sharp teeth, just as bright and white as any Material Plane man-eater. With a rush it charges toward her!
The beast bites Rudabeh's head, teeth clashing on silversheen metal. Gezzerbial's work generally withstands the blow, but a few of the sharp points dig into her neck and shoulders, slicing through straps and joints. The shark thrashes violently, and Rudabeh's neck nearly snaps from the sheer force of the struggling, head ringing in her helmet. Some of her own aquamarine blood leaks into the water.
Unaffected, Seqhi adds, 'Oh! I guess you want to know about fighting them. From what I remember, they are weak to cold magic, can smell blood and oil for mils and get easily bored. Not sure if that is helpful?'
Rudabeh gets out from under the oil shark after her assault, using one hand to reach out and push off of the upturned boat it was trapped beneath. In the brief moment of respite affored to her as she is gliding bacwards, the undine realizes that the beast had been trapped under the boat, and she had unwittingly freed it. Their barge could have passed right through without any trouble, and she just had to go make trouble.
Briefly, her mind casts back to what she said to Ostend earlier, that trouble usually doesn't follow her. While it was true, Rudabeh was beginning to suspect trouble may proceed her., and she just makes it worse.
"Yes fascinating now ho-" Thoughts are cut off as huge rows of very material-plane like shark teeth appear in front of her, and Rudabeh tries to juke the shark's charge. She nearly makes it, but she moved too soon, and the eyless shark somehow instantly corrects its course before chomping down on her head.
It was an awful experience, being thrashed around by a shark, one she wouldn't want to wish on anyone, and even though her free hand flails and fruitlessly beats on the shark's head as she is thrashed about, her mind is occupied by wondeirng how many times she was going to feel like she was going to die this month alone.
After what seemed like an eternity of torment the shark releases her, and she instantly kicks back towards the downed barge. Going through her own cloud of red blood and dispersing it into the river, the trail seems to stop instantly as she passes. The surrounding water washes over her neck and cools her punctured flesh, stopping the bleeding all together
Planting her boots on her wood of the barge, she thinks very calmly for one that was just savaged by as shark. In the distance, her attacker circles the spot where she was bleeding before.
Bored? It was the only useful thing that registered in Seqhi's monologue, and the idea turned itself over in the paladin's mind as she lays a hand on the back of her neck, filling it with positive energy.
The pain in her neck subsides as she strategizes with the soul stuck in her armor. If I hurt it enough, do you think it will leave? Get bored, or decide we're not worth it? It really didn't matter what Seqhi's answer was, there was really no choice- Rudabeh knew she couldn't out-swim a shark.
The oily predator turns back towards her and she takes her chance, launching from the waterlogged wood like a spring with her spear tip held in two hands in front of her. Seqhi, you should have some control over the magic of the armor! Please, try to make it... do something! Anything to help! She pleads, closing in on the shark and attempting to stab it repeatedly.
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Rudabeh feels both the divine enegry of Alseta and the innate healing power of the water combine, re-knitting her wounds nearly instantly. In a moment the jagged pain of the shark attack fades into a dull soreness, easily ignored mid battle.
'Impressive' Seqhi comments, obviously detecting the healing powers.
Ignoring the compliment, Rudabeh begs the ifirt to do...something. She had see Teken cover the armor in a barrage of blades without even knowing he could. What might Seqhi be able to do?
'Do something?' Seqhi seems confused but intrigued and becomes more distant, as if concentrating on something else.
Meanwhile Rudabeh redoubles her efforts to stab the large, thrashing shark. Her first blow merely glances off the slick hide, spear-point harmlessly grazing the shark's thick skin. Her second attack however is aimed more carefully and her weapon punches a whole in a passing fin, spraying more dark blue blood into the water.
The shark contorts its body nimbly and tries to bite Rudabeh's arm, clearly intending to rip it off. The creature seems more frenzied then more, either driven by the blood int he water or the pain Rudabeh has inflicted.
Rudabeh's left arm fairly vanishes down the sharks gullet as the creature bits on her shoulder, teeth tearing into her armor. The grating of tooth on steel fills the water as the fish wildly thrashes, not only slashing skin but wrenching muscle and tendon. Rudabeh, even with her great weight, is thrown around like a rag-doll in the water, the world becoming lines of brightly colored blurring lines for a moment.
Rudabeh's face would be comical if anyone could see it past her visor and if it wasn't so pained. She flails in the water, trying to escape the shark's grasp, but down is up and up is down as she is tossed about in the water with the recklessness of a wild animal attempting to tear her to shreds.
The undine was made of tough stuff, but her armor was even tougher- the some of the sharks multiple rows of teeth eventually give out as they catch on the steel plating, and Rudabeh's arm is finally free in a shower of lost teeth and red blood.
She wastes no time in kicking back from the creature, the flow of blood in her arm rapidly stopping as the water power of the river seep into her very being. Augmenting the healing with the powers granted to her by Alseta, the paladin was mostly whole again after a brief flash of light.
There was a brief moment of hesitation as she considers her chances against the shark, and she realizes her mentor would be highly disappointed in her. The terrian held no advantage to her or the shark, but Rudabeh was fighting without her favored weapon or anything to use to her advantage. As Finn would put it, her "foe has you downwind of the bog."
Keeping her body facing the shark, sweeps up both her legs in its face, sending up a shower of bubbles at the rapid movement. In the second it takes them to dissapate she has spun her body around and was swimming away, shimmering armor undulating under the sun shafts piercing the surface. She courses gracefully up and over the overturned boat, catching the keel with a hand and propelling herself towards the nearby wreck with great speed.
Flipping her visor up Rudabeh uses the precious few seconds away from the shark to find a place where she could use the wreck to her advantage- a net to tangle it in, or a place where she could put wood between herself and the shark, but still stab at it with her spear as it came to attack. Tactical retreat. Keep trying to get the armor to do something! I know there is magic in there!
Rudabeh is a seasoned warrior, with plenty of fight under her belt. The sort of painful experience that only comes through a life of danger. And all that experience was telling her one thing.
Fighting toe to toe with this shark could get her killed. She could obviously do damage do the fish-like predator but not enough and not fast enough. While she had escaped serious harm so far, the size of those teeth made her skin crawl. Time to pull back.
As she grudgingly gave ground and then darted away, the paladin scanned the battleground for something, anything of use. At the very least the oil shark didn't seem very smart, could she use her brains?
Luckily for her, the shipwreck was new. She knew, in time, the steady current of the river would clean up the chaos of the wrecked vessel, wiping away any loose items or bury them in sand and silt. In only a few months all that would remain would be the heavy keels themselves, polished like bones by the rushing waters. But not yet.
For now the wrecks were dotted with all sorts of debris. Rudabeh spots a few likely candidates.
An overturned ship, lying haphazardly on it's side, like a tipped bowl. She could hide under it and attack with her spear, in a space too small for the shark to reach.
She also sees a tangle of crates and rigging strung between two ships, looking for all the world like one of the trawling nets sailors used near her childhood home.
Lastly she sees one boat, cracked in half, revealing a dark cave-like hold exposed to the air. Balanced against it is a gaudily painted vessel Rudabeh recognizes as Irovetti's 'flagship'. Only precariously perched, she could perhaps tip it and seal the hold of the other ship with the bulky mass. And perhaps trap an oil shark?
There wasn't much time to decide, and in a sweep of her head Rudabeh had seen three potential plans: be the urchin, attacking behind the safety of a wooden shell, be the octopus and ensnare her prey, or be the merfolk, using a trap to seal off the creature and make it someone else's problem down the line. With luck, it would starve.
She had seen what it had done to the smaller vessel with its head, nearly cracking it open when it missed, and there was something about the shark's oily nature that made her think it was going to slip right through. Rudabeh knew she had to trap it again, so the barge could pass safely through.
With a quick kick, she if off towards the gaudily painted vessel that looks even worse in the muted colors of the river. Irovetti's flagship. What attacked the flotilla that his army couldn't handle? She thinks while rushing forward and taking her Iron Key into hand.
Luring the shark into the hold would be easy, but getting it to stay while she trapped it would be harder. With a little help from her goddess she could bind the shark with the power of Order, keeping it in place while she tipped the ruined husk of Irovetti's ambitions over it.
No oil shark did this.' Senqhi agrees, musing.
Rudabeh swims as quick as she can in full armor toward the yawning cave-like entrance of the broken vessel. Bits of rope and sail drift past, gently pushed by the current. The mud is thick and her distant looms like a mountain above the swirling clouds.
Rudabeh darts inside, and feels disorientated at being 'indoors' underwater. The wooden walls of the hull surround her on three sides, still stout and well-put together, merely sitting in the silty mud. The paladin faces the open end, spear in hand, and faces down the rushing shark. The creature streams toward her, a smooth and oiled projectile of death. Teeth literally whistle as water rushes past them, tail surging strongly.
Then Rudabeh holds up a hand and speaks a single word.
"Halt!"
For a moment the oil shark seems to slow, the divine weight of Rudabeh's words settling on the enraged creature. The powerful fin goes slack, the mouth widening loosely, the eyes growing distant.
Then the moment passes, and the oil shark slams into Rudabeh at full speed. The undine is now trapped in a small, enclosed space with a very large and angry shark.
It was a clever idea. Senqhi offers, adding, But nature's creatures are not so easily order about. What an impressive beast!
The impressive beast opens wide jaws and clamps down on Rudabeh's left leg with a sickening, metallic clang. The paladin had hoped her armor would dissuade the creature but perhaps its usual Plane on the Fire Plane were made of such stuff?
Suddenly in her mind Senqhi speaks again, this time more animated, I think I found something, a hidden reserve in the armor....
A moment of mental silence and then Rudabeh feels a surge of power ripple through her, even as she is thrashed around in the shark's jaws. It is a bolstering feeling, as if being invigorated and coated in a new shell.
But nothing happens.
Rudabeh is praying to Alseta that the spell was could take effect any moment now, right up until the oil shark smashes into her. She flies backwards in the water, immediately righting herself moments before the predator bites down on her leg. Though the plates hold and the chain reinforcing the joints of her knee prevent the teeth from taking her leg clean off, it was still a painful pressure.
The undine feels the surge of power through the armor as she is being tossed to and fro. Yes, that's it! she rallys, smashing the butt of her spear into the shark's right eye. The darkwood bounces off the creature's nictitating membrane, but it was enough of a shock to let her leg go.
A beat passes as the shark thrashes and starts to circle again, and Rudabeh waits for the new power ofthe armor to surge forth... ...what did you do, exactly? She asks after an awkward amount of time had passed, and she starts to swim away from the angry, hungry beast.
With her merfolk plan thwarted, she would need to be the urchin, or perhaps more appropriately, the undine; the nearby grounded ships could give her a way to climb out of the water and back onto land.
Kicking off towards the wreck nearest the bank, Rudabeh swims as quick as she is able, the white light of Alseta staunching the blood flowing from her leg even more effectively than the revitalizing nature of the river.
The grounded wreck on the western bank looms, and she swims her way into the confines of its submerged corpse, looking for a stairway, ladder up to the surface, or a suitable passage that she could fit through but the shark could not.
Rudabeh surges through the water, not trying to outrun the oil shark but at least stay ahead of the gnashing jaws. While she could heal herself, (and did so) she couldn't keep it up forever. Still, there were few warriors who could take a few such bites with little real damage and the Fire Plane predator seemed confused at the lack of death.
The paladin of Alseta heads toward the bank, the water swirling around her, filled with dancing columns of sunlight. They play off her armor, as if she was a silvery swordfish of the deeps. If only she could sim that fast.
The partially submerged wreck closest to shore rises above her, like cracked wooden boulder, parting the current. It seems to have hit the river bottom hard, boards and planking heavily damaged with impact. Bad for the ship, but good for her as it leaves her many fissures and cracks to slide through. She slides inside one, and despite her hopes, finds herself trapped in a small storage locked, the door crushed shut. A dead end.
Outside the oil shark follows her trail and soon arrives outside the shipwreck. For a moment it hovers effortlessly in the water, looking for all the world like a sailor's worst nightmare come to life. Blood stained teeth, oil slicked hide, liquid eyes.
Incredible creatures. I wonder if one could be tamed? It could be a impressive mount. Senqhi says idly, and Rudabeh wonders, not for the first time, if the voices in her head are not entirely sane.
The oil shark waits, like a cat expecting a mouse to bolt from a hole. Then, it slowly ghosts out of sight, rises toward the surface until it leaves Rudabeh's limited field of view. Time passes slowly with no change.
Rudabeh briefly reconsiders her oaths about politeness when she notices the stuck door, which was about as good as cursing out loud. Turning in place, she watches through the ragged planks that had allowed her passage but was currently preventing the aquatic (?) outsider from breaking inside and tearing her apart.
She watches it stalk and wait, truly taking in the creature for the first time. It was like the sharks she was familiar with in terms of shape and size, but the... composition was wrong. Something about it reminded her of Irovetti's palace and the way the sea creatures were depicted- the forms were mostly correct but the colors and fine details were clearly left to the artist's imagination.
The paladin settles herself against a nearby wall, spear held tightly in her hands as Seqhi speaks. My home, Outsea, has many tame sharks. But they are not tamed through normal means. The Sahuagin, an aquatic race with close bonds to sharks, can speak with them telepathically and control them that way. I wonder if they could control this oil shark as well? Though Seqhi clearly had a limited grasp of the danger of the situation, Rudabeh was drawn in by the spectulation. There were many Sahuagin that she knew personally that would aboslutely try to ride an oil shark on a dare.
Rudabeh turns her head to the crushed door nearby. She considers using her Iron Key to ask Alseta to open it, but given the state of the ship the proceeding hallway would probably be crushed as well.
Laying a hand to her breasplate, the undine heals the last of the damage the shark inflicted on her soft turquoise flesh- she had been taught from a very young age that sharks could sense blood from miles away, and to never swim with an open injury. Though she was not bleeding, it was be disrespectful to her elders to not heed those words.
Lifting her visor, Rudabeh pokes her head out of the safety of the shipwreck, looking for the oilshark.
As long as it was far enough away not to catch her, she grabs onto a nearby board and heaves herself out of the shipwreck, back into open water. She immediately spins and turns towards the bank, sending sparkling sunbeams in all directions as she swims up the side and towards the deck of the ruined ship. Wordlessly Rudabeh heads for the shore, intending to take to land near the wreck of Irovetti's flagship, or find the deck of a ship that was still above water to stand upon.
Rudabeh carefully pokes her head out, craning around for a look. She knows many hunters of the deep will lurk outside a prey's hide-hole for hours, waiting for just such a slip, but the oil shark doesn't seem the type. Even normal sharks are not ambush predators but prefer to overpower their prey through sheer power and strength.
The paladin scans the jumbled shipwrecks and sees the oil shark, happily at a distant. It seems to be swimming away, living up to the reputation of boring easily. To her dismay though it is headed upstream toward the barge, or at least where she left it. Granted, it probably would not pose a great threat to an entire mercenary company but it is still not a pleasant thought. An unwary man near the rail might be snatched....
Rudabeh darts out of her hiding place and races for the dazzling sun above. In moments she has broached the rippling surface, legs kicking to keep her armored body afloat. To her relief, she sees the broached ship is leaning in a way to let her easily slide onto the deck, like a seal slipping on shore.
In a few moments Rudabeh is standing on the wooden deck of the ship, out of the water. Around her the small graveyard of shipwrecks remains, spars and masts poking out of the water like the rib cage of some submerged beast. To her left, the western bank snags the wreck, and she can, with a little effort, reach dry land without having to swim again. The riverbank is thin forest, edged with green undergrowth, bursting in full summer leaves.
The paladin glances over it and, to her surprise, sees a small figure emerging from the green depths. A halfling, dressed in river pilot's clothes.
Faro.
The halfling looks tired, shoulders bent and face smudged with dirt. Still, he looks hale enough and hurries over to Rudabeh's wreck with ease.
At the edge of the shattered boat he says, voice strong, "Permission to come aboard? We have much to discuss."
Rudabeh watches the oil shark head upstream, and she briefly pauses to consider following it. It posed a danger to the barge, though not so great she feared for the vessel- that shark had not been responsible for the chaos of timber that surrounded her now. Hopefully Draze wasn't fishing, and if he was, he would be in for a surprise.
She sighed, and turned upward, towards the surface, again contemplating how she seemed to cause more chaos and problems lately than she brought to order or solved. Ever since Veleda had sent her to Pitax nothing was ever simple or easy, but complaining wasn't going to make it any better. There were many aquatic creatures in the River Kingdoms, and eventually the oil shark would meet its match. She left it up to Gozreh to bring balance to the river.
The undine picks up speed near the surface and launches herself up and out of the water, flopping onto the nearest deck with all the grace of an obese bull sea lion. There was a awful clattering and a rushing of water as she hits the wood, followed a few second of enthusiastic puking as the water is voided from her lungs.
Bringing up her left leg and pushing it to the deck, she stands up straight in a single motion, water dripping from every joint and point on her shining armor. She slowly scans the distruction and asks Seqhi: What could have done this? There were dozens of ships, all together, with a vertible army of guards. The flame drake or the oil shark, alone or together, could not have caused such destruction. She was beginning to suspect, again, that something had happened to Irovetti's mirror.
Turning back towards the bank, she is preparing to walk back to the barge when a figure emerges from the treelines. Though her spear is in her hands, it is raised only for a moment before dropping again- relief floods through her as she lifts a hand and lowers her bevor, revealing happily curved azure lips.
"Permission granted." She intones, walking towards the halfling. "Welcome aboard Rudabeh's Folly." She looks past the halfling, to the trees, briefly watching for anyone else. "I thank Alseta you are alive and well, Faro. I have a barge and a mercenary company upstream if you have any other survivors." Her single limpid orb travels back to Faro, and she would very much like to ask What did Irovetti do? but decides to give the man the benefit of the doubt, as befits her station.
"What happened here?" She inquires instead, ready for the worst.
Faro grimaces, "I think Alseta, or Hanspur, had little to do with it. A lifetime of living on the river makes you wary." With considerable agility the little halfling hops up onto the beached wreck and pads across the curving deck with ease, bare feet silent on the sun-bleached wood.
"I have much to say, but first." he waves a hand at the sad collection of ships, looking like a giant's collection of bath toys. "Many men, both fair and foul died here and there is no holy man among the survivors. Would you please say a prayer for them? They rest uneasy, I fear."
After the moment passes, Faro grabs a small barrel to use a seat, giving the air of a man about to begin a long tale.
"Disaster." Faro says simply, answering Rudabeh's first question. "I knew there would be trouble with a collection of 'nobles' and 'kings', in a collection of barely floating scows but even I underestimated it. Irovetti is a piece of work." Rudabeh can't help but notice the river pilot uses present tense.
"We had the usual problems at first. Ships not keeping their place, idiots handling the rowing, nobles puking over the side. Nothing you didn't pay for. Slow going but that is to be expected. The first night we simply went through the night, to make way. But the second night..."
Faro makes a face then says bluntly, "We were attacked."
"Not by bandits, by...something else. Something made of fire. A flying person but made of flames." The ususally solid man trails off, uncertian and clearly out of his depth. "I am sorry Rudabeh but I am a man of the River Kingdoms. I have sailed these waterways by whole life and have seen many things. I know how to handle myself in a storm, in quicksand or even with a dragon turtle on my tail. I have even had my share of run-ins with the fey but this....this was something else."
A fire man.....[i/] Senqhi says, obviously curious. [i]Someone from my home? Faro went on, oblivious to this disembodied audience.
"A great roaring voice, demanding the king. Then fire....spells, of some kind. Unnatural. Fire in the night sky, like the flares I hear they use at sea. Men panicking, barges ramming each other. We might have held together, even then, but then the beasts appeared."
Faro stops, looks over the gently flowing river, as if a simple glance might summon them. "Dragons in the air, sharks in the sea, chaos. And this great flying fiery man, going this way and that, destroying as he went."
"I'm not ashamed to say I went below to turn over Irovetti. No payment was worth that night, Rudabeh. When I found him he wasn't cowering under his bunk, as I thought, but instead was writing a letter." A pause as the halfling digs out a grimy looking sheet of paper.
"He shoved it into my hand and then tried to climb under his bed. I grabbed a few hands and we dragged him topside." Faro looks into Rudabeh's sole eye, "I do not aplgoize for what I did. Men were dying, and if turning Irovetti over would stop...."
The river pilot shrugs, "But it was a little late anyway, as most of the ships were sinking. I shouted we had Irovetti and the fire-man landed on the deck. He grabbed Irovetti and carried him away." He pointed to the far, swampy bank, "That way."
"While the fiery man left, the beasts remained. In the panic, we decided to head for shore. While the ships were wreaked, luckily close to the bank and most survived. It was more panic then death, at least for most. We headed for the trees and have been scourging, waiting for you."
Faro takes a deep breath, looking uncomfortable. Rudabeh has the feeling this is more talking then faro has done in many a month, and is not a man used to having to explain his actions or choices. The paladin also senses there is more to the story, yet untold.