Fantasy Sea of Spells: Chapter 1

[Stok]

Abel stayed stoic and relaxed on the sand for a while. Eventually a few interesting characters showed up. One mage, a druid of some sort by the looks of her. One man who seemed like he's sailed a ship. He was thin, but sinewy like a good sailor. That's good, thought Abel. He needed at least one more person who could help him teach rigging if he had to end up recruiting more than a few green-horns. When the tall woman arrived, Abel's eyes widened. She looked Slavic to be sure, but her clothes didn't fit those of a pirate. More so someone accustomed to living in the wilderness. What sort of person was she, exactly? One man... No... One child? Dressed in the manner of high society. The fact that he hadn't been mugged and left for dead in Port Royal meant he was probably a strong magus. Strong enough, anyways, to be left alone. In addition, a few more seasoned-looking sailors showed up too. They filled out the crowd, making the whole affair give off a more dangerous vibe than it had first thing this morning.

Finally, the person he was waiting on arrived. A man of African descent, very broad and strong. His biceps were the size of cannonballs. Perhaps the only other person in attendance as physically imposing as the icelandic woman. He carried a small burlap sack over his shoulder, and walked all the way around the crowd to sit outside the circle. His clothes were modest like the rest of them, and plain. His head was bald, and he disregarded everyone except Abel.

"Alright then Beckum. Let's get this little show of yours started,"

"Thankyou Kofi, fine to see you this morning. You've got enough supplies for this lot?" He says, talking about the crowd as if they weren't there.

"I do, but you're replacing them all, got it?"

"Alright alright you lecherous rebel, just draw your circle," Abel replied with a smile. Kofi set about doing just that, though his circle was much smaller than Abel's. In time the occult practitioners in the audience would recognize it as a magical circle. No runes or magical symbols of any sort adorned it's edges. Only shapes placed at the proper angles. Kofi opened his sack and placed a small wooden statue in it's center facing him, and began praying to himself. He then pulled five dolls from his sack, and placed them in a line below his magic circle. Finally he got up, and touched the edge of Abel's circle and said a separate prayer. It was all in some African language, so most including Abel couldn't tell what the words were.

The air shimmered a bit over where the stones made up the edge of the ring, looking a little like a cage. Everything became normal as if nothing were there, after a second.

"You're ready, go ahead," said Kofi. Abel stood up and addressed the crowd finally.

"Anyone whom wants to join this crew need only participate in a bit of sport! If you're under seventeen, go ahead and scram! I don't need a cabin boy, and I can't pay anyone who can't pull their weight! Shove off, lubbers!" A few of the younger boys looked defiant, but one or two did walk away. Just the beginning of making them sparse.

"You'll all be fighting me! Weapons allowed, but no death blows! No cutting off heads, or stabs through the heart! This is Kofi!" He said, pointing to the voodoo practitioner, "He can heal any sort of injury below that! Therefore, I'll be taking some of you on three or four at a time. Don't hold back, or there's no getting on this crew! Use any magical or physical means to incapacitate me,"

That was all it took for most of the younger men to leave. They muttered words like "insanity," and "psycho," as they left. One or two true sailors also left, not willing to be shot or run through just to join a crew. Still, some stayed behind. They seemed to think if all they had to do was gang up on him, this would be light morning work.

Abel pointed to five of the youngest in the crowd still clinging to the idea that they might have a shot at this challenge. Might as well get the crowd whittled down quickly, that way they get to the main events. Abel knew there were few people on the island capable of beating him one on one. His magic was entirely specialized in each field for combat. Thus, the handicap.

"You, you, you, you, and you, step into the ring," as each of them did, the air shimmered again. Abel allowed them time each to draw weapons or ready themselves. These first few didn't even have weapons for the most part, only one young woman drew a knife and pointed it at him. She rushed first, and he turned his body to the side. Grabbing her wrist, and bicep, he yanked her forward to add to her momentum. She traveled into the 'wall,' created by Kofi's magic. It looked as if she smacked into I glass wall before she fell on her ass. Abel, then have her a swift kick to the head while she was down. She fell unconscious. This sent a few others from the crowd instantly sauntering back to town. Before the little scrap was over, Abel had broken another man's arm. Another he drop kicked, almost as if it were just for fun. The boy had the wind knocked out of him, and then received a knee to the face. The remaining two boys forfeited, and ran yelling from the circle once Abel gave them the nod. Kofi set about fixing up the victims.

He waived one of the simple dolls over the unconscious woman, and ripped it's head off. She instantly opened her eyes, and despite looking healthy again backed away from Abel frantically. He seemed to take no pleasure in her fear of him, but was appreciative of the bodies to further warm up on.

Kofi then bent the arm of the doll, while holding it over the maimed young man. He ripped it off, and the teenager's arm popped right back into place. He continued to sob regardless. Finally, Kofi fell silent and Abel turned back to the crowd again once the ring was clear.

"Anyone still itching to try?" He said with a smile. It was striking, his boyish cute face. The delicate, somewhat pale skin. Blue eyes that sparkled like he was telling jokes, all while mercilessly crushing his opponents.

cinnarinn This Name is unavailable EmperorNorton1

 

[EmperorNorton1]

Sholem finished loosening his arms as a shorter brunet wove through the crowd of men and women chatting eagerly, making her way to the front. her bright blue eyes glimmered, just ever so slightly too bright, and were he a modern man, this would have sent the words "uncanny valley effect" scrolling through his mind. however, this is 1717 with magic, and so instead, part fae was his mind's conclusion.

Having little experience with arcane magic, Sholem made a mental note to be wary of her. again, he worked to focus instead on his breathing and turn his thoughts away from the road that nearly always lead back to the Inquisition. and there he was. spiraling yet again. he made a small grimace to no one in particular, again returning to the crowd.

the dark-haired man returned to stretching out his body, his legs this time, the exercises only standing ones, finishing with those as a tall, and strongly built woman entered the crowd, dressed uncharacteristically for the warm climate of Port Royal. She must have been from the northern lands he had on occasion read of. Sholem couldn't imagine living somewhere so cold. She carried a large axe, and Sholem began to realize that a good chunk of the group was armed. so, others had known about this, rather than merely stumbling by. And yet, the young man in the center of the ring, though he didn't look green, he didn't look as though he was old enough to develop the reputation a pirate would need to rally so many to a crew. so there must be more at play.

An African man arrived, the two men having a snippy yet friendly interaction, before the bald man began making a smaller circle on the sand, while the brown-haired young man finally addressed the crowd, in English, explaining the rules of the tryouts.

"You'll all be fighting me! Weapons allowed, but no death blows! No cutting off heads, or stabs through the heart!...I'll be taking some of you on three or four at a time. Don't hold back, or there's no getting on this crew! Use any magical or physical means to incapacitate me,"

Well then. very overconfident, or brutal and extremely skilled. It wouldn't be smart to go first, it would be better to watch either way.

*one very brutal fight later*

as a good chunk of the crowd fled in horror, Sholem understood their reasons for wanting to flee well. the young man was brutal, perhaps more than he needed to be. but even then, this was to thin out the crowd, and the life of the pirate strips away one's gentleness. Sholem knew that all too well. with the crowd much thinner, he knew he'd have to act now to get his choice of allies for this fight. The pirate was specialized in combat, so a direct assault wouldn't work.

Sholem approached the fae woman. She would have some kind of magic, yes? so they should work in tandem. of course, she couldn't nessecaraly be trusted. but she was eager to join the crew, as eager as he, though more outwardly so. and, if she was part fae and he was right, then they would have something of a common enemy.

"Hello, would you be good with partnering up for... that?" Sholem asked her politely, his voice just audible enough for only her to hear, while gesturing behind him at the circle.

 

[cinnarinn]

Nessa surveyed the crowd, waiting for any further instructions and a hint as to what the circle was really for. She could only speculate for that moment. Her fingers gently drummed against her grimoire; patience wasn't exactly a virtue the part-fae was known for when her curiosity was piqued. From the crowd she noted a tall woman whom definitely was more physically imposing than Nessa herself.

Fortunately for Nessa, she didn't have to wait for long to get her answers. Her attention was pulled back to the circle before her as the brown-haired man in the centre of the circle greeted another man. She watched in fascination as the new man drew a simple circle adorned with precise shapes and carefully positioned stones. She wished she could hear more as she watched the African gentleman praying before a wooden statue he had placed before him in the circle. The whole magic circle ritual was fascinating to her as it wasn't like any she had seen before in her community.

The announcement that the crowd were to fight the young man didn't exactly surprise her, but the revelation that he would be taking some of the crowd on several at a time. There's no way the man could take multiple people at once... He's just one man! She watched as several people, likely her sort of age, walked away whilst muttering insults, watched as what appeared to be seasoned sailors turned their backs on the circle. Nessa wasn't sure if it was awe, intrigue, or sheer stubbornness that kept her firmly rooted where she stood. Surely he can't.... Oh! Maybe he can... She watched as 5 eager young people were selected and swiftly knocked down.

Determination and a dash of false confidence kept the girl at the edge of the magic circle. Her eyes trained inwards, she didn't notice the man approaching her until he was next to her.

"Would you be good with partnering up for... that?" He asked, his voice quiet.

The girl barely registered the question at first. After a moment's pause to process everything that had Just occurred, she offered up a response. "I suppose an ally couldn't hurt. Hold out your arm." Nessa's hand was in her pocket, reaching for some common herbs, and her grimoire delicately balancing open on her forearm.

 

[This Name is unavailable]

Astrid​

Astrid had dutifully watched as the events had unfolded, it was a luxury to be sure that she got to study her opponent in full, without said opponents’ blades trying to come down upon her neck. When the young man had selected five random people from the group, those that to her eyes, looked as if they could barely find the right way to stand – let alone wield a blade. A grin had spread across her face as she watched this person dispatch them with relative ease, a good sign, if he had lost to them then he should have probably considered dropping this whole thing right then and there. Her instincts had told her that he held power though, so she wasn’t surprised by the end results.

She had also taken note of the other mans, the one of African looking descent, healing capabilities. The shield-maiden’s blood sang! So, she could afford to be a little serious then? Oh! How wonderful! Ever since her voyage into lands unknown from her homeland, Astrid had been met with a far share of disappointment, as the more she fought the more she realized that most people couldn’t match her in strength. They could barely take a hit! On more than one occasion she had severely wounded someone by accident (as well as on purpose…looking at you, you fat-walrus-man), when trying to have friendly mock battles, and each time she hoped that they would be able to provide her with the excitement she craved!

Even back home, most of the boys her age didn’t dare to enter the arena with her, they spoke of her like she was some kind of monster from their myths and legends!

A small chuckle escaped her lips, perhaps they weren’t too far off in their assumptions, and having people wary of your strength was a compliment to Astrid.

As her attention returned from her musings, she was able to hear some whispers coming from the direction of the only two people that interested her, perhaps they were forming a team in hopes to have a better chance of victory? A very wise decision in her mind, now that the other mans strength had been demonstrated a strategy would be wise, and picking those who seemed to be able to give the largest chance of victory is fine thinking.

With a smile Astrid lazily approached the other two, while she would love to fight the man by herself, she wasn't sure if she would be able to control her lust for battle if things got too heated. So it would be a better decision to take it easier while enlisting some help, if she could that is, if not? Then she would just do whatever she had to do!

"You two lookin' to form a team, eh?" She asked with a crooked smile. "I would be willing to help, if yah wanted me to that is, if not then perhaps you could just follow after with more knowledge after our fight. Whaddya say?"

 

[cherrycosmos]

After an eventful morning of dashing through the backstreets of Port Royal and sneezing as they made another batch of itching powder, Morwena was bored once more. And hungry. It was mainly boredom that sat at the forefront of their mind, as they meandered around the open market near the port of Port Royal. An early shipment had arrived earlier that morning, as the gulls cawed to signal the rising sun. As Morwena had found themself tucked beneath the boards of the boardwalk, they were dolefully awoken by the loud birds and forced to move elsewhere before the patrollers of the port could spot them. Even after moving to a secluded, quiet place to catch up on the loss of sleep, Morwena had been forced to move again, and again and again, until the midday sun was in the sky and the sleep had all but vanished.

Despite the troubles they often found themself in, having to rough it on the streets as best as they could. Gods forbid they returned to the lodging house after their Uncle Kian almost caught them; Morwena often wondered why their uncle was at the lodging house, but in their panic to remain hidden and get out of the vicinity, they bit their tongue at the curiosity.

So, given the eventful morning and now uneventful noon, Morwena grumbled to themself for something to happen, no matter how big or small the something may be. If only to fill the lull of day with a minute adventure. Much to their surprise, something did happen; a roar for a fight echoed through the market, leading down to the beach. Morwena followed the sound, weaving between people who had the same, potentially idiotic, idea to find the source of the noise. What they discovered certainly didn’t disappoint, but rather fuelled the burning desire for a fight. The bloodthirsty need for adventure.

“Did you hear; fight this lad and you’ll get to be on his crew. Imagine that,” some drunken sailor muttered to his buddy. At that, Morwena stopped listening, uncaring for whatever came next. Their chance had arisen. An escape across the seas that doesn’t mean hiding away in the hull of some rotting ship and trying desperately to not get scurvy or any other life-threatening sickness that only pirates and sailors alike suffer. Rather, they’d be apart of the crew, sat aboard the desk with the wind in their air and the salt in the air.

That was their one chance, and they sure as hell weren’t going to blow it. Checking their skirt pocket for whatever they held that may help, Morwena pushed past the spectators and stepped onto the scorching hot sand, and over to the group. They flattened their skirts and approached them cautiously, eyes trained on the guy they’d eventually have to fight. And they would fight him, though a question remained on their mind the closer they got.

“If you need another teammate, I‘d volunteer,” was the first thing they said, standing casually in front of the group, a couple pre-made spell bags in hand. “Though, I do wonder if we have to win the fight to join the crew, or just casually fight him. Either way, I’m in.”

 

[Stok]

"come now! No takers?! Ye blasted green horns and scallywags would rather stay broke than get a little black and blue eh??" Abel taunted the crowd. It was clear to him the first wave had done it's job. Most of the more experienced sailors were only staying around to watch now. None of them came forward. Others had gathered after watching multiple people come running into town for their lives. As those in attendance informed them of what had happened, they began to murmur and cheer.

"Let's have round two!" They yelled, "Another!" "Let's see it!" Abel mostly ignored them, but he agreed. That little warmup had simply left a taste for a real contest. From the looks of the team forming outside the circle, he would have it.

Two of them looked to be decent fighters. The tall woman and the dark haired man. Cut from different clothes, of course. A bruiser on one count, and the other looked very nimble. If he had any power behind those punches, they were sure to be fast. The other two people in the huddle looked like witches. One obviously green. The other a practitioner of dark magics, by the look of those hex bags.

"Two mages, and two fighters. That's a good team," he mumbled to himself.

 

[EmperorNorton1]

Sebastian shook his head at the fae's offer. after all, he didn't know what exactly accepting that magic would do. he could handle his own, surly? and then, a few others walked up one by one, the buff woman who had been standing around for a while, and another person, who he hadn't noticed before.

Sebastian took in his three new teammates, the person with magical bags and the tall, rather muscled woman having somewhat invited themselves into the team, but so well. Sebastian could work with this. Another caster would be useful, and the beefy woman could likely handle a few hits. Sebastian nodded at each of them, before quietly explaining to the trio his plan, his voice still with the distinct Portuguese accent, years of sea life unable to quite shake it. what is the plan, you ask? Im DMing you it.

after he explained all that, the dark-haired man glanced down to ensure his boots were securely tied (They hadn't been once, while he was still green on the ship, and he had lost one half of a good pair of boots to the sea in the middle of a fight) before making his way over to the ring, motioning for the others to join him, standing just outside the circle of sand. "To clarify, subdue you, not exclusively beat you in a fight?" he called over to Abel. He just had to check, ensure it would work.

 

[cinnarinn]

"It's a protection spell. Keep you safe from harmful magics." Nessa explained briefly, before turning to their new... companions? "I can offer you both one too." She offered out the half weaved spell to the others. Her response to the mans plan was brief, but thought through (this shall be DMed shortly). She offered a smile to the others, lifting up her grimoire to flick through. Surely, she had a spell in there somewhere that would help.

After a few moments, Nessa had settled on a page and began pulling a few components she would need from her doctors case and trying to discretely slide them into a pocket, using the height of both the Portuguese sounding gentleman and the axe-wielding woman as a shield from their opponent. She didn't want to bring attention to herself during the fight if she could avoid it. Sometimes, her spell-weaving could take a bit of time and preparation. Before following the man to the edge of the ring, the brunette demi-fae leaned up towards the taller woman and quietly spoke to her. There was something she needed. (Will also be DMed)

 

[This Name is unavailable]

Astrid
​

After having responded softly, so that the man in the circle didn't hear, to the others inquiries (in the DM's) Astrid cracked her neck and began loosening up her muscles. While the others were preparing for their attack, Astrid studied her opponent for openings, revisiting the information she had gathered before hand to make her battle plan. The man was quick, his physical strength had yet to be measured for he had defeated the other people too quickly to really gauge, but there was something there as he had swiftly dispatched them and that took considerable strength. She would take it a little slow, do her best to eek out his true combat abilities and strength, so she wouldn't empower her runes in the beginning. All through the early years of her childhood she had always been significantly stronger in all areas physical than those around her, before she left there was no one who could even come close, but she had figured that there would be more people like her out in the lands beyond hers - though after traveling for a while it became readily apparent that her strength seemed unnatural. So, her natural-unnatural-strength should be more than enough.

As the promise of the fight drew close, a fire began to burn within her stomach, it sent a smile across her lip, and she let the feeling course through every part of her being. The world became clearer, smells sharper, and her blood began to sing. Her eyes took on a glint as she focused herself on the battle before her. She set herself into a two-handed battle stance, as she hefted Logi with the ease of someone lifting up a stick into her hands, and she waited for the others signal.

"Odin! All-father, provide us with speed and strength, so that we can overcome our foe. Let our strikes ring true!" Astrid quietly uttered under her breath.

 

[Stok]

Abel grinned wildly as the group he was observing drew near. He looked each of them in the faces for a moment, before turning to the dark haired man who spoke. The look he gave them all was like he'd just opened the door to his house party, not like he wanted to draw blood.

"That's correct! Tie me up, curse me, knock me unconscious, run me through if you have to! Kofi'll take care of it," Abel said, tossing his thumb in the man's direction. Kofi scoffed and shook his head.

"Aye, I will. And you lot too. I'll warn ye, I can't fix the mind from what Ol' Abel Beckum does to ya. The crew always knew 'im for goin' too far," his accent was somewhat faded, but he kept the sing-song nature of it's origin as he spoke.

Abel watched the tall woman draw her weapon and say a prayer. He felt his own blood boil at it's invocations. He would have to ask her what sort of warrior gods she was praying too, and wondered if they might take him as a patron as well. He walked to the edge of the circle to look up at her slightly.

"Ahoy, lady of the north. It'll be an honor to cross blades with someone so clearly fond of war. You'll have to forgive me for not having one," Abel held out his palms towards her like he was showing her he was broke. Then, they began to bleed and split open. A bright white spike began to protrude from each, about two and a half inches thick. Eventually they came out until they were three feet long, each. No blade on them, but simply two long pointed batons. He hoped she would appreciate his proposed barbarism.

"I've always been fine with making due," he said with a devilish grin.

cinnarinn EmperorNorton1 This Name is unavailable cherrycosmos

 

[EmperorNorton1]

(sorry, i kept forgetting.)

Sebastian simpley nodded, keeping his face impasive as he glavced back at the other three, ensuring they had followed, then watching the African man. he was more unfamiliar with the practices of voudoun than he should have been, but nonetheless, he was not opposed to such magic being used on him.

his head jerked back when he heard the sound of flesh rending, his eyes widening in horror as the gruesome sight of the man reshaping his bones into weapons. even though his years of service were meany, he was still unsettled by the shedding of one's own blood and the reshaping of one's body. but no mind, he'd have to not let himself be distracted. and for now, he'd wait. he stepped into the circle silently, but didn't attack yet. he'd let the others make their moves first.