Fantasy The Devil's Meridian (Closed)

[Radley]

Flint and the others had regained their senses and feelings, and the color had returned gradually as they made the trek back to the ridge. While the night was not particularly flush with colors and they were both cold and exhausted, they could all agree that it was better than being in that grey state of mind whose apathy drained a man simply for breathing.

The shaking and freezing group were filled with newfound determination as they spotted the lanterns of the others. "Look, captain! They waited for us!" The marine in the front shouted, followed by a spurt of laughter that his exhaustion cut short. As they came over the ridge to reunite with the others, there was a few cheers from the Alleghenians, who were glad to see their captain and comrades return. But the cheers subsided when they noticed Flints intense gaze. He was staring directly at Kortova. How could he not? The sprouted horns was definetly not the sign of anything good in Flints book. As the tower party took off their ropes and fell back into line, Flint walked up directly Kortova and Williams, "Glad you waited for us." He said, "We should get back the beach camp, standing out here will do us now good anymore.
The tower has no orb, so until we figure out something more, we're stuck on this island."
Flints aversion of mentioning the horns spoke volumes. A phenomenon like this had done nothing aside from sour his trust for the grand captain further.
Returning to his own group, he walked up to Elleway. "What happened when we were gone, sergeant?" He said in a low voice as to make the wind mask their conversation. "She sprouted them horns out of nowhere, sir." He replied, "She said shes been having mutations after touchin some kind of skull on the island they explored." Flint remembered the official report, and then scoffed after thinking about Kortova slithering her way out of a confrontational situation by changing the narrative. "It's horse shit, mr. Elleway" Flint said, causing the sergeant to raise an eyebrow, "Somethings going on with that woman. And while we aren't sure exactly what, we can't trust her."
When Flint had conversed with the sergeant, he lifted his lantern above his head and shouted to his mean over the wind to get going back to the basecamp. He had no interest in fighting with Korotva tonight, especially in this weather.

 

[Emperor Sagan]

"Stuck on the island?" Kortova echoed. "Well... that doesn't sound so fun." She took one glance back at the distant pit and looked away quickly. Maybe they would be stuck here. She had her special compass, a gift from her benefactors. Now may be the best time to put that to use, though going it alone was not something she wanted to do, and to reveal she had it now after all of this... she'd need to think of something clever. For now, the weather was far too unagreeable to wait around in. She was just happy that Flint was either blind in this colorless haze or willingly keeping silent about her new mutation. Getting off this ridge and back to the others was all she wanted, and from there she could go right back to her ship.

Readying the ropes again, and with Williams taking the lead, the Sokrovians lead the way carefully back down the ridge.

 

[K0mori]

Once reunited, Flint and Kortova's teams began their descent from the top of the ridge to the northern coastline. Using their ropes, they were able to maintain their organization, but the wind was so high and the snow so overwhelming that even the Grand Captain had trouble keeping track of Williams, who led the team in front of her. Right about the time they reached the point in the quarry road where they were meant to climb down, she felt the rope slacken in her hands. Instinctively, she froze, calling out for her first officer but getting no response. Experimentally, she pulled, and found that no one else was holding the rope on either side of her, and she crept through the intense fog toward the edge of the ridge fearfully looking for their shadows. How could this happen?

Then, she saw a dark figure, also poised at the edge. Thinking it was Williams, Kortova moved closer, only to find that it was Captian Flint, instead, appearing just as bewildered as Kortova felt herself. "What happened to everyone else?" she called out.

"I was about to ask the same," Flint began, when both were interrupted by a bright light which pierced through the weather, and a tide of warmth that washed over them. The weather cleared away in an expanding sphere of calm, and at its epicenter floated an angelic figure both of them had learned to recognize from her innumerable depictions in these seas. Wulfera had come to meet them. She looked to be nearly seven feet tall, clad in white, flowing robes with silvery hair and a golden, flaming halo. Massive wings of white feather beat in what felt like slow motion, gracefully keeping her body aloft. A powerful broadsword with an amber glow accompanied her, floating of its own accord in the air next to her. She leveled her fierce eyes on both of them.

"Kneel," she instructed, and took hold of her blade in her striking hand, extending her arm so that the tip of the sword loomed menacingly over them like an accusatory finger.

 

[Emperor Sagan]

Anastasia Kortova stared numbly up at the descending angelic figure. The remaining rational part of her mind was pointing out that, surely, this had to be some manner of hallucination - perhaps brought on by the cold that was now gone away - but having had several remarkably vivid and strange dreams, and the visitation from Ishra herself on her ship.... it seemed that this was no simple, harmless hallucination. It was real. Very, very real. She wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing that she recognized this figure as Wulfera.

She winced at the woman's forceful command, and almost hesitantly, she clambered down onto her knees as instructed. What more should she do? What was she even here for? Still she wondered if this wasn't some type of wild vision. Just... what could warrant a meeting like this. Kortova considered saying something, but she refrained and instead remained motionless and silent as she kept on her knees. That sword... oh dear....

 

[Radley]

Flint stood wide-eyed in amazement as Wulfera herself appeared before them. Although his mother had been deeply religious, her zealous devotion had never managed to grip her son. And although Flint had seen the undead, witnessed objects appear from dreams in the real world and the way this sea and it's islands would bend around them in defiance of any rational thought, he had managed to keep on of his feet anchored in reality.

But when Wulfera appeared before them, all such notions of normalcy was dispelled from his mind. Her presence radiated warmth, but also a feeling of authority and might that resonated deep within Flint. This was an encounter of biblical proportions.

When Wulfera told them to kneel, Flint obeyed. As he slowly got down on one knee, a feeling of fright began growing, partially replacing the sense of supernatural wonder from before. He had seen what Wulfera had done. She had given men the power over undeath, and seemingly bound them to eternal servitude. The black aetherine was a force of corruption, and as he had been given advice to destroy them in his dream, it had felt like the right course of action.
But now, as Wulfera stood before him with a menacing presence unlike anything he had ever felt before, he began to worry. Warren had said the veiled lady in the garden had been undead. Wouldn't that make her a servant of Wulfera? Was it her benefactor? These questions weighed heavy on him as he looked up towards the goddess and her sword with an expression of resoluteness set in stone, but with eyes transfixed in fear.

 

[K0mori]

As both the captains complied, Wulfera's expression softened, and the slightest hint of a smile turned at the corners of her pursed lips. Turning the sword over so that its tip faced the ground, she descended from the air and touched down gently before them. "Good," she declared, before judging them silently for a moment. Curiosity played in her eyes, although she didn't divulge her questions, if she had any. "You will follow my instructions, and in turn, I will offer you holy providence in the resurrection of the Kingdom of Your Lady. Rise, both of you," she demanded, and they once again complied.

"Captain Nathaniel Flint, Anastasia," she began to explain, with a small amount of audible disdain toward the latter, "you both come from faraway lands to find the remains of a terrible injustice. As you have doubtlessly seen already, this island is crumbling away into nothingness, the All-Abyss, because it lacks the aetherial energy needed to sustain its presence. Much of Altanis will suffer the same fate and be lost forever, all due to the betrayal of the lesser gods who were jealous of my power, gods who declared themselves masters of a realm they could not provide for.

"They threw me through a hexed portal into the accursed Ashes with the sinners of ages past, and I am bedeviled now by my immortality to watch helplessly from beyond that barrier. My people are long-gone and I am nearly forgotten. But... I always knew that someday, there would be people who would find the remains of what was, and they would finally set right what once went wrong. That device you hold, Nathaniel, is a wayfinder which tethered my followers back to Rythica, the first and true capital of Altanis. They entered the aetherine currents and gave rise to this land, Valyth, just us we gave rise to hundreds of others. They were planning to establish a ley line, but the Goddess - and I use that term loosely - Merphrau, began her insurrection against me that very season.

"You must add charge to the wayfinder to find your way to safety. You cannot stay here much longer, the land itself is dying, and the process is being accelerated by your hapless arrival. I cannot assist you physically, as I am merely an apparition in your mind's eye. But that alone is proof of the direness of this place. Only because of my great power, and only because of this island's proximity to the All-Abyss am I able to reach you. But as long as we are speaking, time will not progress from your point of view. Therefore, you may ask me any question until the strain of maintaining this connection becomes unbearable for me."

 

[Radley]

Flint remained at loss for words. Wulfera had known everything, spectating their fumbling progress from a plane beyond their own. When she spoke of the astrolabe, Flint instinctively took it out from one of his inner pockets. He had decided not to reveal it's discovery to Kortova in hopes of pressing her to divulge more of her discoveries. But now he did not care for such games of shadows, when a goddess stood before them. "Tell me how I can charge it and I will do it." he began somewhat apprehensively, "But this task that you are bestowing upon us, it seems to great for mere mortals to complete." He turned the object in his hands, inspecting how one might restore it's mystical machinations. "I fear others have... encountered and consorted with entities that are beyond my understanding. I have myself seen murals and encountered... things, that makes me question my ability to fulfill the task you are asking of me." As he continued, he cast a glance at Kortova. His suspicions of her were still present, and if the others had encountered false gods, it would mean he would have to right ancients wrongs on his own.

Then he did something that he could not scarcely believe himself. Looking up to Wulfera, his face contorted into a cynical frown, "And perhaps I would not be willing to serve one who gave mortals the power over death." He had been adamant in his disgust of the necromantic practices and their related relics. But that somewhere deep inside of him, that same disgust had clung to his courage and questioned a true god. As soon as the words had departed his lips, the expression faded from his face and the earlier dread returned to his eyes.

 

[K0mori]

If one could murder with a scowl alone, Flint would have been disintegrated on the spot. "That," Wulfera snapped, "was not my doing. Ignorance is not a fault unless one wields it like a child wielding a dagger... No, it was Kaptcopf who invented that foul sorcery, and as soon as we were done putting an end to Merphrau's insurrection, I buried him. And then I hunted down every last one of his followers and put an end to each and every one of those ghouls who wouldn't swear to me that they would leave the dead where they lie, and forget the ways of necromancy forever. Who else do you think was entombed in that holy chamber that you nearly desecrated beyond recognition with those... exploding sticks of yours!? You are lucky... You nearly awakened him from his well-deserved eternal slumber.

"But," she continued, calming down from her fury, "you are in the presence of grace itself. I've had to deal with insults whole magnitudes greater than that without crushing those who dare. I forgive you," she spoke, although bitterness seeped through her words. "To answer your question from before: it always amazes me how little the outside world knows of aether and its properties. The glass in the heart of the device has lost its charge. I can grant you both the ability to recharge it... or at least I would, had one of you not joined the Great Family already." Wulfera's words were practically dripping with contempt as she looked down on Kortova. "You could have been a great mage and followed in my footsteps, Anastasia. But it seems you lack the patience. You will never be able to manipulate aether currents, but I'm sure you'll find ways to make yourself useful turning parlor tricks with the lifeforce of the damned."

Wulfera then let out a sigh, her contempt ebbing in place of pity. "At least," she explained, "you can use the stored energy of aetherine within enchanted tools, if you happen to find one. Simply remove the spent glass from the core of the device and replace it with a shard that's still glowing brightly. Some of your new 'siblings' can even teach you the ways of enchantment as a way of cheating your limitations.

"But you," she said, pivoting back towards Flint, "you have not tainted yourself. You have incredible potential... You tell me that you fear this is a task beyond mere mortals, and you are utterly correct, but," she paused, lifting her sword up and turning it before resting the wide end of the blade on Flint's shoulder. An electric sensation traveled down the lengths of his arms to his fingertips, "neither of you are mere mortals, anymore. Take another look at your wayfinder," she said. "Touch the glass, and feel how empty it is inside, just like the island of Valyth. Feel the warmth within yourself, your power, and put it into that stone..."

Flint did as he was told, at first feeling lost and confused, but he couldn't give up. Slowly, the sensations she spoke of made themselves abundant. He was living in a world of energy, hot and cold. It transcended not only the landscape, but his own body and the bodies of others. His eyes wide, he watched as some of this energy pooled in his fingers, turning the air around them a reddish hue which seemed to siphon into the dull glass, causing it to glow brightly red. The moving pieces of the astrolabe came to live, spinning around each other of their own accord until they reached a particular configuration, indicating the way to go.

"Good job," she stated. "But, when you put that warmth into the glass, you felt a bit colder. Maybe not? It can be difficult to tell, when dealing with such small amounts of aether. But remember that aether is the force of all natural life. By putting some in that glass, you shaved perhaps a few hours off your life. Learn how to harness the raw aetherite and you can put those hours back into yourself."

 

[Radley]

So many answers yet so many questions still. Flint looked down long and hard on the astrolabe, whose directional arm point with stiff precision towards the very capital of Altanis. All of this felt unreal, the abyss, Wulfera, the power over aetherine and the very energy of life. He was prepared to awake in his bed at any moment. But he did not. With the navigational tool now restored, by his own hand no less, they could finally navigate the seas properly.

Flint did not know what to think of Wulfera yet. The mural depicted her burying Kaptcopf. Perhaps it was just as she said, that the foul magics had merely been means to an end. But some details began falling into place, such as the servant in the garden. The dead that had sworn allegiance to Wulfera had been spared, and it was now quite obvious why the guardians had attacked them. They were not there to protect the sarcophagus from intruders, but rather to protect an ignorant outside world from the horrors that had been imprisoned within aeons ago.

"Your guidance has been most helpful." Flint then said as he bowed towards Wulfera, "I will try my hand on this task, and now that I will try my utmost to see that it is taken care of". He took another long look at the astrolabe before stowing it away in his coats inner pocket.

Flint sensed that Herculean trials lay ahead of him and his crew, but with these newfound powers and expanded knowledge of the seas and it's mysteries, he also felt confident about his abilities to overcome said trials.

 

[Emperor Sagan]

Kortova listened and watched in blessed silence, struggling with what she wanted to, or should, say. Wulfera felt less tangible than Ishra, as perhaps she was given that the goddess spoke of a tenuous connection, yet Kortova knew that she was likely no less dangerous. Nothing happened after Flint's minor slight, though that was hardly much of an insult and Wulfera seemed reasonable enough to pass by it. She detected that the goddess was not much interested in her given her past dealings with Ishra and her ilk. Fishing for allegiance, it seemed, and Flint bore no patch on his shoulder to stop her efforts. She was surprised to see this wayfinder device he had apparently taken from that collapsing tower and hadn't told her about it, as if he were keeping it a secret, or perhaps he didn't think was operable. Well, it sure was now.

The goddess was kind to divulge some remarkable information, but in such a grand place, these seemed mere puzzle pieces she had to slot together on an unfinished and unknown board.

"Who is Ishra?" Kortova finally asked after Flint had spoken. "She... spoke well of you."

 

[K0mori]

Wulfera listened to Flint's pledge to give his all to complete the task she had laid out for him, and nodded. "Very well," she replied. Then, she turned to Kortova, who had finally spoken up. Her lip curled at the question. "You bargained your soul with a demon... and you don't know with whom you were dealing? Let us be clear about who the demons are, and what their realm is. This human life is not the only plane of existence; it is merely the only one which is created from aether. There are other forces at work, one of which you are wearing on your ring. Naether is like aether's shadow, a mockery of life. In the beginning, the creatures which resided in the Ashes were pure evil. They were the true demons, of which there are no more. The humans who corrupted their souls did not pass on to the Mists, as they should, but were sunken down into that forsaken place.

"Their blood was mixed with the blood of the demons, and their descendants are the creatures calling themselves the "Great Family" to this day. Their magic is powerful, but only while serving evil ends and only when wielded by a demon with no conscience. And since every living demon is part human, they cannot fully rid themselves of human shame, no matter how much they deny it. They cannot build the kind of empire that once ruled this sea, nor could they sustain their rule when they had the chance, many, many years ago. They are," Wulfera paused, thinking of the exact word she wished to use, "utterly pathetic." When I was thrown into the Ashes by Astrius and Halja, I came to them like a holy plague.

"Their eternal king, Loken, threw himself at my feet the moment I arrived and begged for his family's survival. I agreed, on the one condition that they forever swear their allegiance to me and my restoration. They waged war in Altanis while I was cursed to watch from afar, and though they briefly had their day, they were unable to break the hex which binds me. Or... perhaps they didn't want to," she grumbled, "because they knew I would banish them back to their plane once I took my rightful place in ours. They are, after all, a treacherous race, fully of honeyed words and poison intent. I suppose the only reason I haven't destroyed them all is because I do not wish to spend a possible eternity alone, atop a mountain of corpses.

"Ishra is of no importance to me. She is what the demons call an alterationist, and a highly respected one among them, as she was so dedicated to her craft and so thirsty for power that she managed to purge every shred of aether from her soul, which killed her corporeal body instantly. Now she is a ghost on a lonely island luring fools like you into becoming like her. What is important to me is that, like all demons, you swear your unwavering loyalty to me, or else I will bring about your death, Anastasia." As Wulfera finished her explanation, she began to fade. With what appeared to be considerable concentration and effort, she reappeared. "I cannot speak to you two much longer. You have been given your life's mission, and you will be victorious. For the love of all that is right and good in this world, you will see it through."

With that, she lifted her sword off the ground, turned it so that the blade faced skyward, and closed her eyes serenely. "Go now..."

Her voice was still ringing in their ears as the two captains stumbled into their crew, who were exactly where they had been when the vision began.

 

[Emperor Sagan]

There were not many that Anastasia Kortova found herself forced to look up to, and in turn, looked down upon by. Mother and father were naturally in such a position, especially father given that he was head of the household and royalty faction back home. He was single-handedly responsible for the creation of the party, and it was by his hand that the best men were picked to advance their goal to establish a proper Sokrovy monarchy. It was all very high level politics. Then there was her governess, though after her sixteenth birthday that old hag retired and there was no more need to fear her hawkish gaze or paddle. The Chancellor came next, but that was only by natural deference to his station. Publicly. Everyone laughed at him in private as they should. That put only a single handful of people above her, and so the sting of having to suffer lordly arrogance was a weak one. Wulfera was... exhausting, almost. Kortova didn't much appreciate her tone or manner of address, and while it was true she didn't know much about Ishra and the demons, she found herself feeling a little more attached to them the more Wulfera spoke - and it wasn't simply the attachment that came from a first encounter. She didn't doubt that Wulfera was incredibly powerful - in truth she rather feared her - yet that couldn't shake away how much it made her skin crawl to be spoken to in such a fashion. The demons were the pathetic ones? Well, they sure seem to be in a better position than you. And she was no demon, even with her ongoing transformation, so why should she be forced into some allegiance by a pact she had no attachment to? Privately, she fancied herself rather unique in her circumstances, that she was to be the matriarch to a sort of cadet house of demon-humans. No further and extraneous bindings than necessary. After all, all the demons were back in the Ashes and she was out here. This was her realm. Not theirs.

That blabber mouth, Kortova thought as Wulfera finally disappeared and forced them back into the present reality. It didn't take a sleuth to put together what Wulfera had said concerning her relationship with demons... and Ishra. Back among their men, she sent a very firm look towards Flint that indicated - say nothing and we'll talk later. She wouldn't have her little web of untruths burned away by a single conversation, even as the others had doubted her from the start. It did seem, however, that for the moment she and Flint were thrust onto the same side, at least by one perspective. Not friends nor quite allies, but something in those regards.

Parlor tricks, she fumed silently as the group forged on ahead. I am capable - will be capable - of more than that. My patience is limitless.

 

[K0mori]

Captain Flint returned Kortova's gaze with a very subtle nod. Indeed.

Down at the coastline, the rest of the landing party was becoming increasingly restless waiting for their comrades to return. They were knee-deep in the snow and longing to return to their ships where they could warm themselves and change into dry clothes. Detlev was able to warm up some coffee for the officers on a camp stove, but they lacked the supplies to provide hot food or drink to the common marines. When one man used a hatchet to lop off a few branches of a dead tree, he found the wood to be unnatural within, almost mineral in texture, and they were unable to build a sustainable fire with it.

Finally, out of the void of fog and ice around them, the Sokrovian and Alleghenian detachment appeared, led by Flint. He marched straight up to Walkenhorst.

"Well?" the Nixe's captain demanded. Flint pulled the wayfinder out of his coat pocket and handed it to Walkenhorst, who stared at it blankly for a moment. "It's a navigational instrument... isn't it?"

"It is," Flint replied. "We discovered a crumbling ley line tower near the center of the island. This island's occupants never finished it and there was no crystal ball. But I recovered this device and thankfully it still looks functional."

"Where is it pointing?" Walkenhorst asked as he turned it about his body, watching the moving parts slide around to maintain their orientation.

Flint couldn't answer the question honestly without revealing his encounter with Wulfera. "I don't know," he said initially, and then gave a bit of inference to help nudge the Alamannian along, "but it's likely that it points back to wherever the settlers came from. If we follow it, it should take us back toward the ruins of civilization, and on a safe route, too. But we should move quickly. The island has a hole in the middle of it, Captain."

"A bottomless one, right?" Walkenhorst asked.

Flint nodded.

"We made one ourselves by accident," Walkenhorst explained. "The ground beneath us isn't exactly secure..."

A marine interrupted, apparently unsatisfied by Flint's calm demeanor in the face of what they actually saw. "It's worse over that ridge, sir. The landscape is like glass, and the hole is almost half a mile wide-" he quickly recounted before falling silent at Flint's stern expression. Realizing he was not welcome to speak out of turn, he pretended as if he had something else to be doing.

"Is that true?" Walkenhorst asked, going a bit pale.

"It is."

Walkenhorst looked sickly in the direction of the island for a moment, apparently lost in contemplation. "Everyone! Get in the skiffs now!" He ordered as he handed the wayfinder back to Flint. "We're leaving immediately!"

The whole time their conversation had been going on, a commotion was developing in the camp. Just like on the top of the ridge, there was a flurry of alarmed reactions at Kortova's new horns, even attracting Detlev's attention away from the more mission-critical talk going on between his captain and Flint. The chief researcher cut a path through the crowd, shouting at the men to back down as he approached Williams, who once again stood guard for the Grand Captain.

Seeing her in that state made him grimace; there was still dried blood on parts of her uniform from when the horns sprouted in. "Mein Gott," he muttered. "Ma'am, it is not my place to tell you what to do with your own body, but I highly suggest you allow Dr. Lonstray and Dr. Dos Santos take blood samples."

At that moment, Walkenhorst ordered everyone to evacuate the island and return to their ships. First, the marines had to load the skiffs back up with the equipment they had brought along, providing the other captains ample time to see Kortova for themselves, and for Kortova to respond to the head researcher's suggestion.

 

[joshuadim]

The Albionian team started packing up whatever equipment and supplies were brought over from the Prophet as Walkenhorst gave the order to evacuate the isle, to which nobody objected for the most part. As Kortova's continued mutation was made clear, a few of the Albionian sailors grumbled among each other with one even spitting on the ground as he watched her with contempt. "Bloody demon witch is what that Sokrovian cap'n is." one of the sailors grumbled aloud, bringing a series of agreeable grunts from his peers as they moved towards the skiff. Dobbs could only stare in both fear and uncertainty as it appeared that Kortova was turning into the same monstrosity he had envisioned in one of his dreams before.

"Sir? You alright?" Lieutenant Reid spoke suddenly, breaking Dobbs out of his near-trance. The captain gave a nod as he gave Kortova a glance once more before returning his attention back to his crew. "I'm fine... let's get ourselves a move on. I don't want to be on this island longer than I have to." he spoke, bringing an approving nod from the highlander lieutenant. In the meantime, Lonstray was more curious than frightened as he witnessed such a change occur to the Sokrovian captain in such a short timespan. He took ample notes in a small pocketbook, his attention only peeling off when Detlev made his suggestion. A sample? Perfect. Lonstray thought to himself with glee as he walked on over to Kortova. "Indeed. A sample would be... fruitful for research. Such mutations remain unstudied, and hold many secrets that wait to be unlocked."

 

[Infab]

Warren eyed Kortova, his gaze set locked on the new horns that the 'Grand Captain' had acquired while away. She's turning into a fucking demon right before our eyes, and everyone's simply just...ignoring it? Even Flint? His gaze shifted to look at his fellow Alleghenian captain, as he spoke to Walkenhorst. They likely twisted their lie a little further to protect themselves. And Flint and his men chose to believe it. Warren gently shook his head, grumbling under his breath. Slater took notice, stepping over close and leaning in. "...Are you alright, sir?" she asked, looking towards Kortova and William herself. "I'm fantastic." he muttered in response.

Riddle oversaw the sailors from the Jackal, as they loaded their own equipment into their skiff to be transported back to the ship. Warren and Slater simply stood by, watching the Sokrovian captain and her first officer. Warren simply glaring while Slater had begun sketching a portrait of Kortova's current appearance in her notebook.

 

[Radley]

As the commotion around Kortovas new appearance occurred, Flint and his men simply stood back. Walkenhorst had said they needed to leave immediately, and Flint could not agree more. At a brisk pace, they made their way to the skiff they had arrived on and began climbing into it. As they had brought no extra equipment they were ready to cast off before most of the others on the beach. Flint cast Warren a look as he climbed into the skiff and sat himself down.

Well aboard the Terror again, Flint was met by Rourke and Bates. Rourke, eager to share his discovery about the scroll, was quite surprised his captain already knew who Kaptcopf was. "How did you know?" he asked his captain as the trio made their way into the boiler room so that Nathaniel could warm up. Turning to his two compatriots, he looked at them with a grave gaze. "I've met Wulfera."
There was a long silence after the captain spoke up, as Rourke and Bates processed what that exactly meant. At loss for words, they looked to there captain to divulge the rest. Doing so, Flint told them about his whole encounter, about the tower, the abyss, the way-finder and Kortovas horns. He also told them about their encounter with the goddess. Their suspicions had not been unfounded, as Kortova had indeed consorted with demonic powers. A relief was however that these demonic entities were not as strong as their old world believes would make them out to be. Continuing on-wards, he told them about the war between Wulfera and the other gods, his new powers and the mission he had been given.

"So, what's the plan now?" Bates asked as they made their way up to the captains cabin. "We'll go where the way-finder tells us to go. According to Wulfera it will lead us to the capital of Altanis, Rythica. What we do when we get there, I will have to dwell on." He concluded and handed the astrolabe to Bates. After his companions left, Flint sat down at his table and began writing a report on the days events in his own personal notebook. His crusade against the undead seemed to have come to an end. With Wulfera's assurance that Kaptcopf was buried along with his secrets, there seemed no reason to focus on the matter for now since they had left the ossuary islands behind them. He did not completely trust Wulfera either, for that matter. Perhaps the false gods had had good reason beyond jealousy to band together and banish her to the ashes? He would need to keep a close eye on the others and find out more about their affiliations to the other gods before he decided on any future course of action. All this work reminded of something he had detested even in the outside world. Political Intrigue. Having finished his report, he washed his face and began putting on new clothes, when he realized he was absolutely exhausted from the days events. He informed Bates to simply follow the wayfinder rouse him should anything out of the ordinary occur. With that taken care of, Flint laid down in the bed and attempted to sleep. Although he was quite tired, his mind could not seem to relax as he thought about everything that had happened and for everything that could come their way. After tossing and turning a while, he finally managed to fall asleep.

Up on the bridge, Bates had set to the task of navigating according to the way-finder. Following the captains instructions, he had sent a telegraph message to the rest of the fleet that told them to fall in behind the Terror and follow it. As the Terror roared to life and cracked itself loose from the ice that had formed around its hull, it let out a low, powerful horn signal and cleared a way out of the protective bay to allow the others to follow.

 

[Emperor Sagan]

Deep down, Anastasia Kortova liked the attention. All the hooded looks, the bewildered fear, the nasty glares of disgust - it tickled something inside of her. While she would have preferred looks of undying admiration, the attention as she walked through the makeshift camp was widespread enough that it still made that sensation in her stomach flutter in a good way. She held her head up high like a proud buck with a new rack of horns, displaying her dominance over all the other worthless forest critters - rats, snakes, and raccoons. Really, that was all that the others were. Animals. Creatures of base instincts who couldn't recognize her for what she really was, and for her true, proper worth. Her beauty was insurmountable, or was on its way to becoming so, and the others were all jealous of her in some way.

Detlev approached and she eyed the man firmly. Give up my blood to that crazy doctor? As she often did, she made a show of contemplating the question, before solidly landing on a decision. "No," she said directly to Detlev, and she turned to look at Lonstray. "I'd much rather prefer not giving up any blood. A fear of needles, naturally," she lied. She had no wish to spread any more knowledge of her demonic situation than necessary, least of all to those she didn't trust. Which, as it stood, was the entirety of the fleet. There was no telling what he could find within her blood or do with it. She had heard stories of strange blood magic even back home, local folklore, of course, things that people whispered for fairy tales or about some woman living in a swamp, yet now she had to consider how much of it stemmed from truth.

With that, she turned and moved on, Williams right behind her with the procession of marines. The soldiers met the gazes of the other sailors and marines with little glares of their own, a pack following their leader and benefactor, whether they wanted to or not.

 

[joshuadim]

Lonstray's eye twitched at being publicly rebuked in such a manner and gave off a chuckle: "My dear, if you're afraid of needles there are other ways to obtain blood without it." he said, still trying to convince the child captain to give a sample. Truth be told, his patience was running thin already with Kortova putting up such a show over it and what curiosity he had before in regards to her was now being mixed with disdain for such a childish and annoying brat. "After all, this is a scientific expedition. One must research anything they can find before we leave these waters." he then spoke with a hint of anger in his tone.

 

[Infab]

Warren finally spoke up as Kortova continued by with her entourage. "...Why don't you give out some blood samples, Kortova? If I were mutated, I'd do whatever was needed to correct things. I wouldn't let a simple fear of needles get in the way." he said aloud. Slater and Riddle both paused to look at her, as well as the sailors from the Jackal. "And Mr. Lonstray's correct. This is a scientific expedition...proper research needs to be done." he added, folding his arms as he glared at her.

 

[Emperor Sagan]

Kortova managed a few steps forward, planning to ignore the others until they spoke back up. She stopped and spun around. So, the old Albion scientist was going to beg, was he? How typical. "That may be so," she said, "and I'm sure the doctors on board my vessel will be able to manage that themselves, if I deem it necessary. And, perhaps, it would be prudent to do blood testing back home, in a well equipped facility?" She added facetiously. "In case anything were to go wrong, or to have more proper equipment on hand. We wouldn't want any malfunctions, after all."

She glanced over at Warren with a slight frown, her brow furrowing. "I don't like needles," she reaffirmed her lie. "And I do not trust you especially. You clearly have some sort of jealous vendetta against me, I suspect, considering your behavior at the last meeting. Research, you say? No, I rather think you have other dubious intentions." Kortova glanced back at Lonstray. "He put you up to this, didn't he? No wonder you all are so intent on my blood."

 

[Infab]

Jealous? "...Little girl, I'm not jealous of anything you have or are." responded Warren, with a smile. "Especially if it gives me the kind of ego you have." He then turned about, moving towards where Riddle and the Jackal's sailors were. "The horns suit you, by the way." he said aloud as he walked. A little devil.

 

[EdwardDewey98]

The Platine crew didn't have much to say as Flint and Kortova made their way back to the group. Dos Santos was still annoyed at Walkenhorst's little theatrics to prove a point, but those feelings of annoyance quickly washed away when she noticed Kortova and her latest additions to her body. Detlev noticed the horns as well, and asked the 'grand' captain about giving samples to both her and Lonstray. Something she actually supported. But Kortova was being strangely defensive about giving away her blood and fought back against both Lonstray's and Warren's words. Dos Santos then approached her from the side, both arms crossed. "...Then if you don't want to give away your blood, let me help you get rid of those horns. I know of a method taught to me by Goddess Halja... I imagine you won't have any trouble with that, Captain Kortova."

 

[joshuadim]

"If you think I care for anything other than scientific research, then you are sorely mistaken." Lonstray replied with a sneer, "I'm not in cahoots with anyone except myself, child."

 

[Emperor Sagan]

Little girl. Kortova's hands balled up into fists as she bristled at the remark. Even as Warren turned to leave, she leveled a finger at him. "You... y-you bastard! You are a bully, and not fit to be a captain!" She shouted back at him, but was sidelined by Dos Santos as the woman sauntered up to accost her like the others. Her frown grew larger when the Platine woman spoke of Halja, and a method she apparently had learned from that goddess. Even if Wulfera hadn't made it clear where she stood on the other apparent deities, Kortova still had no intention of dealing with these other wild entities. She took a deep breath. "And I especially will not subject myself to any strange magics learned from supposed gods and goddesses. I will keep to myself and among my own trusted and professional crew, thank you very much."

She glanced sideways towards Lonstray. Child. Kortova visibly winced again. "Absolutely not. Everyone wants to gang up on me and I won't have it."

 

[EdwardDewey98]

Dos Santos let out a heavy sigh before raising both of her hands. "You know what, Grand Captain... you are right. Everyone is ganging up on you. Have you stopped to think that maybe there's a reason for that? Your attitude is not the best among the various leaders of the fleet, and the fact you have... these horns... only brings up more questions and doubts..." She then placed a hand on her chest while offering Kortova the other one for a handshake. "...But I promise you that I won't do anything strange, and I'll do my best to respect your boundaries if you respect mine. I want to help you get rid of those horns, Miss Kortova."