Fantasy The Devil's Meridian (Closed)

Our technology? Obviously to give them an edge over the others...which they already have because they're the wealthy members of society here. Warren didn't plan on giving them any of their technology, honestly, but Slater seemed eager to get in their good graces. "Wonderful to know that we have such liberties here with you." she stated, in response to Quictus's statements. "The Elders, as much as we respect their wishes to keep some parts of history hidden, the past and lost magics could potentially assist us in getting home. Not to mention provide some excellent opportunities for growth here. With proper oversight, of course."

Warren remained silent, glancing to Slater as she continued to speak. "But our questions about the past, and other things that the Elders would rather keep us in the dark about, can wait. I would be more than happy to show you some of our technology! None of it is powered by magic. Just pure science and machinery." she said, smiling yet again.

Dos Santos looked down at the figure, as it explained its story to her. A story of a rebellion and a war, a story of a queen and a Goddess. It served as a reminder that she was in a strange, unforgiving ocean, with powerful beings that are called Gods. She sighed and looked away, but still continuing to listen to their story. Once they were done, the doctor gave Lonstray a tired look. All she wanted to do was some simple exploration, and now they were presented with a moral quandary. If they were to free this person, then they would be causing trouble. But could she be able to rest at night knowing she left a 'seemingly' innocent person to continue living a life of pain and suffering? After a few seconds of silence, Dos Santos grunted and pulled out a raw chuck of aetherite from her pocket. "Lonstray... lets... try to free them without causing too much trouble, please." she said, while giving the scientist a tired look.

Kortova felt a headache coming on, a sort of fuzzy incomprehension, like that time she had those two glasses of champagne. This pillar, this rock, this thing was... captivating. She couldn't explain it. Part of her mind was lost in confusion, wondering why she was being drawn towards this stone, while the rest of herself was entirely carefree. As if she was being pulled towards it by a rope. She didn't just want, she needed to get to the center of this thing, and yet she couldn't stop wondering, almost in fear, why she felt that way.

Silara saved her, momentarily, and Kortova took a step back, her gaze not once leaving the pillar. "Theres... theres something, someone, trapped inside. We have to get it out... I...." She faltered, grasping the side of her face. "I think I want to run away from this thing but I can't, we need... we need to open it up." Williams. He would know what to do. Get the marines here, blast it open, or even drill a hole into it. They had machines and tools. It would work.

Lonstray looked at Dos Santos with confusion before shaking his head. "Let's play this out logically, Doctor. We free this Nagask, and then what? Assuming we aren't caught immediately upon leaving the fortress, we will be caught moving with this figure in tow by someone else. We aren't going to make it far with this... person, in tow." Lonstray spoke in a rather unconvinced manner. He didn't trust this figure in the least as well, and it didn't help the case for freeing it.

Dutifully, the Albionians set out to rescue Urna, the skiff thumping hard against the water as it made a tight turn. The small engine on the back, made for shorter and less strenuous outings, began to misfire, but soon returned to normal as one of the men stopped firing his gun and picked up a bucket, dumping cold water onto the motor to cool it down from the outside. The fireballs landed closer, until one fell directly into the bottom of the skiff, exploding across two of the occupants but failing to light anything ablaze that couldn't be put out by more buckets of water. Now much closer, the marines began to pick the enemy off with their rifles and pistols, and the bandits returned fire with bows and arrows.

Captain Dobbs stood at the bow of the skiff and, feeling almost as if this were another dream involving his mysterious teacher, drew his naval saber and planted it between his feet to steady himself as he closed his eyes and focused on the auras around him. The sounds of gunfire and shouting, of the motor's roar and Urna's cries for help, it all inhibited Dobbs from achieving the zen-like state of meditation he had achieved in the privacy of his cabin, but that didn't stop him from reaching out into the darkness and shutting out his distractions one by one.

Suddenly, he felt something awaken within.

The field of aether he sensed around himself turned vivid, so much so that he might as well have not closed his eyes at all. It was as if he had burst through a foggy window and entered into a chamber which had been an enigma beyond his reach. It was so, so... real, now. The currents of aether swirled into his hand, and he felt the power surge through his body. He opened his eyes and found himself no more than twenty feet from the enemy, who had just drawn an arrow on a massive longbow and leveled the tip of his missile on the Captain. With an instinctual battle cry, Dobbs lifted the tip of his sword and placed his outstretched hand on the hilt, forcing the power through the length of the blade so that a blast of lightning erupted from its tip, leaping from boat to boat, to the enemy bowman.

As the bandit hit the water behind his catamaran, crackling needles of electricity shot out through the water around him for several seconds as he convulsed before dying. The other sailors began to scream in shock and amazement, "Renaha Nemuro! Sa Nemuro!" Urna, now sitting in the bottom of the skiff as her fishing boat rolled over and sank, seemed to recoil in horror at Dobbs' attack, and his own men seemed equally dismayed. Yet, unlike the previous time Dobbs had thrown a lightning bolt, he didn't feel the sort of exhaustion he had experienced before. Instead, he felt capable of smiting all of his enemies one by one. However, his own feelings wouldn't dictate reality. Before he could summon another blast of lightning, an arrow struck him in the abdomen, having flown from a boat further away and to his left. Another barrage of arrows fell down on the skiff, wounding three of the marines as the boats closed into a circle around them, and although they fought back valiantly and killed a half dozen of the bandits, it seemed as if they would be overwhelmed.

"Stop fighting! Stop!" Urna screamed at them, and in the short lull that followed, she yelled, "they say they'll take us alive. Otherwise, they kill us all right here!"

Quictus was delighted by Warren's overture. Malkon began to translate for him again, but stuttered to a stop before staring briefly at the Molichans in disbelief. "Ah, good! I hope to tour your vessel, in that case. In return, I- I will... I will give you tour of our estate..." He looked over at the patriarch, Algas, who stared back in silence with a vile contempt which seemed to roll off the young landlord like water off a duck's back. Malkon finished translating: "if any of the treasures kept in our vault may aid your journey, then a trade may be in order."

When Nagask had finished speaking, they buried their head in their hands and waited for Dos Santos and Lonstray to come to a decision, one which neither of them took lightly. When it was clear that the travelers had differing opinion, Nagask spoke again. "If you fear my presence will hinder you or cause you to anger the wicked souls who torment me so, then I may wait here for a time longer. Undo my bindings, and I will stay as you go, and leave when you are far, far from me. We may never meet again, if you wish it so. But... I may also find a way to repay you. I would owe a debt like no other... perhaps we may meet somewhere, someday, and I will find a way to honor you.

"But," Nagask added, "if you leave me here, I hope instead that fate rewards you justly for your cruelty."

With both Grand Captain Kortova and Ensign Kuromaki babbling nonsense about translating the pillar or possibly freeing someone from inside, Silara's eyes widened, perhaps the strongest change in her aloof countenance they had seen thus far. "The pillar has an affect on demonbloods like us, but I've never seen this sort of pull... There was a time, many years ago, when the pillar was damaged, and they say our kin reacted just as you did now. I think you ought to leave this place," she warned. "If you were to damage this column, then you would surely anger the elders and cause a great disturbance."

Kuromaki opened and then shut her mouth. The way she looked at Kortova, urgently, alerted the latter that there was something she wanted to say, but wouldn't.

But then Silara's surprised expression grew even more frightened. "You..." she said to Kuromaki, "stay away from me." She then hurried away to get Meinhardt's attention while the commissar looked on, bewildered and more than a little distressed.

"P-perhaps I should return to the Archangel...?" she finally said. "I don't understand how I offended her."

He didn't quite understand what exactly had happened, but Dobbs knew that something had changed inside of him as he threw out a bolt of lightning and didn't feel exhausted. The arrow in his belly hurt like hell, but Dobbs remained standing in defiance as the fighting came to a close and they were entirely surrounded. Urna's cry broke the silence as she made the situation rather clear: the enemy wanted to take them prisoner. The marines on board kept their rifles aimed at the enemy in a tense standoff as Reid looked at Dobbs with both fear and apprehension, "Captain... what are we doing?" he asked in an almost whisper. Dobbs was quiet for a moment as he deliberated on what to actually do without getting everyone killed.

He deliberated on actually sending a threat that should they kill them, they would be obliterated by the Dawnbreaker as soon as they found them but in his judgement opted against such an action as it was more likely to provoke a hostile response. So instead, Dobbs looked to the all-talker: "Urna. Tell them that I will parley with their leader." he said rather simply as he gripped at the arrow sticking out of his abdomen and pulled it out, grunting at the sharpness of the pain as he did so before gently tossing it into the waters.

Flint thought long and hard on the opportunity that Ardekkan had given him. But none the less, imminent peril was sure to be afoot, if what the Bulwark described was true. About the outlaws that remained outside of the city borders. Not too unlike the bandits and brigands that ha terrorized the roads of his youth, outside of the isolated settlements in the wast western Alleghenian.

Pondering his course of action, he looked to his new colleague. "If it can be arranged, an expedition into whatever knowledge lies outside the city could prove quiet fruitful to our current predicament." Flint replied with a neutral expression. Any powerful artifacts or relics had surely been evicted from the city since ages past. That much was clear from their introduction to this place. And if they did find anything of value, it would be even more beneficial if he alone could lay his hands on it first, to prevent it from falling into the wrong hands in the fleet. He found it quite fascinating that he had landed in such a fellowship where his own disdain for the magical arts were shared to an equal degree, yet something within prevented him from expressing this commonality to Ardekkan. In any case, as the bulwark had made apparent, they would need to discover some way of returning home. Perhaps, if such a method could be uncovered, they could steer the fleet with the help of the commodore out of the meridian, effectively washing their hands of this ancient burden.

"Of course, you will have my honor as a bulwark that no knowledge from the outside will breach your bastion. It is a state of being you have fought long and hard to achieve, and I do not wish to compromise it." He said with genuine respect, giving Ardekkan and the attendant a look. Then, quickly taking stock of his own forces which numbered 6 sailors with rifles and pistols, he returned his focus to the bulwark. "We will be able to undertake this task with my force alone, with the addition of your attendant" he continued, nodding to Sveket before turning back to Ardekkan. "These outlaws... Can they be reasoned with? We only wish to find what has been cast out of the city, not partake in your campaigns. Further more, I think it would be most beneficial if you yourself could accompany us."

Kortova glanced between Kuromaki, the pillar, and Silara, somewhat confused as the latter hurried off away from them. She wanted to ask more, but this damn... thing... was messing with her mind. It was a compulsion and fog all wrapped in one. She didn't particularly wish to stay here or stare at it, yet at the same time she couldn't quite shake the feeling, the force, keeping her here.

Kuromaki's words broke her free once again, briefly, and Kortova seized the chance. "Lets just get away from this thing. As quickly as we can." Without further word, or waiting for Vostar, she stepped back and turned, hurrying away from the plaza the way they had come.

Dos Santos looked down at Nagask. The poor thing suggested something that made sense. Freeing them now, and then letting leave later seemed like a good solution to this dilema, but she knew that Lonstray would be against this still. She sighed and approached Nagask, kneeling next to them to find a way to free them. "Lonstray... I know you disagree with this. And frankly..." Dos Santos stopped for a moment, looking at the wall in front of her. "...I don't care. So you can either help me free them now, or you can go look at some rock and I'll join you later."

Slater nodded, with a smile. "Most excellent. We look forward to the tour! Our good friend Malkon, here, will obviously need to come with us, as he acts as our translator." she responded, motioning a hand to Malkon. Warren cut a look to Slater. Trading? He glanced back over to the Molichans, fighting the urge to say something and cut off his first officer. To deny these people from setting one foot aboard their ship. They didn't need this technology. They didn't even need to see it. They would try and replicate it somehow, and upset the balance of power here. Not to mention the hot water it could place them in with the rest of the fleet if word got back to them that they instigated a power shift.

"Slater." he started, looking back to his first officer. Slater glanced to him, and noticed the look on his face. "...Excuse me for a moment. I need to speak with my commander." she said politely, before stepping off alone. Warren followed, until they were out of earshot. And then, he spoke.

"Slater, we're not letting them aboard our ship. We're not giving them a tour. We're not sharing our technology with them. I will not shift the balance of power in this place towards wealthy bankers and rich snobs. They don't need more power." he said, his eyes locked on his first officer. "But sir, they might have just the thing we need to get home!" she responded. "I don't care, Slater. We'll find what we need some other way."

Lonstray looked at Dos Santos with bewilderment and let out an audible 'Bah!' as he threw his arms up and began to walk away. Truly, she was foolish for taking such an extremely dangerous and unnecessary risk. But then Lonstray realized something as he remembered what this Nagask had said before: 'I may also find a way to repay you. I would owe a debt like no other...'. Almost immediately, Lonstray stopped in his tracks and turned around to stare at the figure chained to the wall. A devious smile nearly broke across his lips as he realized how much he could actually benefit from such an action.

"You spoke of honoring a debt should we free you." Lonstray then spoke with as straight of a face as he could muster at the moment as he was brimming with excitement. "Then... you could consider that debt repaid if you help me decipher the knowledge of some tomes I had recovered not too long ago." he stated, awaiting a response.

Now vaguely aware of the commotion Kortova and Kuromaki were causing, Meinhardt, Walkenhorst, and Vostar stopped talking to see what was amiss. But by the time they did, the two women were already bustling out of the plaza. Silara approached them. "Gentlemen," she said, giving a quick bow, "the pillar had a strange effect on those two. They talked of borrowing their way into it, as if to reach someone inside. I do worry they might do something reckless."

"Let's go after them, then," Meinhardt said, his brow furrowed in deep concern. Vostar and Walkenhorst had just briefed him on the precarious situation the city of Rika was placed in due to the fleet's arrival, and of the major question of the foreigner's advanced technology. At least, thanks to their careful wording, they hadn't cast Kortova as a threat, but her erratic behavior now gave the Commodore anxiety. The quartet all departed the plaza, with Vostar leading, as he knew the way their group had come and led them all in that direction. However, when they arrived at the avenues near the stairway to the garden, where he had inspected Kuromaki's pistol, Vostar turned to the group, alarmed.

"They're not here," he said.


Blood poured out of the wound in Dobb's abdomen as he dropped the arrow into the water, and one of his marines quickly procured a rag for the captain to press against himself to help stem the bleeding for the moment. Urna, still reeling from the displays of sorcery she had just witnessed, nodded at the directive to help negotiate with the bandits. She stood and gestured toward Dobbs as she spoke: "Th-this man is a captain from the faraway lands, Jonathan Dobbs. He wants to parley-"

At that moment, a woman in a long, highly-decorated black coat with golden lace trim yelled over her from one of the catamarans. She spoke extremely quickly and confidently, and it was clear that she was the leader of these pirates before Urna could begin to translate. "She says: I am Windtamer Sarian, Barracuda of the Western Coast. I want your valuables, not your lives, but if any of my men are due to die from the wounds you inflicted with those strange guns you carry, then I will need a scalp for each lost soul as payment." Sarian waited a moment until Urna was finished speaking, and then continued, pointing at the nearest shore as she did. "We will go ashore right now, take what we want, and you will walk back to Rika."

Ardekkan shook his head, albeit this time seeming more sympathetic to Flint's cause. "I cannot go with you, as much as I wish I could. My superiors would consider such a foray, especially one likely to turn up forbidden knowledge, as a unnecessary risk for a base commander such as myself, and one of the few all-talkers in the city at that. They might even see it as a cloaked attempt to gain the knowledge for my own profit or schemes. Of course, that means that you will be without a translator, but seeing as we wouldn't want to begin this foray into the wilderness until morning anyway, that gives me plenty of time to help your men create a bilingual list of phrases to help you communicate. As for the 'reasonableness' of the enemy... Most will not entertain a dialogue unless taken prisoner, and often have nothing helpful to say, at least to us.

"However," Ardekkan continued, "there are a band who dress in blue tunics who represent something they call the Cradle of the Sky. They speak our language and know our customs, and they'll even send a messenger when they encounter us in an effort to avoid any fighting. Unfortunately, our hands are usually forced, because they'll abduct our citizens if we leave them to their own devices, but you do not have that problem. Good thing, too, as they're very strong with magic and in close quarters, so beware."

Kortova and Kuromaki hurried away from the pillar, back toward the safe avenues they had left behind, earlier. It was getting later, however. The sun had fully gone from the sky and now, without the electric lighting of the outside world, they began to see the ancient city as far less familiar and inviting as it had seemed even an hour earlier, even if their demonic sight granted them greater clarity in the dark. "I think we should not have left without Vostar," Kuromaki said as they stopped at one of the rivers. "I'm sure he'll understand if we explain ourselves, but it will still appear in bad form to retreat from that place without him."

At the same moment, while Kortova listened to the Commissar state the obvious, a realization dawned on her that the two had taken a wrong turn. Where they now stood looked similar to where they had come from, but lacked certain landmarks they had seen on the way in. Kuromaki soon realized the same, turning around slowly and taking in their new surroundings in a cautious manner. "It's too easy to get lost in this place," she said. "We'll have to go back, anyway."

Immediately, Nagask agreed to Lonstray's request. "I still know my characters," they said. "I cannot teach you the sounds of things, but the meanings, yes... I know both the script of the humans, and the script of my kind. If they are written in either language, I can help. Yes... just tell me how to find you, if we leave this place separately."

Having heard enough, Dos Santos checked the door of the cell and found that its lock was controlled by a simple lever mechanism built into the wall just out of reach of the cell's occupant. Pushing up on the lever caused a rod to retract into the floor, allowing for the door handle to be turned. It was a heavy mechanism and the handle was coated in silver, just like the bars of the cell. Once inside, the two were able to see that Nagask was bound by their hands and feet to large, heavy iron chains. These shackles held no keyhole, but instead, each one was sealed shut and studded with an aetherite crystal which gleamed red under their torchlight.

"It is a cruel joke," Nagask remarked. "We demons know the ways of magic only through naether. I cannot make these gems sing."

While Warren addressed Slater, Malkon was called over by the Molichans. The Commander could see him being spoken down to, or perhaps berated, by Quictus, although he couldn't hear their conversation. Soon afterward, however, Malkon made a bee line to where the two of them were standing. His expression was extremely tense. "Sir, ma'am, I do hope there is nothing wrong with the gracious offer our benefactors in the Molichan family have given you. To see the inside of their vault is a rare, rare privilege, and I do look forward to seeing it with you."

The way the words fell out of his mouth reminded Warren of water rhythmically dripping from a leaky roof. It was easy to tell that Malkon was trying to warn him of something, although his reasons for doing so were murky. Was he trying to warn Warren of something which would come the Commander's way? Or was the landlord the one set for misfortune?

Dos Santos eyed the chains holding Nagask. They were sealed shut, and studded with aetherite crystals. They mentioned that Demons, while able of using magic from 'Naether', they were unnable of using Aetherine crystals. After methodically looking at the chains for any weaknesses, it soon became clear to Dos Santos that she'll have to use her knowledge to help the trapped demon. She looked down at Nagask, and a little reassuring smile forming on her face. "Don't worry, I think I can get you free." she said, before turning and looking at Lonstray. "Lonstray... I'm about to do something. I'm sure you will ask me a thousand questions but... please, save them for later." she said, before looking down at the crystal studs on the chains. Using her gained knowledge, she channeled her power in attempt to break these studs. Or at the very least, understand what sort of magic they use that were locking Nagask in place.

Dobbs looked straight at at this 'Windtamer' with a stern gaze as his mind raced on what to exactly do. Surrendering would be unacceptable, and fighting would potentially turn out to be fatal for not only himself but his men as well. It was then that Dobbs decided to stall for time as he leaned over to Reid. "When I say so, fire flares at their masts and to the air." he whispered to his Lieutenant and to his men, with the former looking at Dobbs with confusion for a moment before giving a nod.

"We have no gold or jewels you would seek, we are part of a navigation mission. Tell me, why do they call you Windtamer?" he asked aloud with curiosity as he focused on gathering as much power as he could. A direct attack wouldn't work most likely, not without severe risks, so Dobbs instead figured that if he could summon the power of thunder and lightning then he could do so from the skies itself. He concentrated his efforts to the clouds behind this bandit leader as he maintained his eye contact with her. Should the need arise, he would hopefully strike down with a decisive blow.

Kortova's hands balled up into fists as she finally came to a stop, frustrated and more than a little shaken. Losing control back there reminded her too much of being under Ishra's possession, and she hated that feeling of helplessness, that intrusive compulsion. "What a horrendous rock... statue... thing. I hate it. And I never want to see it again," she spat, though the anger wasn't directed at Kuromaki. Her words attacked the darkness around her, lost to the breeze and echoing side streets. Lost as much as they now were. She had paid little attention in what direction to go. Rather, she simply went. It was a retreat in every sense of the word, but she would neither admit that, nor admit that they were lost.

"You can't get lost in a city," Kortova said. She was sounding petulant again. "All the roads go somewhere. We'll just... climb a roof and look around. We can't be so deep in that we can't see the direction of the coast, or the bay. Or any of the bigger buildings. Because I am not going back near that thing." She grasped her hat and craned her neck to look around at the buildings on the street, wondering if there was indeed a way up. A scaffolding, or stairs to a rooftop garden. She doubted fire escapes were in fashion in a place like this. "Ugh," Kortova sighed again. "That blasted child. He should have followed us when we left."

As she looked around, she kept one hand on the hilt of her saber. She had no patience to deal with any street ruffians if they happened by any, and perhaps her heroic pose would dissuade any from approaching them.

Warren's eyes glanced between Malkon and the Molichans, but he didn't speak till he glanced to Slater. "...Malkon, I believe its time that you learned exactly what kind of person I am, and where I came from." he said, turning slightly to face Malkon. "I was born to a pair of farmers, whom lived out in the countryside of my homeland. The land was sold to us by a business that was more interested in selling off worthless pieces of land to people, usually outright lying to them about the state of things. The land was dusty, and barely anything grew from it beyond the occasional vegetable. Our daily life consisted of farming what we could, and selling it off so that we could pay bills and taxes. It eventually got to the point where we had to take out loans from the bank to pay for things."

"...Do you want to know what happened to my family and the land we had? The bank decided that it was time to collect, regardless as to if we had the money to pay off our loans or not. My family ended up homeless, while I was away in the navy. Both my mother and father died homeless." said Warren, before glancing back up to the Molichans. "...I despise the rich. I despise big banks that don't care about the lives of the people who's money they handle. So you can imagine how I felt when I came to this area of the city. To see these nice homes and beautiful plots of land, while the rest of the city is as it is. Filled with homelessness, or people living in slums. I bet there's even areas where the elderly or sick are confined."

"And you mentioned before that people turn to petty crime to make ends meet? It is because they are kept at that point by those above them. The Gulkers own the workshops, and the schools that teach the skills needed to work at these workshops. I bet they don't bother with the 'lower class.' I don't know what to say of the city guard, because I've not seen how they operate, but these people have the ability to change their lives for the better. Yet they don't, because they reek of selfishness."

Warren looked back to Malkon. "You, Malkon, give the poor places to live. You don't care what happens to them as long as you are paid. You do nothing to actually help them try to make something of their lives. You're too busy trying to fit in with literal parasites...and I know parasites like them because the places we come from are full of them."

Slater, by now, was glaring at Warren. He didn't care, however. He was sick of this place. "I want nothing in the Molichans' vault. I could care less about what's in it, even if they have some way for us to get home locked away in there. I have no intention of giving them any of our technology, as they will simply use it to solidify their position as dictators. They do not need to see our weapons, to produce and give to whatever mercenaries they hire to exert their authority. They do not need to see our ship, so they can copy it someday and dominate the seas of the Meridian."

He then glanced to the Molichans one last time, before looking back to Malkon. His eyes actually bore an angry look. "...And if they attempt to do something in retaliation regarding my decision, I assure you that before we leave this island, their estate will be a smoldering ruin. Along with that precious vault of theirs."