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Fantasy Descension (C.DEX x Notorious)

"Don't know, I'm dizzy as fuck!" Amara replied, enthusiastically and a little too friendly. She looked relieved that they had won the battle and was probably riding on a massive victory high, especially due to the sign she was born under making victory that much sweeter. "Chett decided to break out his best moves and just started spinning and well... I couldn't tell you if this was my blood. Your blood. Our blood. Whatever it is it'll get washed off in a bit... For now... WE CELEBRATE!" She exclaimed, raising her arm up to the sky only to get several Shades behind her cheering. While the injured were in bad shape, they couldn't deny the feeling of freedom. They had never experienced it before, it was sweet... Perhaps bittersweet as some of them passed away feeling such a feeling before being embraced by death.


"I am fine, Balor dear." Moira said, looking victorious yet the sadness that clung to her was unmistakable. Every small victory that added up to them succeeded had an equal, tragic price. She seen people she had taken care of for years, dead at her feet or begging for medical attention and there was nothing she could do for them. "Though... As much good as this has done, it kills me seeing so many of our own wounded. I know that is the cost of battle and freedom.... That everything will be okay and that they gave their lives and bodies so that their children and our future generations can be free but..." She was teary eyed, the Midas woman overcome with emotions as she tried to suppress the overwhelming grief she felt. "I wish we could all just live happy... and free... That we lived in a golden age where we didn't have to fight and we simply could love one another." She shook her head, showing a brief moment of weakness to not only Balor but the few around them currently. "I would give my own life and then some if those I held dear to me didn't have to live this life, that they didn't get taken in a simple pursuit of liberating this city. If I only I fought harder or-"


"No." Amara grunted, that brief look of pure ecstasy she had been reviling in fading to comfort Moira. "You fighting harder has nothing to do with this. You've given your life to these people, Moira. You've fought harder than you possibly can and you've done countless things... All for them. I don't want to hear you regretting things you didn't or couldn't do... All I want to hear is you grieving for our fallen and celebrating our victory." Wise words from a rather disoriented woman, if only Amara grew to be like this always she was practically leadership material. "Because this right here... what we just did..." She gave Moira a big smirk, "Was a BIG fuck you to Central. And to the Blazing Isles. And any motherfucker who dares bans Shades and other poor bastards born under the wrong sign. This is the beginning of liberating this whole god damn world from old racists pieces of shit. This... Right here... is history Moira. And without you none of this could be possible."


To her surprise, Amara embraced Moira for a moment. She quickly let go as predicted, but it was affection from the elvish girl none the less. "They'll write legends of this day... How the world was liberated by a brave group of people. It'll immortalize our fallen... It'll also make us pissed off for how awesome we were in the past and make us reminisce about better days. Balor here will have his own church again, Sinna will be a fine young warrior, you... Will be Lady of this city here and it'll be renamed in your honor."


"You'll be knocked up with a viking baby." Moira said with a sly smirk, completely derailing Amara's train of thought.


"No!" She yelled back, completely caught off guard by Moira's joke. "I'm not sure that is even physically possible..." Amara trailed off for a moment before snapping back, "He is nothing but a dirty human, one who wasn't even here for this grand battle! I would have surely won back our fighting contest if he was man enough to fight. The jokes about him must stop Moira."


"They would if you didn't get so red when I brought him up." She replied with a wink, laughing to herself as Amara stomped off to go celebrate elsewhere. "She's so high strung, I could have teased her about anyone and she'd freak out." Moira said, shaking her head as Amara did manage to bring a smile back to her face. "Do you need me to do anything to assist you Balor, Sinna? Otherwise I will have to go and make sure our walls are secure and the townspeople are informed of what has happened... If they miraculously slept through that." Moira then looked down to Tec, a frown upon her face. "Please tell me he's going to make it..."
 
"I'm not sure. But it's not abnormal that he's gone unconscious. He's a Gnome fighting a Shade's war. He may very well just need rest." Balor said, looking down on the gnome. Chett had collapsed nearby, staring intently at his friend. "If you all aren't injured, then help move the wounded to the inside of the Barracks where the soldiers would normally sleep. It will serve as an impromptu hospital until those who choose to leave the residential districts have left. You should organize the rest of the Shades, divide their forces and focus on vacating the residents as well as tending to our wounded." he said. Then, his eyes drifted to the exit of the Citadel. Bodies littered the way, too many of them their own.


"Amara is right, Moira. The effort ... while bloody ... couldn't have succeeded without you." he continued, though his eyes had betrayed his distraction. "I only hope these fortified walls and the shield above us will derail any future Central effort to assaulting the city. We wouldn't be able withstand another attack. Not until the other Forbidden outside of these walls begin to migrate here. Only then." he said. "I have some business elsewhere to take care of for now, but I will be back momentarily to help the effort with the wounded. I can't stay long in the city, as I'm sure Orin and Gunnar have reached Dorn by now, but I will stay long enough to help organize the others until everyone who can be is on their way to recovery."


"Don't move them if they have spinal injuries." Sinna noted, taking on part of the organization herself. She looked to the able-bodied soldiers, whose blood had still run quickly with the adrenaline of the fight. "We can make them comfortable here, and then move them when the barracks are set up to take them." she said, displaying a maturity when it came to serious situations that surprised the others. Seeing that the girl had a handle on the situation, he left Moira and Amara, taking off quickly down the street to find someone else.


...


In the following days, in the peaceful lull after the storm, Moira had taken on the role of mayor of the new town. The first thing that had happened after the siege was recovery. And then control. The Forbiddens and Shades that were able-bodied assembled teams, branching out into the residential districts to send a message. A message that had informed them that the city was now under the rule of the Shade; Central tyrants had no place in it anymore. However, it was their choice to stay or leave. If they would choose to leave, they would be given time and their belongings. However, if they had wanted to be involved with a new faction that didn't discriminate for the unchooseable circumstances of birth, they could.


Some of the wounded had recovered, though many had passed away long after the battle had concluded. After Amara had helped Chett's hands back into their normal formations, he had spent several heart-wrenchingly long days at Tec's bedside, he had awoken. The injured gnome had taken up a fever, his prognosis not looking too well after having spent those days practically comatose. He'd recovered, however, to the happiness of Moira, Chett, Sinna, Amara, and Balor. His recovery had started one of many others. One by one, bodies started rising from beds, and the town had soon become lively again. Not many of the original residents stayed, but those who had would soon be privvy to the idea that perhaps the new occupants weren't monsters, after all.


Injured townsfolk were treated, their wounds healing the same as the Shade. The town's defenses stood tall and proud above them, the magical shield tinting the day sky pearlescent. A small group of travelers had departed from it, intent on joining up with those who had gotten left behind.


The town had been given a new face, and a new name. The blood had been cleaned from the streets. Now, with their victory, it was Moiran.


End of Chapter 6 - Ripple
 
The ocean waves crashed into the creaking wreckage of a nearby ship, teasing the ruined metal that one day it would succumb to the rampant waves and be swallowed whole by the sea. That very same creaking noise managed to not only keep Gunnar, Orin and Sirius up the entire night it had been the back drop for what could have been the most obnoxious night of failed sleep of their lives. While Gunnar and Orin had been doing their best to rest, Sirius was clearly on edge the entire night. He was pacing outside of the ruined ship they were taking refuge in or speaking to himself in a quirky manner, the strange rogue being more than a minor annoyance to the two injured and battle weary travelers.


"I'm going to say something." Gunnar said, finally standing up after hours of dealing with not only the sounds of creaking ships and crashing waves but of Sirius' borderline obsessive ramblings.


"As much as I appreciate the help he gave you both..." Dio spoke softly, he too annoyed. "Does he ever sleep? Poor Orin over there was tortured and now he's being tortured again!" Dio paused, unsure why he was losing his temper so uncharacteristically easy. "I don't know why I said... Do not repeat that to him, Gunnar. He does not need to know I too have been... on edge."


"Dio says good morning." Gunnar said bitterly, listening to Dio's wishes. "We'll get a move on, search this graveyard... See if we can find a ship here. Doesn't look like we got much money left, think all of it got caught up in that river. If it ain't one thing it's another..." Gunnar clenched his fists, "God damn it." He mumbled, seeing the look of gloom on Orin's face broke Gunnar's heart. He wanted to help provide for his friend and they had been doing so well, only to lose most of what they had so quickly. Shaking his head, the viking left the ruins of the airship and walked out onto the beach where he found Sirius meditating in the sand. He couldn't tell if his eyes were closed or not, but that obsessive rambling was him meditating whilst speaking in another language.


"Good morning, Gunnar." Sirius said, surprising the viking with how aware Sirius was of the surroundings. "Sleep good? I heard both of you sleeping like babies in there." He began to laugh, "And by babies, I mean waking up every 15 minutes to cry!" Sirius sprung to his feet, sensing Gunnar's annoyance from where he stood. "I am sorry things could not be better here and that you didn't have much time to rest. Luckily... Your clothes are now dried and we can explore this place together. I've kept watch. Not much here but crabs and some scavengers. They're friendly though, I let a few of them watch you two sleep for a fee." Sirius giggled, "Got their rocks off and left! You humans must be some sort of aphrodisiac cause this one Midas couldn't stop looking at you, friend."


"You did... what?" Gunnar asked, luckily for Sirius still groggy. "You better be joking." He said firmly, looking around for any scavengers.


"Of course I'm joking! Why wouldn't I be? Where is Orin?" He asked, "Losing a blind boy twice in a fortnight might be a new record. We should get moving."
 
"We get it. I'm blind." Orin said, eyes opening. He raised his hand, still poking at the soreness of his nose. Getting up felt like an ordeal, a surprising amount more difficult after having rested. His entire body was sore. He'd never done so much running, swimming, and getting the shit beaten out of him all at one time, and now, he was paying the price. Eventually, he climbed to his feet with a grunt, wanting nothing more than to lay back down. A part of him had resented the other two for not wishing to take longer, and even Gunnar for chastizing him about wanting to lay low. They all looked bad apart from Sirius, who simply looked ... unhinged. Orin's hair had started to mat, and it would soon become dreads if he hadn't found civilization. Gunnar had a deal of wounds on his own, even Dio's magic unable to keep him from scarring after having them reopened after he'd left their presence.


"Did you attempt to catch any of the crabs, since you were up all night, or did you spend the entire night speaking to them?" Orin asked, snarkily. He'd been a slight bit out of character, and noticed it in himself. He'd felt bad, however, snapping at Sirius. Then, he was conflicted. After all, he'd let him get taken. But he'd helped him afterwards. The only solace he'd had for the night was that he didn't even drift deeply into sleep enough to have nightmares.


Perhaps nightmares would be better than their current situation, though.


The Seer joined them, leaving their resting place. When they had gotten outside, he took a deep breath in, attempting to gauge his surroundings despite his sight. The air tasted like ... was it blood, or iron? And there was a familiar jolt of energy that he'd felt when the air was laced with mana. And so it must have been. "There's a lot of mana here." he noted. "But it feels like it's ... almost coming in waves. Like it's coming from a leak, or something like that. Maybe it's the airships. They must run on it. If we're surrounded by them, we might be able to search them. Find money, or tools, weapons ... I doubt clothing would be intact, but I smell like moldy ocean and blood." he said, with a sigh. "Bad part about having your other senses in overdrive."


As he stepped out, Orin's blackened third eye opened. His shoulders hung low.


"A lot of darkness occurred here." he said, uncharacteristically grim. "A lot of death. Now that we're out here, I ... I'm not adverse to the thought of moving on."


All around them, broken ships jutted out of the landscape, from years upon years of being wrecked and then washing up on shore. They had migrated to the middle of the land mass that they were on, making the landscape a thing of false metallic mountains. Orin had begun walking, although he'd had a significantly harder time doing so, having been used to navigating city and forest landscapes.
 
"Fear not Blind one!" Sirius said, a little too joyfully. "There may have been a lot of darkness and death here but that just means this place will be mostly safe. People avoid places like this, foolishly so..." He remarked, leading the way by going ahead of Orin just to make sure he didn't trip over anything. Sirius wasn't entirely aware of how well Orin was with moving around on his own so he kept a watchful eye while Gunnar's eyes were on Sirius. "If everyone avoids these places the darkness builds. Civilization actually combats evil when standing together. I don't think we're in too much danger though. Maybe from pirates, or bandits, or highwaymen. Any other names for thieves you can come up with you name it." The playful rogue paused, "Vikings."


"Wouldn't be in danger from them." Gunnar replied, annoyance evident in his voice. "Do you ever chill the hell out?" He finally asked. "You're a little too... happy for being stranded in a ship graveyard."


"Why would I be unhappy?" Sirius asked. "I freed a bunch of prisoners, which if I remember rightly half of you two was one of them and without me you'd both be dead. I'm happy you're alive is all!" He called out. It was hard relating to Sirius with the way he covered his face with a monstrous mask blocking his facial features but they couldn't exactly argue his point. "Besides. I've spent plenty of my life being bitter or lonely... Tired of bickering with my family and friends. That's why I'm out here alone, other than helping you two."


"Family problems huh?" Gunnar asked as they walked along, Dio walking ahead to point out obstructions in the sand for Orin to avoid. "I'm familiar with that."


"You have no idea, buddy." Sirius chuckled, keeping his eyes peeled ahead. "I'm not going to apologize for you two being grumpy either though. I did sing and dance with the crabs all last night butttt when we find a nice dry place to take a seat for a while I'll go get some for you two. Not the crabs though." He smirked underneath his mask, "They're poisonous after all! Eating nothing but ship debris and mana. They'd claw their way out of your stomach and eat you!" While not knowing if the strange Caelilian was being serious or not, the trio pressed on.


Gunnar began to describe to Orin their surroundings as he had began to grow the habit of doing. While they had only traveled together for a little over a week he had taken on a few habits of his own to assist his traveling partner. While Dio spent his time guiding Orin and pointing out dangers or playfully tossing pebbles or other items at the boy, Gunnar spent his time leading the way and keeping things interesting with stories or jokes. Now stories were long vacant and he was definitely not in a joking mood, especially with his wounds irritating him greatly. He did however still describe their surroundings to Orin, going into great detail of the mountains of debris all around them. The spires they past by were all man made, a strange sensation as this beach would have been otherwise unmarked by metal or mana without the debris from the Isles of Arcadia.


"Tell me Viking... Do your ships crash often?" Sirius asked, "I mean... There's a ton of ships here! They have to be coming from somewhere and if I was a smart man, which sometimes I am, I bet your people hale from above and out west. Correct?"


"I think so. I didn't exactly get a good view when falling down."


"You FELL down?!" Sirius asked, his enthusiasm smothering. "Now THAT... is badass. Tell me more."


"Maybe another time." Gunnar groaned, "But yeah... I imagine the Isles are above and to the west a bit. The ocean current probably takes everything to this land bridge here and gathers everything up. Either that or the ships crash directly here which would make sense too. None of these are of Veldard design though... We scrap our ships together from Avar and Molt ships we... commandeer." He said, a smirk appearing on his face. "Least we can do after the shit they put us through. Not seeing any of our ships nearby but we're bound to find some. Lot of us fall out of the sky."
 
There was a notable divide between the ships that had littered the landscape around them. In fact, not all around them had taken on a token, metallic gray. Some of the dessicated scraps of hull had been accented by long-forgotten colorful images, time wearing their substance away by a great deal. Some had taken on golds, reds, even blues, though none of them had the pertinent vibrance of those that still floated in the sky. Instead, rust and time had eaten away at the life of the place.


The graveyard that they had resided in was not only one for ships. While the feathered and carapaced denizens of days long past had been mostly dusted away with erosion and wind, there still hung sometimes a trapped Avar or Molt, wedged between the doors of a plummeting ship, or thrown far from where their ship had originally been. Despite the few splashes of color, all around them had been grim, with nothing other than bleakness permeating their vision. To those who had it.


There was a certain quietness to the place, and breaking it felt wrong. Still, Orin spoke, the heaviness of the death and desolation of the area only encouraging him, if only by means of awkwardness. Gunnar's descriptions of the area mystified him, a small part of him wanting nothing more than to see the sights himself. "Sounds grim." he remarked, "So ... even if we do find a ship here, we should maybe consider the fact that it's here for a reason. Not saying I'm scared, but ... dying horrifically in a flying ship accident ... I mean, that'd be the cherry on top of the shit cake that's our situation now."


As Sirius kept an eye on Orin, and Gunnar kept an eye on Sirius, Orin attempted steadfastly to follow Dio's movements to a T. Still, he'd found it difficult navigating the place, nearly nicking himself on several occasions.


"If they're of both Molt and Avar design, won't it be hard to find your ship, Gunnar?" Orin asked. "I mean ... I get the impression that it's all just parts around us, anyway. Do you guys have a flag, or ... something identifiable? Also, do any of us know how to even fly a ship, if we find one? I mean, I can try, but you all probably won't like the results." he said, putting down his attitude to crack a smirk.


"What do the floating islands look like, Gunnar? Do a lot of you fall out of the sky, or ... are most of you pushed?"
 
"If you try to fly we'll probably end up back here." Gunnar said, smiling for the first time since he had awoken from the terrible night of rest. "Most of this place is just parts but the bigger ships I can identify. We have a flag, a simple one but one that our people rally behind. Since you had sight before... imagine..." Gunnar grunted, thinking of how to describe his people's colors to Orin. "White base with blue accents, forming a stenciled blue falcon pointing its beak towards the heavens. There are tales of Arcadia taking the form of a bird and with us sailing through the clouds we like to honor him, to ensure that he helps keep us afloat." Gunnar then began to laugh, "Plus it's to mock the Avar bastards we kill. Who better than to get attacked by than someone with your heads on our flag. If the flag gets soaked in Avar blood it's supposed to be that much more effective in ensuring flight but... That might be a bit too early Veldardian history for you."


"That... sounds terrifyingly hilarious." Sirius said, laughing back. "You all have a bird, yet your main enemies are birds... yet... In order to fly better you soak said flag in the blood of your enemies? Wow... Don't let me piss you off!" The rogue said, shaking his head as he continued to chuckle. "I imagine Arcadia takes amusement in such a gesture. Truth be told, the stories I have heard of what that god does are quite funny. While he made the Avars in his image he values those who try to maintain his paradise the most. While both the Avars and the Molts cause problems, the Patagi being the most peaceful so they have to be the favorite currently. Perhaps that's why your people are so hated, Gunnar?"


"What... do you mean?"


"Well it's simple. You're blood thirsty vikings, taking what belongs to others in order to survive. That's the exact opposite of paradise. By having Arcadia on your flag that's not mocking the Avars... but mocking him." The Assassin said, not caring how insensitive he sounded to Gunnar. "Perhaps your people are cursed. Have you considered that?"


"Not possible." Gunnar replied, "We are a proud people. We do things that may interrupt the paradise but we have been hunted since day one, being unclaimed. We have to fight for the god's approval, not sit there and take punishment. We must fight. And that is why Orin, that most of us are pushed... Falling is-" The viking was abruptly cut off. Gunnar halted in his tracks when he spotted it. "Veldard ship." Gunnar whispered to Orin, passing by him and Sirius as he walked towards the wreckage. It was old, weathered. The wooden ship had splintered and crumbled, the metal enhancements all rusted and flaky. Though that proud flag Gunnar was just describing was flying high from the mast, the blue still visible even from all the wear and tear. "I don't believe my eyes..." He commented, walking forward only to nearly step on one of his comrade's corpses. "I am sorry, my brother." Gunnar commented before stepping onto the ship. Dio motioned for Orin to follow, the three of them walking inside while the Wraith floated in front of Orin.


"I think this may be one of many." Gunnar said, breaking the silence as they stood on the remains of the top deck of the ship. "This is of older design... A ship that reminds me of what my father use to prefer." He said, chuckling to himself. "Crazy bastard preferred the old style of ship. Maybe that's why he crashed here."


"Maybe we'll find his body here!" Sirius said all too cheerfully.


"Maybe we will." Gunnar replied, not amused but not bothered either. That described his relationship with his father perfectly as he pressed on. "We may find some of my people's weaponry and armor here in the hull. Maybe some clothing for the both of us Orin. It'll be old, probably tattered up if it was exposed to the elements but we might come across something here. Dio, show Orin anything of interest and I'll let him know what you're saying." The Wraith nodded, giving Orin a big thumb's up as he began to search the room himself. "And please..." Gunnar spoke out, "Don't disturb the dead. I will tend to them before we leave."
 
"How long has it been since you've seen your father, Gunnar?" Orin asked, contemplating. As Dio sifted through the belongings and he had taken them in his hand, he'd felt the small trinkets in his hands. Most of them had been trophy-esque things; the sharpened, disembodied beak of an Avar, fastened into a knife, fillets of carved carapace, a sentimental trinket or two. Whether they had been the stolen remains of them was another question entirely. After all, it was a ship of Veldard. For the most part, however, it almost seemed as if the place's real valuables had been taken. Dusty mounts had been left empty on the walls, weapons long since taken from them.


Then, they had gone into the small personal quarters. The ship itself had been a mish mash of concepts, but it had almost seemed lived in, still. Handcrafted clothes of leather and scrap plating had been combined, not looking particularly old, though perhaps that was due to their nature. Discarded bottles of alcohol laid about, their contents still making the place smell like strong spirits.


"Also, it's not like the humans have a choice. Shades, the Onyx, Bloodlings, Necras ... they all have to live on the edges of society, collecting scraps in order to just stay alive. Any time we try to do something, organize anything, it gets cut down, or we're killed. So it doesn't surprise me that humans have developed the need to kill to get on. So has Central. They just do it under the guise of law." Orin said, bitterly. He'd been ruminating on the thought ever since Sirius had expressed it, and it even irritated the blind Seer. "If Arcadia can't understand that, well... I hate to challenge the authority of Gods, but between you and I, he's stupid." he said, unaware of how deeply he was challenging them.


Orin took clothing in his hands. He wasn't sure what it had been, but he definitely wanted to be sure it wouldn't get him targetted. "So fuck 'em!" he exclaimed. "Do you see anything of worth, Gunnar? Not of like, fortune worth. I'd feel bad stealing from your fallen brothers, but things that, y'know, we might be able to utilize that ... they can't ... anymore."


He paused.


"That sounds shitty, but you know what I mean."


From outside of the ship, a quiet droning had occurred. It wasn't anything enough to alarm them, perhaps it was high tide, or the weather beginning to kick up. Still, it sounded metallic. Groaning, even. It was a small crescendo, slowly becoming higher-pitched as time had gone on.
 
"It doesn't sound shitty, I understand. Do not disturb their weapons or their armor though. I am going to put them to rest with it on." While Orin and Sirius had been exploring the ship, Gunnar was tending to the fallen Veldard warriors. He was gathering their corpses up and trying to leave them relatively undisturbed. It had been years since they had crashed, their skeletal remains weighing heavily on Gunnar's heart. With how far they were decomposed it unsettled him, it matched the timeline when his father would have fell. He had no idea if one of the men he was dragging was his own flesh and blood, if one of them had been one of his friends or not. "I can feel their spirits still lingering." Gunnar confessed, "I had never felt this sensation before but... They are trapped here. The fall was too much for them, they couldn't pass into the afterlife."


"That's a shame..." Sirius commented, the first serious words he had said to the two of them before. He actually showed respect to the fallen, before stepping around them and walking towards Orin. "That looks a lot safer than those fancy robes you were wearing, Orin." The rogue said, sliding up to the blind boy. "Less eye drawing, more rugged. Also covered in a lot less blood than what you're wearing now!" He seen Orin recoil whilst he laughed, "It's clean. A bit dusty, but should do you good. In order to blend in this world you have to either look like a tramp or... someone who has seen combat or travel. Preferably both." He crossed his arms and leaned against a rotten wooden pillar, "With that there you won't look like a viking though... Gunnar, did your people steal this too?"


Gunnar glanced over, then gave Sirius a smirk. "Yup. Too small for a Veldard man to care for but it looks nice and rugged. Probably took it from another human clan or an Avar's nest. Keep it. Anything you find in the chests feel free to take." Gunnar sighed, "It's not like you can take it with you when you pass. Other than your weapons of course." He said, revealing an old Veldard burial rite. "Can't expect an easy afterlife. Have to prove yourself to the gods... Whether that by fighting or-"


"That sounds ridiculous." Sirius chimed in. "You really believe you are going to go kicking and screaming into the afterlife? That your people have to fight to be at peace?"


"I'm not, Necras favors me, but my brothers are. We believe you must prove yourself to the gods, a trial for peace. If you fail, you join the damned... Though that's probably means you get taken by Necras. If you succeed, you will be greeted by your fallen brothers and sisters... Get to enjoy an eternity of fighting, fucking and so much food and drink it will make your head spin. So much that you get to exist happily for the first time... To not have to struggle." Gunnar smiled, the thought of such a place excited him. It explained why many of the Veldard warriors were so willing to throw themselves into battle even if it meant death. Regardless if his tale was true or not, it sounded like a great afterlife. "You do not have to believe me... It is just what me and my people believe comes after is all. No one really has the answer- well... The full answer anyways."


"It would ruin the surprise." Dio whispered, not sounding as amused as Gunnar however.


Gunnar spent the next several minutes dragging the bodies out onto the beach. It seemed like a waste of time to Sirius, but there wasn't much else to do in the Veldard ship. To Gunnar, it was a bit comforting to see his people again even if they had long since passed. It meant that he had the opportunity to send them properly into the afterlife. With his brothers and sisters put into a neat pile, he began to grab wood from the wreckage of the ship until finally he had built a proper pyre not long after they had arrived. It wasn't pretty, it wasn't exactly clean and it also wasn't Gunnar's first time taking care of his people's burial rites so quickly. It was dirty and quick, but it was something.


He lit the pyre up with a piece of flint in his pocket, the flames engulfing the Veldardian corpses swiftly as he combined it with his own spectral energy to enhance the burn. The flames went white as he did so, the impromptu Veldard funeral happening quicker than Orin or Sirius expected. "Pass on, brothers... sisters... Warriors. You may have fallen from home but now I send you to someplace better. Rest eternally, we will meet again one day." He spoke swiftly, before turning back to Sirius and Orin. "Find anything else? We should be going. This fire is going to attract attention... but it needed to be done."
 
Orin felt the heat of the flames on his face, though the stench of the dead had long since gone away. He went silent, mostly out of respect. He'd had friends killed before, brothers, sisters, parents. While Gunnar didn't seem particularly attached to his father, it wasn't the body of his father they had found. For a moment, he wondered, wishing he could gauge his expression. Even Sirius had shown a small deal of respect for a moment.


"They probably had more adventures, lived more life than most people. Than me, for sure. So ... at least they had that. I'm ... sorry they were stuck." Orin said, sneaking in a word to his grieving friend before they were forced to leave. "I found these clothes, and ... some mementos, but -" Orin stopped, sidling slightly toward the fire. He had a small memento in-hand, an Avar tooth that had been wrapped in some sort of twine or hair. It was most likely a war spoil, but he'd felt some meaning in it.


Maybe it was his own sentiment, but he threw it in the pyre. It burned with everything else, shrivelling into something meaningless. But maybe it meant something.


"Bal never told us any theories on what happens ... after you die. I don't think he wants to think about it, but he told us that we're supposed to draw our own conclusions. I don't know if that's right. But I want to believe that at least a few things we do here matter in the afterlife. Maybe it doesn't, though. Dio doesn't remember anything. So ... if we lose everything, I'm not sure of the value of all of this." Orin said, grimly. Death was never a fun thing to have to have to deal with face to face.


"...Also, I'm glad I didn't die. Because if you have to fight your way through God shit after you die, I might be fucked." he said, smiling slightly. "Have to keep doing those lessons. Unless that's only for Vikings. But the Ifrit and humans ... aren't all that different. If I were a normal person in the Blazing Isles, I'd've been expected to join the army and fight. And those who can't do that ... aren't valuable. Of course, if I were a normal person, I wouldn't be blind."


With a sigh, Orin nodded. "We should go." he said, walking back toward where they had come from, holding the clothing to his body. He gripped the clothes particularly tight, not wanting to lose something he'd found once again. It had meant a great deal to him - one that he wouldn't admit - to simply have clothes and a place to sleep, and a part of him had wanted to hide again. He was ashamed of the thought; life outside of the church was hard. But another part of him had felt proud that they'd survived that long.


Then, the droning had gotten louder. As the pyre gave off black smoke, it predictably had drawn the attention of something. Then, they had seen it. Floating low on the horizon, a massive metallic ship, emblazoned with runic light, had started off in their direction. It skimmed the air, practically grazing the metallic ruins below. Orin stopped, feeling a chill on his back, instinctively ducking low. It had become clear to them, simple by the body language of the vehicle, that they didn't want their presence to be known.


"...What's happening?" Orin asked.
 
"Molts." Gunnar said, gritting his teeth as he formed two axes in his hands. It took quite a bit of energy conjuring them however, the viking already feeling the drain it took to make even that appear. His weapons quickly fizzled out, Gunnar far too weak to be using his normal combat abilities now. He glanced to the sword still firmly in its scabbard on his back, he might have to fight conventionally if the Molts converged on them. "They see the pyre's smoke and are headed this way... There's no where to hide."


"That's where you're wrong, my new friend!" Sirius replied, looking towards the metallic ship in the distance. It would only be moments until they converged on their location. It would be only moments where they would be totally outnumbered and even Sirius looked like he didn't want to have to fight the Molts unless it was absolutely necessary. "In fact ruins are ideal to hide in, there's so many nooks and crannies... You just don't know how to hide Gunnar! Come, I will take you and Orin to safety while the Molts-"


"No." Gunnar said, standing his ground. He walked in front of the pyre, standing inbetween the oncoming Molts whilst drawing the sword from his back. "This is a funeral. They will desecrate it as Molts often do to our burial plots... I can not allow that to happen until the ceremony is finished." He examined the sword he had taken from the town with the glass ceram at, the blade long and true. Runes were in-scripted down the length of the blade, the light catching them just right from the twin suns that caused them to glow briefly. "Neat." Gunnar said with a chuckle before holding the sword forward with both hands, the two-handed blade more than enough to defend himself with. "Get Orin out of here."


"You're suicidal!" Sirius shouted back, "I love it!" He added, laughing all the while. "There's only a few of you that come every few centuries Gunnar... Ones that really stick out like that. You're really adamant about standing there and fighting a battle that isn't your own, aren't you?"


"I fucking hate molts."


"That's... seriously it?" Sirius asked, dumbfounded. "You're going to stand out there and... You can't be serious." The Caelilian rogue stumbled on his words, never before encountering someone who could surprise him like this.


"We need a ship too. They have one. I'm going to take it from them." He replied, a slight smirk appearing on his face. "Get Orin out of here, you two both hide. If I need help you know what to do Sirius." He glanced over to him, not wanting to take his eyes off the approaching Molts that were only moments away. "Besides, I'm not alone. I have Dio. Go on... now!" While Sirius was more amused by Gunnar he could tell Orin's immediate reaction was to scold his friend for being a suicidal maniac. Sirius didn't give Orin that chance however as he grabbed him and jumped high into the air, vanishing into a pile of airship metal and debris.


"Well, if he is good for one thing other than dancing with wild life... He sure can hide." Dio said, in regards to what Sirius was capable of. "I bet Orin is upset with him... At you for making them both hide..."


"Whatever happens he'll be better off than being out here. Molts are unforgiving... If you've been around me for as long as you say you have you understand." Dio's silence was enough for Gunnar as he readied himself. "Here they come."
 
"Gunnar, what the fuck're you doing, you're inj-" Orin started, more than happy to begin to scold his friend. Before he could even begin to finish his sentence, Sirius had grabbed him, halting him mid-sentence as a small oof had come from as Sirius escorted him to a safer position. He was disoriented, though he'd known he was in an entirely new place. It was cramped, and rusted. But it was safe. The droning from outside had grown louder and louder. And all Orin could think of was losing his friend. Again.


"I'm not gonna let him die. Not again. If something happens he will die, Sirius." Orin said, desperate. "Dio is too weak. I can see that he's faded. I don't know what I can do, but I can do something." he hissed, combatting the Caelilan.


Above Gunnar, a massive skyship had gotten larger and larger as it came closer to him. Its form wasn't haphazard; though it was an older ship, evident by slight patches of rust and discoloration, it had a form that could even intimidate a Viking. Below it, Gunnar stood strong. Despite his injuries, he was defiant. Almost suicidally so. Only, as Gunnar stood confidently, scanning the ship, something else appeared from the horizon.


A form. A running one. While the pyre would have undoubtedly drawn some deal of attention, it seemed the ship was focused on something else entirely. If Gunnar had hated his current company, he would be even unhappier in a moment. A look of both determination and panic held fast in his features, bow mounted on his back, quiver shaking so violently that it was an amazement he'd still had any arrows in it. From the top of a massive rubble pile, he dismounted, gliding down to the wreckages below with a great deal of effort. He landed roughly, recovering with a little less grace than the standard Avar.


And he was coming stright for Gunnar. It wasn't clear whether the archer hadn't seen him or not. Perhaps he'd seen the pyre, finding that it could be an easy distraction amongst his pursuers. Either way, it had drawn some deal of negative attention.


And soon, Gunnar was being descended upon. The archer hadn't even noticed that he'd been running straight toward the man until they'd been death-defyingly close. Then, he stopped abruptly in his tracks. In front of him stood a massive human, holding a sword that looked like it could quite easily kill him. Suddenly, the situation had turned from relatively peaceful, to a gathering of the three groups on the planet that probably hated each other the most.


"...Scuse me!" he yelled out, dodging Gunnar to the side, and knocking into him when the human had moved. Despite the Avar's compact size, he'd moved particularly fast, the impact a lot harder than would be expected at Gunnar's first glance of him.
 
"Wha-..." Gunnar grunted, looking at the Avar that had attempted to bypass him. The shove didn't particularly hurt but the power behind it was rather surprising, stunning Gunnar for just a moment before he snapped back to reality. With the ship overhead and the Avar fleeing, Gunnar wasn't about to let this chance go to waste. What to him had been an assault on the funeral pyre was actually something else entirely with the Avar trying to flee from the Molts. This was the perfect opportunity to return home for him, a ship just ripe for the taking. What made it even better?


Gunnar hated Molts, but he really hated Avars.


Before Gunnar even realized what he was doing within seconds he was on the fleeing Avar, grabbing him by the neck and slamming him to the ground. As he did so his wounds reopened slightly, his chest feeling wet with blood from the sudden movement. He wasn't about to let his chance to return home just escape like that. He then pointed the sword right at the Avar's neck. "If there is one thing I hate more than Molts... It's you Avar motherfuckers..." The viking spoke, his eyes beaming down into the surprised Avar's face. "You bastards kill us like animals up there... and now you're here too? It's a bad day for you bird because I'm waiting for those Molt bastards chasing you to get down here... And if they don't... I'll gut you myself..."


"Gunnar!" Dio cried out, "He is not those that pushed you off the islands. He is not your enemy!" The Wraith hissed. "What are you doing?" He had never seen Gunnar act so irrationally before, so brutally to a man he didn't even know.


"Move and I'll slam this blade right into your throat bird..." He felt the heat from the airship above, the ship itself either attempting to land or send down Molts from above. "I'm going to kill these Molts and take their ship, I'm needed home." Gunnar whispered, "And I'm going to give you to them. Whether you get caught in the cross fire I don't really fucking care. Damn Avars..."


"Let him go!" Dio shouted. "He is being pursued for a reason. If you hate the Molts so much then perhaps letting him go will be bene-"


"We're using him. They drop down here, we take the ship. After... I avenge the fallen here, I'm sure one or the other caused this." Gunnar said mentally, keeping his attention firmly on the archer. A bead of sweat dripped down his brow, he was itching for a fight even injured. It didn't matter to him at this point, his rage and personal hatred for both the Avars and the Molts fueling him. Especially after finding his fallen comrades next to him he was practically foaming at the mouth to avenge them. "Don't try anything stupid. They're coming, I advise you get ready for a fight with them. Don't be a coward and run. Die like a man."
 
"Are you slow?!" The Avar spat. He'd been slammed to the floor, a blade at his neck. It was an uncomfortable position for sure, but what had made it worse was the steadily encroaching Molts. Die like a man? He hadn't intended on dying, period. The Avar's eyes fell to Gunnar's chest as blood seeped through his armor, formulating a way to get out of all of this. Why had he even been accosted? "No no, you're just fucking crazy!"


He looked back to the ship. Then, to Gunnar. The ship had slowly floated to the earths, the Molts careful enough with their belongings and confident enough with their technology to take their time. They had disembarked, parking far enough away that they'd had a small walk ahead of them. Crossbows locked and loaded, they began their path to Gunnar and the Avar. The Avar had seen this, eyes narrowing into pinpricks. And now, there had been an enraged human on top of him, yelling at him to remain still. But he wouldn't be a victim of opportunity. "I don't know if you can get this through your little human brain, but you can't KILL A BUNCH OF BUGS WITH A SWORD! THEY'RE GOING TO SHOOT YOU, _AND_ ME, DUMBASS!"


But Gunnar wasn't budging. The Avar's eyes fell downward again, assessing the Viking for an opening. His grip on his sword was tight, and incredibly close to his neck. But he was bleeding. From what? Was he a scavenger? He'd run into a few before, but he'd attempted to keep a far berth from any of the humans he'd seen.


"Listen. I'm not from the floating islands. Whatever beef you have with the people up there isn't about me. Look, fur! Not feathers!" He said, gesturing at his arms. While they did have the trademark structure of an Avar, the fibers were far too heavy for flight of any kind. "And I don't know who tossed you off the islands, but it sure WASN'T-THE-FUCK ME!"


As the Molts had gotten only a short jog away, the Avar saw the time ticking down. But he was determined to survive. Desperate times called for desperate measures, after all. The moment Gunnar's eyes had drifted upwards, the Avar beneath him slammed his shoulder toward Gunnar's sword, bringing a sharply-taloned foot up to slam into Gunnar's already wounded chest.
 
To the Avar's horror, Gunnar thrust himself directly into his talons. The talons sunk deeply, Gunnar's armor doing very little to really protect him from the sharp claws but he wasn't about to let the bird get the jump on him like that again. From the force of Gunnar slamming back into the Avar he tweaked the Avar's ankle to an awkward angle and applied pressure until he heard a satisfying crunch. This however had the same effect on Gunnar, having a fresh new talon wound that would no doubt scar badly on Gunnar's stomach. After he backed up Gunnar's blood squirted out in a burst, spraying the Archer with a hefty spray of viking blood.


With a guttural groan Gunnar reached down, pushing his sword to the side as he dove down onto the Avar. The two began to clash, Gunnar swiftly forgetting why as he began to thrash the Avar with his fists. A devastating left hook sent the Avar's eyes rolling in his head as they both scrambled on the ground, both Viking and Avar in a terrible spot as the Molts began to circle around the two amused at what was transpiring before them. Gunnar got struck with talons once more, his chest piece being ripped entirely off as the deceivingly strong archer struck back.


"FUR OR NOT I AM GOING TO TEAR YOU APART!" The Viking roared as he slugged the Avar again and again, his superior strength still showing through even injured. Then, he was hit with a crossbow bolt to the back of his leg. Turning around wildly, Gunnar finally realized that they had been surrounded. In his rage and during the confusion of the battle the Molts had gotten the upperhand because the archer had struck Gunnar, distracting him too much from the task at hand. The Molts were all laughing at the pair of them, the ridiculous display of violence being totally unnecessary. The one who fired the crossbow bolt began to laugh harder, looking directly at Gunnar.


"Well go on then, Human. Keep fighting the flightless one. Entertain us."


Gunnar began to walk towards the Molt who was speaking to him only to get a crossbow bolt to his upper thigh causing him to curse out in pain. He tore around to see that his opponent had been getting a similar treatment, all of the Molts bullying them both to fight one another.


"What's a matter human? Two little bolts too much of a problem for you? FIGHT!" The Molt shouted at Gunnar who had little to no choice now, he had to fight the Avar or be killed. He turned and slugged the archer good, no doubt bruising the bird's beak as he made direct contact. He followed it up with a combo that would have normally been devastating if he hadn't been wounded before the fight, simply flailing his arms out at the Avar who dodged them all with ease. "Look at that! And here we thought all humans were savages... Where is your strength human?"


"He looks familiar..." One mused as Gunnar continued to assault the Avar. "Winner gets a swifter death." The Molt finished, clicking his mandibles together in a rhythmic nature to mimic laughter.
 
Rage filled the archer as he recoiled from Gunnar's attack, wanting nothing more than to claw his eyes out after having been so viciously attacked himself. He kicked off with his only good foot, slamming hard into the Viking and nearly taking both of the unsteady impromptu fighters to the ground. The Avar kept himself steady by gripping his armor, other hand recoiling and fist slamming into the human until he'd either drawn blood by claws or blunt force.


The Avar looked to Gunnar, the look of violence and rage in his eyes unmistakeable. He let go, suddenly dodging out of the way of Gunnar's attack, knowing well that despite their situation, Gunnar had entirely intended to kill him. However, as he side-stepped the brutish human's attack, he fell, the result of having his ankle cracked by the Viking. Pain shot through his entire leg, but it wasn't enough to stop him from keeping going. As the Viking brought his own foot down, the Avar rolled to the side, only to receive a bolt through the left wing.


"FIGHT!" the Molt threatened. The Avar looked down in horror, seeing that the bolt had carved a much longer tear through his wing than he'd anticipated. Filled with rage, though now it hadn't been directed toward Gunnar, the winged archer pulled himself up to a foot. As Gunnar had gone to attack him again, he dodged only slightly, grabbing the Viking, his strength only permitting him to do so for a moment.


"Listen, human. You can try to kill me all of you want, but the end result is we tire ourselves out and then they kill us both; finish whichever one is worse off and then kill the other. We need to -" suddenly, the Avar's words had been cut short as another bolt came through his left shoulder. He screamed out again, his cry sounding like the shrill shriek of a bird. It was music to the Molts' ears as they laughed, though not intending to let the fight go on much longer. The Avar released Gunnar, snapping his head around to look at them all. How would they even get close to surviving this?


Suddenly, the back of his legs had been kicked down. Bruised by hard carapace, they had taken Gunnar's advantage and turned it to their own, targetting the Avar's ankle and causing him to crumple. Then, he found it wise to stop moving, as the bolt of a crossbow had been placed against his head. Gunnar had had the same treatment, as while they had been fighting, the Molts had been talking amongst themselves. And they had found that they had recognized Gunnar and the Avar both. The Molt behind the Avar man began to speak, his voice sickeningly buggish, making the Avar's skin crawl.


"We thought that was you, Cheslaw." the Molt said, prepared to fire at any moment. "Seems like you found a friend. Amazing you even made it this long. For a useless, flightless bird, you got awfully far and did enough damage. Just finishing up the repairs to our ship now, but we can't bring Krusch back, can we?"


"Krusch was old as Tock himself, and it wasn't personal. You were shooting volleys at me."


"This was, has always been, and will always be Molt property, Ches. So it isn't anything personal, but you have been a thorn in our side long enough."


"WAIT!" Cheslaw yelled, realizing that he'd be killed in a moment if he didn't stall.


"...Sirius, now's the time to help." Orin said. "If you don't, I will. Lets go."
 
"Wait." Sirius said, his voice low and serious. "Do not compromise my attack." He ordered, obviously waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. "Gunnar knew the risks of this and made a dumb mistake but... Can't deny his heart. He won't be going down easily, just watch." He paused, "Err... Listen." He added with a nervous chuckle before looking back to what was happening in front of them.


"Fuck Molt property!" Gunnar spat, blood flying out of his mouth and peppering the Molts before him. "More importantly fuck the Molts. I'll tear you each limb from limb. You bug bastards are weak, having to swarm your targets to kill them proper. Fight me like this Coleslaw bird did, even an Avar is more man than all of you comb-" Gunnar was punched in the face hard, his head hanging low as he recoiled from the blow. He started to laugh at them however, shaking his head as he looked up to Cheslaw. Surprisingly, Gunnar had a semblance of respect towards the bird now after their spar. He looked to the bird and seen they were both in the same position now, regardless of his race they had to work together to get out of this.


"Krusch sounds like a bitch." Gunnar said, smiling to the Molts with his teeth caked in blood. "If this flightless bird is so weak then why did he take your boy out? No wonder you all are on the surface... Couldn't make it on the isles."


"Krusch was a mighty warrior... The flightless one was a coward!" One of the Molts called out, his voice deepening as Gunnar hit a soft spot. "Didn't fight him-"


"Fairly?" Gunnar asked, "Fuck me does that sound familiar. How about instead of bitching about-" Gunnar was struck again and again, taking the attention away from Cheslaw. It was by design however as Dio was using the majority of his energy healing Gunnar, giving him a secret upperhand as they were held hostage there. "You said I looked familiar huh? Guess you all aren't use to seeing Veldard men. If you had then you wouldn't be around!"


"Veldard?" One of the Molts laughed, "That desolate wasteland? There's a handful of you all left." The entire group laughed at Gunnar, confusing him greatly as he didn't know what they meant. "The remaining Veldard warriors are strong yes... But use to seeing Veldard men?" The Molt bent down to look Gunnar in the eye, "All your men are dead." He taunted, confusing Gunnar even further as he couldn't accept what they were saying as fact. "The Avars struck you all hard... I'm surprised one as young as you made it out alive. They filleted your people like fish, hell... You shouldn't be mad at us, our real enemy is the Avars." The Molts all looked to eachother, "You look like the Veldard man from before but... The closer we look at you the more we realize just how weak you are."


Gunnar wanted to strike them but continued to listen. "He was a much older man, his beard graying and he didn't have this ratty hair on his head." One said, grabbing Gunnar's dreaded mohawk and yanking him backwards to look him directly in the eyes. "A bald, grizzled warrior... More scars than you, stronger... He could have taken on this flightless scab and all of us alone." The Molt seemed to smile in his own buggish way, taunting Gunnar, "The resemblance is uncanny though... Guess your father was a coward and made it out of the desolation of Veldard too. We-"


Gunnar roared, a spectral dagger appearing in his hand as he had heard enough. The Molts were totally caught off guard, not knowing he was able to generate weapons as he was able to. He then rammed it into the face of the Molt behind him that had been taunting him, killing him in an instant. It was brutal, bloody and more importantly fast. Gunnar then ripped the blade out of the Molt's ruined face and threw it to the Molt straight across from him and behind Cheslaw. He gave the Avar a knowing nod, no longer focusing on him but opting to fight their captors instead.


"Wait for it..." Sirius said, looking up to the ship where more Molts would certainly be. "They are fighting back... Once my opportunity is there I will equalize this."
 
Cheslaw gave a nod back to Gunnar, knowing what his role was in all this. As soon as the crossbow had left his back, honing to focus on Gunnar, the Avar placed his foot firmly on the ground and launched himself backwards, knocking into the Molt and sending them both to the ground. He rolled off to the side, slamming his good foot into the crook of the Molt's arm until it had given off a sickening snap. The bug shrieked, but he wasn't done yet. The Avar grabbed his arm, aiming the crossbow at one of the Molts that had withdrawn from the fight, and fired.


The bolt soared through the air, piercing the Molt in the dead center of the chest, where two plates had met and created an opening for it. He staggered backwards, hand gripping the bolt, prepared to pull it out, but then he fell. It had pierced his heart, giving him only seconds in which he could still live. Then, Cheslaw yanked the broken Molt over himself, using him as a personal shield as he reached for his own bow. It had come off of his back amidst the fighting, laying neatly on the ground. He reached out, hand gripping the string, and pulled it back toward him. Meanwhile, the Molt whose arm he'd broken and whose body he had used as a shield lay decimated by friendly fire.


As soon as his bow had come to his hands, he'd nocked an arrow on it with quickness. Soon, it was flying out of his hands, embedding in one of the last Molts to apprehend them. Only, it had gone through his shoulder. Spurred on even further by the pain, the Molt fired back. At the very last second, Cheslaw had pulled his impromptu body shield to cover himself. A bolt embedded itself right where his face would have been, if it weren't for the Molts' willingness to friendly fire.


Then, the Molt that he'd shot began screaming. He began thrashing at the arrow, a smell filling the air like a cooked meal. Only, it was the Molt. Whatever had been on the arrow was cooking him from the inside out. Only then it had been revealed that the archer wasn't exactly what he had seemed. Instead of the standard quiver, the arrows rested lightly in a solution at the bottom, tips being soaked in whatever solution he'd set it to at the bottom. It almost seemed to be a gnomish contraption, but that wasn't the forethought on everyone's mind as the bug-man flapped and flailed, before finally falling silent, cooked from the inside of his own carapace.


Cheslaw looked back, only to find that there had been another singular Molt that had drawn enough distance from them to do enough damage. Both he and Gunnar were in a predicament; too injured to stop him, and too far to do any real damage to him. As Cheslaw drew his bow up again, the Molt laid down suppressing fire on him, forcing him to scramble to protect himself. Of course, that had been particularly hard as he had been laying on the floor with a broken ankle.


Then, they had seen it. What had started as an easy mission for the Molts had become a difficult one, as the ship had lifted back up into the air, washing all on the ground with both heat and air. It had come to float directly above them, apparently intending on dropping reinforcements directly on top of the both of them. Boltheads appeared from the windows, aiming directly down at the two.


"Fuck."
 
"Fuck..." Gunnar echoed, out in the open after he had dispatched the few Molts Cheslaw hadn't taken care of. He dove towards the Avar seeing that his position was a bit more defendable only for them to be fired at from above. The Molts didn't need to send more troops down to them, they simply needed to fire down on them from above. It was a guaranteed end to both Gunnar and Cheslaw, although they had both just met face to face there would be no time to put aside their differences as the Molts laid siege to them. Crossbow bolt after bolt went raining down on them, the two having no choice but to succumb to their fate as they scrambled for more cover until something impossible happened. White wisps began to burst out of the ground and appear out of thin air around the two, they were unrecognizable at first but upon closer inspection the wisps had faces.


Gunnar nor Cheslaw could believe their eyes as spirits from the other side appeared before everyone in plain sight, a feat that took more mana that most necromancers possessed as the wisps began to dive in front of each crossbow bolt and formed a shield around the pair of them. Gunnar was speechless, looking up at the shield that had formed above them completely evaporating the crossbow bolts that were raining down on them. The molts couldn't believe it either as what they were seeing defied all laws of the land.


"Necras you son of a bitch." Sirius said, grinning wildly under his mask. "I bet you can even see this Orin. There's my cue, don't get killed now." Sirius jumped out of the wreckage they were hiding in and began to run along the metallic mountainous pillars of rubble that was embedded into the ground. He ran faster and faster, gaining more speed as he kicked off the airship ruins and vaulted himself high into the air. He got the best view in the house of the spirits defending Gunnar and Cheslaw but that view was cut short when the rogue burst through the side of one of the Molt bulkheads and entered the firing chamber directly. "Hello boys!" Sirius cackled, releasing his two chained scythes from his arms and began to swing both weapons around madly at those who were firing down on the shielded warriors. "Necras is PISSED at you all! Think I might gain his favor by slicing you up." While he was speaking the inside of the Molt ship was like a meat grinder, the bugs having no defense against a rogue that could side step their arrows with such ease.


It defied all physics what Sirius was capable of as he practically phased through the bolts. The Molts were swiftly overwhelmed as the rogue draw all the fire away from Gunnar and Cheslaw allowing the spirits to dissipate once more.


"Dio... what the hell was that?" Gunnar asked, panting as he stood back up looking toward the ship.


"The army of the dead..." Dio said cryptically. "Necras isn't pleased if he has to send forces directly like that. I advise you redeem yourself. Now." He was firm, but fair. Gunnar had been acting foolishly and now Necras himself was observing the battle. If they didn't succeed here a terrible fate was in store for not only Gunnar but for all of them.


"Coleslaw." Gunnar said, looking to the Avar. "We... have to get up there. Take these Molt bastards out. We aren't in the clear yet and I'm still fighting the urge to beat the hell out of you for being what you are but... You had my back. I'll have your's." Gunnar grunted, nursing his side as he ripped out one of the bolts. "Do we have a deal? Kill these Molt bastards then we go our separate ways?" It took a lot out of Gunnar to accept an Avar's help but the situation had changed drastically now.
 
"It's Cheslaw, or Slaw. And... pretty sure you broke my fucking ankle. What do you want me to do, jump to it? Fly? Even if I could have before, they shot my wing." he said, although he had been particularly amazed at what had happened before him. Cheslaw thought a moment about how crazy this all had been. He'd been chased down by Molts, taken hostage by a human, who afterwards did something almost unspeakable to keep them alive, and now ... now he had to get on the ship? It all seemed impossible. He'd felt a sharp tinge in his ankle when he'd tried to move it, but... Maybe he could assist from the ground. Either way, he didn't see a choice in the matter. He could either fight, or die. Or he could sit there complaining and asking questions, and then die.


So he burst into actions. He reached back, feeling for how many arrows he'd had left. Surprisingly, he hadn't expended many, though the fight between Gunnar and himself and the run had taken a few out of his quiver. He reached behind him, grimacing as the broken part of his wing had extended, exascerbating the wound. Then, his hand felt for a small latch on the bottom of his quiver. He'd shifted it with a click, dousing the arrowheads in one of three other substances and mixing the fluids that had been in there beforehand.


He nocked it, and aimed. It was like hitting a barn wall. The arrow embedded only slightly in the ship, but it was more than enough for its effects to take hold. Fire and lightning worked in unison, the fire element of the arrow beginning to burn the metallic structure, leaping through jagged streaks of lightning and setting the outside of the ship ablaze. Inside, it had begun to heat up, but outside, streaks of rapidly spreading fire like circuits had taken up the area surrounding where the arrow had impacted.


He nocked another. Fired.


Another. Fired.


Again, and again, until the ship had slowly started becoming an electric oven. It had become quickly apparent that where the Avar's priorities had lied. It wasn't anywhere near saving the ship. The Molts had quickly begun to realize this; between their ship heating up and shaking from the shock at the same time and Sirius' assault, their advantage had soon become a predicament. Those that had attempted to evacuate would soon find themselves at the end of a swinging blade.


Then, between the denizens being killed, and its comparatively technical systems becoming overloaded ... it began to sink. Sinking in air as if in water, the boat slowly had begun to descend. It was quickening, however, and it was heading straight for Gunnar and Cheslaw. Eyes widening, the Avar had realized this, and scrambled to find his way onto a foot.


"RUN!" he shouted, looking to Gunnar. "AND TAKE ME WITH YOU!"
 
"Forgot Coleslaw... You can't fly. Barely even half an Avar, I shouldn't have wasted my energy fighting you..." Gunnar said with a smirk, holding his chest as he looked up to the ship that was no doubt getting destroyed by Sirius. He thought of how he could help, how they could both get up there and commandeer the ship. Then, Cheslaw had began open firing on the bottom of the ship with different element arrows dealing a devastating amount of damage. Gunnar couldn't believe his eyes, what that archer possessed at his finger tips was unbelievable. He had never seen elements mix and match like that, he almost forgot that he had wanted to take that ship. "WHY DID YOU RUIN THE SHIP?! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO GET BACK HOME?!" Gunnar roared, half tempted to leave Cheslaw behind in the wreckage. "YOU OWE ME A GOD DAMN SHIP!" He shouted as Cheslaw shouted back at him to take him along. His ankle was too hurt and Gunnar had just enough energy to save the both of them. The viking collided with the Avar and threw him over his shoulder, "I'LL BREAK YOUR GOD DAMN NECK IF YOU DON'T GET ME ANOTHER SHIP YOU HEAR ME!" And with that, Gunnar started to run.


The molt ship was deceivingly big, the massive flying boat beginning to crash down on them slowly. While Gunnar could normally outrun one he had a gimped Avar on his back and he was injured badly. On the inside the Molts were frying from the heat while Sirius himself was getting burnt up staying inside.


"Wow you guys are HOT!" He said cackling, "It's like an oven in here... Now my people don't eat bugs but should we waste your meat or eat you? Because this seems like such a terrible waste we-" A molt that was being literally cooked before Sirius came stumbling over, its face had collided with the airship metal itself and half of its face was burnt as it screamed in agony right in Sirius' face. "HOLY FUCK YOU ARE SCARY! GET!" He shouted, swatting the Molt away from him as he stumbled backwards. "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!" He shouted, even Sirius was confused at how so much damage could have been dealt to the ship in such little time.


"HELP US!" A Molt groaned, reaching out to Sirius as he was being burnt alive. The poor Molt was on death's door, looking at Sirius begging him to make it stop. "You can.... stop this... Please...." He begged and begged deliriously, seeing Sirius not as his enemy anymore but someone else. Sirius grinned under his mask.


"I could... But I won't." Sirius said, shrugging in the face of the barbecued molt. The Caelian laughed as he began to jump through the room, finishing off any Molt that looked like they could escape to the top deck in time to escape the destruction of the ship. He leaped and bounded up the stairs until he was on the top deck where Molts had begun to take off, abandoning their ship. "NOT TODAY!" Sirius shouted, whipping his scythes backwards before flinging them forward. One by one he ripped each Molt that was trying to hover away from the wreckage. If they had been Avars they could have simply flied away, unfortunately for the Molts they didn't have that luxury. They were forsaken, the vast majority not even being able to glide properly.


The Boat crashed into the ground, the thundering sound of another falling ship familiar to the airship graveyard as the massive beast made of metal and magic skidded across the ground. The engines exploded, as did most of the hull from the pressure of the crash combined with how heated up the ship had become. Gunnar was charging away, narrowly avoiding it with Cheslaw on his back as they managed to just clear the devastation of the Molt's now completely ruined ship. None of them had made it out alive, with the combination of Cheslaw's magic arrows and Sirius' strange abilities they had managed to take our Cheslaw's pursuers completely.


And, now Gunnar's chance to return home was gone.


The viking dropped the Avar to the ground unceremoniously only to turn around and look at the ruined ship. He bowed his head low, what he had intended on doing had been completely destroyed by the Avar. He tried his best to not lash out at the wounded bird, knowing that he couldn't have taken that ship if he tried unless Sirius would be able to take it single handedly but he doubt the assassin would even be able to do that. Grief filled his heart as he thought of what the Molt said, about the Avars laying waste to Veldard. Now, he wouldn't know if that had been a lie or not for much longer now. Sirius stood on top of the ship's wreckage, clapping his hands as he stood on top of the now broken mast.


"That. Was. AWESOME!"
 
As Sirius stood victoriously on top of the crashed Molt ship, Cheslaw's eyes had glued onto Gunnar. Then, his situation was made even worse as a white-eyed Ifrit pulled himself up over another pile of rubbish, running to catch up with his friends. His heart began to race and pound again as he realized Gunnar's threats may very well have been serious. He pushed himself away, hand resting on the shaft of his bow.


He'd had a solution, but he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to suggest it. Not if he didn't have to. Maybe Gunnar wasn't even serious. After all, they had beat the shit out of each other and then promptly teamed up. That was enough, right? Well, he'd hoped. Because he was sorely outnumbered if it wasn't. His eyes shifted to the Ifritian that had been running to catch up with them all, unsure entirely what to make of the situation. His hand thumbed an arrow, prepared to quickfire on the human if he'd taken a step forward toward him.


"You know what? I'm going to forgive you for trying to sacrifice me to the Molts and breaking my ankle, and you're going to forgive me for pushing you, and destroying the ship." Cheslaw said, as if that had been all that he'd done. A flicker of pain crossed his eyes as the adrenaline winded down, as if his words had truly reminded him that his ankle had been broken. And his face had been punched. And his wing had been shot. "There wasn't an alternative, anyways. We go our separate ways and forget this ever happened. Sound like a deal?" he asked, scooting further and further back as Orin had approached.


"Who is that?" Orin asked. "Are you okay, Gunnar? Sirius sounds okay." he said, turning his head up toward the ship wreckage. Suddenly, the wreckage underneath Sirius shifted and then collapsed, alarming them all at once. Orin's eyes opened a bit wider as he took toward the rubble. Everything came crashing down, the foundation of the formerly proud ship collapsing in on itself as the fall had bent and twisted all of the metal inside.


In the small distraction that it had caused, however, Cheslaw jumped up to his good foot, using a discarded spike of metal to pull himself up. He slowly hobbled backwards, not knowing exactly how he'd attempt to get home, but knowing that he'd sorely needed to. The ship continued to collapse in on itself, dooming whatever life - even though they were fairly certain there was none - that was trapped inside to a metallic coffin. It was loud, and if anything else had resided in that graveyard, they would have been wise to go the opposite direction.
 
"What makes you think I'm just going to forgive you, Avar?" Gunnar said, blatantly ignoring not only Sirius but even Orin as the Ifrit boy approached. "I just saved your ass so we are far from even now. In fact, you owe me." The viking said, eyeballing Cheslaw as he was backing up and took notice of how ready he was to fire his bow. This was a tense situation and Gunnar wasn't exactly helping it, in fact, he was probably aggravating it further even after they had gotten out of that mess alive. "Forgetting this ever happened would be a disservice to my people... Those Molts said YOUR people killed mine recently so... If you want to get out of this graveyard alive I suggest you come up with a ship. Now."


"Gunnar... You need to calm down." Dio whispered, "You're running out of strength and we can't handle another battle."


"I have enough to take this wounded bird out..." Gunnar said back privately, not letting Cheslaw even twitch without getting prepared to strike back. "Your ankle is broken, your... useless wing there is hurt. You've been chased for some time it looks like and while your arrows has some tricks you've seen what I can do too." He said, referencing what had happened thanks to Necras. "You're going to help find us a ship. Whether you start fixing that one back there or not doesn't matter to me. There's a lot of parts here and you have to be useful for something."


"No he doesn't!" Sirius chimed in, skipping over to them a little too happily. For someone who just massacred an entire ship he seemed rather chipper. "What's your name? I didn't get to hear it on the count of doing all the hard work for you two."


"Coleslaw." Gunnar replied, chuckling as he said so. Hearing Gunnar laugh seemed to spur Sirius on more, the rogue walking up to Cheslaw and patting him roughly on the back.


"I LOVE that name! It reminds me of my own, a little silly but it fits. I'm Sirius, and it's seriously great to meet you Mr. Slaw! I take it you can't flap your way on out of here so let me put it to you bluntly friend." He stood next to Cheslaw and looked toward Gunnar. "That guy there. Unstable. A little crazy. Great beard. He's really a sweetheart but from the sound of things he's also racist as FUCK!" Sirius giggled, "Bad Gunnar!" He then leaned back in to continue talking to the Avar next to him. "Now, Mr. Slaw. What my crazy friend is trying to tell you is he simply wanted that ship to go find his wife and to get himself some. It's been too long from what he told me and-" Sirius coughed, "Humans... Bunch of savages." He whispered, a little too loudly.


Gunnar shook his head, growing tired of this exchange. "You're hurt, Slaw. You aren't going to make it far and if it's true what the Molts were saying they own this area... More will be here. Do you have shelter nearby? We'll talk about how you're going to get me my ship like men... Without our hands on our weapons." He said, nodding towards his bow. "You're outnumbered here anyways. I already told you... It's your neck or a ship. You owe me your life. I think you know which is the better answer for you AND for me." Gunnar crossed his arms, "What'll it be Slaw? Life... or death?"
 
"My life wouldn't have been on the line if you didn't try to take me hostage in the first place; a few well-placed arrows and that ship would have gone down. Now, I'm out of expensive elemental serum, my ankle is broken, and my wing is clipped. And it's not useless; I can glide. Again, something I might have been able to utilize if you didn't try to throttle me upon first meeting." The Avar snapped back, tongue fierce. His eyes shifted to Sirius, who was a little more than happy to sidle up to him, just fine. "But I realize that in the presence of a crazed ... whatever-you-are, a delirious human and a demon, I should comply. Fine." He said, a little less than happy about the arrangement. He fell into silence for a little while, giving Orin the opportunity to speak up.


"Why are you here if you aren't here to get a ship?" Orin asked. "Are you a scavenger?"


"I'm here because this is where I always have been. Molts claiming the area or not - Avars killing your people or not ... Gunnar ..." he said, picking the human's name from Sirius' words, "This is my home, and I don't have anything to do with whatever happened to your Viking friends. And, for clarification, I don't touch your ships, either. Last time I tried, another one just like you popped out and nearly cut my wing off." Cheslaw said, raising his other arm to show the flap that had had a massive vertical scar in it. "That and you generally have nothing actually useful. Just plunder and gold."


"Gold isn't useful?" Orin asked.


"Not if you're an Avar surrounded by settlements of Molts." Cheslaw replied, quirking a brow toward Orin. He dared not question their team composition, but one thing did come to his mind. "Are you blind?" He asked, happy to turn the subject away from himself and genuinely slightly curious.


"Not in this eye." Orin said, opening the voided eye on his forehead. Cheslaw seemed to jump for a moment, before regaining his composure. He'd seen Seers so rarely, their tyranny a known fact in the islands above and the surface below, and there was something particularly unnerving about Orin's. "Just kidding. I'm blind in that eye too." He clarified, smirking at his own ploy.


"Charming." Cheslaw said. "My home ... is a little while away from here. Hope you're not lame as well."


"You better watch your fuckin' beak or you'll be lamer than you already are." Orin threatened, his message almost seeming comical given his stature. Then, he laughed. "How hurt are you, Gunnar? Can we camp out for a few days while you make the bird produce a ship, or are we going to be idiots again and try to upgrade to fighting a Molt Armada? Oh, Coleslaw. You don't have family looking for you, do you?" He asked, question actually pertinent.


"Yes. I live amongst a heavily populated flock of flightless Avar. I'm leading you right into a trap, and when we get there, they're going to kill you all." He replied, sarcasm dripping from his words. "No, and even if i did, in this situation, would I tell you? And it's Cheslaw."
 
"We can camp out, nurse our wounds. If a Molt Armada comes up we'll get shooter here to ruin our next chance to get us an airship again." Gunnar smirked, "If you were able to do that the whole time, why get chased by them? That doesn't make any sense." They began to walk, when Cheslaw couldn't walk properly however Gunnar, to his surprise, offered Cheslaw a shoulder to lean on as Sirius was too lithe and Orin was obviously blind. Gunnar was still strong enough to maintain both of their weight and walk. He wouldn't be carrying him or sprinting anytime soon as he was still leaking blood like a broken faucet but he had just enough in him to keep moving. "Let's hope this trap of your's is a good one, Slaw. I've seen how you fight first hand so let's hope your people are stronger than you." Gunnar grunted, "And you would tell us, we're your new best friends." Gunnar mocked, clearly not in the mood to be dealing with the Avar but he owed him something now.


"Now now..." Sirius chimed in as he took ques from Cheslaw where to walk as he led the way. "Don't be condescending now Gunni, it's not very nice. Especially with someone who is offering us shelter after you beat the hell out of him and he you. This... situation is pretty comical right? Or am I finding the irony in this too good?"


"It is pretty funny." Dio chimed in, even though Gunnar was the only one that could hear him. For once Dio wished he could speak to them, the ability to only speak to Gunnar being a bit obnoxious. "You two fought, then fought together... now you're asking for shelter together and forcing him to get you a ship? You do realize how bizarre this is right? How crazy you are behaving?"


"If your homeland was potentially destroyed and this piece of shit was the one that stopped you from getting there you'd be acting this way too." Gunnar said to Dio privately without missing a beat. He was furious, but not furious enough to assist Cheslaw as they walked around the Molt destruction and began pushing deeper into the Airship graveyard. Things were tense as they all walked together but oddly enough it felt peaceful to let their guards down just a hair. Gunnar wasn't for a second but he was also willing to help Cheslaw all the way to shelter and back without a word of complaint. "Another one like me gave you that scar huh? Probably wanted to scare you instead of kill you... We do that to those we don't find threatening."


"You... scar innocent people?" Sirius asked, his voice quiet for quite possibly the first time. "That's... more messed up than what I'm willing to do! That's terrible. You all really do that?"


"It's a test. We strike first and ask questions later. If you flee after we get you good a Veldard man will take that as you submitting and let you run off with the shame." Gunnar nudged Chelsaw, "Slaw here ain't losing much when he gets his wings nicked huh? One of the many things I hate about you Avar bastards is you can fly without a ship... Hell, maybe I only hate half of you now boy." Gunnar said with a grin, his racism showing. Much like my own.

"How far do we have to go, Mr. Slaw?" Sirius asked, not giving the Avar a chance to answer Gunnar's ignorant comments. "Because I smell Molts in the air." He paused, his body language showing just how confused he actually really was. "No... wait..." He turned around and lifted the mask, blowing his nose hard followed by a brief chuckle. "My apologies, think I had that fried Molt smell from earlier stuck in my nose! All better."
 
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