Open Chronicles Forty Fathoms Deep

[Kristopher Mortas]

Several Miles Off The Coast of the Gulf of Liad
Aboard the Courier of the Stars, Merchant and Transport Vessel, en route to Dornoch

The sea lie still.
​

The seas were home to many legends.

Some of them true, some of them exaggerated, some of them terrifying, some inspiring. Kristopher was somewhere in the middle- there were many great and terrible things in the world, and so it would make sense that the sea, an unforgiving, cruel place, would have more secrets to keep than the stones and soil of the land.

Kristopher paced along the deck, hand on his sword. The ballistas were manned, the crew mostly asleep. The stars and paths were lit up, magical instruments and complex machines he was not learned enough to understand. More importantly- the sun was setting, mostly hidden beyond the horizon. He feigned illness, easily remarked as sea sickness for his time spent below deck when the sun was awake.

Feeding, however, would be a different issue- if the journey lasted more than a day or so longer. He looked up at the stars above, gritting his teeth and suppressing the urge to attack the crew member that passed him, and set about to his night tasks- manning the sails, and so forth. But something felt off-

A true predator of the night, a hunter to the extreme, Kristopher knew when he was being watched. When he was being stalked. And on the horizon, his yellow, evil eyes- somewhat shining in the night, saw a flicker of light. A lantern. Three sets. But eerily far- and more importantly, blue-green.

He narrowed his eyes, but wasn't well versed enough to dismiss it. It flickered again. Closer. He turned his head to the nearby sailor, who saw it as well.

"S'what you suppose that is, stranger?"

Kristopher looked at the sailor, who had not yet raised the general alarm. But the tension was in the air-

The night was deadly- the darkening skies did not bode well for the passengers of the Courier of the Stars.

 

[Vulpesen]

Swaying in the rigging, Vulpesen couldn't help but wonder why his people. the Zorrens we're known as sailors or renown. Claws for climbing up the mast or fighting in the close quarters of the deck and acrobatic forms with strong bodies for the rigors of a sailor's life. Wrapping a quick bowline around his waist, partly out of boredom, and partly for some added security, Vulpesen thanked the stars that he had found the sea before going into the employ of the brothers Vitae.

The wind whistled a lullaby as Vulpesen rocked with the sea, the sway exaggerated by his height and nearness to the main mast. If not for his duties as the night shift rigger, the Zorren would have let that sway and song lull him to sleep. As it was, he forced himself into a state of awareness which brought to attention the odd colored lanterns in the distance.

Gleaming golden eyes closed as he let his consciousness drift into the wilds, joining the wind and sea to extend into his surroundings. Something was indeed coming. But it wasn't natural. Whatever the presence was, it was too far to yet discern its purpose, but still, Vulpesen opened his mouth and let out a "HOOOOWWWLLL!" The captain and his crew could gripe at him later for the noise. What was important was ensuring that the Court of Stars' envoy made it to his destination without getting kidnapped or sunk to the depths.

Kristopher Mortas

 

[Kristopher Mortas]

Kristopher turned to Vulpesen-

And narrowed his eyes. The Vampire looked back to the horizon, where the lights suddenly went out. They went out not at the same time, but in somewhat of a sequence. The howl lurched across the night, and Kristopher looked. And then- he blinked. He looked with his vampiric eyes, much better adapted to the night than anyone else onboard.

And he saw it.

A mast, peering out through the fog and the growing darkness.

And he turned to the bow of the ship.

Masts and hulls stuck out in the water. It was an ambush. And the howl had given their position away, if they weren't already exposed. Kristopher passed the Zorren with a hateful stare, but walking to the large mast-

And rang the general alarm bell.

The Vampire pulled his hood down, and took a deep breath.

"Son of a bitch."

 

[Rogdul the Blink]

Rogdul was born a sailor, which admittedly wasn't very common for orcs but it had bestowed many skills on him from a young age. One of those was the ability to quickly transition from sleeping and waking states with little drag, mental or physical.

He hadn't internalized the screeching of a zorren yet, but before the bell's first clang had completed, he bolted upright. By the second, his legs were swept off the cot. On the third, he was standing.

"Alarm!" he shouted, his low, gravelly voice vibrating through the air. He stamped his foot, shaking the cots around him to help wake any stragglers. "To your stations!"

With that, he grabbed his armor and his tunic and rushed toward the ladder up to the deck pulling the shirt on over his head. He didn't need to see who might be in the way; they knew to move aside, or they'd be moved forcibly.

On the deck, he called out to the watch. "What do you see?"

He tied his gauntlets and throat protector, prepared for what he imagined to be anything, and took a position with the ballista crews. With his strength, he could man one by himself. A useful ability, to be sure.

Kristopher Mortas Vulpesen

 

[Kristopher Mortas]

The enemy ship was vile, cruel, and appeared as death would- out of the darkness, and with eerie green lanterns. Magical lanterns- able to be commanded off and on at a whim.

The Vampire hissed, and walked amongst the hull. He doubted anyone would care at the moment if he was a Vampire or not- that question, that sort of fear, might best be reserved for when they weren't in the middle of an ambush.

The Orc, the Zorren and the crew began to move around, rapidly preparing for the combat ahead. Kristopher paced back and forth, before heading below deck, rousing the sleeping sailors. He gathered his own sword- giving it a testing swing.

He climbed back up, his vile eyes, cruel and sharp, scanned the horizon. The ship was gone.

Gone.

The waters lie still.

But he knew they were still out there- still hungering, lurking. His answer came-

A shadow in the water.

A ship, below them.

The Captain saw it as well- the experienced merchant banking hard to port, and just before the bow of the enemy ship broke the water- Kristopher saw it, likely before anyone else due to the darkness.

Red and yellow eyes littered the enemy ship, as it came back to the surface.

 

[Ihaka Nikau]

A Mourner outside of Malakath was a rare sight, but not one so rare in present times as to give pause to those who beheld them. Since the discovery of Malakath by the wider world of Liadain and Epressa the prowess of the Mourners for dealing with the myriad troubles of the undead became known and widespread. The awakened Portal Stones on the new continent gave quick means for envoys from all nations to seek the expertise of these renowned ghost hunters.

Ihaka Nikau baffled the sailors of the Courier of the Stars, however. Hardly did he fit the description, or the image fashioned in each man's mind, of what a Mourner should look like and how he should act! He was downright jolly. He smiled at everything just about, greeted the men often with open arms and a hug soon to follow, and with great cheer did he attend to tasks about the vessel. Where was that dour mien, that grim visage, that a man of such report ought to have?

Presently, Haka was below deck, and it was Rogdul's shout which at last roused him. He gave a bit too much of a start, though, as he smacked his head trying to sit up in his cot.

"Ai, that was a good one," Haka said, rubbing his head before, more carefully now, getting up and out of the cot. Now his Ghost Mail, a suit of armor unlike that forged solely with mundane steel, bound itself together onto him from its resting place on the cot. Each piece, save the helm, was pulled and fastened into its proper place upon Haka's arming garments by ethereal blue wisps of magic, and so in seconds did Haka become clad in its protection. Helm in one hand, taiaha now secured in his other, Haka in short order tread the path Rogdul had and emerged from the ship's belly.

Like others, Haka had gained passage aboard the Courier not only by being another hand at labor, but as a warrior and bulwark against some form of boarding. Kristopher Mortas had rung the alarm, and this heralded need of the latter of these means by which passage was purchased.

Haka strode with a leisurely gait up to the closest person to him—Vulpesen, a zorren, though Haka knew not his name nor his heritage—and, coming alongside him, said, "Late night guests, huh?"

This with a nod toward the rival vessel coming forth from the obscurity of the night. The vessel which laid plain for many eyes to see, and then vanished in a twist of darkness and fog (and just before the ship's bow would break the surface of the water).

"Too late for a second supper or any nice things."

White teeth flashed in a bright grin which brought a bit of dawn to an otherwise black night.

Kristopher Mortas Vulpesen Rogdul the Blink

 

[Vulpesen]

With one rope wrapped around him, Vulpesen reached out and took another and with a long leap, swung himself down to the deck. It was a long drop, and one most men might have balked at, but his time amidst the ropes and sails had instilled a certain confidence in Vulpesen as he plummeted down. Slamming into the wood below and curling into a roll, the Zorren took to his feet with nary even a bruise, snatching his sword from a where it lay against a wall as he came out of the roll.

"Late night guests, huh?"

He turned to face the friendly smile from below decks and flashed his own in return, fangs gleaming in his wily grin. "Looks like it. Odd sort, too." He peered down at his sword in hand. A rapier, while his weapon of choice, was perhaps a bit impractical for combat on the seas. Too long for the cramped quarters that would become their deck should a fight truly break out. Thankfully, leysteel, the magical metal of the faeries was known to take a shine to magical tricks.

"Maybe they brought some rum with them. I could use something beyond this watered down grog." The blade in his hand shimmered then seemed to melt as it changed shape, the blade shortening into something a bit thicker with a slight curve. A cutlass would serve him much better. "Or a nice bottle of fine red wine."

Kristopher Mortas Rogdul the Blink Ihaka Nikau

 

[Ihaka Nikau]

"Rum! Fine red wine!"

Haka let out a deep and genial belly laugh in response to Vulpesen's suggestions of the possible "gifts" the other ship might contain. Rich prizes, perhaps, for what may come!

With a hearty bump of a fist on Vulpesen's shoulder, Haka proclaimed, "That's the spirit, paompa!"





Vulpesen

 

[Rogdul the Blink]

Rogdul stood at his ballista, trying to sight anything at all but there was nothing for the longest time. He considered that perhaps it was a false alarm, and considered whether or not to have a measure of strong words with the night watch, when the ship suddenly turned as though to dodge a rock at the last possible moment.

A ship rose from the depths - not a common thing for ships to do, though Rogdul had to admit that the oceans had been anything but common lately - and as it reached its full height, he could see the deck and its myriad little lights, clustered together in tight pairs. Eyes?

He grabbed a bolt and placed it at the ready, but did not yet draw it back. That was, of course, the captain's call to make. If the thing could submerge, though, then he didn't see what a ballista could possibly do to it. Plus with it so close, they were likely to board, whatever they were.

Checking his belt for his knife, he nodded in satisfaction. If the things were already dead or some form of eldritch abomination then there was no harm in being armed. He preferred his fists and the power of his own body, but there was a time and a place for weapons.

He looked behind him at some of the assembled crew and asked, "Are you ready for boarding? I think this is out of the captain's hands."

 

[Kristopher Mortas]

The Vampire pulled his hood down, exposing his tell-tale eyes. He bared his fangs as the enemy drew closer, breathing deeply- his frame standing on the deck of the ship, not moving despite the increasing wave. He knew what lay across the ship.

The cursed undead.

Legends, now come to life.

He bared his fangs, as the ships drew closer together. And then he saw them- the red eyes, the yellow eyes. Like his. They weren't ghosts. They weren't spirits, cursed.

They were vampires.

A century ago, he was attacked just like this- he wondered if it had any connection. He didn't have much more time to think as the Captain of the Courier veered into the enemy- and the Vampires reacted by laughing. Dozens laughing at the crew of the ship.

Kristopher pulled his sword up to his chest, pointing to the enemy deck.

"VAMPIRES! CUT OFF THEIR HEADS OR CUT OUT THEIR HEARTS!"

The Vampire himself launched at the ship, a blur of red and black, baring his fangs as there was a flash of lightning, perfectly illuminating his predatory figure- he dashed across to the enemy ship, meeting one of the pirates head on, severing his head from his body with a flourish of his sword. Blood sprayed from the open wound, and Kristopher held his mouth open, tasting the sweet liquid. While not as.... nourishing, as human blood, a fellow Vampire's blood sometimes emboldened him. He turned again, driving his sword through the stomach of another vampire, sinking his fangs into her neck- before twisting upwards, cutting into her heart.

There were many more to go, and Kristopher no longer had a fear of hiding. He too, was in danger- kin or not.

Kin-

A funny term.

They didn't taste like his kin.

 

[Vulpesen]

A wild grin touched on Vulpesen's face as he rocked lightly under the weight of Ihaka's fist. "Let them come. I'm sure I've fought worse." His sword twirled in his grip and he scurried over to the rigging, leaping to the web of rope to climb to a higher position. Then he heard it... Vampires. Blood sucking, nigh immortal, hard as hell to kill, natural predator, undead vampires. "Ok, a little less sure now!" His golden eyes darted down to scan the deck of the coffin sleeping menaces. "But only a bit," he growled.

Then the fight began. The wilder's eyes seemed to spark and the silver line in his hair glowed a bit brighter as he drew on the power of his patrons. Tangling his legs into the ropes, he extended out a hand and issued out a gout of flame, consuming several of the monstrosities before one shot up meet him in the nets. It was an unwise move. Quick as he had gotten himself tangled, the Zorren was freed and he scrambled up several rungs of the ladder net with such ease that he was afforded a quick swipe to sever the creature's hand before a turn of his blade took its head. "Come on cretins! Show me what you got!"

 

[Ihaka Nikau]

Vulpesen's new assessment of certainty came right along with Kristopher shouting the name of the foe they all faced.

Vampires.

"Hm. Maybe we leave the red wine alone then," said Haka of the imagined plunder he and Vulpesen had fancied.

Now, though he'd not seen of their kind before this night, stories of vampires and vampirism had reached even the quiet seaside town of Majule in Malakath. And what tied them all together, of course, was that they were creatures who craved blood. Haka never would have thought he'd come across a whole ship full of them, that they would have banded together in the manner in which these now had...but they weren't quite like Revenants, were they? Vampires were cunning, and they could be sailors—or anything else—in so much as it suited their purpose.

And what these vampires would have as their purpose here, should they claim victory, was no more fun than being overwhelmed by a swarm of Revenants on Phorasmos.

Haka slid his helmet upon his head, and the seal of his armor's spiritual protection (and more importantly here, its strengthening and quickening attributes) was made. On his skin beneath his very arming garments he felt the cool and familiar rush of energy like a brisk, refreshing wind.

"Papa...we go again!"

Several of the enemy vampires leapt in battle-lusted vigor across to the Courier. Another flash of lightning painted their silhouettes as menacing black intrusions against the night sky. Dark flooded back in after the lightning to obscure their landings.

Ihaka gripped his taiaha with both hands, widening his stance, preparing for the onslaught as one of the enemy came snarling and scampering toward him. Haka swung a strike; a strike that could have gone either way, high or low. The vampire swiped upward to deflect it. Haka, with small twists of his arms and wrists, sent the strike low at the last second. The blade of the taiaha cleaved through the vampire's leg, and severed limb departed from its erstwhile owner as the latter crashed and slid on the deck of the Courier.

It wouldn't be dead, but it would be crippled—if Haka had a chance to finish it.

Vulpesen Kristopher Mortas Rogdul the Blink

 

[Kristopher Mortas]

Kristopher looked around, taking stock of his situation on the enemy ship. But there wasn’t any reason to hide. He threw off his cloak, and bared his fangs.

And revealed the monster to his new compatriots. He bared his fangs, launching himself at one of his vampiric brethren, biting deep into his neck, drawing blood. He squared his bloody body behind him, thrusting his sword through the vampire’s chest.

A flash of lightning showed Kristopher’s truer form, savage, with large, protruding frames and blood staining his face.

He tossed the dead Vampire aside- and looked on as another Vampire made rapid movement to the helm of the ship-

And the ship began to descend, cold water flooding the deck.

“Hold on-“ And before they knew it, the ship submerged. Kristopher may have been fine- but they didn’t get wet. He looked outwards- the dark sea pushed out around them. A magical barrier of some kind, kept the vampires safe. They were essentially in a large dome, water underneath. He breathed heavily, lightning struck the water above them. He bared his teeth and charged the helm of the ship-

And hopefully, getting them back up to the surface somehow if he managed to overcome the Vampires there.

 

[Rogdul the Blink]

Once Rogdul heard that the enemy crew was comprised of vampires, he hesitated. It wasn't out of any fear of them, but out of the knowledge that his preferred and most skilled method of fighting wasn't terrible useful against something that had such specific ways to actually be put down.

He tended not to focus on removing heads entirely, and cutting out hearts was something for after a fight, not during.

So he stayed at his ballista instead. The undead didn't warrant any concern for honorable combat anyway. He took aim at the opposing deck and the figures standing on it, and loosed a bolt. Worst case scenario, he could pin them down or together and make it easier for the others.

The bolt did indeed take one of the vampires through the chest, knocking it back into the mast where it stuck there, the creature thrashing wildly without the wherewithal or traction to pull itself through to the end. He loaded another bolt and found another target, striking the head and ripping through it, taking with it much of the skull and brain matter within.

Close enough to a decapitation, he nodded in satisfaction.

It was then that the ship began to sink back beneath the waves.

"Fall back! You're sinking!" He tried bellowing out to those who had boarded it, but the sounds of the battle and the speed with with the ship dropped below them would have made it difficult for anyone to react in time. This time, however, he did witness a curious thing. As the water rose above the deck, it didn't fully flood. There was a hole in the sea where the masts were now descending, and as they disappeared the hole lessened and lessened until it was gone with all hands aboard on both sides.

"They are not dead yet," he said. "Some sorcery protects them from the water. Stay at the ready, ballistae! They'll be back."

 

[Vulpesen]

Vulpesen's free hand snatched a passing line and with practiced ease, wrapped a bowline around his waist. The vampires were powerful and agile, and each that pounced at him offered some level of danger beyond the average bandit or soldier. Still, in among the ropes below the crows nest, Vulpesen was the king. he had been hired as the ship's master rigger, and his agility in the nets was unparalled. Each vampire that joined him in this dance of ropes and blades was found lacking, as evidenced by the bodies that thumped against the deck like massive raindrops.

Battle was often about tricks and deceit. It was one of the first lessons he had learned as a Veran Scout. And it was one of the lessons that Varos most approved of. It had saved Vulpesen more times than he could count and it was the reason he had so many daggers stashed around his person. But what was a dagger compared to a sick that sank and unsank itself!? When it came to tricks, he had to admit, the overgrown mosquitos had him beat at the moment.

Operative phrase: At the moment. Vulpesen's eyes flashed as he focused himself on the ocean around them, growling as pressure built somewhere deep in his chest. Whatever sorcerers these vampires employed, their magic would pale in comparison to the power of the Vitae Court of the Fae. Whatever the bloodsucker had planned, he would be ready to respond. Be simply hoped the response wouldn't burn him to cinders with an overload of power.

 

[Ihaka Nikau]

As Haka whirled around, intent on rushing upon the vampire he'd wounded, he saw instead a deckhand of the Courier hurry to it. Cutlass in hand the deckhand cut off the beastie's head. Haka grinned. But this went unseen behind his helmet, of course.

So he flashed the deckhand a quick thumbs-up. And the deckhand, returning a grin which was seen, returned as well a thumbs-up of his own.

Alarming news came to interrupt the accolades between Haka and the deckhand, however.

Fall back! You're sinking! shouted the orc manning the ballista.

As suddenly as the ship had burst through the sea to begin the assault, down with that selfsame speed did it now plunge. Baffling then, baffling now, seeing a whole vessel act as though it were a human diver.

"What sorcery is that?" Haka mused to himself, his words threaded together with both wonder and apprehension.

He looked to the orc, Rogdul, and then he went to him. Asked him: "We had a man on that ship, yeah?"

He wasn't quite sure; he thought he had seen, when the lightning permitted, someone from the Courier make an aggressive push onto the enemy vessel. But the orc had to be calling out to someone—or someones. Right?

Rogdul the Blink Kristopher Mortas Vulpesen

 

[Rogdul the Blink]

Rogdul stood leaning forward over the strake to watch the surface of the water for any indication of where the ship had gone. Of course, the thing could well appear again on any of the other three sides but he could only be in so many places at once, and shifting into a more amenable plane for just that would be unnecessarily exhausting.

"We had a man on that ship, yeah?" asked the large human, his size and armor being the primary things Rogdul used to tell him apart from all the other near-identical humans aboard. Haka, if he recalled correctly.

"At least two, maybe more. There was some kind of shield against the water so they survived the sinking. They're still surrounded by vampires with no help, though. Keep your hopes low."

He grabbed another bolt and placed it at the ready on the ballista, though kept it undrawn, and scanned the waters for any signs of change.

Ihaka Nikau Kristopher Mortas Vulpesen