Fable - Ask The Only Thing They Fear Is You

[Everleigh Ebersol]

[art cred]
Boats were meant to be burned and destroyed, Everleigh realized.

The great Galleon ship, Pasiphae, was sinking and burning at the same time as Everleigh dodged a major burst of fire that caught the slow group of sailors that thought following her would be a good thing. They weren’t wrong, she did have the right idea to head up to the large deck and get to one of the dozen boats and off the flaming wonderland. What they were wrong in was the fact that they had assumed she was going to slow down for them.

Their screams only encouraged her to run faster.

When Everleigh had boarded this ship at Vel Luin, the idea was that her and the others from the academy would just be extra muscle. They were transporting, after all, living goods. Not humans or other humanoid creatures. But some wealthy merchant from Vel Anir had made quite a name for themselves by selling exotic creatures throughout Arethil. And, as long as the price was right, they would bring whatever creature to whatever person desired it.

These rare and exotic creatures, Everleigh had to admit, were quite interesting. She hadn’t heard about many of them, and was quite curious if any of them were dangerous. Turns out, this batch was extremely dangerous. Dangerous and explosive. Apparently, the three-inch long flying scorpions were like miniature bombs. They were supposed to be kept asleep during the trip over to the northern reaches. Everleigh wasn’t sure exactly how they had been awaken, but obviously someone had messed up.

Now it was a problem to Everleigh who shoved some panicking attendant out of her way as she made her way on the deck. As expected, it was chaos. She wasn’t sure where exactly the designated proctor of the academy was— she was nearly certain they were already on a boat and far away from this mess— or her other classmates. But that didn’t matter. Survival of the fittest at it’s finest.

All the boats seemed to have been taken already, albeit for one. The poison eater’s dull gaze fell on that last boat that had a small group of men surrounding it. She briskly made her way over, hearing the men arguing.

“I told you, it’s stuck!”

“Well get it un stuck or else let me take a look at it!” There was a roar of agreement from the majority of the group.

“If you think you can do better then go ahead!”

The man who was struggling with the mechanism to have the boat drop was unceremoniously pushed out of the way, almost falling completely off the ship down and down to the waves. After he was finished cursing, Everleigh spoke up.

“Why don’t you just cut it down, everyone jump into the water and then climb on board?” A few men turned around to face her, seeing the light armor about her and then glancing at each other.

“Sorry, miss,” one said, “but I’m afraid we’re full. Actually, we’re above capacity for this little thing. First come first serve.” As if on cue, five men were staring down at her, crossing their arms over their broad chests. If they were trying to intimidate her, they were doing it to the wrong person.

“What a shame.” Everleigh said. She pulled out a coin. “Let’s make a bet. Heads you keep your spot, tails, I get it.” She said, looking at the man who had addressed her. He barked out a laugh, and shook his head. Everleigh frowned. How lame. “Anyone else?” None of the five men humored her and so Everleigh shrugged. “Fine. Have it your way.” Without hesitation, Everleigh inhaled deeply through her mouth, eyes glowing violet and then turned gold the next second. The men stepped back but it was too late for when she exhaled through her mouth, a violet mist was rushing out.

The men quickly fell down, the toxic fumes having the desired effect. Stepping over the bodies, Everleigh pulled out a flat blade, looking at the last man alive. He froze and Everleigh stepped into the boat. “Heads or tails?”

 

[Tinker Smithe]

Why? Why? WHY? Why must they always demand he leave his workshop at the worst possible times?

Tinker had a mission. Tinker had funding to raise. Tinker had better things to do but they didn't care because they were slack jawed inbreeds that enjoyed watching him suffer.

The job was to be a guard for some transport vessel. Tedious. Mundane. Not worth his time. The cargo was exotic creatures going to who knew what client. Perhaps some of them would be interesting. Those flying scorpions that supposedly explode would be worth a casual study....

...The ship was on fire. He wasn't sure how, why, or by whom. Despite him asking nicely (he said please before calling them a bitch born bastard) they refused to let him see the creatures. And then after a lengthy debate over the merits of if their mother was worth more than a penny on the corner, things were in flames.

Someone was conspiring against him. Someone was trying to make Tinker hate his life and everything about it.... And he knew who it was....

The Anirian walked over to Everleigh in a mighty humph. She was with some group of men and had a coin in her hand. Was she trying to purchase their services? At a time like this? Well she was in need of some more intimate attention. Perhaps she would stop bothering him all the time while he worked if she did procure their bodies for the evening.

But that wasn't the topic right now!

"Ship is burning." Tinker said as his eyes narrowed. She would know of his accusation. She knew what she had done!

Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Zael Castomir]

Zael had made his way up from the galley of the Pasiphae. He'd been down there peeling potatoes. Overhearing some sly remark after scarfing down three whole potatoes from one of the sailors sealed the deal: Oh, why don't you come in here and peel your own damn potatoes. Now, there were plenty of ways Zael could've handled this. But he decided, yeah, maybe I will come in there. Beat you at your own job. And so he did. Zael walked right in, picked up a knife, smirked at the sailors, and started racing them. Took some learning at first, honing technique as he went, not all that different from swordplay to be honest. Soon he was chucking freshly-skinned potatoes over his shoulder into the ready basket and the two professional sailors were struggling to keep up.

Then came that smell of smoke. Fuck. Yes. This guard duty mission (which again, Zael was certain he was on as a punishment for backtalking a Proctor) was livening up.

On the deck of the ship, bathed in the orange glow of the now monstrous flames spreading everywhere and consuming everything, Zael arched his back hollered his excitement to the night sky. "WOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOO! I love this shit!"

He wasn't quite sure how the fire got started, he just knew it wasn't him. Or maybe it was him. Heh, before he was down in the galley, he'd been up on deck practicing some of his moves, his bastard sword fully engulfed in fire all the while. Maybe a stray ember became an inferno.

However it had started, Zael wasn't going to be able to fire-hop back to shore. All the skiffs had been lowered already. All except for one anyway.

Zael approached, seeing his fellow initiates Tinker and Everleigh as he came close. He didn't even acknowledge the dead men by the railing, all of whom had inhaled a lethal dose of Everleigh's misty poison, nor the last man alive.

Zael came up behind Tinker, grinning, and clapped his hands down on his shoulders, kneading armored fingers into his flesh in a rough massage. "Tinker! You ready to swim, big guy? Work those shoulders, those triceps, your chest. If you're lucky maybe a shark will get ya some scars on the other side of your face." He gave Tinker's shoulders a little shake and let go. "It's nice to vacate your room once in a while, isn't it?"

Room. Workshop. Whatever the fuck he liked to call it.

Unknowingly playing into Tinker's conspiratorial thinking on the matter, Zael glanced over to Everleigh, who was already in the final boat. "Hey Ever, you have any notion of who started the fire?"

Punctuating this, a secondary explosion from one of the volatile flying scorpions sounded from below deck.

Tinker Smithe Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Henk]

Why was it exactly that every mission he was sent on seemed to end in absolute catastrophe? First the bloody Orcish Camp with Edric, then that cursed Archon making an absolute mockery out of life itself, and now he was trapped on a burning, sinking boat full of scorpions. A boat he was supposed to be protecting mind you. He'd no idea what had set the blaze, but in the blink of an eye the entire crew was running around like chickens without heads.

When the explosions and sudden waves of heat had begun, Henk had been on the deck looking for activity out on the water. If anybody truly wanted to steal the cargo this boat held, they would come from outside, he figured.

At first he'd worried that maybe he'd missed something, that the explosions were some sort of an attack. against their vessel. When he saw the thick columns of smoke rising from inside the ship, it dawned on him that it was the very cargo they sought to protect that was destroying the ship.

Even if Henk had some semblance of an idea as to how to save the vessel, he seemed to be the only one interested in trying, even his fellow Initiates had abandoned their posts, now standing over a collection of corpses as they loaded themselves into the last remaining boat. "Everleigh..."

He sighed as he began making her way over to them, weaving between flames and bodies as he does his best to ignore the scalding flames burning at his legs. The young woman was far from the most unpleasant company, and Henk often found her quite enjoyable.

She had a tendency for violence though, just as all of them did. What made hers different is how quickly she seemed to switch between kindness and malice. It made her almost as dangerous an ally as she was a foe, especially with that unseen killer of hers, that poisonous gas...

"Zael, now isn't the time for your quips. We're going to get a chewing out as it is for this mess." Henk arrived behind them, walking past both he and Tinker to join Everleigh in the boat, gloved hands dusting the ash and embers from his coat. Leigh was still toying with the last of the crewmen who remained alive on the ground before them, and the coin she carried glistened in the light of the fire. "Leigh..." He began softly. "We should really go..."

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

As if on cue, her fellow classmates had appeared. Tinker had arrived like a whisper, Zael a roar, and Henk like a murmur. Everleigh turned towards the three young men, giving them a small smile and nod of greeting. Well if she knew they had been watching she probably wouldn’t have killed the men, just knocked them out and let them be burned alive. Huh, perhaps she did do these men a favor.

“Yes, yes, ship is burning to a crisp!” Everleigh chimed, a hint of unmistakeable glee ringing out from her dulcet voice. She then turned towards the frightened man who stared up at Everleigh as if she were growing a second head. “Well, heads or tails? Henk here is a big guy, he takes up a lot of space.” Everleigh informed the frightened man. “And when you account for our armor…”

“Fuck it, I‘ll swim!” He shouted, his eyes seeming about ready to bulge from his head as he looked at the dreadlord initiates. True to his word he did in fact jump into the dark waters below, causing Everleigh to frown. Really, if he had just played in the first place she wasn’t going to do anything to him. He looked like he could row a boat very well. With a sigh she placed the coin back in her pouch.

“Well, all abroad.” Everleigh motioned for Zael and Tinker to step inside the boat. “Hold onto the oars or else we’ll have to use Zael’s sword to row. Actually, Tinker, help me out?” She said, handing him a flat blade that had yet to be enhanced by her poison. She was at one side, standing up high on the tips of her toes, and glanced back at the Grumpy Pants of the group. “On the count of three. One… two… three!” Her small blade sliced through the rope easily and then they all were falling.

The rush of air blew Everleigh’s long braid up and over her head, and suddenly the boat was on the rocky waves. The boat was knocked against the Pasiphae, and with a huff Everleigh positioned herself to face the ship. She leaned back so she could place her feet on the Pasiphae. With a heavy grunt she pushed them away as much as she could from the ship.

And in case any of the initiates thought that nothing could get worse, the center mast of the ship cracked, like a thunder that bellowed louder than the roar of flames or the blasts from the flying scorpions. The wail of the wood as it started to fall over even had Everleigh looking worried… and excited.

Tinker Smithe Zael Castomir Henk

 

[Tinker Smithe]

There she stood doing nothing productive at all. Just like always. How did she even get selected to be a dreadlord candidate? Were the standards this low since the civil war? He didn't understand. He couldn't understand it! His whole life was dedicated to bettering Vel Anir, the greatest civilization that has ever and will ever exist, but they would never leave him to his work and yet she gets to frolic about as she pleased.

It was mind boggling! It was madness! It was-

BAD TOUCH!

He felt it. The cold, disgusting touch of organic hands. The words spoken to him were not even registered. Why would they? Nothing said would be important. It couldn't be. Not when he had been touched. That was important. The most important. He was not to be touched. He was never to be touched!

The moment that Zael's hands touched Tinker his body would flinch instinctively. And just as instinctively he infused his clothing with magical energy and set off a little burst to remove the thing that had traumatized him. He drew away like a snake coiling. A glare filled with a hatred so deep and so intense one might think that his entire family had just been murdered before his vary eyes after he and they had been tortured on end for days. All of this over a single touch.

It was during this that Henk arrived, but that Tinker noticed. He hadn't noticed anything. His focus was solely on murdering Zael with nothing more than the intensity of his hatred.

But he was forced to move. To be a part of the group with the lazy one, the big dumb one, and this guy. His glare never leaving Zael, he stepped onto the boat. If he looked away he might be touched again. He refused to be touched again. So when Everleigh handed him the knife he took it purely from his familiarity with her trying to hand him stuff back home.

The rope was cut on her signal and the boat dropped into the water. She seemed excited and had even tried to push them away from the burning ship. A bit of a bad idea. The way the waves were moving it would require more force than she was capable of using to keep them from being pressed against it. He would figure out the exact measure force in terms of weight of stones but he had a far more pressing task at hand.

Everleigh Ebersol Henk Zael Castomir

 

[Zael Castomir]

Zael's hands jumped off from Tinker's shoulders, propelled back by the defensive burst of force. And as his arms came back down to his sides, Zael was delighted. That's what he liked to see. Someone who was always prepared. Look at that cute look on Tinker's face, hell yeah. That's the energy he ought to have more often, instead of looking so glum and disappointed all the time. It was always fun to mess with Tinker, rare enough as it was--Zael wouldn't've been surprised if someone told him the Proctors had to drag his ass out of his dorm everyday to get him to class and training.

Henk came along, and it looked like they were set. This skiff belonged to these handsome Dreadlord initiates now, boys. Fuck your ship, fuck your cargo.

"There's always time for my quips. Oh wait, nevermind, you're right, you guys are flammable." And his face brightened with a cheeky smile.

The last sailor jumped overboard into the sea. Zael casually watched it happen, from leap to splashdown. He commented dryly, "I like the enthusiasm, but he probably shoulda just tried his luck first." Shit, Everleigh hadn't even told him what he stood to win yet. Or maybe she had and Zael was just too late on the scene. Either way he could've made a call and then jumped. Now the suspense would kill him before the sharks. Hope he remembered to punch them in the nose.

Zael got onto the boat. Hey, good thing he had all his armor on--wouldn't want the swimming to be too easy if the skiff capsized. Then Everleigh mentioned the oars.

"Hey, hey, hey, stay back," Zael said in general to the others. Maybe with a little extra emphasis to Henk. He then clapped a hand to his breastplate. "This is all mine. I got the oars."

Zael sat down on the appropriate bench, grasping both oars, bracing himself for the coming fall. And damn, what a rush! Rush of air, rush of his heart into his throat, rush of chaos as another portion of the ship exploded as their volatile live cargo went off. Zael lived for the sizzle of adrenaline he felt now in his veins.

Everleigh kicked off from the ship, giving the boat an initial push, and then Zael started rowing. Mighty circular strokes. Work those arms. Absolutely.

Everleigh Ebersol Tinker Smithe Henk

 

[Henk]

Henk groaned as he watched the poor man hurl himself off of the ship. Might as well have killed him; he wasn't going to make it anywhere in the dark, deep waters, especially not with waves like these. There was nothing Henk could do now, not without putting the lives of his classmates in jeopardy. There was no time to worry too much about the lives of anybody but their own though, not while they were still standing on a ship that was burning to pieces underneath them.

"So much for that. I was willing to carry him, too..."

Henk was beginning to feel as though he was the only one of them particularly concerned about the ship though. Zael was brimming with enthusiasm, his spirit always as bright and indefatigable as the brightest of flames; very fitting considering what he specialized in. The Pyromancer could be delivered a mighty wound as see it as a positive somehow. Henk could also create flames, but his method was quite different, and he could not sustain his fire nearly as long as Zael was capable of.

Then there was Tinker. Always in his own world, where nothing else seemed to matter save for whatever he was hyper-focused on that particular day. Henk shuddered to imagine how efficient he would be if they could only get him to focus on his assignments and not pet projects. He and Zael were about polar opposites, so it was always a headache when the two of them were placed on a mission together.

Stepping over onto the boat and moving towards the back to stay well out of the way of the others, he bent his knees as the small skiff boat fell to the water below, absorbing the impact with his legs and closing his eyes as the splash of the water flecked against his face. "Right, so now that we're overboard, where exactly do you suppose we should head?" He questioned as he wiped some water from his brow. They'd decided to scram, but there was only so far the four of them could go on this small little ship, and none of their powers were especially helpful in propelling them... well, not without the risk of lighting their own vessel aflame.

Zael was mighty, but at the rate he was rowing as he sat and began to work his arms, they would be moving at a snail's pace against the roaring tide, angry and disturbed by the explosions above it. Even he would tire eventually.

"How far out did we make it before the explosions began? Does anybody know?"

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Everleigh stood up in the boat, clapping her hands playfully as she looked among her “crew.”

“Alrighty, good job, everyone.” She said as she placed her hands on her hips. Even with the rocking of the waves, Everleigh shifted along with them so her balance could be stable.

“So,” Everleigh said, grinning. “as your captain of SS Future Dreadlords, I shall be answering some of your questions. Henk has brought up a good point. Where the hell are we? Where do we go? Who am I?” It was a play on words of Who am I? Where am I? Where am I going? Everleigh was quite aware it most likely went over their heads. She licked her finger and held it up, as if figuring out the direction of the wind was going to help them.

“With a ship as large as that one, I’m sure others can see the flames. We were on a common merchant route, other boats and ships should be coming by. We have a one in twenty chance, those are good odds, really. So! The first one we see,” Everleigh pointed at Zael and then Henk. “Firecracker or Gentle Giant, grab their attention, please and thank you.”

Everleigh’s finger was still pointed up towards the sky, and just as she was about to put her hand back to her side, a small creature landed on her finger. Not any creature, but a small flying scorpion. Everleigh blinked, looking over at it as it crawled down her index finger, which had Everleigh move her hand so it would get onto her palm.

She looked at Tinker. No, the moment he felt something on him that wasn’t clay, he’d do just what he had done to Zael earlier. She then looked at Zael. Pro: he was fire resistant, con: his high energy would have the scorpion blow up and she had no idea how big the explosions were. Her gaze landed on Henk. He was just right. Big enough for the scorpion to run around on and he was so quiet he would put up with it.

“Nobody move,” she whispered, about to take a step forward before the wings on the scorpion expanded out and it flew right onto her chest, crawling up towards her neck with a twitching tail. Was this the price of karma for giving her classmates ridiculous nicknames?

“Fuck me.” She cursed under her breath, as if she were worried, but that gleam of excitement was in her eye. What were the chances of this thing blowing up right now? Or later? The chances of it flying away? She had the best luck, if luck actually existed. “Cover your noses,” Everleigh ordered as her eyes glowed violet, having no idea if this would work but trying anyways. She exhaled a slow breath of air, it was supposed to put the flying scorpion to sleep but it seemed the rush of air caused it to fly away instead; towards the three young men in front of her.

Little did she know that behind her, a ship was already approaching…

Tinker Smithe Zael Castomir Henk

 

[Tinker Smithe]

This guy showed his lack of intelligence yet again. Him row their boat to safety entirely alone? Impossible. It was truly idiotic, but this guy was a true idiot. If Tinker ever wanted to know anything more about this guy than what he already did then he might try to sort out the maximum size his brain could be with that primary defensive wall thick skull of his.

But Tinker didn't want to know more. He just wanted to sit and glare at him. To keep an eye on the toucher.

The big dumb one actually asked relevant questions. Shocking. Perhaps he was not so dumb. Perhaps he was just big and averagely minded. A step up by a magnitude of degrees from this guy. So to get the answer he diverted his eyes up to the sky and began to quickly study over the stars.

As he did this he let memories of the maps and carts they were provided for the mission he had extensively studied float back to the surface. Numbers of all kinds with them. Distance. Time. Measurements. All of it quickly raced by as his lips moved as if he was mumbling something to himself even though not a sound escaped them.

After a moment he looked to the big, average brained one. A series of overly precise numbers were rattled off to indicate distance from the shore and time required for an average speed of a rowboat properly manned would take as he pointed towards the nearest shoreline.

Then things got a little wild. Eve began to talk. Why did she enjoy the activity so much? Never was anything important she had to say. Just energetic filler that lacked purpose. Like what foods she enjoyed. Questions on what foods he enjoyed were. Something about clothing. Asking if he had bathed in the last two weeks.

None of it mattered....

But his interest was instantly captured when the object of his whim landed upon her. One of the flying scorpions he had wished to study had made it to safety on their boat. Finally something good happened!

The young man moved from where he sat trying his best to keep this guy in view while maximizing distance between them to being right by Eve without touching her. His eyes glued wherever the bug was. She said something, he didn't hear her, and then it flew off. Flew right to him.

With a gentle, loving touch he caught it. And immediately began to study it over. Fascinated by the creature. Why did it possess wings? Did they work like those a moth or those a beetle? Perhaps a dragonfly? And why did they explode? Suicide was not rare if uncommon amongst creatures but never were they adapted to the process. Was the creature some kind of ancient living weapon that had escaped and found a way to survive and thrive despite their design of self imposed murder?

As if it was as obvious as he was oblivious, Tinker did not notice the ship behind Everleigh.

Zael Castomir Henk Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Zael Castomir]

Everything was going well. Zael was getting superb exercise, Henk was asking the right questions, Everleigh was coming up with the plans, and Tinker, out of the two emotions he was capable of showing, was alight with the better of the two: hatred.

Then, out of the gloom of the night with separated their boat from the burning vessel they'd all fled, a bird landed on Everleigh's finger. No. Wait. That wasn't a bird. That was...oh yeah, that was one of those scorpions once held in the belly of the Pasiphae. The ones which turned it into a seaborne bonfire (unless Zael really had let a stray ember get away from him whilst training, heh).

Eyeing the scorpion, Zael said with a cheeky anticipation. "That is baaad news for you guys."

Some trial and error saw ownership of the scorpion change hands over to Tinker. Well good. It'd ruin that motivating hatred that'd consumed him, but at least it would keep him from rattling off more inconsequential numbers. He wasn't a psycho quite like Charon, but Tinker most definitely had not been put together right in his momma's womb. But his own brand of crazy kept him alive in the Academy this long, so there was something to it--and again, made him fun to mess with.

As Zael kept rowing with powerful circular strokes, it seemed they hit that one in twenty chance Everleigh had mentioned: there just so happened to be a ship silhouetted against the starry night sky.

"Hey, Ever," Zael said, giving a slight up-nod. "Look behind you."

And he gave a look to Henk--he had light as his specialty. He could conjure up something far more attention grabbing than flames against the backdrop of yet more flames on the Pasiphae.

Tinker Smithe Henk Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Henk]

Henk was paying little attention to Everleigh's words at the moment. She was correct; it shouldn't be long before somebody came across them, but that was what worried Henk most; the four of them didn't exactly look like the most ordinary bunch, and it didn't matter who scooped them up, if they were discovered to be from Vel Anir then chances were small that they'd be treated with anything but contempt.

Everleigh was still jabbering, Tinker was brooding like a pouty child, and Zael was staring at them with that unquenchable zeal in his eyes. Henk had only barely noticed the creature now perched on Everleigh's hand. That was sufficient to capture his attention, the small scorpion looked to be one of those that had detonated to cause the very inferno they'd just escaped.

"Piss that thing off and I'd say I won't be needed to grab any attention whatsoever..." Henk bit the inside of his cheek. Everleigh also seemed less than thrilled. The last thing they needed was for this scorpion to blow their tiny little boat sky high. That was the only way things could have gotten much worse, he thought. Then Everleigh decided to blow it at them. His eyes widened, and quickly he turned to move back closer to the edge of the boat.

The last thing he expected was for Tinker to come to the rescue.

The moody young man caught the Scorpion with all the grace of a lover falling into an embrace, and began to inspect it and cradle it with what Henk could only describe as affection. It was odd, something Henk had never seen Tinker display before. He was always so prickly to people, but to this deadly little creature, he appeared downright enamored.

That amazement didn't last long. Henk was far too on edge not to notice the ship approaching them. It was bigger even than the one they'd just left... and it was close. Too close.

"We may be about to get rammed...." Henk muttered with a dreadful tone as he raised a hand, casting a beam of light onto the ship in some attempt to either draw attention to it or illuminate it. "Or worse, depending on who's driving that thing."

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Everleigh raised a brow at the way Tinker surprisingly seemed to take a liking to the little scorpion of. Or worse yet was that the little fire bomb seemed to take a liking to Tinker.

“Match made in heaven,” Everleigh said with a wry smile. “Make sure you invite me to the wedding.” She said before taking heed of both Zael’s and Henk’s words, turning around to see the massive ship.

Her classmates couldn’t see but she frowned. A deep frown that spoke of the unsettling sense of dread that peeked it’s way through her usually playful demeanor. First, a boat this big should’ve been spotted easily, even if it was night. Second, big boat, usually a bad sign. Third, a one in twenty chance actually wasn’t that good, and this boat appearing out of nowhere was more like a one in four chance.

“They see us.” Everleigh said, her face immediately turning back into a blank slate, the soft smile replacing the frown as she turned around to look at the other initiates. “Don’t worry, I’ll do all the talking, adults love me.” A soft laugh followed as her hands began roving over her body, touching the secured and hidden pouches full of needles and other sorts of small blades.

Yells could be heard from the deck of the large ship approaching them, and it wasn’t long until the academy students were along the side, awaiting to climb up a rope ladder. A young man with a kind-looking face was at the top, telling them to board and holding out a hand.

Everleigh went up first, not taking the man’s hand out of habit considering many at the academy didn’t want to get close to her. Yet the man was impervious to this, patting her on the shoulder, which caused her to pause. She watched with mild interest as he touched each initiate in some way— hand to hand, hand on shoulder, a pat on the back. Never longer than a single second.

“We saw the flames. We knew there would be survivors.” The man was slim, but his shirtless form showed a sense of athleticism to him. He also had a trained habit of smiling as he spoke, the corners of his lips forever being upturned. “Our captain told us to lend a hand to whoever we could.”

“You’re not the captain?” Everleigh asked, a slight tilt of her head. Behind this man were at least three dozen people. Not all were human, a few pointy-ears or green skin giving some away. As did the height of some of the crew, some were very short while others were very tall. All of them had rough skin from the sun and salt water with a gruff face.

“No, she’s in her quarters handling some business. My name is Tonio, her chief mate. Your names? You were on the ship with the dreadlords, were you not? I— oh! Captain we were—” Tonio’s voice faltered as loud steps sounded behind the initiates, a flash of worry in his eyes. Everleigh’s violet eyes narrowed and she inhaled deeply as she began turning around to— wait. It wasn’t working.

Right as Everleigh turned, a hand grabbed her long braid, pulling her away from the initiates and then holding a curved blade to her throat. The transgressor was an incredibly tall woman, thick with muscles woven throughout her entire form. The sinews were bulging from her tanned skin. Her hands were rough, the palms felt like sandpaper.

Everleigh felt the brush of her saltlocks against her cheek as she motioned her head downward. Everleigh began grinning, feeling the woman’s leg and arm move so that she was trapped— if she even shivered the blade would cut her skin.

“Men.” A deep voice, hoarse from screaming, yet not at all entirely unpleasant. “They never really get things done, do they?” The woman looked over at the three dozen men behind Tonio. “Get them. Don’t hurt them too bad, boys, these could be the dreadlords the lanista ordered. Let’s get our asses to Cerak At’thul!”

Everleigh inhaled again, straining to access her magic inside her. But she was denied, and no matter how much she attempted to collect some form of it, there was a lock that prevented her from opening that door.

She feared the same would be said for her classmates.

“Trying to sell us off?” Everleigh said lightly, careful to not move as she spoke. “What if we aren’t the dreadlords?”

“Then you all have some fucking nice armor for a bunch of kids.”

Tinker Smithe Zael Castomir Henk

 

[Tinker Smithe]

What was the point of wings on a scorpion? Their design was very well suited to the ground. Flat, low profile with wide base of multiple points of contact to spread out the weight and stress more evenly with the ground. The long, curled tail providing a height and reach advantage when striking prey from an angle they likely had little answers at solving. The venom, not poison, making it all the worse when the needle threaded through armored chitin and skin.

Scorpions were far too well suited to the ground to take advantage of wings. They would be far too vulnerable with their wide profile in the air. Dragonflies were slim for this very reason. Same for wasps and mantis flies. The reach of the tail was nice but would only be worth using if it the stinger was not so well adjusted for over the top of the creature rather than being able to curl under it.

But wings did mean it could more easily escape predators or move from one place to another. Perhaps they were from a region with many cliff sides and canyons? Islands of rocks with barren sand between. Wings would be a worthy addition then. It would make them for traversing and travel rather than for hunting.

The suicidal exploding was the trickiest feature to account for. There was no survival advantage to it. Perhaps a deterrent like a skunk's spray, but killing itself seemed far too extreme a measure even if it would discourage any surviving predator from attempting to prey on more later. It just was too impract-

He flinched. Someone had touched him. Someone new. Someone he didn't know.

His eyes were upon this new person. These new people. He didn't like him. He didn't like them. All the more as the truth of their current situation was revealed. They had been betrayed and purposefully sold as meat to these pirates.

The scorpion had disappeared within his clothing. Where he was unsure. It, like all scorpions, hated the light. Perhaps as much as he hated present company. His gaze trailing about the ship. The lack of magic would be a detriment to them.... Well to his fellow students. His own magic was never meant to be used for combat in the way their own was. Certainly he could use it that way, but he never focused on it. His mind was his greatest tool not fickle magic. It would ultimately let you down....

At least if you were not Tinker. His magic held a life beyond him after all.

A small object fell out of his pouch onto the deck. A clay doll in the image of an Anirian soldier. As they were led away it was left behind were it lay.

Everleigh Ebersol Zael Castomir Henk

 

[Zael Castomir]

These slick motherfuckers.

Here Zael was, thinking that with three Dreadlords--Initiates or not--they could easily commandeer this ship and sail it wherever the hell they wanted. They didn't have to go back to the Academy immediately. They could've sailed to someplace nice and relaxed for a while. Take a week off. Elyr'Adith was a good place for a vacation, so far as he had read in geographical tomes.

But nope. No vacation--at least not one that was on their terms. Tonio, that magnificent son of a bitch, got the better of them. Zael couldn't summon any flames when the Captain said for the sailors to get them, and given the lack of Ever's poison and Tinker's weird shit, seemed Tonio had slipped something past them. Honestly, Zael couldn't help but to be a little impressed.

No vacation. But he did get to have himself a fight, right here, right now.

"Alright, dipshit," Zael said to the Captain, thumbing his nose and cracking his neck, "looks like you bought some busted teeth and broken bones for your boys here."

Zael put up his fists, knowing full well he was going to lose against the sheer numbers of men--armor or no armor. He leveled the first three that came at him, keeping his promise of ruining some teeth and bones, but too many pounced at once. Zael was driven down to the deck, held in place, and kicked in the head until it was lights out.

In his unconsciousness, there was still the faint curve of a smile.

Everleigh Ebersol Tinker Smithe

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Everleigh frowned, watching the scene before her. Tinker hadn’t put up a fight, but the others had and were knocked out hard because of it. Either way, the three young men were still pulled down below as rough as they could be. She only smirked because it was nice to see that some pirates got bruised up as well.

“Move. Try anything funny and you’re dead. I’m sure three dreadlords will be enough for the lanista.” Everleigh had heard that word before, if only in hushed whispers when Cerak At’thul was mentioned. The only thing she had ever pieced together was that they were a type of slaveholder who put their slaves in gruesome battles.

Everleigh moved with the strong woman, hoping her compliance meant she could keep her weapons. After all, she could see the other’s weapons in a pile while the three of them were in a cage. Without their armor. It seemed the pirates were keen on pawning that off somewhere as a group of them were exclaiming about the quality outside the room. Everleigh glowered at Tonio as he shut the door, walking towards her.

“Aren’t you going to put me in—where do you think you’re touching?” Everleigh hissed.

“You got blades hidden all over you.” Tonio exclaimed, pulling pouch after pouch off of her and checking every nook and cranny. And then as an after thought, he added, “If it makes you feel better, you’re not my type, so I’m not enjoying this either.” Everleigh let out an ‘ugh’ but was warned not to say anything else as the captain pressed the blade harder on her throat, a drop of blood sliding down.

“What about the armor?”

“Not worth it, let her keep the padding. Lanista might use it.” The captain responded, and as Tonio opened the cage door, Everleigh was ruthlessly kicked inside, falling to her hands and knees. She heard Tonio shutting the door, locking it with a thick bolt. “Listen up, piss pail in the corner, don’t try throwing it at my crew. Lanista is paying a large amount of coin so I won’t break the blonde kid’s legs. Behave and you’ll get grub and water. Misbehave and everyone starves. Last thing, keep your mouths shut. Anyone wants to holler then you all get tied and gagged.” Two pairs of feet pounded off, followed by a slam of a door. The quiet squeak of a key turning a lock was the last thing Everleigh took note of.

“Tinker, are you alright?” Everleigh asked, standing up. She had to bend down slightly so she wouldn’t hit her head on the iron bars. She went to Zael, positioning him so he was supine, and then did the same with Henk. She frowned, checking their vitals. They were both out cold, but more worryingly was the fact that Henk’s heart seemed to beat slower than Zael’s.

It was just wood and iron bars around them, and one bucket for them to take turns in— hardly comfortable. With a shrug, Evie removed the stuffed leather vest and even her tunic; even though now only her short shirt covered her chest so a few of her piercings were visible. She placed the folded leather vest under Henk’s head and bunched up her tunic to place under Zael’s. Satisfied with her work, she went to go and check the lock, feeling it’s immense weight in her hand and sighed.

They were stuck there. At least until they got to Cerak At’Thul.

Tinker Smithe Zael Castomir

 

[Tinker Smithe]

Tinker knew better than to speak back and fight in a hopeless situation. He knew all too well....

A smile nearly formed when that guy got the crap beat out of him. Look at his dumb, ugly mug. Still a grin even after having lost his consciousness. Truly the kicks would do nothing to lower his intellect. One simply could not get lower than 0 in the practical world.

His focus was on avoiding getting touched again as much as possible. He would move where they seemed to wish he move. When they reached for him he would just do a quick move forward to stay just out of reach. Certainly it annoyed some of them, but others just laughed and cheered for his little "dance" as they called it. Imbeciles. Their lack of understanding the inherent flaws and dangers in touching others was disturbing.

Once in their cage, he waited for them to be gone then began to examine their cage. Unlike his fellows, he lacked fancy armor. His was practical, self-made stuff better suited to the sea. It was more leather clothing than armor really. So they had left it on him. No interest in more leather gear for them.

But his tools. They had taken his precious instruments of creation. Quick little mentions of how their own had gotten old and brittle and broken. Pathetic inbreds. Tools were to cherish and treasure. Letting them go to rot was akin to allowing one to die....

Speaking of, the boards around the irons was going just that. They had not properly been cured and the iron not properly coated. Rust had formed due to the salt water in the air and was eating away at the wood. If they jiggled it around a bit then no doubt then could pop them loose....

This was what he had been doing while Evie was tending to the others. No heed had been paid to her words. His focus was on seeing to a chance for escape.

Then the door was forced open. The captain had shown up with a pair of her goons. A wicked grin across her face. Orders to have him seized and drug off to her quarters issued. This time, he tried to fight back. There was no avoiding being touched this time. But he could not overpower the pair. They were equally as strong and had grips like vices. Out he was drug squirming about to break free of their filthy, diseased hands.

Everleigh Ebersol Zael Castomir Henk

 

[Zael Castomir]

Zael came to as he lay on the floor of the cage. He let out a huff of a breath. A cough. And a groggy chuckle.

"Cocksuckers got what was comin to em."

His head was comfortable. Not his jawbone or his cheeks or his nose, but the back of his head. Curious and confused, he sat up and twisted around to look. Oh. Someone had made him a pillow out of their tunic. Wasn't that nice and thoughtful.

Someone had swiped his armor and weapon. That figured. Looking around, spotting Ever in the cage with him, someone had swiped hers too. No, wait, that tunic, that was hers, that's what happened, but they probably swiped everything else of hers.

"Where's Tinker? They dump him overboard?" Their fellow Initiate was nowhere to be found. Hopefully he gave them hell before they tossed him into the drink. He was supposed to be training to become a Dreadlord after all, not some shut-in locked in a hermit's cabin.

Zael noticed a few of a piercings poking out from Everleigh's short shirt.

He looked down to his own shirt. Patted at his chest, feeling for errant pieces of metal. He said in an absent sort of way, "Oh shit, they do some of that to me too while I was out?"

Tinker Smithe Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Tinker didn’t respond to her, which was actually a good sign. An even better sign would have been him insulting her, but she’d take what she could get right now. When they took Tinker away, Everleigh sat down in a corner, glowering at the door. Why on earth would they take Tinker? She was tempted to fight them off of him, but she knew better. She’d have to bid her time and wait for the right moment to strike. It wasn’t just about her, right now it was about three others that she had to make sure got back alive.

“You did get a few of the pirates good,” Evie agreed when the firecracker had woken up, getting up to kneel down beside him. She was frowning, looking at his face, and if she were a normal young woman perhaps she would have felt embarrassed about her lack of attire. But the poison eater hadn’t felt shame for years. “The captain took Tinker. She… wanted him in her… quarters.” The initiate said begrudgingly.

“Zael, you—” she started, reaching out with both hands to dote on his face but froze an inch or so away from touching him. Everleigh could feel a heat in her cheeks, realizing what he was talking about. Since many others didn’t like her touching them, and piercing comment, she reconsidered her actions. She looked down, her hands going to touch the exposed naval piercing. “No, the academy did this before I turned purple. I think they were jealous of my looks.” It was a joke, but a glimmer of bitterness sparked in her violet eyes.

“You should lay back down, Zael. Henk is out cold. Right now it’s just the three of us. I need you to be in prime condition when we dock.” Evie paused, debating on an idea in her head. She was going to use this joke on Tinker, but decided she could try it out now. She patted her lap, a smirk on her lips. “You can use my lap as a pillow, it’s a once in a lifetime chance since I’m not poisonous.” Her tone light, coy and teasing all in one despite her steely gaze.

Tinker Smithe Zael Castomir

 

[Tinker Smithe]

A couple hours had past before Tinker was drug back to the cage and thrown into it. The pirates were making cat calls and laughing at the young man the entire time. Comments about how the captain loved to watch him use his tool and how she couldn't stop praising how good with his hands he was.

Tinker curled up into the furthest corner of the cage from everyone. His arms wrapped around his knees then he began to start rocking back and forth slowly. Not a single sound from him. His eyes locked away from anyone in an obvious way showing it was intentional as well as instinctive.

The pirates left as quickly as they had shown up. Not once did their comments and cat calls to him stop.

His peers might notice that his hands and arms were roughed up. Cuts and bruises covered them. The same existed on his face as if he had been hit regularly over the time he was gone. He was withdrawn. Nothing they said or did got a reaction from him. Only if they touched him or got close enough to would he react by trying to shrink away as much as possible.

Everleigh Ebersol Zael Castomir

 

[Zael Castomir]

Zael had licked his lips and had swallowed, trying to wet equally parched lips and parched throat, when Everleigh mentioned that the captain--yeah, that captain, the Norden-sized woman with the watermelon-crushing thighs--had wanted their most socially adept buddy in her quarters. In her quarters.

Zael nearly choked on his own saliva. He coughed, sputtering out a hearty laugh. "Well, goddamn, maybe I guessed wrong about what kinda ship this is."

What Ever said about her piercings just fueled a sort of irrational notion that, hidden somewhere, there were some piercings the Academy had snuck in on his own body, and that for all these years, somehow, he just never knew about it. Zael's nose scrunched up, and he redoubled his efforts to examine his own body.

Said efforts were interrupted by Everleigh making an offer that Zael just couldn't refuse. He looked at her, and then a big grin crossed his expression.

"You had me at 'not poisonous.'"

Zael shifted, then slowly lay back down, his head coming to rest on Everleigh's lap. He crossed his legs and entwined his hands over his stomach and altogether looked supremely relaxed, the picture of a man enjoying a vacation rather than a prisoner stuffed into a cage. Yeah, this was nice. Fuckin prime condition coming right up.

"Tinker doesn't know what he's missin out on," Zael commented. Their twitchy friend acted like everybody was poisonous. A snicker caught in Zael's throat then as a thought begged to said aloud. "But I guess we don't know what we're missin out on up there in the captain's quarters, huh."

Couple hours later, Clawface was back.

Zael didn't give a shit about any of the bruises or cuts or cat calls from the pirates or Tinker's own slumping down once back in the cage.

He just started clapping, and exclaimed, "There he is, the man of the hour!"

Tinker Smithe Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

She should’ve used the jest on Tinker. Mostly because despite the fact that Tinker was the longest companion Everleigh had at the academy, whenever she teased him about anything relating to physical touch, he always told her no. Or called her stupid. Or told her to shut up.

Zael, however, had just raised Everleigh’s original bet. She blanched for a moment, hands stiffly at her sides as he rested his head against her lap, getting comfortable. The poison eater looked away, feeling her cheeks get hot. Zael’s head was heavy on her thighs, but it reminded her that she shouldn’t be the one to fold. Not yet. And so she raised as well, cool fingers moving Zael’s blonde hair off of his forehead in a gentle caress.

“Oh, is someone jealous? I wouldn’t think her to be your type considering she doesn’t have red hair and shoots lightening out from her ass.” Everleigh teased with a light chuckle. After all, it’s not like the captain was doing anything inappropriate to Tinker, right?

---

Wrong, wrong, wrong, WRONG. Everleigh had a look of consternation, hearing the catcalls, seeing Tinker bruised up and jittery. Of course her and Zael had made a few jokes as they waited for night to turn into dawn but…. For fucks sake, how could Tinker lose his virginity before she did? Half the time he didn’t shower unless Everleigh or a proctor forced him to do so!

In Everleigh’s silence, Zael filled it up, practically cheering. She frowned, having known Tinker long enough, she knew he wouldn’t say anything now, if he would at all. Everleigh felt a sort of rage bubble up.

“Don’t men bust in like… what, a minute?” Everleigh growled, “What the fuck did they have you up there for? It’s practically dawn. I swear they’re lucky I can’t—“ Everleigh was cut off, hearing the key in the lock, and soon the door was opened, revealing Tonio. A small cask of water in one hand with a wrapped bundle of food in the other. The smarmy grin on his face made Everleigh bristle.

“Breakfast,” he said in a coy voice, “Captain thought someone deserved a treat for their hard work. You did a good job, boy.” The way he looked at Tinker made Everleigh wonder if it was the Captain’s or Tonio’s idea to choose Tinker for their deplorable acts. He set down the parcel of hard bread, olives, raisins, a small bit of cheese and salted meat; pushing it through the gap of the bars. Setting down a small clay bowl on top of the cask near the bars so the initiates could reach out to collect the water.

“Eat up, kids, winds are good today, who knows, maybe you’ll arrive to your lanista a day early.” Tonio said, pointedly looking at Tinker and giving him a wink before he walked out of the room, locking the door behind him.

Tinker Smithe Zael Castomir

 

[Tinker Smithe]

Tinker didn't respond. Not to words. Not to actions. He just sat there completely withdrawn. Only escaping a touch would cause any change in him. The food and water was as equally ignored as everything else as well.

But eventually a change did occur in him. He stopped rocking. Mumbling followed faintly then he suddenly began to act with purpose. he began to search for scrap around their cage. Any kind. Metal. Clay. Wood. String. If it could be used for something, anything, then he would pick it up. His mumbling only grew worse as he went about his self imposed task.

All while doing this he kept as much distance from his peers as possible.

Once he had enough scraps, he began to mess around with them. Sharper pieces were used like blades to cut and etch. Harder bits like hammers. All of it fits, lashed, and pounded together until he had a scrap doll made. Completed his entire form seemed to relax. He seemed to feel more secure once more.

Then he began to mumble at the doll. Treat it with more attention and care than he was showing either of two in the cage with him.

===

Just outside the cage resting against the wall was the little anirian soldier doll that had fallen out of Tinker's pouch before. It looked as if it was on sentry duty. Watching those in the cage as if to keep them safe.

Zael Castomir Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Zael Castomir]

"Why be jealous when you can just swing for a threesome?"

That had always been Zael's battle plan for those infrequent "unwinding" trips to Vel Anir's finest brothels--you know, back before the stupid Republic and the pussification of the Academy. Some fucking elected asshole with big, fluffy cuffs on the end of his sleeves and a glaring bald spot probably though it was "inappropriate" for the Academy's mid-classmen to go on such trips. Blow me, fucking asshole, I'll hold what little is left of your hair as you do it. Little did that pompous puritan know, because his soft ass had never been, was that those unwinding trips were hands-down the best part of surviving into mid-classmenship.

Unless you were Tinker.

* * * * *​

That thought came roaring back when Tinker reappeared in the cage. But Zael clapped and made his exclamation anyway. Goddamn, somebody needed to open him up, crack that shell--if not one or both of his nuts too. He'd really have an easier go at life if he learned not to be so uptight all the time.

Everleigh got cut off by Tonio playing room service. Soon as he was gone, Zael slowly sat up from Everleigh's lap, sitting cross-legged with one hand on his knee and the other on his hip. He studied the food. Glanced over at Tinker, who was fumbling around with Kress-knew-what over in his feel-sorry-for-myself corner. He glanced back at the food.

Then Zael let out a bark of a laugh and said to Everleigh, "Alright, now I know this is some horseshit. Ain't no way some pirate captain had breakfast delivered on account of Tinker swingin around a thunderhammer. Ever, you know him better'n I do, and you know Tinker would act like this if somebody so much as sneezed on him. Oh, even better, held his hand. Oh, even more better, pinched his ass."

He waved off his tangent. "Point is, I think, the captain had him doin something else up there and just disrespected the shit outta his space. Course, he ain't gonna tell us what that really was, he's just gonna mumble at his doll."

Zael reached over and took some of the bread, the olives, and the raisins. Took a bite and popped some in his mouth. "Mmm. And miss out on the fruits of his labor over here too."

Everleigh Ebersol Tinker Smithe

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

She stretched when Zael was off of her, feline-like until it came to rolling her shoulders back and cracking her neck. Everleigh stood up as much as she could, coming to the water cask as Zael spoke. She glanced at him and nodded her head, but the frown was evident on her face, quite unusual for someone who was made up of mirth and mischief.

Zael had a point, a solid point, acrtually— and this was one of the reasons why Everleigh felt she had misjudged him early on. Sure, he was loud like the rest of the company he liked to keep, and she even had thought him to be dumb and strong, like Kalix. He was entirely different than what she had assumed and she was surprised how well they could bounce off of one another.

“You’re right, they wouldn’t use Tinker for things of… that sort.” Everleigh collected water in the small bowl and drank the contents quickly. She hadn’t realized how thirsty she had been. “She said we’d get food if we behaved.” She refilled the bowl, handing it over to Zael. “I still don’t like the bruises on him. Just like how I don’t like them beating your face. They’re hurting you both and I’m just watching.” She finished with a sigh.

Everleigh inspected the food for a moment, wondering if it was somehow poisoned. But they were precious cargo. And really, the offering of food was probably a money-move by the pirates to get extra gold because they fed them. Things were clicking into place. She took a chunk of bread, placing a bit of the crumbly cheese and olives on it.

“Tinker, you need to eat.” The tone was stern, maternal. Everleigh held out the bread, a good amount of space away from him. “You need to eat for Vel Anir. You can’t protect our home if you aren’t at your best. Vel Anir wants you to be strong for them.” She placed it down close to him, and turned, only to realize that she was still half naked when she saw her tunic still bunched up on the floor. She picked it up, pulling it over her head, to only lay down on her side, curling her knees up a bit for comfort.

“You two should eat til your full.” Everleigh paid no attention to the growl of protest from her stomach. “I want, no, need to think. I’ll make sure they’ll regret hurting my men.”

Tinker Smithe Zael Castomir