The Syzygy The Syzygy: Rise of the Abyssal

[Jensen]

The Royal Word overrode any command that Draxton gave. Jensen was in truth relieved about it. There seemed something wrong about killing such hapless looking things even if they did make is flesh crawl with the way they touched upon his mind. As the Princess spoke to the High Ascendant Jensen willed Valathor a little closer to the one who seemed in charge.

"You must leave. Not all will heed my Princesses words and spare you," he tried to impress upon them through the mental link the meaning of his words. Leave. Run. This land was unsafe.

He was so focused on trying to get a response of agreement that they would leave these shores he didn't see the look the black dragon gave them. It was sheer luck that Valathor saw and turned just in time as Carnifex launched himself upon the Tsonye, taking the brunt of the hit with his already injured wing.

 

[Orissa]

Orissa set her face with the practiced steeled expression she had seen her brothers don countless times. She imitated the calculating gaze of her father, and the poise of her mother.

But even with her word, her command as Princess, she could not hear or feel the sincerity in Draxton's words. They too sounded practiced, as if his carefully chosen words would pacify the Princess, but his true intentions echoed down that bond with his dragon.

They were lost to their need for a fight, unhearing to the Princess or the Ascendant.

Carnifex launched for the Tsonye, stealing her next breath with a shocked gasp.

Pixaelys bared his teeth, moving to the defensive in order to protect his bonded. The Ransas were not know to be offensive dragons, more passive than anything, but the threat of sharp teeth was the same across all creatures.

"Stand down!" She called out, panic rising within her but Orissa willed herself to be that War General she thought she could be one day. "Get your dragon under orders, Draxton!"

She wished her Gilded Guards were able to follow, that Cadoc could be here to fight on her behalf and come to the aid of the Tsonye.

"By order of the Princess, heed my command, High Ascendant!"

 

[Gruki]

Death had decided to take mercy upon Gruki. Half-dragged, half-carried, the she-orc felt as if she was floating on a cloud. She could hear voices, muted and meaningless, talking to each other. Deep as the bottomless seas, or light like the heavens above.

Light?

Blearily, Gruki tried to open her eyes. At first, they refused, her battered body simply too tired to respond with any relish. Flexing, flinching as the hands shifted, steadying her, Gruki allowed a small groan to escape her lips.

'Is... It... Over?' She heard herself ask, the only voice to make sense. In response, she felt herself slip away, down, into the comfortable embrace of sleep. When she awoke, it was to find herself alone in a cold room. Sunlight peeked through the shuttered windows. Dust motes danced in the beams of light, and Gruki coughed as she attempted to rise, her head pounding, body aching in a dozen places.

'Hello? Is anyone... is anyone there?'

Dingo Aderyn Verchtegid

 

[Edward Lorain]

"Everyone back up!" Edward screamed, the pain only enhancing his voice. So that was the consequence of this ability. The wind never hurt him when he asked for help, but this...No, this was right. The winds would hurt him if he ever tried to demand anything of them. Everything has a price.

Edward forced himself to his feet and hurried towards the doorway. He wanted to see what that shimmering was about, and if he could not go after the guard then he needed to gather as many people as possible and prepare. Those things would be coming back and they needed to find a way out of here.

"Make sure everyone is up and prepared to move. We are not staying here. We need to move."

As much as Edward wanted to help those that were injured, he was not strong enough to do so. They would either keep up with everyone else or they would be left behind, such was the way of the world.

Dingo

 

[Dingo]

​

---

Fear grips the survivors around Lucky Lorain, but they move. Even as their fellows lay dying in the pools of black and blood around them. The clear command's of a captain call cuts through to the sailors over the noise in their hearts and the fear that storms in their minds.

A few grab hold of the Anirian, still down by the fallen thing in armor.

In the hall, the shimmering shape lingers, like a ghost guarding the exit. It moves, almost like a man. But too fluid. Too quick.

Another sailor gets stabbed through. He shouts. A silvery spear stuck there in his shoulder, it rips out in a spray of red that spatters the ghost.

The Guard. nearly gone from sight, so blended in to the halls around them. The hallway is narrow. Alone, with that spear, and so hard to see, they could hold back a good number.

But the pull. The Deep. It beats in Edward's mind. The black water across the floor. Feels where the shimmer-cloaked guard stands.

---

​

---

What the mind thought as sun, was only the greasy flame of a lantern light, hung outside the splintered wood of broken shutters.

Whether hours, or minutes, its hard to say how much time had passed.

But the Syzygy, its sunless sky, still blankets the firmament and cold night swirls thick outside the ramshackle walls of the shelter.

A door creeks open at one end of the room.

"Ah, you've come to," she says with a feint smile there neath her tired eyes. A bowl of something in her hands. The smell of a briney stew wafting through the room, simple and sweet with the sound of cookfire's flame crackle and hiss. "Have some soup for you if you can stomach it," she said tentatively, and made her way across the room.

The sounds of voices in the other room. Some firm with the authority borne by soldiers and deckhands alike, others weary. Crestfallen and barely together.

But they were alive, all the same.

The bowl comes down gentle, and the woman smiles warm at Gruki. "You saved many of these people," she said, and sat beside her.

Yet outside, across the shore. The Tower still loomed. Pale and pink as fresh molted carapace. A thing that was near impossible to see against the dark sky and thick mist. But there, between the break in the clouds, and the parting of the veil, it would shimmer and shine. Almost seemed to pulse.

---

​

---

Carnifex raked its claws against the stout Tsonye. Its massive head dart and wove away from the other creature, as its jaws snapped and its fangs tried to dig in to what they could find. Every pound of strength at its disposal set to the motion of violence.

Eyes wide with thrill, the High Ascendant almost forgot himself. Finally rid of the waiting. Finally in to the action. The fight! His eyes saw only the contest, and his face was twisted with glee, a hand already reaching for the sword at his waist.

Rider and Dragon were one.

If Carnifex fought, it was only right he follow.

The will of the Dragons, above all else.

Yet his blade stuck at Orissa's command. His fervor, chilled to ice as the two beasts thrashed for position.

A slam of horn and scale. Claws traced red wounds across black scales, and teeth left angry marks against green. The High Ascendant willed his dragon away with a pull of their bond. Pulled the link between them hard, and Carnifex trumpeted his displeasure as it wheeled away from the tsonye, never giving angle of trust to the geen as its black horns pointed low and at the ready.

The fishmen fled. Curses in their home tongue passed between them as they hefted their spears and made away through bulkheads interior of the silver mountain shook and moved. All gurgle and hiss as it came back to life.

Outside, the ink storm fell away. Dissipated as the riders of the 6th Storm and the Gilded wing watched, eyes full of uncertainty as the strange mountain appeared before them once more.

"Should we attack?" one called out.

"The Princess is still inside!" A gilded wing replied.

---

 

[Jensen]

Valathor's snarl was full of pain and rage as the two dragons collided.

Carnifex was easily twice as old and twice as large as the young tsonye and the strength of his jaws tore a chunk of flesh from 'Tor's side. Amongst his dragons snarling Jensen had entirely forgotten about the fishmen, his own rage fuelled by the echoes of his bonded's pain taking over.

"Are you insane?! GET SOME CONTROL," he shouted over the snarling and snapping. There was little he himself could do though he unsheathed his sword. If he could get a good shot he would slash at the other beasts eyes. When it came to if he valued Valathor's life and health over this monsters there was little question.

Outside the conversation between the Gilded Wings and Storm paused. The sound of dragon roars and snarls of pain was unmistakable. Not realising it was one of their own who attacked another of their number they charged forth as one into the fray, unleashing dragon fire at any fishman they came across.

 

[Farren Lóthlindor]

Every easy step that brought Cynefin to the women that had waited too long to run away was a reminder to something hazy and blurry in his past. He had always hungered, even when he was full. This great appetite of his, beyond that of any mortal being, surely meant that he was destined for great things, that he was a great thing. Even after sucking all the love and power from the Madonna, Cynefin still hungered.

He wanted to taste revenge now that he had had a taste of love.

“Halt!” He called. He only spoke Iza, had only been speaking Iza, unaware of language barriers from the great deep to the world beneath the sun. His stride quickened, seeing lesser beings before him. His hand reached out, as if to grab one of the women though they were not close enough to do so. Instead, Cyn kneeled down, finding his brother, picking him up and cradling him in his arms.

He had never seen something so beautiful, so majestic. Something so small, grasping for life, still fighting, even while so young. A warrior through and through. Cynefin turned towards his pawn, holding up the beacon of their future. Salt came from Cynefin and the heat of the fire lessened until it was washed out with the damp air. Salty droplets hung suspended in the air in a dome around those from the deep.

Finally, words would come to Cynefin’s small, thin, red lips that was ripe and plump with magick.

A whisper of healing, a shared gift of blood that was indeed thicker than water. Cynefin bestowed upon his brother a kiss from their passing mother, savoring this new flavor of love. To give without let receiving, how beautiful. He passed the young to the one who was loyal, able to find him in the night.

“Protect him.” For dessert, Cynefin wanted the robust flavor of revenge. He imagined it tasted like some of the strange aberrations of fish from the deep. He bent low, picked up a piece of wood from the fire pit. With magic water coalesced around the thickest part, and a club made for drowning its victims was formed.

Satisfied, Cynefin began his chase, singing songs known only to the darkest, deepest depths of the sea. A symphony from the hadal would announce Cynefin’s quickening arrival as if the woman were trying to run from the trenches themselves.

Ronja Farren Lóthlindor

The language crawled beneath her pelt like maggots as a shudder passed over her. The hackles along her spine stood on end at the man's words, watching as he took the monstrosity into his embrace. They sounded as if they came from a drowning man, lungs wet and gurgling through syllables—these were not words meant for people of dry land.

Farren snarled menacingly at the man's approach, spittle dripping from ivory teeth as she tried to stay the quickening race of her breath, but it tasted like bitter fear with each exhale. And this man that turned to her with glinting flint eyes, knew it. Despite her size, this was not a battle she could win. It was beyond her ken and abilities, especially stuck as she was in this body.

But what this spirit form could do was run, and cornered predators made for dangerous foes.

In a flash of snapping teeth and black fur, the wolf dipped beneath Ronja's shaking body and leveraged the witch until she was hanging off her back. And she prayed to whatever spirits had yet to flee from the eclipse, that Ronja kept her grip until they were safe.

With a final warning growl, Farren dug into the sand and launched away from the beach. Away from the shadows of the moons and the strange creatures who dragged themselves from the depths of the sea like corpses from a grave.

Cynefin Dingo Ronja

 

[Aderyn Verchtegid]

Allir Reach

---

Time had passed and Aderyn was sitting on the beach, her toes dug into the muddy sand, her clothes torn and stained with blood, sweat, and gods only knew what else. She didn't know how she got there and the idea of "when" had no footing whatsoever in her mind.

She remembered the captives, she remembered their wailing and gnashing and clawing as a reward for her trying to free them. She remembered draining their misery, their fear, and their rage from them, topping her own coffers while forcing them into a confusion robbed of the primary emotions they had left to feel. She had supped on their feelings, eating to fullness entire portions of what made them people.

They hadn't been left wholly empty shells, for they'd had no sense for tranquility or joy, nor for compassion. But to stay alive she had pulled out from them so much of everything else. Whoever hadn't been killed in the fray was left near hollow.

Aderyn had no sense for having gotten off of the ship, nor of Gruki doing the same. But here she was, and in the hovel behind her was Gruki and some other survivors she vaguely recognized but for whom she had no names. She couldn't remember names right now, anyway. Names seemed so trivial, if not burdensome.

Someone placed a steaming bowl beside her wordlessly. She thanked them without looking and could barely hear them as they moved away, the ground softly crunching beneath them. Her eyes were locked across the water on the mysterious, fleshy tower.

Dingo Gruki

 

[Orissa]

The Captain of the Gilded Wings was the first to make it to the opening that led into the mountain, not thinking anything other than getting to the Princess first. As soon as that vortex had lifted, his white dragon soared closer, the pained cries of dragons filtering out to those in flight.

Orissa held her breath as her Ransa backed away, ready to turn tail. Of course, the black dragon would catch them within a few paces, but she had to believe Draxton would have control over his bonded to not harm a Princess of Thanasis. The wrath of her brothers alone would tear this city state apart.

"Let me tend to your tsonye." Orissa was already grabbing the medic kit attached to her saddle before sliding out from her seat and jumping down from the Ransa's foreleg. Dark eyes stared at Draxton, keeping a wide berth from the seething black dragon.

The Gilded Wings arrived first.

Olazor, the white dragon bonded to Cadoc, was a surging beast of snarls and bared teeth. Instantly, the old drake put himself between the others and the Princess, stopping her from going any further, but Olazor's tail flicked too closely to the readied bull that was Carnifex.

 

[Gruki]

'Did I?' Looking up from the bowl in her hands, Gruki wondered. 'I... don't remember much, truth be told!' Smiling through the confusion, the squire thumbed the wooden spoon in her hand, her thoughts outpacing her feelings. Sniffing, she studied the stranger. 'Your mane reminds me of someone,' she said, 'someone... someone...' Frowning, Gruki shook her head.

Pain flared behind her eyes and through her arms. Shakily, she took a sip of soup.

Oh, it's good! Helping herself to a few more spoonfuls, the squire took a moment to look around the room. There was no hint of the sunlight from before. No divine light guiding her back to the land of the living. Just flame and shadows and scents of the sea.

Smoke, blood, and despair. Huh. Sniffing again, Gruki swung her legs over the side of the bed. The stranger with the frazzled hair watched her, and stood as she did. 'I'm okay!' Gruki promised. 'Just a little... sore.' She could feel the bruises, the aches and pains one grew accustomed to when walking the warrior's path. 'Think I might step outside. I... never mind.'

Smiling at the kindly woman, Gruki shuffled past. Her sword rested against the foot of the bed, and she took it up in passing. I wonder what happened to Syr Isander? She mused, each step taking the effort of two.

The voices simmered down as she walked through to the next room. There were nods and acknowledgements, and more than a few called her "syr."

'Hello,' replied Gruki, unsure where to look or who to speak to. The kindly woman stood at her shoulder, and it was to her Gruki turned next. 'Thank you for the soup,' she smiled, glad she still could.

Outside, the world was cold and bleak. Bodies still decorated the shoreline. Fewer now. And beyond the thin veil of mist, Gruki spied the Tower.

Sitting down beside Aderyn, Gruki stared up at the monolith, unable to take her eyes off it.

'Hell of a night, huh? Or is it daytime?'

Aderyn Verchtegid Dingo

 

[Edward Lorain]

Edward watched the guard running, and a part of him told him to wait. Let the problems come to him, and that would give him time to think, or maybe even run. This would be the easiest, but...Ed was done waiting. The pull deep in his stomach was beginning to feel more and more unsettling, but also familiar. He called on the dark liquids to reach up and grab the creature. He then commanded it to strangle, to stab, to tear, to do whatever it could to kill this creature.

It was as he said up above on the waves. The only way out is through.

They could attempt to weather the storm, or they could be the storm. He glanced at the others and motioned for them all to follow his lead. With that, he charged down the hall in the direction the guard had been running.

He kept his awareness broad looking for any more shimmering that might hint at more hiding creatures. If they showed themselves then he would attack before they even had a chance to think. Edward was going to get out of here. He did not know about the others, but he was a survivor. He would live.

Dingo

 

[Aderyn Verchtegid]

Gruki joined her and while Aderyn wanted to feel glad for having the company, she felt deep within her a gnawing void that could not be filled by any means to which she had immediate access. There was little left of whatever made up her sense of who she was.

Was this what being dead felt like? She couldn't help but to wonder. There was pain, she could still feel that especially as she had calmed back to her normal equilibrium, but many faiths spoke of pain after death for those deserving. She'd killed so many, crossed so many more lines than she could even draw herself in the moment yet couldn't help but to add into the sands in retrospect. Would she not now be deserving?

"I don't know," Aderyn said softly, her voice struggling to produce steady sound. "I can't see much right now, everything's... there's no color but that damn tower."

After a few moments, she whispered, "I don't think I've ever killed anyone before."

She had hurt people, sometimes on purpose, especially hecklers at her performances who took her up on the invitation to carry on outside of whatever tavern or stage was having her, but they'd always been able to walk away breathing. Or at least be carried away. They were always breathing, though, and she treated them if they needed it with no lasting hard feelings.

Gruki Dingo

 

[Dingo]

​

---

It followed. The pull of the Deep. As Edward rushes forward, he feels it in the back of his mind. A weight and pressure that grows the more familiar with each breath taken in, and each pulse beaten out.

The fleshy walls of the vessel, move. Themselves set to the pulse of an unseen heart. There too, the son of Teth can feel the black water course and flow. In the floors.

You feel them before you see them. The Shimmering guard. Near unseen, but your eyes see the shift, like so much water set to move by the squalls.

The black water trails and trickles behind you. Like black rivers, come rush across the halls of the vessel. Faster and faster. It turns to streams. Jets. Spears.

One after the other, they puncture, skewer and rip through. First, through the unlucky survivors caught unawares. Unable to move in time. One and two of them get cut through. A leg lost. An arm left hanging on sinew.

But there before the band of sailors. The Guard. Run through and skewered by the black water. Its silver spear falls from its tentacled hands with a thud.

One of the sailors steps up. Grins wide and grabs up the weapon. "Well, no we are getting somewhere,"

Ahead, another one of the sealed valves. With the black water, you can feel there are three beings there in.

---

​

---

The tower looms tall. The waves wash on. And the darkness hangs high overhead.

---

​

---

Carnifex snarls and snaps. Claws scraping at the ground as its spines and scales rattle with rage and the want for wrath to be let loose.

Draxton, breaths sharp shallow breaths. Eyes wide. Jaw clenched with his sword in hand.

The Gold Wings between them. Even the proud old god that was Carnifex thought twice about continuing the fight.

Two of the Sixth were fast behind, the structure of the strange mountain, simple once inside. Those few scuttlers and fishmen caught in the rush, dead to talon, teeth, and flame.

"High Ascendent!" they reported, ready for the command, though they looked confused as they stared at the scene before them.

"All is under control," Draxton called out. "A bit of madness, born from the fishmen," he said, and willed Carnifex back. The great dragon took only a step back. Its head still aimed at the lesser god it had scraped with.

The riders eyes looked beyond the wall of dragons. To the fishmen and scuttlers just beyond. Snarling and snapping, their dragons were ready to go on with their flame work.

The mountain crawled on.

Only those outside would see its massive shape, slowly shift as it turned back towards the sea.

 

[Jensen]

Valathor heaved himself to his feet, limbs trembling. Blood poured down his left side where Carnifex's claws had gouged so deep into his skin he had dislodged scales, and his wing hung limp and useless. Still though the green beast snarled right back at the one who had attacked him. Jensen atop his back did not look much better having been crushed as the two dragons had rolled. There were several cuts and he cradled his arm in a way that suggested it was broken at the least.

"Bastard," he snarled and the dragon beneath him echoed that call.

There were too many dragons now inside the mountain listening to the odd cry of the fishmen. Several were shaking their head violently, or slashing their tails back and forth. They snarled and snapped at one another and any poor fishman who scuttled past was shot at with flame.

"Get the Princess out," he ordered as the mountain beneath them began to rumble.

 

[Gruki]

'You don't think you've killed anyone before?' Laying her sword across her knees, Gruki stared up at the tower. 'What is it you do... did... before coming here?' Blinking salty tears from her eyes, the squire pulled her gaze away from the tower. A monument to our woes, she mused, huffing, an amused smile curling her lips.

Her thoughts drifted to Syr Isander, and the smile died.

'Have some soup,' Gruki urged. 'It's good. Crab, I think.' Peering into her own bowl, she shrugged, took another spoonful. Smooth, and seasoned with something she couldn't quite place. 'I miss my brother's cooking,' she said, smiling wistfully despite the ache in her bones. 'First thing I'm asking for when I make it back home, I reckon. His cooking. He has a knack for it, y'know? That and buildings things.'

Gruki's attention drifted back to the tower standing tall through the mist. She saw images, there, above the waves and rocks. Faces of friends far removed.

Blowing on her soup, the she-orc helped herself to another spoonful. She knew the things she was seeing weren't real. Illusions, or hallucinations. Same difference, really. 'I hate this place.' Finishing off her bowl, she placed it in the sand by her side.

Aderyn Verchtegid

 

[Orissa]

The protest was on her lips quickly, but Cadoc did not mind the order given by Jensen. It was first priority to secure the royal blood of Thanasis and get her away from this chaos. The white dragon bonded to her Captain of the Gilded Wings herded her to a wall, long enough that the Captain gruffly wrapped an arm around her and pulled her towards the saddle. She could not fight against him, not when he was trained to be a protector and soldier and she merely a healer.

Too many bodies, too many dragons in close quarters. After the Sixth poured in after him, Cadoc was unable to guide the Ransa dragon out along with them. Gritting his teeth, the rumbling of the mountain made him pick his battles.

"The Royal Dragon. Help him out!" He called behind him as Olazor began bounding down that tunnel leading out.

Pixaelys was perhaps the smallest dragon present, disorientated without his bonded rider and circled around at a loss. Fire breathed past him, capturing the last of the fishmen that were not quick enough in their retreat. Dragons skirted past the peaceful Ransa, but without Orissa to comfort him, Pix backed into a wall and made himself small.

 

[Aderyn Verchtegid]

Allir Reach

---

Aderyn breathed out heavily, a laugh that couldn't quite form but had desperately wanted to. "I'm a healer," she said. "And I play music sometimes. That's it. I don't even know how to use a sword."

She picked up the bowl of soup and held it in both hands, smelling it first before taking a hesitant sip. It was still hot, though with her dried blood and salt-caked nostrils everything smelled the same. It was all just ocean. "Crab, huh? I think some of the things out there were crabs."
Taste was still muted the same as color. She realized after a moment that maybe that was why it didn't smell like much either. This hadn't ever happened before, not even during the Siege of Alliria, so she had a hard time chalking it up to trauma from the danger she'd been in. Besides, she didn't feel traumatized... she didn't really feel that much at all. Like the quiet lapping of waves on the rocks and marsh between them and the tower, there was no anger or malice left in her, no fear even as her head filled with thoughts of running away. Now was too late, though. The choices had been flee or commit, and she made hers forever ago.

"I'm sorry you're stuck here. I've been wondering why I didn't just run with the villagers. I could be well on my way home."

Though, the Shallows were awfully close to the sea. For all she knew, her shop had once again been looted and reduced to cinders.

Gruki

 

[Gruki]

'You could be, yes.' Gruki didn't have it in her to disagree. Yes, Aderyn could have run away- perhaps she should have. Too late now. 'Suppose you stayed for the same reason you studied healing,' the big she-orc continued, 'to help people. To save them, if not from some malady, then from themselves.' Many among the prisoners had been branded, both physically and mentally, by their captors.

Gruki remembered the screaming. Chances were she'd remember the sound til the day she died.

There's a pleasant thought. Gripping the hilt of her sword subconsciously, the squire watched the waves lap gently at the shore. Gulls squawked and swirled overhead, swooping down every now and then to alight on a body. Fishmen, or just men, the scavengers did not discriminate.

Suddenly, the soup seemed like a pretty bad idea.

'I think you should get away from here, Aderyn. You've done your part, and done it well.' Gruki paused, frowned. 'Before you go, I'd like to ask... you haven't seen a knight around here, have you? The one we were with. Syr Isander's his name. Blonde hair, hazel eyes. Armour like mine!'

Aderyn Verchtegid

 

[Edward Lorain]

"Everyone freeze."

Ed no longer had the focus to notice if they listened to his commands or not, but he would prefer if he did not accidentally stab them like last time. It was hard to pay attention to more of his surroundings, as he had to focus on these new abilities or it may threaten to consume him. It was like...being caught up in a current, but not of a small river but a current in the ocean deep beneath the waves and he had no idea which direction was up.

Instead, he focused solely on where he knew those creatures were. Again, he pushed the black water out begging it to kill these things. Ed just wanted to get out of here.

He didn't know if it was just from his earlier thoughts, but he could feel the pressure around him like he was at the bottom of the ocean. It felt like his ears would pop at any moment.

"Wait for them to die."

Dingo

 

[Dingo]

​

---

Wait for them to die.

But the call of the Deep came slow. Sluggish. Each pulse through vein, each flare of neuron a sear of white. Muscles and bones came tight.

Only that water that pooled about moved to Edward's command. Ripped free from the corpse of the last abyssal. It crashed into the fleshmade door, like arrow through target. Punched through and moved the more.

But on the other side, a force pushed against the black water. Like a wave come back out from the surf, the black water ebbed back. Whirled and shift.

Through the hole in the door, a tentacled hand could be seen splayed wide. Its own will, felt pushing against Lorain's.

The sailor who picked up the spear narrowed his one eye. Growled in his trhoat, and rushed forward, and stabbed the one Abyssal through.

The abyssal made a sound like water choked down too narrow a pipe.

"Vamos!!" the cortosi sailor shout out. Those sailors about Lorain stared wide eyed.

A spear flashed out and sliced through the muscles along the outside of the Cortossi's leg, and caused him to stagger back. '

Another sailor, just as desperate to be free of this hell, rushed forward to grab at the spear with a shout.

"The Only Way Out!"

---

​

Gentle doth the surf lap upon the shore, and silent still stands the great tower before ye.

---

​

WIth the mountain moving, and scores of fish-men set ablaze, Draxton sneered at Jensen. Malice curled up upon his lip.

"Cover the princess' the High Ascendant shout, and turned to the Tsonye rider. "Jarlax Bane!" he called out, almost amused. "Wrangle the princess' Ransa!" he turned toward the exit, and looked to his riders of the sixth. "Go on, tactical retreat" he swiped his sword toward their path. "Cut down anything that gets too close!"

Another cut, and Carnifex set after the retreating party.

 

[Isander]

The Abyssal Spire​

Blood on the sand. Taste of grit and copper and broken teeth. Murk in the nose. Crinkles of scent that wafted foul across the breathless ether. Sensation coalesced into consciousness. Within that skein, a single eye opened, the sclera poppy-white and pickled with the froth of the drink. Each pulse drew ragged gasp of blood along veins bulging against chain; an iron creak, flakes of rust that sank wet into skin.

Isander awoke within a fleshy prison.

Pain tore at his shoulder. His fingers, furled and numb, stretched much as a stranger's might. He felt them gingerly, enacted small twitches that confirmed them as extensions of his self, yet the assurance of ownership was lost upon him. He hung limp, frame hooked by a lattice of chains fixing him to what must have been a wall.

Flickers of thought stitched together a scene. The frenetic pound of boots on the beach, the trill of battle, the onslaught of crusted fishfolk rising from the swell. Bloated creatures, improvised weaponry. A throat hoarse and raw. Shouting. The drum of blood rushing to his ears. A pressure, a pain, a prick against his temple.

He flexed against his bindings. The strength to resist, to rattle the chains, to test their mettle eluded him. And with sudden slowness, consciousness began to wane.

 

[Jensen]

M A L A K A T H

The sea mountain was in chaos. Dragonfire had caught on the sparse furnishings in the greeting hall and were spreading rapidly. Fishmen fled down hallways and dragons gave chase, fuelled by a base desire to kill anything that ran. Roars from deeper inside the tunnel system told Jensen some had reached inner sanctums he had a sickening feeling were filled with innocents. Draxton's shout brought some order to the Thunder and they began to usher the Princess towards the exit, still snapping at anything that got too close.

The mountain shuddered again and Jensen cursed at the ordered fired his way.

"Go, Valathor," the rider commanded as he slid from the dragons back. The Tsonye was in no state to help with his damaged wing. "I'll be right behind you," he made for the Ransa dragon who had curled up tighter into a corner, shying away from other dragons that approached. Jensen just prayed he took more kindly to a human than a rampaging dragon.

Valathor stubbornly followed.

The ground beneath them shuddered again and fishmen and riders alike cried out when a chunk of the ceiling collapsed.

"Time to go, buddy!" Jens called desperately to the Ransa.

 

[Orissa]

Pixaelys only mirrored what the Princess had felt. Useless.

Useless in the fact her order went unheard, and harm came to those foreign creatures that had not attacked them outright. Useless that she had no choice but to surrender herself to the care of her Captain of the Gilded Guard. Useless that she made no difference here this day.

And that was all the peaceful Ransa could feel. He could sense the kindness in the Ascendant, and tentatively listening to his voice only and shielding out the chaos going on.

The Ransa followed outside the mountain, coming to reunite with his bonded as she slipped back to the ground and checked on him, looking for wounds that were not there.

"We can go home soon." She promised Pix, feeling a failure.

 

[Edward Lorain]

"Is through."

The words came out in a low, guttural whisper. As the words left his mouth, they also brought a new resolve to Edward as he pushed out with his newfound power. The sluggishness from his fit had told him all he would need to know. There would be no waiting, he would take and push through. He would not stop until he was done.

He willed the black water to lash and destroy his enemies. The others would need to be smart enough to stay behind him, or they too may be caught in the destruction he now planned.

Ed called for all of the inky black liquid that he could sense, no longer looking just for the water in the walls but also inside of the enemies.

With a new found strength, Edward step forward walking with his hand stretched out towards his invisible enemies.

Dingo

 

[Dingo]

​

---

And through it went. That power of the Deep. Its pull. Its whisper turned roar in between Lorain's ears. Lucky. He must have been. So lucky, that his head did not split with the pressure of the power.

At the other end of the press, a tentacled wizard pushed and pulled the black water in return. Their own gelatinous head swelling and straining from the effort.

One sailor at the half destroyed door was run through, but another behind him grabbed onto the spear as the one eyed Cortosi grinned wide and thrust his weapon through the door, and skewered the Abyssal behind the gate.

The abyssal that challenged Lorain's use of the black water stuttered in their command. Something like fear shaking them from their concentration as their fellow fell to the floor in a heap.

Lorain marched into the breach, and the tide of black water, which the Abyssal wizard had held back, surged forth. Heavy. It shot forth like loose hands. Slammed against the three eyed wizard like cudgels and hammers. But the water stuck to the Abyssal. Encased them in a black sphere that slowly grew and grew. Until the last of the creature's eyes

The membrane was connected to Lorrain's will. He could feel the life still inside of it, slowly coming to its end.

Almost as if the Black Water was devouring it.

"Tale! Theres a person in here!" the one eyed Cortosi called out. He took up his freshly claimed spear, and started to whack at the near translucent pod.

Other sailors noticed the large windows in the room, that looked every bit like membranes of an eye. Nothing beyond them, save the crushing black of deep water, and the stray particulates that glowed a dull red as they neared the window.

Something like a helm stood between the two windows. A thing that was made of chitin and flesh, and almost seemed to breath, and pulse. There were feint lights that flashed and bleeped, and a pad that seemed to welcome some form of hand.

A thing like a map glowed birght beside the helm. Though it look made of starlight. It showed a bright shape at its center. A current pulsed across its cloudy surface. where other shapes of similar size were dotted. And a larger shape pulsed far ahead of them. A line, reminiscent of the shoreline of a well drawn cartograph.

Any sailor worth their salt could tell. Twas the shores of the Cortosi Coast.

"This... this a bloody ship?" One of the surviving sailors asked, bewildered.

---

​

---

As the mists swirl and part. As the tides churn and flow. The tower. Still it stands.

---

​

---

Two riders and their dragons were caught in the collapse of the debris. One and their blue dragon were able to force their way out of the rubble. The other, Kondri of the Sixth along with his Feathered dragon, was not able to make it out. As reported by the surviving Gold Wing.

Draxton scowled as he watched the silver mountain retreat back toward the sea. It made a horrid sound, like the guttural song of some leviathan.

An anguish that almost stirred the High Ascendant's heart as he watched it begin its dip back into the sea.

"Tend to the wounded!" Draxton called out, he looked for Jensen, saw the rider was missing.

From the mouth of the mountain screeched a feathered dragon. It's iridescent plumes painted technicolor in the wyrd light of the eclipse-borne stars. Something was caught in it's mouth.

Draxton narrowed his gaze. Turned to those around him. "We return to Thanasis as soon as as able, and report our findings,"