Pirates of the Sorcerean: No Peace on the Rock

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Meatloaf quickly finds Mister Fabian's pulse and breath and heaves a small sigh of relief. Aside from a broken wrist the Steward didn't seem to have suffered any physical damage, but still he shows no signs of waking.

Nimue, I'm lost... show me the way back...

***********

"William! This way!" A ring of red force falls near the Admiral's hands without making a splash. It is bright enough for him to see and tangible to his grasp, so he clutches it and lets St. John pull him into another rowboat, this one intact. "We'll make the Rock soon enough, Admiral, and then we'll make those pirates pay for what they've done," St. John says grimly. He casts another spell and the Admiral's clothes are dry. Oh yes, with the power to be had on that island, they'll pay... they'll all pay, and dearly..."

 

<some time later>

This corridor was a dead end as well. But unlike the others, it led into a small room. There was a bed there, the wood fragile with age, and a bookshelf. There was also a ritual altar. On it were four small earthenware plates, each containing something representing one of the four elements. A mage's room, she realized.

In the plate to the north, representing the element of Earth, a pinch of earth, a pinch of salt, and a large purple agate that probably had served the previous owner as a focus stone. Purple gems seemed to resonate well with her aura, so Nimue tucked the agate into her belt pouch. Rarely did one find an agate so large, so flawless.

In the plate to the east, representing the element of Air, Nimue's own element, there were only some ashes, probably left over from an old, old burning of incense.

To the west, representing the element of Water, there was only a bowl of clear, pure liquid - pure despite the fact that the room seemed to have been undisturbed for centuries. Nimue lifed the bowl, begging pardon of the room's long-dead owner, and drank deeply, until it was empty. She felt better afterwards.

But to the south, for Fire...to the south, what a priceless treasure. Hovering over the plate with the rune for Fire inscribed on it was a small flame, transparent and blue, seemingly made of crystal yet moving with all the vigor of a living flame. A Ming Fire. A magical item which drew in and purified the ambient energy from any environment, offering it's master an inexhaustible well of energy.

If a Ming Fire accepted you, it would serve you for a lifetime. If it found you unworthy, it would burn you to a crisp where you stood. Nimue gulped. Did she dare? She reached out and touched the fire. Heat flooded through her, her entire body seemed to burn, and yet...she was alive.

I choose you, said a crystalline voice in her head. My Mistress told me to wait for the Child of Blood who would set us free. I did not know if I would find you worthy, but now I see that I do. She told me to tell you that everything in this room is yours. She told me to tell you that she charges you with restoring her legacy. The Stewards must be trusted...the Stewards must serve the Sea, and the people. She told me to say that although you are not of her blood, she loves you and has faith in you. I offer my power to you. I am Ankh-Ming.

The Fire of Life, Nimue thought, as the Ming Fire floated from the plate to travel a lazy orbit around her head.

She lifted the thin, curved blade from the center of the altar, mentally identifying it as a katana, the blade of a warrior-mage. When she saw the hilt, adorned by crescent moons - the symbol of woman's magic - she was transfixed. Urya Isilme, it said, elven for "moonlight's blaze". And, Miranda. her stomach knotted.

She turned to the bookshelf. She easily identified a very old version of the Steward's Chronicles; the oldest there was, she imagined, and the original, since this was Miranda's room, from when she and her father Prospero, the true king, had been exiled on Sorrow's Rock. Miranda, founder of the Stewards...she loves me?

At the very bottom shelf she found something she had not seen before. A thin tome, bound in green leather and worked with silver, with razor-thin pages, and no title. When she touched the lock holding the tome closed, it clicked open, and on the front page she saw the ancient symbol of women's magic - waxing moon, full moon, waning moon, arranged back to back. The language of the tome must have been ancient even in Miranda's time.

Then she heard Fabian's voice in her mind: "Nimue, I'm lost... show me the way back..." Hastily she stuffed the tome into her small backpack. She could come back for the Chronicles later - this room was hers. Miranda had said so. There was time; but for now, there was Fabian's need, and that took precedence over everything.

Backpack thumping against her back, Ming fire orbiting her head, and Isilme blazing cold steel in her hand, she ran, a shadow of black wings blazing from her back as she went.

<minutes later>

Meatloaf, bending over Fabian's body, snaps upright at the sound of footsteps. He sees Nimue running towards them, shadows streaming behind her. She crouches over her Mentor, and the crystal flame that floats in circles around her head moves to travel around Fabian's, once, twice, three times. White light blazes from the Ming Fire to Fabian, filling him with energy.

His eyes open.

 

A shriek of panic comes from Tanya as she sees Fabian fall. Whatever demons or fears he had seen, she cursed Perry's power over this place as she ran to his side.
"Fabian! FABIAN!"

She turned to Archer with concerned eyes, "Water! Quickly!"

He found it from his bag immediately, and sat down next to Fabian, "Are you allright sir? Is he going to make it?"
he looked at Nimue, happy to see that she had returned.

***

Perry swooped through another door and ended on the beach with the shadows closing behind him, not far from the royalists. As the rowboat landed on the beach, and the men started to look guard as some others pulled up the boat. St. John and William stepped out. The royal steward could hear in his mind, an almost taunting greeting, "Hello John."

Looking around confused, St. John saw her.. but the voice had been that of a male.
Perry in Tanya's body came striding towards them as a spirit gliding over the sand, and as he looked with a grim smile at St. John, all the royal crewmembers began shouting an acting as if they were insane or delusional. Seeing horrors of their own creation, Perry shielded himself, St. John and William from the curse.

He could hear St. John start to chant a protective ward, but Perry merely raised a finger and roared, "Dehlist!" making John unable to speak for a few moments. Perry walked up and stood ten paces from them, then smiled gently.
"John, I could use you. I know your desire... don't try to fight the undefeatable." with a cold gaze he turned to look at the admiral, "William.. I'm afraid your daughter is no longer present, she abandoned her crew and failed facing her fears I'm afraid."
Perry in the appearance of Tanya cackled once more at the Admiral's expression, and raised a pointing finger at John.
The ultimate defiance.. Oh the powers will look upon this with fear and disgust!

"John, I am your idol returned. I can show you the source of power! But it must be done at a price. Are you truly what it takes to become a master?" the voice was a lure, as a siren's call pleading for his reason. He heard then the true message in his mind, as had their eye contact spoken soundless words.

I can see your thoughts, your mind, as I can with everyone who brings a fear to this place. I know you are a circle member, abandon them! Join me, and I shall show you more power than of which you had ever imagined. Look to the sky, John! Do you see my works coming to shape? The weather! My wrath's fire will rain soon! It could be yours to control as well.

[ November 09, 2003, 20:58: Message edited by: Lokken ]

 

Nimue stares at Tanya, and realizes that the woman is no more than an illusion. But her concern about Fabian...whether he had water or not...! Her soul was not here, but was her mind?

"Tanya," she asks, trying to think of something only the real first mate would know. "When I swore to you that you could trust me, what did you want me to do? What did I call you?"

* * *

oh, and...pictures of Nimue up. I didn't draw this! Just modified the original file that I found on Elfwood. Paste the links in a new browser window if you wanna see, as the server doesn't allow remote-linking. Oh, and, I fully admit that I should not be allowed to use any technology other than a pencil as an aid in art.
http://tiamat.envy.nu/nimue.jpg - this one is in grayscale.
http://tiamat.envy.nu/nimuelight.jpg - this one's in color.
http://tiamat.envy.nu/medusa.jpg - this is the original that I modified...just so you can see how much effort it was

 

Kassandra let George lead her through the island, although she still told him which path was safest and which was not. She couldn't explain this feeling that she had on this rock. It was like, she could feel things, things that she didn't even know existed. Her father's voice was ever present in her mind, like a comforting spring breeze, but still, she wished that he was by her side.

"I am with you, my child. Now and forever..." was the reply that she heard as soon as the thought entered her head. "Yes, Father," she whispered to herself. "But what could have happened here to you?"

Just then, vivid images began to flash through her brain, telling the sordid tale of Kassandra's father's death. They had landed on the Rock after many difficulties, a monstrous storm had nearly broken their main mast, and several sea creatures harrassed their already beaten down ship, but they made it to Sorrow's Rock, and immediately, their troubles increased a ten fold.

The men that her father had trusted with his life, began to turn on each other, accusing them of the littlest thing from stepping on their foot to looking at them wrongly. The fights were numerous, but her father had always managed to break them up. That was, until they found their first piece of gold, then everything was lost. It was a single dubloon, but that small trinket had spurred the crew to draw blood, unfortunately, it was their own.

Her father had pleaded with his shipmates to not resort to violence, that were would be plenty of booty for all, but his pleas fell upon deaf ears. They fought long and hard amongst themselves, there was so much blood spilt over the coin, until only her father and his first mate and best friend stood alone. He pleaded for his life, and even offered the coin to his former friend, but the first mate laughed and said in an unearthy voice that it was never the coin he wanted, but his life.

Kassandra's father, determining that there was no turning back, had no choice and fought with his friend to the bitter end. He had killed him, he killed his best friend, but in the process was mortally wounded himself. But, the last thing he had remembered seeing was the strangest thing he had ever saw in his life. The very ground had begun to absorb all the blood, all the bodies, even his very own, until there was not even a trace of anyone being there.

Kassandra sighed deeply and wiped away the tears that she hadn't even known fell. Oh, Papa, she thought, it wasn't your fault. You did the only thing you could. She didn't know if her words would offer some peace to her father's restless spirit, but it gave her some to finally know what happened to him all those years ago.

But, she was still uneasy. To know that the very ground gorged itself on her father's and his crew's life essence was unsettling, to say the least. The more pressing question was why it wasn't trying to kill off George and herself? But, she didn't have time to think on that matter because her newfound friend had discovered something.

In what seemed like the very middle of the island was a cave of sorts, something that lead down, deeper into the cursed place. Kassandra had a very bad feeling about the entrance, but the spirit that had been with her since she arrived had gave no warning, so, maybe they would be safe.

"Miss Kassandra, somebody's been through here recently, I can tell," he said, slowly inching towards the entrance, gently easing away the brush that obscured his view.

"George, be careful, this place has a way of playing tricks on your mind," she warned, but drew the dagger that George had given to her just in case. "One can never be too careful on this rock."

[ November 10, 2003, 05:21: Message edited by: DarkGoddess ]

 

The first sight to meet Mister Fabian’s eyes is Nimue bending over him; hers is the only clear face in the circle around him. “Beloved Nimue,” he says, reaching up to embrace her, then the rest is lost in a babble of a strange tongue that speaks mind to mind and heart to heart, mouths serving only to garble the words in the ears of those who weren’t meant to hear. Daughter, you’ve saved me.

What else could I do, Fabian, I owe you so much…

No, Nimue, there’s no debt between us, there never has been. I only ever wanted to see you develop your talents.

I know that, now, and I also know how much more there is to learn. This place has given me gifts… I need to understand this heritage, to know where I come from, before I can move forward.

You will – no, we will. As soon as we’re away from this Rock, I promise you…

He breaks off and releases her as he becomes aware of the others about him, concern plain on all their faces: Meatloaf, Dante, Tom Black, Desmond, Jackie, Archer… and Tanya. “No. Not you, not here, not now.” He reaches out suddenly and grabs her ankle, a thread of the new white power flooding through him spilling into her and filling the dark void inside that Tanya-shell. The remnants of her that animate the shell try to cling to it but the void cannot withstand the heat of that thread and it pulls away, faster and faster, until she is sucked into its vacuum. She screams as it drags her away from her crewmates, feeling the very people she is trying to protect shun her because of how that protection has gone awry. The illusion vanishes in a white flash.

Mister Fabian notices his broken wrist for the first time as he tries to scramble to his feet. With an offhand flick of his hand the bones straighten and knit, and he rises more slowly. “That was hardly as refreshing as a good night’s sleep, but it will have to do,” he says dryly. His tone softens as he looks at his crewmates. “Thank you all. If we continue to work together that well, the illusions of this place shall have no further power over us.

“Tanya’s been snared by the island’s cursed aura of this place. You who know her best, be alert for inconsistencies. Who knows what she might have led us to, had Archer not been paying attention.”

They all loosened their blades as they set off down the corridor, heading to the archway where the rest of the pirates may or may not be waiting.

**********

The Circle had never been anything more to St. John than a means to an end, and here he was being offered an easier means to a greater end - with the side benefit of coming packaged in the delectable form of the Admiral's daughter. He reached forward eagerly with both mind and hands.

[ November 10, 2003, 05:18: Message edited by: Rallymama ]

 

Pushing John back William steps forward.
"Tanya, what are you playing at?! Cut it out now!" he yelled at Tanya. "This is no time for games girl, there are evil things about!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Back inside the Rock Meatloaf was confused. Looking between Tanya, Mister Fabian and Nimue he felt lost. Wasn't Tanya attacking them before? And what's that thing on Numue's head? And how is it that Mister Fabian is back awake? Meatloaf was sure that Nimue had had no healing powers, or what ever they called them, before.

Suddenly Tanya started to glow, and slowly but surely she disappeared. He looked once again between Nimue and Mister Fabian before standing up and shaking his head. These matters were to complicated for a simple cook. But there was something he did want to know.

Seeing Mister Fabian start walking off Meatloaf hurried up to him. "Ummm, Mister Fabian sir. Are you al right Sir? Ummm Mister Fabian..." Meatloaf trailed off into thought. After a few more steps he continued slowly. "Mister Fabian, what was that thing the monster back there said about me? What is this blood thing?"

 

Mister Fabian looked at Meatloaf fondly. "I'm fine, Meatloaf, thanks in no small part to you. And as for what Mayeral said - you have a heritage that is almost as old as time itself. I'm not sure exactly what it will mean to you, except that you'll have to stop referring to youself as a 'simple cook.'"

 

Nimue grins, "Must be awful to realize that you're related to me, however distantly, isn't it, Meatloaf?" She laughs. The cook looks stunned that the ill-tempered and stand-offish young woman has loosened up enough to make a joke.

"Firstly, Tanya is indeed possessed by the evil in this island. That wasn't her - that was an illusion, probably projected by whatever force is in control of her. Apparently it caused the disaster here.

"The thing floating around my head is called a Ming Fire. It's a magical item, basically a store of energy that chooses an owner and serves them until they die, and then chooses a new one. It only serves one that it considers 'worthy'...well, by whatever definition a magical object uses, anyway.

"The Blood...well, I didn't know much about it until we ran into Mayeral...now, I sort of remember things that I never knew, before. Apparently, beings such as Mayeral are known as Fallen Angels. They're not omnipotent beings or anything like that, they are spirits that were fascinated by human beings, and chose to take physical forms and live among us. Those who are descended from them are known as Blood of Fallen Angels, or more simply, The Blood. Apparently my grandmother was one of them; you must have a trace of the Blood within you, too, although not nearly so strong - so you probably won't have to worry about floating and acting funny any time soon. I hope that comforts you."

She turns to Fabian, "I found Miranda's room. In it was a tome of women's magic...very old, in a language I don't recognize, but probably should learn! I also found the original copies of the earlier Chronicles, if you can believe it. And Ankh-Ming," she indicates the crystal flame flickering cheerfully around her head, "And Urya Isilme. Miranda's blade." She gulps. "A heavy number of legacies I've inherited today.

"It seems that Perry's here," she adds. "According to Mayeral, Ruthbarb came here carrying his body...well, you don't need me to tell you, you heard. You were probably more awake than I was, at that moment. And it is his foul spirit that is now corrupting the earth of Sorrow's Rock.

"We need to exorcise him from this place, and from Tanya's body. But how? Maybe the Lorebooks will help. They might have a way to cleanse the earth. And as for Tanya...well, women's magic certainly qualifies in her case, I would say." She shrugs.

She then turns to the crew, "Okay, men, we're moving. I somehow know the layout of this filthy maze, now, and I can take us to where the treasure is. Keep your weapons at the ready...I think menaces of a more physical sort, not simply psychological, will probably meet us."

 

George is slightly alarmed: How does she know so much about this place?
"Well, I suppose we should explore this place a bit." George said, gesturing towards the entrance. "Should I go alone, or...?"
"No, I want to come with you." Kassandra said. George shrugged. "Are you sure? It might be dangerous."
"I want to come." Kassandra insisted, and George shrugged again, and he took the first step down into the cavern.
The cavern was dark but George could see a bit after his eyes got used to the darkness. Unfortunatly, the cavern was also wet and slippery, so he nearly tripped over quite a bit. After who knows how long, taking the paths Kassandra told him too, George saw light, coming from a large chamber before them. Gesturing for Kassandra to wait here, he sneaked up and took a peak. To his relief, he knew the people in there. Meatloaf, Fabian, Tanya (lying on the ground) and Nimue.
He considered what to do for a while. Should he reveal his disguise, or should he keep on pretending? But then he dismissed that thought. William would kill him. Going back to Kassandra, he told her to follow, and he entered the chamber.
"Don't attack, it's me!" George announced to them, as he walked in.
"George?!" Meatloaf cried in surprise.
"Yes, yes, it's me, this is my friend Kassandra, what's wrong with her?" George said, kneeling over Tanya.
Meatloaf blinked.
"Don't you, er, normally act a bit...different?"
"What? Oh, long story, flamingo. I'll tell you later."

 

Perry throws his head back and cackles, the maddening glint in the eyes stare back at William.

"I AM that source! You have to come too late."

He started to think of a proper curse or spell, but non could come to mind. That horrible wench!
Die already, you lost!
Perry saw then his new subject in St. John, and decided on an even better approach.
Behold this, Tanya!

Opening a contact to St. John, he could hear the voice once more.
Now John! Prove yourself!
In an instant John's mind was flooded with secrets of horrible knowledge how to kill at whim and tap into the vast source of the living soul.
Kill him!

 

Nimue leads the crew through the passages, alert for any magical traps; according to Mayeral's and Miranda's memories, there should not be any here, but much might have changed since Ruthbarb's crew took up residence in the Rock. Surprisingly enough, she find nothing. The room she is leading the crew to is what Miranda termed the "Antechamber"; however, she has no idea what she might find there.

When the damp stone corridor opens into a large room, the gleam of gold informs her. The treasure? she wonders. No...a part of it, she realizes. But still...it's certainly magnificent.

The crew gapes in awe as Nimue and Fabian step forward, leading them into the Antechamber. Nimue briefly realizes that there is something wrong here; it feels like the crew is not alone in the room. As a matter of fact, it feels very, VERY full.

Flickering and pale, ghostly figures of long-dead pirates appear around the crew. Standing before Nimue and Fabian is a tall, broad-shouldered and imposing man, with a large, bushy black beard.

"You'll go no further," he announces.

 

“Captain Ruthbarb, I presume,” Mister Fabian says coolly. “Still guarding your plunder after all these years. Well, it’s time to let it go. These men have earned the right to your gold.”

The ghost of Ruthbarb draws its weapon, a heavy cutlass with a very real gleam to its edge. “Not a coin will I allow to go into the coffers of the Usurper!”

“You should keep a bit more current, Captain,” Mister Fabian laughs. “The Usurper’s line has been off the throne for several generations now.”

“The True King’s been restored, then?” Ruthbarb’s eyes narrow suspiciously. Mister Fabian shakes his head.

“Not the True King – the Usurper was too thorough in wiping out his line. But a Regent now holds the throne, waiting until some scion can be found.”

“Aye, I can see the truth in ye… Stand down lads, let them as can spend the gold have it… But ye’re not here for gold, are ye?” He begins to circle Fabian and Nimue, cutting them off from a pedestal set alone in one corner. “Who do ye be, and what makes ye think ye’re worthy to claim the heritage of the sea?”

Mister Fabian stops. “Fabian Cinque, Adept of the Ancient Order,” he replies.

“Nimue, Acolyte of the Ancient Order,” she adds.

“Come forth then, Stewards, and prove yer worth.”

Few of the pirates notice what is happening, but Dante and Desmond do. Gold and jewels go unheeded in their hands as they watch Mister Fabian and Nimue step towards the pedestal, crossing a black circle in the tiled floor. “Prove your strength,” Ruthbarb says.

The ring of red fire that leaps from the floor attracts more attention. Through it the pirates can see spell after spell attack the Stewards from some unknown source, perhaps the pedestal itself? They deflect each one, neutralizing the incoming bolts into harmless showers of red sparks. At a space between two spells – no longer than an eyeblink – Mister Fabian counterattacks with a spell of his own. His magic, too, is shed aside.

The duel continues until there are no spells being cast any longer, just the direct manipulation of pure magic, and the air crackles with energy. A wall of green and a fence of purple push against a barrier of red, neither budging, neither allowing the others’ attacks to pass. Finally the ghost raises a spectral hand and all the blockades melt into the floor.

“Ye’re strong enow to wield the power, but are ye wise enow to manage it?” Ruthbarb asks, his voice echoing through the now almost silent space. Mister Fabian and Nimue step forward and cross the next ring. “Prove your will.”

As they continue to walk forward three large books appear on the pedestal and Ruthbarb moves to block the path. “Are ye dedicated to the pursuit of knowledge?” he asked. “What would you give?” His eyes are an infinite tunnel, the knowledge he offers beaming like a beacon at its end. “Would ye give what ye were?”

Nimue steps forward again quickly – there was nothing in the past that wasn’t best left there, as Fabian had been trying to show her. Miranda’s heritage would make it possible for her to rise above all the ugliness she had ever seen and create herself anew.

Behind Mister Fabian are his parents, career diplomats who instilled in their children a love of learning and an appreciation for knowledge in all its forms. It is this background that makes him eager to know what secrets the Lorebooks hold. He nods and follows Nimue.

“Would ye give what ye are?”

A Steward’s life is the sea. It was both the source of Mister Fabian’s power and the beneficiary of it. Could he give that up, trade its ever-changing beauty, its tranquility and its power, for a lifetime sealed in a library and a laboratory, mastering the secrets that were the Order’s heritage? Faces swim before his eyes: Tanya, Desmond, Peyweth, Weasel, other captains, other crewmates… He inhales deeply, then nods again and takes a step. It would be just another way to serve.

Nimue hesitates before she follows. What is she, exactly? A former thief, a future Steward… those were her past and her future, but what of her present? She suddenly realizes that at every moment of the present she is simply Nimue, no more and no less. That much she can give to the power that awaits. She, too, steps forward.

“Would ye give what ye might become?”

Mister Fabian pauses. What might he become? How could he know – but did he really matter in the face of Caliban and Miranda’s heritage? It was presumptuous, to assume that he had more to offer to the Order than its founders.

The Lorebooks hung just out of his reach, but a few more steps and he’d have them, the prize every Steward dreamed to be worthy of. Just a few steps… away from the sea, away from his family, away from everything that he’d ever known or loved. Steps that would seal him off from them forever. His mind’s eye looks into the shining faces of his nieces and nephews to say goodbye, and when he turns back to the knowledge that calls him, the glow of the Lorebooks had dimmed.

“Fabian…” Nimue’s voice reaches him, down the length of Ruthbarb’s tunnel and makes him pause. Could he forsake her before seeing her talents develop? Could he abandon her, his first Apprentice, before she was initiated into the Order? Could he let her forsake the heritage she had just gained for the accumulated dust of centuries? The shine from the Lorebooks dims further, then winks out.

“Keep them, Ruthbarb,” Mister Fabian snaps, holding Nimue back with a firm arm around her shoulders. “Keep your dusty tomes, and I’ll keep my life. No trade.”

An raucous laugh goes up from the ghost. “Ye’ve succeeded where Perry failed. Knowledge without humanity is a dangerous thing, and anyone willing to throw away everything in the pursuit of it is less than human. Take the books and use them wisely, Fabian Cinque, Magus of the Ancient Order. Perry is still here, and ye’ll need what he learned to defeat him. Me lads’re spoilin’ fer a fight after all these years – we’ll have yer backs.”

Mister Fabian and Nimue cross the last ring and approach the pedestal. He simply looks at the Lorebooks before gently brushing the dust from the topmost volume.

“He called you ‘Magus,’ Fabian. What does that mean?”

He doesn’t answer right away. “I don’t know, Nimue,” he says at last, “but I expect it won’t be long before we find out.”

[ November 10, 2003, 21:08: Message edited by: Rallymama ]

 

"The Lorebooks. The Lorebooks should tell us," Nimue decides at last. "And if not those, then certainly the Ancient Chronicles." She sighs, "You realize we have our job cut out for us? Perry's possessing the Rock, and Tanya. You dispelled a spirit-form that I think may or may not have been her actual soul. I say we search this pile for any magical items and get down to some real research."

 

Mister Fabian scans the room, pinpointing a number of flicking auras. There are the usual enhanced weapons and bits of armor, charms and potions... but he is drawn to a small chest. Nimue doesn't seem to notice is particularly amongst the other items, but it is practically screaming his name as he opens it.

Inside, two pieces of jewelry are cradled in a nest of velvet. One is a large pearl hanging from a braided chain of gold. The pearl itself rests on the palms of two hands - healer's hands, he realizes. A small thrill passes through him as he slips the chain over his head and the pendant lands on his chest, near his heart.

The other is a bracelet, a wide cuff of gold with an elaborate inlaid pattern of onyx and opals. As soon as he clasps it around his left wrist, Nimue looks up in alarm. "Fabian, what happened? Your aura... it's gone!"

He swiftly raises a ward, and the familiar green shimmer is missing. Instead, the air around him quivers slightly but reflects no color at all, no hint of who cast it. "Concealment," he muses. "A powerful tool, indeed."

 

"So... can we just help ourselves to the gold then?" Dante asks, his hand ready to move for the loot.

 

"Only if you call yourself a pirate," Mister Fabian replies with a grin.

 

Hovering in thought, Ruthbarb looks to be far away in memory, then speaks with his rumbling voice, "You say Perry has.. possessed someone? This is no good."

He waved around at his fellow companions, as he continued to speak.
"Once he died, he made us fight one another. He was victorious for the most part, how I do not know. I found a simple counter, but it involved the greatest price of all... our lives. It was the only way we could stay his hand! Beware what you attempt, for he has power indeed. One thing is to destroy him, another to destroy only him and not what he has touched.. as you see, we have all been marked in one way or another."

*boom* ... *booom*

The sound rumbled through the hall as if great fists were pounding upon the island. Outside the sky had turned dark red, and the carpet sky made swirls that hurled fiery balls of fire from their centres down upon Sorrow's Rock spreading an inferno of death and destruction.

[ November 11, 2003, 00:28: Message edited by: Lokken ]

 

Nimue swears and turns from tucking several magical daggers into gods know what concealed places in her clothing, stuffs a fistful of gold and jewels into her small backpack, and erects a shield around the pirates, both living and undead. "We'll come back for the treasure later," she sais. "Drop the gold, it'll still be here - after we finish fighting for our lives!"

 

Meatloaf sat down on the ground in thought. Fabians words echoed in his mind. Only if you call yourself a real pirate. Meatloaf was sure he wasn't a real pirate. But then with just a hand full of some of that treasure he could retire on it, not that he really wanted to retire right now but it was a nice thought. But what would happen if someone who wasn't a pirate tried to pick it up he didn't know.

He sat dead still for a while, contemplating what to do until at last something caught his eye. A glint of light reflected off something in a pile of gold coins. Curiosity finally won over Meatloaf and he went to pick up this thing.

Pushing aside the gold coins Meatloaf found what had shone in his eyes. It was.. Meatloaf didn't know how to describe it. It was the most amazing thing he could ever remember seeing. The gold itself looked like coal when beside the sword. IT just sat there upon the gold, waiting for him to pick it up, Mealoaf thought. So he did that. Reaching down slowly he closed his eyes and grabbed out at it.

His hand took hold of it and it felt to Meatloaf like it was made for him. Holding it up to his face he studied it closely. It was an amazing stone sword, with some sort of carvings down one side of the blade in. The handle itself was made of some fine metal Meatloaf had never seen during his days in the kitchen, with gold spiraling around it.

Meatloaf laughed. He was a true pirate now! He had been at sea and had a sword, what else could that make him than a pirate!

He swung the sword in a circle above his head and blinkeb in shock at the result. He tried again and the same thing happened. And again. To Meatloaf's disbelief, each time a golden glow would appear around the sword.

Before Meatloaf could look any further into this strange glow there was a loud 'Boom' and Nimue shouted something about fighting for their lives. Suddenly Meatloaf wished he was back home again, and that he'd never seen the Aierl sitting there in the port. But it was to late for that now. He clasped his new found sword in his hand and ran over to where Nimue was standing.

"What is it?" he asked nervously.