Valendir

Shade chuckled lightheartedly.

"That sounds like a story worth retelling. Shadaranus Kaile, here. Most beings find it more convenient to call me Shade." He paused and studied the man's now fully-revealed face. Tightly curled dark hair framed his face, and clashed almost startlingly with his bright eyes. Particularly, his bright mismatching eyes. One was a piercing green; deep and almost exotic in its own right. But even its brilliance seemed dimmed next to the glowing yellow staring from the other orb.

Shade thought for another moment.

"I've heard something of the name of Tanth..." He paused still thinking. "There was a man I'd heard of once. I've never met him, but he was often spoken of in one of the areas I worked. Does Ardan Tanth mean anything to you?"

The damned Palenxi almost got Edward’s hopes up, talking about a ship in that manner. The name ‘Synthas’ meant nothing to him, then again, it was more than possible that the ship had changed hands since he had lost sight of her. He had suspected that John Rackham, the ship’s night meister, third in command, had taken over control. And then there was the lady on the bow.

“The ship I am looking for carries no woman, kind sir, but an instrument; a silver harp on a sun shaped golden emblem. ‘The Dawn’s Harmony’, she... it is called, the ship, mind you, not the harp.” He was no doubt wasting his time, but even so, he doubted this small man had an attention span that would last for another few minutes. “And no, I do not know where the chandelier shop is located, but I am certain Miss Kit is a capable guide, and that all we need to do is wait and sit back.”

Hi, I'm Lyla, what's your name?

"Hello, Its a pleasure to meet you Lyla. My name is Alacer. And you are a technician, correct?"

At the sound of his brother's name, it took every ounce of Syril's self-control to not grab Shade and demand where his brother was. Taking a deep breath, he fought down his emotions. Instead, he spoke in a shaky, but mostly calm voice, clenching and unclenchin his hands.

"Yes, Ardan Tanth is my brother. I've not heard any news about him since I came here at the end of the war. Do you know where he might be?"

Please let him know, he begged silently, though he knew that to hope such a thing would only lead him to disappointment.

* * * *

"Hello, Its a pleasure to meet you Lyla. My name is Alacer. And you are a technician, correct?"

"Hi, Alacer! Yep, I'm a technician. I can take apart my tank, clean all the parts, and put it back together in five minutes!" she boasted. It was technically true, but that had been the fastest she'd ever done it and she'd never been able to repeat the feat.

She was glad that most of the people on this mission were friendly. She'd been in places where nobody would talk to her at all. She decided to ask Alacer a question.

"What sort of stuff do you do? Magic?" she asked eagerly.

What sort of stuff do you do? Magic?

"Yes, but more than that I specialize in the magick-scientific manipulation of electricity as a medium through which to manipulate my surroundings." Alacer explained. He was very proud of his understanding of the physical world and loved to flaunt that fact about. "For instance, I can use electricity to turn most any piece of metal into an electromagnet by coiling a stream of electricity around it," he said as he tapped the hilt of the sword. As soon as he tapped it a wrench flew from Lyla's tool belt towards Alacer's sword which he caught in his hand. "See?"

Alacer tapped his sword and Lyla's wrench flew out of her toolbelt. She was too stunned to react at first. Before she knew it, Alacer had the wrench in his hand.

"That is so awesome!" grinned Lyla. "I'd love to be able to do that when I'm doing repairs."

She paused for a moment, and then a small frown appeared between her eyebrows.

"Can I have my wrench back, please?"

"It is quite a useful ability. Although it takes years of studying to accomplish. And of course, here's your wrench." Alacer said as he handed the wrench back.

The other Trejan gave a slight flinch at the mention of the name, and there was a new look in his eyes that soon came under the grip of a well-practiced control. His voice was level, but slightly different in tone as he spoke.

"Yes, Ardan Tanth is my brother. I've not heard any news about him since I came here at the end of the war. Do you know where he might be?"

"I never did meet him; but his name was spoken in the wilderlands north of Ydon. When I asked questions of the unexplored regions even further north, many would shrug and simply say, 'Ardan would know.'" Shade paused a moment.

"You haven't seen your brother..." He began, but was interrupted by the crackle of a static-laden voice, and then the barking of their commander. Shade nodded and stood.

"It was an honor, Syril. But it looks like we'll have to continue this another time. Best of luck; may the Spirits guide us home." He gave a slight bow and joined his group.

It was a matter of minutes later when he took up positions with the two Reandir and one of the Palenxi on the western wall. The soldier explained the situation hurriedly. They'd need to get the prisoners rounded up, and secure the area as best as possible. Shade's bow was in his hands, an arrow already notched.

Sen's ears pricked up at the sound of the garbled message coming through the radio. Betwen the static and the fragmented words he could hear the sounds of clashing swords and gunfire, the sound of a city under siege. He immediately turned to Taldrin, even before the man was done on the radio, awaiting orders.

"Everyone, we have a situation," Taldrin said, "Falchion is under attack and we're going in to assist. Rishi I want you to take Shadaranus, Sen, and Alacer to the West wall. Nyx, Lyla and Syril you're coming with me to the east wall. Edward you stay on the ship and help Kit to defend the northern wall, use the turret."

Sen nodded his approval. He didn't like the idea of Miss Kit being left alone with that scoundrl Edward. Or the fact that he was being separated from Miss Lyla, who was the first friend he had made among this group. But orders were orders, so he accepted it. Besides, Shadaranus and the tiny Palenxie man, Alacer, might make good company as well. And serving alongside a member of the honorable Falro clan was the icing on the cake.

The ship accelerated toward Falchion and moved at top speed, not slowing until they were nearly at the drop zone. The cargo hatch opened upon a scene of raging flames and brutal deaths. Sen had to use every ounce of his resolve to not jump into the fray right now. Fear was something he had done away with long ago and the lack of it sometimes got him into trouble. Follow your commander, he told himself as he studied Risi, trying to see how a master operates under these circumstances.

They leapt from the moving craft, first Rishi and Sen, then the others, and each hit the ground running, skirting past the fighting and straight to a waiting soldier who immediately explained the situation: "...Galrin aren't our only problems, they shot off a trebuchet and it opened up the Prison, we've got criminals in the streets right now and we need help rounding them up."

Sen drew his swords and glanced around. Zombie creatures everywhere; Galmoran soldiers fighting a losing battle; the west gate on its last legs. He turned to Rishi. "Before we begin, I would like to say it is an honor to serve under you, sir," he said, bowing his head. "I want you to know that now, in case I don't get a chance to say it later." He returned to eye level and his usual bright smile vanished, replaced by a look of grave severity. "Now, where shall I begin? Have you any further orders or shall I do this my way?"

“Goldilocks?” Edward gave the pilot a grin as he placed the fire infused long gun against one of the walls and undid his holsters. Sitting down, he kept his dual flintlocks on his lap, the weight a reassurance that he had them close. Never be without weapons. Even if he was manning a turret. “Not the most charming nickname, I must say. I could have lived with Mister Gold. I would have preferred Mister Big, although I guess you wouldn’t know about that yet, Kitty Cat.”

The controls weren’t all that different from the ones on the ‘Dawn’. A quick whirl left and right gave him a good idea of the systems sensitivity, which was to high, and the angles, which weren’t steep enough. This system was a mess, but luckily, he was an excellent shot, with any type of rifle, be it his flintlocks, be it the standard military long gun, be it a turret operated system.

The rifles, despite all their flaws, worked as a charm. Life, or, in this case, undead, was such a fleeting thing. One piece of metal, ripping out a piece of chest, blowing of a head, severing a spine, and it simply ceased, leaving only a piece of lifeless meat. Life, death, so closely intertwined. It made Edward warm inside. “So, first one to spot a caster squadron buys the other a drink?” He gave her another grin before returning his gaze to the screen and opening fire on another group of tiny figures. “Don’t tell me a flyer as fine as yourself doesn’t drink, Kit.”

As the garbled message came through, alerting the people on board that Falchion was under attack, Syril tensed and pulled his hood over his face, withdrawing within himself to prepare for battle. He heard the orders and understood, but did not give any sign that he had heard. Within himself, he found his bloodlust, the ability that made him a feared assassin among his brethren.

Opening his eyes, he found Lyla standing near him, a slightly crazed grin on her face and some sort of explosive mechanism in her hands. How she had assembled it in such a short time was beyond him.

"It was an honor, Syril. But it looks like we'll have to continue this another time. Best of luck; may the Spirits guide us home."

Syril nodded respectfully to Shade and returned the blessing. Standing up, he glided over to the captain, Lyla clomping along behind him and the rather senile old Palenxi in their wake. If anyone had seen the face beneath the hood, they would have seen the change that had come over the quiet Trejan. His eyes were cold and merciless, and his mouth was set in a hard line.

As they were set down on the east wall, Syril waited impatiently for orders. He was ready for the death of his enemies.

"What are my orders, Captain?"

* * * *

Lyla, on the other hand, was ecstatic. She was itching for battle, and the bomb she had just built was sure to do some damage. She was sorry that the two friends she'd made were going to be in the other group, but at least Syril was around. She at least could count on him.

She had noticed Syril's change in mood, but it didn't concern her. She knew him well enough to know when to worry, and this wasn't one of those times. Her only concern was Artie. If she didn't get to him soon after arriving in Falchion, she would be pretty useless in combat.

As they were dropped off on the east wall, another soldier arrived and informed them of the situation. Lyla frowned. Tapping the shoulder of Captain Taldrin, she said, "Hey, I'm gonna need my tank, Captain."

Taldrin looked around the scene, it was pure and massive carnage, zombies were breaking through the wall and without the turrets they wouldn't last 2 minutes.

"What are my orders, Captain?"

"Hey, I'm gonna need my tank, Captain."

He looked to the two through the V-shaped slit in his visor, the crescent mark clearly visible,

"That's a negative Lyla, the armored division is currently assessing the breach on the northern gate, and we have bigger problems. With no power conduits that means our turrets are down, and we won't last long if those pieces of grub meat gets in here. I want you to follow the seargeant to the power conduit and repair it. Syril, I want you to defend her with your life."

He turned to the crazy Palenxi, he figured if the man was crazy then maybe he understood crazy rather than direct orders.

"You see all those people with the decaying flesh and bone structures," he remembered the egg conversation and he could use that to his advantage, "those are the guys that maintain the egg stuffing factories, and they stuff those other people with eggs. If you kill them the factories will have no one to run them and they'll be destroyed without actually being destroyed. Just don't let them bite you, that's how they plant the eggs."

* * *

Rishi looked around with a hint of bloodlust in his eyes, he needed this kind of carnage to hone his skills, but being with the humans gave him another eyesight, the scene was terrible and the deaths were many.

He heard the other Reandir's voice,

"Before we begin, I would like to say it is an honor to serve under you, sir," he said, bowing his head. "I want you to know that now, in case I don't get a chance to say it later."

He smiled and put on hand to his comrade's shoulder, "by the end of this day you will have much honor to your clan's name, and it will be an honor to lead and fight along side you," he turned to the rest, "all of you, may our clan's live on for centuries to come."

He turned to carnage scene, "we go to battle, if you see any prisoner's round them up, and bring them to the iron box, everything that's dead, we kill them again. To arms!"

The group ran forward into the carnage, ready to battle.

Kit glanced sideways at the pirate as he took his place at one of the turrets, listening with a growing sense of disbelief at his egotism. She was beginning to feel that she would get extremely irritated if she spent any length of time with this man - already he was calling her Kitty Cat, causing her to frustratedly grind her teeth. Unfortunately for her, he was perfectly competent with the rifle and a good shot. So she was stuck with him for the duration of the battle, at least.

At least she could vent some of her exasperation on the undead roaming the streets of Falchion. Opening fire, Kit's mouth twisted into a satisifed smile as several of the distant figures dropped to the ground. She knew many might find her turrets' systems flawed or difficult to use, but she had calibrated them to her own specifications and they worked magnificently. The undead below them were easily picked off.

“So, first one to spot a caster squadron buys the other a drink?”

Looking over at Goldilocks, Kit couldn't help returning his grin, exhilirated both by the fight and by showing off the Celerity's abilities.

“Don’t tell me a flyer as fine as yourself doesn’t drink, Kit.”

"No, I drink," she returned chirpily. "Just not with idiots."

“Idiots? I was Goldilocks only a moment ago, what did I do to get demoted.” He gave her a mocking hurt look before opening fire on another small group of men who were busy clambering onto a nearby roof. Up here, in the safety of an airship, he couldn’t hear the sounds of the men’s final breaths, nor the sound of the rood collapsing under the impact of bullets.

Another group entered through the gates, again making themselves an easy target for the turrets. Edward made a point of ripping down part of the gate, making the enemies point of entry even smaller, which in turn made it easier to pick them of one by one. Several small craters had appeared around their ship. The firepower of this ship was indeed impressive. Then again, these were creatures of flesh and blood they were fighting; the fist sized bullets they sprayed around could be considered overkill.

In Edward’s mind however, overkill was another word for good fun.

But good things were never supposed to last. Letting go of the triggers, he doubled over to confirm. “Kit, I think you owe me a drink.” There was little humour left in his voice; behold the reason he hated travelling by airship; mages. “Guys in dresses on our eight.”

"Who said you were demoted?" Kit replied, matching his mocking tone. As she spoke, she opened fire on a small group hassling one of the Falchion soldiers atop the wall. The soldier dived behind the parapet as Kit picked off the undead; the corpses toppled silently from the wall and plummeted fifty feet to the ground below, where the already bullet-ridden bodies were severed by the impact.

Even with the bird's-eye vantage from the airship, Kit was finding it difficult to tell if they were making much of a difference. Each time they shot down one group of undead, another rushed forward to take its place; they were heedless of the danger, marching forward even over their fallen comrades. It was a creepy sight from the ship, and must have been terrifying for the soldiers on the ground.

"Kit, I think you owe me a drink." The serious tone alarmed her. "Guys in dresses on our eight."

Looking round, she saw Edward leaning over to stare out of the windshield. She followed his gaze to a group of men approaching along the wall, all in long black robes that swished as they walked and were embroidered with archaic runes and sigils.

Dark sages.

"Shit."

They were already priming spells. Dropping the turret controls, Kit moved to navigation system; no bastard dark sages were going to blast her ship from the sky. Not if she had anything to say about it.

She turned to Edward, mouth set in a grim line.

"I'll dodge. You shoot."

They heard the screaming death of one of their brothers and turned to see him being zapped into submission. The incapacitated jumper was now limply clung to the ship, his metal boots acting as electro-magnets on the ships hull. The two remaining jumpers made a guttural roar, one leapt towards the back of the ship and started hacking the engines.

The other clawed his way towards the side of the ship and repeated the clawing process on the ship.

we go to battle, if you see any prisoner's round them up, and bring them to the iron box, everything that's dead, we kill them again. To arms!

Alacer shifter back into a pixie size as the rest of the group rushed forward into the fray. Flying around, and in some cases through, the undead soldiers Alacer found himself in the midst of a group of skeletal warriors, which fortunately don't have very good eyesight do to the lack of eyes. Alacer quickly changed to his human size and pierced the closet skeleton through the spinal chord, while also establishing a chord of electrical current between the skeleton and his sword. Just before the skeleton had a chance to retaliate Alacer changed back to a pixie size and flew up, away from the reach of the skeletons.

"This'll be a blast," Alacer said as he placed his left hand on his sword arm and began to pump more and more electricity into the skeleton till it reached the most electricity it could hold without frying the marrow. And then he pumped in a massive charge of electricity into the skeleton. With that the marrow inside the skeleton became super heated and exploded out from the bones. The skeleton essentially exploded from the inside out, spraying those around it with a bony shrapnel.

"And now the finally," Alacer finished as he raised his sword. Using the chord of electrical current he had established in the skeleton he had created a web of current when the skeleton exploded. And now he was going to use that web to its full extent. "At least those cursed spiders had one good idea," Alacer said as he shifted to a human size and landed where the skeleton had once stood. With a flick of his sword he magnified the electrical currents exponentially creating a web of lighting that fried everything that the skeleton had exploded onto. Leaving Alacer standing among a strewn about pile of twice dead, extra crispy corpses.

“Shit!” What was the crazy bitch doing? Trying to get them both killed? “Shit, shit…” There were roars of someone, correction, something. Whatever it was, it was causing the vessel to tilt. And if the whining noise the engine had started to make as any indication, things weren’t going to well.

In the mean while, the men in robes were using them as target practice. Rays of black and white spun past the vessel, giving him goose bumps as he could nearly feel the magical energy. “Shit!” The turrets were having surprisingly little effect, almost as if the magically enhanced rounds lost all their kinetic energy when they got even close to the group. Some sort of magical ward. Lovely.

The group varied between moving several feet and launching their dark missiles, slowly drawing closer and closer to their position. And with each foot they drew closer, their missiles became more accurate. Edward foolishly ducked as one of the spells nearly brushed the windscreen, all darkness and screaming energy. “Shit!”

Well, damn them then. Damn them to hell. He couldn’t die here. He wouldn’t die here. He had a ship waiting for him to assume command. He switched targets, focusing on the nearby buildings rather than the group of casters, ripping man sized holes in the walls and ceilings. The dust and rubble was blown into the alley as the buildings collapsed inwards. The confusion and lack of vision would have to do. Did these things even see?

He didn’t want to wait to find out. Pushing himself up, he nearly ripped his flintlocks from their holster before joining the pilot at the hatch. With her standing on the chair like that, he got to view her from a whole new angle. Not bad really. Not appropriate, either. He joined her on the chair, one arm around her waist to pull himself up.

The hatch wasn’t meant for two people, and the way the two were squeezed together could be experienced as intimate. Although such thoughts were rather inappropriate with two metal masked… things, ripping away the plating of the ship. “Get down there and get us out of here. I don’t know how to fly this damn ship, and the moment the dust settles we’ll have men in dresses rip us out of the sky.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could make as much as a sound he placed his hand over her mouth rather forcefully. “I don’t plan to die here. Get down there, fly this ship to another angle, and let me deal with these fellows.” A pale grin. “If this ship goes down, I die. I am not going to die here. Hence, I am going to protect this ship.”

With a sword in each hand, Sen walked forward into the chaos of battle. The sights and sounds of warfare brought back fond memories of home -- of the dueling arena where he fought against the finest most honorable Reandir to earn the right to be here. They weren't pleasant memories by any means, but he knew that without those difficult times he would never have reached this stage in his life. One step at a time, he thought as he inched closer to the battle. Life and war are all the same; best taken one step at a time.

The zombie hordes began to take notice of him. To them, he was fresh meat, untainted by the rigors of battle. He paused as they began to surround him. They were smarter than he'd anticipated; he never expected them to work as a group. One lunged at him from behind. With a quick turn and slash, he removed its head. The lifeless -- and headless -- corpse fell at his feet as the others joined in, ready to avenge their fallen brother, or perhaps just blinded by hunger and anger.

His twin blades, dull as they were, could still make quick work of the soft undead flesh. His right hand was chopping off heads as his left took their legs or spilled their rotting organs onto the sunbaked earth. It was too easy. He realized he wasn't being effective enough by hacking away at small groups. There were far too many of them for the battle to be won in this fashion. He needed to reach the gate and place himself between them and it for his efforts to amount to anything.

The Palenxie man was doing quite well, Rishi and the Trejan too, but he knew they were needed at the gate and he knew he was best suited for carving a path to get them there. "I'm advancing," he called to his comrades as he returned his swords to the v-shaped holster on his back. "I'm moving on to directly defend the gate. Stick close if you're coming."

Before he was done speaking, he was already beginning the transformation. His armor melded into his skin and was replaced by spiked fur, swept back. It made him look as if he was running while standing still. He dropped down onto all fours, his dull claws digging into the packed earth, stained with blood. He lowered his head and arched his back. There was a dull click and the sound of grating metal as the spring-loaded holster on his back opened up, like a pair of scissors, aiming his swords outward like swept wings.

He took off running, full speed, toward the gate. It took a few paces to get into his stride, but once he was moving, there was no stopping him. He weaved and leapt to avoid the Galmorans, but showed no mercy to the zombies. The smart ones got out of the way, the slow ones got chopped in half, and the really unfortunate ones took a direct hit. He headbutted a zombie at full speed and ripped the poor creature to shreds. On impact, it's decaying body burst like a sack of rotting tomatoes. Sorry, he thought as he charged through the bloody mist. Even for an enemy, that was a lousy way to die, but they had brought it upon themselves when they decided to invade Falchion. No mercy.

“Yes ma’m, no ma’m.” Once she was down the hatch, he slowly shook his head. This woman cared far too much for her vessel, and not enough for herself. Then again, it was hard to find that balance between self preservation and loyalty to ones ship. He would know.

With his pilot back in her cockpit, Edward turned to the creatures ripping out parts of the engine. “Well then my metal masked friend, you heard the lady. I am afraid we have no time for introductions other then…” The ship lurched left, causing Edward to be lifted off his feet and coming dangerously close to losing his grip on his flintlocks before the ship stabilized again. The woman called this dodging? She nearly threw him out of her damned flying tub.

Then again, the woman’s inability to fly a vessel she had build with her own hands was of no concern to him now. The woman might get him killed, but if he didn’t put some holes in that clawed metal mask thing, the engine would collapse, and he would also be dead. What choice was there, other than taking the risk of actually trusting her.

“My pilot wants me to keep it short. Edward Teach, pleased to meet you.” He started to push himself up, onto the back of the airship. There were precious little bracing points here, forcing him to keep a low centre of gravity and crawl on all fours. Not the most charming way to approach ones enemy. His target was the ripped armor plating near the dead thing. With some luck, the holes would provide some grip.

Half a dozen steps, three dodges and seven near heart attacks later, Edward found that his luck, at least, had not left him. His common sense, on the other hand, seemed to be long gone. Settling against the ripped plating, Edward pulled the hammer into cocked position. The creatures didn’t seem to think he was much of a threat. He hated to be underestimated.

“Hey, ugly! There’s a woman down there who I wouldn’t mind seeing in the nude, to bad all she cares about is this ship!” Arms, he aimed at the creature ripping at the engine. “Maybe if I save this damned ship, I get some.”

Edward had been called a coward, a rogue, a fortunes friend, a thief, a liar, incompetent, rude, what not. But friend and foe had to give him one thing; he was an excellent shot. He fired his left flintlock first, burying a bullet deep within the eye slits of the things metal mask. It howled, screamed in a voice that was simply not human, and jerked it’s head back; the cue for Edward to fire his second pistol.

With all the strain on the cervical, the bullet didn’t simply damage the spine, but shattered it. Less than a second after the shot had been fired, the creature went limp, collapsing and falling backward, leaving a satisfied Edward. The grin he wore was replaced, however, by a thumping sound to his right, and the realization that there was another one of those things there. “Oh ****.”