[i]A collab between Peik and TNY[/i]

''I seek refuge in the Lord of Man, the Sovereign of Man, the God of Man, from the Whisperer who withdraws, he who whispers in the hearts of Man, and from Jinn and Man. I seek refuge in the Lord of daybreak, from the Evil which is his creation, from the darkness when it settles, from the evil of magic, and from the envy of the envier.'' 

The ship kept leaning to one side, and then the other. The fluttering of the sails and the creaking of the wood echoed through the deck and poked at Abdulhayy Mahmud's attempts to sleep. The chatter and random footsteps of sailors still awake, and the waves splashing at the head of the ship only made it worse. Hata'i did not mind much, however. He was an experienced man. He had slept in much worse conditions. He had slept in a tunnel full of gunpowder, during the Ottoman-Safavid War. Provided, he was dug out of it after being unable to outspeed a match cord, but that hadn't stopped him from doing it a second, and then a third time. For this (his courage, not his preference of sleeping in dangerous spots), the Sultan Murad IV had awarded him with a mail-lined coat, which had miraculously saved him from three musket balls a week later. It was the one he was wearing right now. How many years had passed since then? Almost three decades. ''One fine coat.'' He thought about the lives gone ever since his leave. He yawned. Just as sleep was finally overtaking him, shouting interrupted it once again. ''Oh, bloody hell.'' 

A gunshot rang through the deck, which jolted Hata'i out of his position. Another gunshot. Loud sounds. ''Something is going on.'' He grabbed his carbine and cocked it. ''Something bad is going on.'' He checked his belongings. His horn was hanging down his neck, his saber stuck into the side of his sash, next to his axe. He freed his hands by fitting the stock underneath his right armpit and pulled his saber out of its scabbard, then gripped the carbine once more with his right hand. He was ready. He cautiously walked through the empty head, and found a man trying to reload his musket at the bottom of the stairwell leading to the top deck. Not wanting to interrupt his reloading, he slowly walked up the stairs, only to find a figure of armor, a bit shorter than him, fighting the captain. It was not human, given the unholy red air emanating from the joints, and the feeling in his gut. ''Djinni.'' 

Sword would not harm Djinni. Bullet wouldn't pierce Djinni. Lashing from the Unknown, to which they were imprisoned by the Prophet Suleiman, they could see you, but you could not. Mostly for the better. Hata'i had seen a few with his own eyes. The look would make all except the most-strong willed of men cry. Hata'i needed the help of the People of the Unknown, the Awliya, the Saints. He holstered his carbine and brought the horn hanging from his neck to his mouth. This horn was blessed by his Sheikh, and the Sheikh before him all the way to their Pir, Hadji Bayram, with the 99 Names of God. Its sound was affected by whatever dhikr that was chanted before blowing it. ''For the love of the sword in Ali's hand. For the love of our Pir, whose prayers keep the skies intact. For the love of Hadji Bayram Wali. For the love of Hadji Bektash Wali. For the love of Ahmad al-Badawi. For the love of Ahmad ar-Rufai. For the love of the Sultan of Saints, Abdulqadir Gilani. For the love of God, for the light of God. For the love of Muhammad, for the love of Ali, for the love of Isa, for the love of Musa, for the love of Ibrahim. Bism-i Shah. Qahhar. Hu.'' 

With the dhikr of Qahhar, the Destroyer and Subduer, Hata'i blew all his breath into the horn, and from it, an all-shaking, incredibly deep sound boomed out, as if doomsday had started inside the horn. With the boom, the ship was overtaken by a sudden but powerful tremor - pieces of the woodwork cracked, parts of the rigging snapped, and objects made of glass shattered. The figure of armor, who had been facing Hata'i since his appearance seemed unaffected at first, but about a second of Hata'i's horn started to show its power - the black metal started to cave in and crack, and the foul, thick aura emanating from it started to disperse. This caused the being to raise its left arm to shield itself, but as if underneath immense pressure, the arm caved in completely and pieces keeping the armor apart started getting shot out of their spots. The animated suit got knocked off its feet and fell apart mid air, sending pieces towards the captain's quarters just mere moments before Hata'i went out of breath.

Emilio slid down a duo of steps to hide from the oncoming onslaught of sound. He covered his ears as Mahmud unleashed a devistating attack. Emilio hadn't seen it, but when he rose from the stairwell he understood the nature of it quite well. He also began to understand the nature of the [i]thing[/i] which had attacked them. It's oblong aura started reassembling the armor it inhabited. Some of the armor pieces, including a glove and a few of the armband pieces, lay near the stairwell. Emilio clambored over the wet floor and grabbed the glove, fell to his back and tossed it over the banister behind him, into the sea. He clasped the other piece in his hand and struggled to lift it from the ground. The aura had already detected the same piece, and was wrapping it's ethereal tendril around it. Emilio yanked it as strong as he could, releasing it from the tendril's grasp, and tossed the piece over the same bannister. 

Hata'i sighed and wiped his brow with the back of his right hand, and leaned himself on the framework of the door. Feeling something vibrate, he instinctively readied himself. Feeling thickness in the air again, he watched in surprise as the dispersed red cloud appeared once more from between the cracks in the floorboards and the pieces of armor started sliding back towards it. Watching the being reassemble itself, Hata'i came back to his senses as the now damaged suit of armor damned Hata'i's name in Latin and seemingly threw his lance at Hata'i's direction. Realizing that the lance was not flying towards him but rather extending directly at his chest, Hata'i attempted to dodge it by sliding to the right, but ended up tumbling down the stairs towards the man with the carbine. 

By the time Emilio was standing the Harbinger was mostly recreated, his right arm only partially complete. 

Leonard chuckled as he helped Hata'i regain his balance, steadying his half-reloaded carbine between his legs. "Bloody hell," Leonard began in English continuing the process of reloading, "What the devil is going on here?" he asked himself, mostly. He turned over to the man next to him, the one who'd just delivered a tremendous, and apparently potent, noise toward their monsterous enemy. He found the words he was looking for in Portuguese, it wasn't his best language, that was for sure. "How's the Captain? How far away is the enemy?"

Epu climbed up some wall molding and reached the navigation deck. He ran along the thin bannister, slid to a stop, and threw a hand axe toward the Harbinger. It blocked it, not expecting the second one coming toward his leg. The second axe found it's mark and nearly cleaved the metal, getting wedged in an incomplete knee component. 

The Harbinger's aura hummed and pulsed as he positioned himself for a jump. 

"Epu, move!" Emilio called out from the side, observing being the only thing he could do. 

The Harbinger launched from the deck with an inhuman dexterity. The floorboards were wretched from their holdings and water droplets at his feet lifted from the ground. The Harbinger was positioned in mid-air, his lance prepared to extend, only a few feet over a soaking wet Epu, when Emilio felt a sudden and inescapable fear; a fantastic and all abiding darkness rising in him. Perhaps this [i]was[/i] a bad idea, after all. 

''Bre Yezid dölü ifrit, Sultan Abdülkadir'in gazabından kork-''

He hit his head on something. Probably one of the steps on the stairs. There was a crack - he did not know whether it came from his skull or the wooden stairs. He let out a small voice in pain, which slowly turned into another elaborate swear, but before it could deliver its punchline, he ended up hitting the ground. The man with the carbine, apparently an Englishman, seeing that he was speaking in what seemed to be English, helped Hata'i to his feet. The man was understandably confused. He asked about the captain's whereabouts, and where the 'enemy' was. ''I don't know,'' Hata'i replied, amazed that somehow he hadn't ended up impaled on his own sword. He heard something spring and crack. He looked back up at the staircase. He could hear the captain shout.

''I think we better help.''