Loec is a strange deity, even to those that worship him, but it was to this youthful and perpetually shadowed divinity that Listec muttered his prayers on the night after the others had left for their own accommodation; the Shadow Warrior himself did [b]not[/b] leave however, instead retreating back up to the rooftop to spend the night in the crisp – but nearly unbearably foul-smelling – air, beneath the moons gaze and generally in contemplation of the meeting, his new 'companions', and the item which they were required to steal. Their benefactor had mentioned the Plaque of Tepok as the groups [i]raison d'être[/i] for visiting the steaming jungle continent of Lustria, and this item was the very first thing that Listec turned his acute and rapid mind towards, leaving the analysis of each of his traveling companions for later.

While the Shadow Warrior had never visited the 'New World' himself, he did know that his Asur brethren maintained a fortress - known the Citadel of Dusk - on the southern tip of Lustria, the outpost allegedly unable to be seen by anyone except those that were garrisoned there or those bringing supplies to its gates. It was said to serve as a strategic gateway to the Eastern lands of the world, as well as containing a port large enough to house a grand number of High Elven ships, vessels of the great mortal navy still in existence.

Tepok...now that was a name unknown to many, at least outside of the scholars of Hoeth; what was generally known, even by a warrior such as he, was that this 'Tepok' was a deity of the cold-blooded Lizardmen and one of magic and wisdom, a member of their high pantheon and the reason why his name was known outside of Lustria at all. What this plaque of his was or did, the High Elf had no idea! A wizard wishing to possess something belonging this particular divinity though, that was not something unexpected.

As to the cluster of daredevils he was joining upon this voyage of certain death, that was another matter entirely, two Dwarfs that probably disliked him from the off, two Men of the Bretonnian lineage who he imagined would be more friendly toward him, if only for their slightly shared heritage, and the one Marienburger - there was no mistaking his distinct accent and lack of either hatred, surprise, or awe at seeing one of the Asur before him - who was without question more than he seemed. A rag-tag group of sellswords, lost souls and demented Dwarfs for sure, but one that he no doubt fit right in to.

With another final invocation to the perpetually shadowed trickster god, as well as a side devotion to Lileath - known to the Bretonnians as the Lady of the Lake - he crossed his legs and slipped into what would be considered by Men as a self-induced coma-like state. He was not asleep though, not really, for the Asur were so long-lived that such things were regularly beyond them and many outside of their race considered them to be deranged insomniacs because of this. Aware of his surroundings, but slowing his mind down to the most minimal of thought, he waited until the first ray of morning light touched him before snapping his eyes open, stretching his limbs, and making his way toward the docks and the [i]Wellenbecher[/i].


[hr]

Seafaring vessels of Men were much like the race of Man itself - slow, cumbersome, loud and not very intelligently handled, and it did not make Listec any happier that he would have to be boarding one; had it been a ship of his own people, one of the sleek Eagleships perhaps, they would have been in Lustria in a matter of a couple of weeks. Although not a 'Sea Elf', those commonly seen Asur of Lothern,  known to sailors on both sides of the world, even he was pleased by the smooth shapes and finely woven sails of the ships used by the High Elven Navy to look out for Druchii raiders and Norscan barbarians.

Strange looks greeted him as he made his way through the streets of Marienburg, having come down from the rooftops not too long ago, those that had visited the Elven Quarter - and there were few enough of those in the city - generally ignoring him, but the majority moving aside as he strode through the tight press. Even without his armour he towered above most of those surrounding him, but equipped as he was it was a foolish or foolhardy person who would step into his path instead of deferentially moving away instead.

Before long he had made it to the 'ship', making his way up the rickety gang-plank with as much deftness as if it were solid ground, a grim twisting of his mouth invisible beneath his helmet and a narrowing of his eyes probably seen by this magician, 'Darren' the rather unimpressive man called himself. It was the smell of the ship, the manner of the Captain, and the entire enterprise that made him grimace so...but also the [i]apprentice[/i] that remained silent but stood beside her master. There was something inhuman about her, something that reminded him of other beautiful individuals he had slain, ever-youthful warrior-maidens of bloody-handed Khaine; with such thoughts in his mind, he moved swiftly on from her watchful gaze and gave a curt nod to the gruff Captain as he ordered them below deck, more than happy to comply.

The cabin below decks was sparse and barely furnished, probably the best thing that the Elf had seen so far about this ship, non-required parts of armour and his longbow stowed quickly and securely away, the grim Elf returning later to the upper deck in his under-robes of tightly fitted white cloth and with his sword still at his hip. He had tied his hair back against his skull, taking a deep breath of the sea air and imagining for a moment the cliffs of Nagarythe that overlooked the approach to Ulthuan, stepping silently toward the rail where several other had apparently congregated.

"I don't I like boats... I've only been on this one for less then a day and I already feel awful."

Listec snorted at the young Breton, as close to a laugh as he usually got, stepping into the space between the wheezing knight and those others present, "although I agree that it [b]is[/b] more like a boat," he spoke in his sing-song voice to no-one in particular, "I believe those that crew it would prefer that you call it a 'ship', if for no other reason than it floats across water and has sails." His mode of speech and unconscious air of superiority probably did nothing to help relations between Men and Elves, but far be it from him to actually care about such things.