[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/oEuJ7Y0.jpg[/img][/center][hr] [color=f7941d]//T H E S H Y P//[/color] The low light of the Shyp’s interior bathed the matte jet of Sammael’s armor a dusky crimson. Enveloped completely in the suit, his face and head covered with the featureless helmet, the SOLDIER appeared like an arbiter of the angel of death. Before him, resting upon the tip of its sheath, Sammael’s sword stood suspended by gloved hands. Within his grasp, the weapon seemed to quiver. It was not the shudder of the Shyp’s mechanisms that flowed through the blade. No. This was a predatory, anxious hum that welled up from within the ghostly metal. Sammael held a demon bent on drawing blood in the name of righteous cleansing. [color=00a99d][i]“Agony to enlightenment.”[/i][/color] Spoke the Aeon. [hr] [color=gray]“Again!” The harsh clack of hardwood striking against hardwood was immediate. Blood, diluted with beads of sweat was flung into the air, only to descend in harsh splatters upon the polished planks of the practice floor. Sammael reeled backwards, his bare feet struggling to keep him upright. Dressed in dark robes, now drenched with perspiration, Samm brought his practice sword up in a high guard. Blood moved in small rivulets down the valleys of his wrists and forearms—the product of torn knuckles, and broken fingers. His face was little better. Puckered with bruises, and oozing splits across his cheek bones, the handsome man that had first enlisted in SOLDIER was barely a missive of his former self. In his ears Samm’s heart thrummed with painful clarity. Every muscle and joint ached, and cried to be allowed to release the tension it held within like a cracked dam. To his very soul, every ounce of him cried for respite. Hours had passed in this manner, and the wounds only compounded upon themselves, stacking in painful malice towards the body the bore them. Solace was a foolhardy desire; Teacher allowed no such solace. With a firm exhalation of breath, Teacher lunged forward. The stern man’s wooden sword swung in a precise arc, moving like the head of a scorpion’s tail towards a battered Sammael. Pivoting on the balls of his feet, Samm flinched to parry. His own sword came up, sliding forward to intercept Teacher’s weapon at the apex of his attack. A satisfying CLACK crashed forth as the weapons came together, their force crying outward into the heavy air. Samm began the first instances of his next motion, willing the synapses in his brain to move his body into a counterstrike to Teacher’s exposed stomach. This instant was for not. In that bare, raw moment—that eternity spanning only the breadth of a lightning strike—Teacher took him. With a speed born of near preternatural skill, Teacher moved beneath Samm’s guard. The hilt of the master’s sword flicked outward, pummeling Samm like the horns of a bull just beneath the contour of his rib cage. Air was forced from his lungs. His eyes splayed wide in stunned surprise. The wooden sword in his hands fell, as fingers instantaneously lost their strength. Samm crumpled over his stomach, landing hard upon his knees. Gasping and retching, the world around him seemed to whirl and fade. Teacher stepped forward. Reaching down, the master clutched a shock of Sammael’s drenched blond hair. Yanking it up, he lifted the student’s face to the sky. “Pain,” Teacher hissed, “…is the ultimate master. Learn from her. Embrace her.” “Agony to enlightenment.”[/color] [hr] [color=f7941d]//T H E C A N A L//[/color] Sammael’s eyes blazed open. Though unseen behind his mask, the pupils bled white, until all was an ivory orb. Ither’s awareness was taking over now, and Samm was listening. [color=00a99d][i]”Danger. Falling. Water.”[/i][/color] The Aeon’s sensations came just as the lurch of the Shyp cracked into reality. A litany of confused and warning cries filled the interior of the vessel, punctuating Samm’s cognition. Deftly, Samm brought his arms to cross his chest. His sword found its way into the mag-lock servos at his back, while his strong hands tightened the crash straps of the harness. Samm’s jaw clenched as the sound of rending metal joined with a rush of air, and the roar of the Shyp’s failing engines. The Shyp listed to the side like a wounded animal, and crashed downward so quickly that Samm could feel his throat fill with bile. He swallowed it back, just as the Shyp hit the water like so much dead flotsam. The shock of the impact traveled up Samm’s spine, and through his limbs. Even in the confines of his helmet, his teeth jarred together, leaving him with a ringing in his ears. Yet Ither was feeding his mind and muscles their commands, and Samm harnessed the ethereal awareness. As water first struck at his ankles, Samm had freed himself from the crash harness. Standing upon the floundering craft’s floor and seats, Samm braced himself with his arms. Looking about, he could see that his comrades were in various states of disarray and reorientation. Training and skill were taking over, and the SOLDIERS were rising to the occasion. A command came above the din. Something about getting free of the wreckage, and finding shore. With his mind afire, Samm scanned the interior one last time. He could see Natalya had already begun the work of yanking those still within their harnesses free, and shoving them towards the crack in the hull. The glowing beacon of Corr’s arm added clarity to the chaotic darkness, and gave a face to the roiling water that was rushing inside. Seeing that no one was being left behind, Samm followed behind Corbyn. Diving headlong into the water, Samm used powerful strokes to guide him through the giant crack in the Shyp’s hull that Carmen had found. Free from the Shyp, Samm let his natural buoyancy glide him to the surface. Chopping waves and wind met him, giving him staccato flashes of the burning Shyp, and the silhouettes of his comrades. Treading water, Samm rotated until he was oriented towards the shore. Several of the team had already begun their journey towards that destination, and he fell into line behind them. Between strokes, Samm’s eyes lifted to the sky. The distinctive form of a great bird could be seen against the clouds. [color=00a99d][i]”Death dealers. Heretics.”[/i][/color] Samm’s focus immediately went to the smudged form of the shoreline, though he could see little amidst the waves and spray. There was something or someone there, however. Something that would do the SOLDIERS harm. “Commander,” Samm yelled. His voice came through his mask distorted and harsh, yet clear above the natural din. “Carmen, I believe we have enemies nearby. The shoreline may be covered.” Twisting mid swim, Samm found Nicholaus. “Your bird,” Samm said. “Can it scan the shoreline? We need to be ready once we reach the beach, and there are surely bad-actors waiting for us.”