[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/B7KsN1D.png[/img][/center]
[hr]
Scenario: Best Served Cold
Interactions: None
[hr]

Gerard sat still atop the rock with his staff resting on his lap. In order to keep himself awake, he took a bundle of dry holly leaves hidden in his satchel and stuffed it in his cheek. Most of his comrades were trying to make the best of things and rest inside the boats, but the warrior priest found himself suffocated by sea sickness. He chose to wait the storm out by sharpening himself with meditation instead. It was completely dark out now, and the sound of rain and thunder made hearing nearly impossible. Though the rain was freezing cold, his steely nerves slowly grew numb to it. For those of a certain disposition, the deafening white noise gave a measure of comfort. Gerard was truly alone with his thoughts.

Despite his calm outward appearance, Gerard’s spirit was in turmoil. For the past couple of days he thought of nothing but the defeats he suffered in the battle for Relouse. Twice he had engaged in single combat with the Eskandr, and twice he had been cast aside by magic that far outstripped his own. To lose against the king of a nation was perhaps to be expected - but for the same to be true against a girl who wasn’t even his own age… the memory filled him with a mixture of rage and envy. For the gods to grant such power to blasphemers who only spoke their names in curses, Gerard thought he must still be lacking something as a servant. For the moment at least.

[color=F92D00][i]No! I have the requisite knowledge. It should be possible for me to use the same techniques they do. I just need more practice![/i][/color] The red Rezaindian extended his sixth sense out to sea, mentally submitting himself to the boundless fury of the ocean waves. It had been a long time since he’d opened his mind to such a massive amount of force. The years he had spent exploring the secrets of Ipte’s fire seemed regrettable now. How much could he have accomplished if he hadn’t been so narrow minded in his arcane pursuits? But the time for self depreciation was over. He had done that plenty the entire way here. 

Gerard tugged on the energy current and allowed a sliver of it to enter his body, gradually feeding his manas the sustenance they craved. He had to be careful not to let the waves overwhelm him. While the sun was an endless source of magical power, its intensity was always the same. It was predictable. Here, the mountainous waves ebbed and flowed without a pattern. He had to alter the flow constantly, and it required all his focus to avoid overdrawing. 

The priest did not draw himself to capacity. He channeled the collected energy into his staff, causing it to float up to eye level. And that was it. All he did was levitate the magical instrument for the next several hours, persevering through the night until sunrise. It was a very basic, very important form of training that allowed his cells to grow accustomed to drawing on force once again. No matter what technique he tried on the fire witch, it would have to come out [i]fast[/i] in order to be remotely effective. This had to become second nature so that he could quickly turn the bitch's magic against her. 

[hr]

[color=F92D00]”Act natural. You and I will be a family during our short stay in this… place. I am just a soldier who came back home to bring his daughter to the capital.”[/color] Gerard picked Maud up and allowed her to wrap her arms around his neck. In order to remain inconspicuous, the priest had exchanged his usual robes with more appropriate attire. As the longboat approached the pier, he gritted his teeth. It was important that he opened his mouth only when necessary, for his accented Eskandish would expose his origins if spoken too liberally. 

Moments ago, Gerard nearly called the village something else but managed to hold his tongue. The Eskandish converts might be on the side of Parrence now, but that did not mean they despised their homeland. Even he had the good sense not to speak ill of it in their presence. 

When the group rendezvoused with the dockman, a posse of children stormed the pier and began to harass them with a salvo of irritating questions. Gerard did his best to ignore the brats and wade past them, but one of the miscreants insisted on tugging on his pants and forcing his attention.

[color=82ca9d]”Hey mister, how many of them did you kill?[/color] There was a second where Gerard gazed down at the boy with a look of disdain, but he had to keep a lid on it. Without his hood to obscure his face it would be easy to see his disgust. The zealot closed his eyes and filled his lungs with air. He slowly released the breath. He was calm. 

Without letting go of Maud, Gerard knelt down so that he was face to face with the little snot. He curled his lips into a nefarious grin and whispered so that any prying ears could hardly hear. 

[color=F92D00]"I killed at least a dozen of them boyo. Roasted ‘em alive just like this.”[/color] Gerard breathed a puff of flame right over the boy’s head. The kid put his hands on his head in surprise and yelped before scurrying a few feet away. Just then the dock’s owner began shooing the children away, and within seconds the disturbance had passed. From then on the ‘captain’ silently nodded along while his comrades did the talking for him. Reassuringly, the man named Birger appeared to be on their side. In order to avoid the rats crawling about, the expeditionary force would hold their briefing in a hideout recommended by the mole. On the surface he was agreeable, but in the back of his mind, Gerard couldn’t help but hold suspicions about a possible trap.