The creaking of the deck beneath his boots was all the clue he needed to tell him about the worthiness of the vessel. The old chug of the engine and the black smog of imperfect combustion were other signs that pointed towards the boat's prime, if one could even call it that, being far in the past. One of many such craft that worked to ferry tourists around in the Summer months but could be repurposed for fishing in the Winter.

The gentle breeze off the Aegean may have been several shades colder than he would have preferred but the Winter Sun played bright colours across the water as it set, something the seasonal tourists would never see. Sightseeing wasn't his purpose here though, even his eventual destination was secondary, at least for the moment. The other people in the boat eyed him as he rose from his own hunkered position in the back of the boat, other unfortunate souls paying scraped together money for desperate passage away from the prying eyes of the Hellenic border police. He wasn't here for them either.

As Osée Baptiste passed on his way towards the front of the boat he caught a reflection in the cabin window as he passed. His own visage was partially obscured by the low light, but over his shoulder there was another, a dark smudge in the glass in the shape of a woman's silhouette over his shoulder.

[Color=D22B2B]“Bonjour, Maman.”[/color] He breathed quietly, like a prayer, before moving on. By now one of the small crew of two men that operated the boat had noticed one of their passengers, more accurately their cargo, had began to move forwards. A few terse words in Greek drifted his way. A command to halt, to get back to his place. When Osée responded it was in Greek, a more ancient version and but a single word.

[Color=D22B2B]“Skótos”[/color]

There was a sudden cry of alarm from the man ahead of him, his weapon, a beaten up rifle, swinging around as he found his senses betrayed him. This was soon followed by cries of panic and fear from the other passengers, as well as further yelling from the cabin where the boat's pilot found himself plunged into darkness. Thankfully the man had the good sense not to jerk the wheel in his sudden confusion, or this would have got rather more complicated.

While his mother's gifts had enabled him to blind all others aboard, swamping them in a darkness of their mind's own creation, it was his father's legacy that drove him onwards in the next few moments.

[I]Isolate the weapon, disarm, discharge.[/I] One palm strike battered the errant rifle aside, several shots plunging into the chilled waters of the sea as the man errantly fired, before Osée wrenched the weapon from his frantic grasp. The stock went into the man's gut, before the mag was pulled free and both rifle and ammunition went into the Aegean separately, cast to the depths.

He did not have dextrous control of his mother's gift to control the senses, but he had enough, to keep the mortals around him in thrall for a moment, and to deafen the unfortunate souls in the back, to leave his words only for the two men that were the true reason his mother, in her own way, had directed him to reach the Greek mainland by this method.

[Color=D22B2B]“You have trespassed against the Goddess Nemesis, upset her balance, your hubris has been your undoing.”[/color] For all that Nemesis was the goddess of justice, her's was a balance of retribution. These men who had taken the precious coin of others to move them across borders, but not to prosperity but to the hands of other such criminals, had erred not in the morality of their act, but in their location. The islands they plied had been sworn long ago to the humble priesthood of Nemesis, and as such, their crimes earned her attention. Osée did not pity the men for what he must do, although he found it untasteful, that such a shallow reason would be why his mother called him to act, but he felt compelled to do so all the same.

[Color=D22B2B]”I praise bright-eyed Nemesis, daughter of dark-cloaked Nyx, Nemesis who watches, who knows whenever, we have done harm, who makes certain that all evil, is punished, that all who are guilty receive their due. Swift-winged Nemesis, Let Retribution Begin, Let Retribution Begin, Let Retribution Begin.”[/color] Osée spoke the words in a low drone, his tongue easily slipping through the Ancient Greek syllables. As he did, the men began to groan, shuddering motion passing through their forms. Nemesis did not wish them dead, that could be difficult, involving further complications to those they trafficked should the remains be found. No, not the release of death, but a balance to the pain they had caused.

So then he spoke another word, and the howling began.

[Color=D22B2B]”Pathēma.”[/color]

[hr]

He held the passengers in a state of sense deprivation for a while longer, keeping the low moans from what remained of the mental state of the two men from them as he steered the boat to the coast of the mainland. Ultimately they were incidental to the justice his mother demanded, but he still made the effort of recovering the money they had given over the two men, leaving it on the boat deck before moving ashore himself.

He let the grasp of his power over them slip as he did. They weren't far from civilisation. Ultimately their fate would be their own, unless they wronged the Pantheon in some way, then he supposed they may cross his path again. Nemesis didn't just provide retribution for herself but all her divine siblings, so long as they paid their own respects.

This was as far as mortal transportation would take him all the same, his eventual destination was one only people like him should be able to find, at the behest of the gods.

The remainder of the way would take him through the forests and foothills of Greece, secluded and isolated. What he had been told would be his new home, even if true home was thousands of miles away at the root of the world.

He paused as he began to walk through the woods, the lingering shadow beneath a tree resembling that of a person for just a moment too long.

[Color=D22B2B]“Proud yet, Maman?” His gaze lingered in the swirling shade of sunrise, and only silence was his answer.[/color]

[hr]

It was a long route, but years of training alongside his father and then alongside various rugby teams had conditioned him well for the effort, and while it was impossible that mortals might find his destination it was the reverse for him. Eventually, all those with the blood of the gods could find themselves here.

The path lead to a gate before the camp, his mother had suggested that the numbers had dwindled recently and he would not be alone in being newly arrived. With a steady exhale, and with pack slung over his shoulder, he began to walk into the camp.