[IC] Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

[Penny]

Emmaline wandered the length of the ship, following the ropes with her eyes and trying to fathom what each one did. Most gold wizards were also artificers of a time and she had to admit that she found the system to be rather fascinating. So adsorbed was she in the activity that she all but walked into a group of sailors idling on the forecastle deck between the timbers that secured the bow sprit.

"Easy there lass," one of the men called, "Don't want to go tumblin' overboard." One of his fellows snorted and leaned back to blow out a stream of pipesmoke from between his lips.

"Let her fall I say, bad luck to have a woman aboard," another advised.

"Or really good luck," a lean looking man with a pronounced hatchet of a nose, thrusting his hips forward lewdly to the approving cackles of his mates. Emmaline rolled her eyes.

"How you gentlemen pass the time below decks is none of my business," she told the thespian archly. Color stole into the fellows cheek as his mates roared with laughter and slapped the decking with approval of the jest.

"Why don't you come over here and keep us company darlin'" the first man who had spoken invited.

"Want to know what a real man is like?" he leered.

"Why do you know any?" Emmaline asked sweetly and it was the other sailor's turn to hoot and jeer at their fellow.

"You are wasted on that limp Araybian," one of them observed. The fact that Amal and Emmaline were sharing a cabin had not gone unnoticed among the crew, who, naturally enough, made assumptions. Emmaline knew his effette satrap role wore on Amal and besides she did like to tease.

"I'm the one who should be limping," she suggested slyly, "he hasn't given me a wink of sleep in days." That comment bought them all up short. Until the leader scoffed.

"Please I walk by their every night for my watch and haven't heard nothing," the man quibbled.

"He gags me with a silk scarf first," Emmaline explained, a comment with ensured that several sailors trousers were obviously tented when Amal climbed up the stairs to the forecastle.

[POOHEAD189]

Amal might not have found the cook, but as thieving was one of his prime talents he still had collected enough to sate he and Emmaline. In a small sack he had two apples, three warm loafs of bread, two waterskins and a bottle of Tilean spirits that they would doubtfully need if the thunder continued to roar alarmingly close. Making his way up the stairs, he arrived at the forecastle to catch the tail end of Emmaline's story. He bit his tongue as not to laugh, and positioned himself smugly on the railing near them before he announced his presence.

"Ready for another round?" He said in an exaggerated, throaty voice.

The crewmembers jeered and whistled, except for a few of the jealous blokes who eyed Amal like he'd insulted their mothers. One of the sailors had nearly toppled over the side with surprise when he had shown up but another caught him as if it was a normal occurrence. There was a small sprinkling of rain that suddenly appeared from the clouds above, so Amal guided Emmaline away as the men realized it was time to get back to their duties.

"Come lover, let us go below decks to enjoy ourselves." He whispered, and opened the bag to show he had found some food. If he were in Al-Hiekk it would have been a veritable feast, but it would still suit he and Emmaline for now. Truthfully he did wish to talk to her about what their plan was in Marienburg, but the mental image of him riding her as she bit on a silk scarf couldn't quite leave his head, try as he might. Likely the sailors had a similar problem judging by their trousers.

"Perhaps you can tell me more of this silk scarf I might have misplaced, eh?" He joked.
@Penny

[Penny]

Emmaline turned to follow Amal quickly so that the flamming blush in her cheeks wasn't immediately apparent to the sailors as they scattered to their duites. Amal really did have the knack of appearing at the worst possible times. The walked back along the sail tending gangway to the rear of the ship as cloud bursts continued to open above them, sending down sudden blasts of warm rain that stopped as suddenly as they began. The sea to their rear was obscured by darker clouds and the mist of distant rain merged water and sky into a single gray continuum. The drumming of the sails overhead grew deafening and the ship healed over to the wind, canting the deck hard enough that the guns snugged up against their stowing lines. Captain Diego appeared from below decks in a canvas coat peering up at the rigging with a critical eye before glancing back at the approaching weather.

"Lay her sou-souwewst," he called to the helsmen, "and shorten sail or we will have spars carrying away by nightfall!"

The wind whipped up around them and Emmaline's hair, mostly secured in a lose braid flew around her face like a halo. They stepped down the stairs and through the doors which muted the sound considerably. Even so the timbers continued to groan with the strength of the sea surging beneath them.

Emmaline stepped into the cabin ahead of Amal her blush unabated. She hadn't truly meant for him to hear what she had been saying but what was done was done.

"Ummm..." she said lamely as he closed the door behind them.

[POOHEAD189]

The rain outside grew audible as Amal closed the door, setting the sack down on the single chair in the room so they could better grab at it. He was drawn to her when she spoke, and almost instantly he realized she was blushing fiercely, and why it was. He chuckled, rising to stand before her, in very close proximity due to the room's size. "Hey, no need to be embarrassed Em." He said, very uncharacteristically understanding. Not to say he didn't have a conscience, but he was generally the type to tease or smoothly transition into a flirtation. Perhaps it was because he had grown to enjoy her company more than he had ever imagined. "It was a very lovely thought to think." He admitted.

Within the folds of their bags, their magical carpet's rug-tail poked out as if it had eyes to see with, and once it saw they were both in a rather intimate moment it slid back into it's rolled up form.

She was like to blush more now, and he felt he was too. "I'm not the most honest man you'll ever meet, but I would lie if I had not thought of such things, or kissing you quite often since we met..." He felt his own face reddening, and his tongue suddenly couldn't form any words. What in Allah's name was he doing? "Ealayk allaena" He cursed in Arabyan, feeling very awkward. "I mean... Look, let us simply sit down and-"

The ship lurched suddenly, the wood around them groaning from the water pressure. Emmaline stumbled and fell into Amal's quick arms, and they were all of the sudden nose to nose, and he had a very telling view of her generous bosom. "Are you ok?" He breathed, not knowing what else to say.
@Penny

[Penny]

+Events of Stormy Weather+

Emmaline gasped for air as the ship pitched precipitously beneath her. The weather had gotten worse, much worse while the two of them had been completely focused on each other. Beyond the transom window great flashes of light lit the blackness, though it was still but early evening and the sea rose in long rolling gray waves. Emmaline opened her mouth to whisper some endearment to Amal but was interrupted by a sudden thunder of feet outside the door. The door rattled as someone tried to force it but Amal's dagger prevented access.

"Open up!" someone shouted but then, without waiting for a response, there was crash and the door flew inward off its hinges as a heavy boot crashed into the jam. The flying timber struck Amal across the back and sent him sprawling. Sailors rushed into the room, soaked to the skin and eyes so wide they were completely rimmed with white. Their faces were ashern and their visages grim. Two of them grabbed Emmaline and dragged her toward the door, oblivious or uncaring of her nakedness.

"Let me go!" she shouted as she was dragged towards the door.

"Throw her over the side or the storm will take us all!" the leader, one of the men who had been on the forecastle earlier shouted. At that moment Emmaline's staff which, despite the pitching of the deck, had remained propped in in the corner of the room toppled over. It struck one of the men holding her and he screamed as a hissing cobra struck at his neck with razored fangs. He let go of Emmaline and struck at the snake but it was already nothing more than an ornate staff tangling his inept blows. Amal leaped to his feet, the attackers were motivated by panic and, perhaps still thinking of him as meek satrap, hadn't thought to deliver a coup de grace. The thief, also still naked, seized a piece of the shattered door and swept the legs out from underneath one of the sailors before reversing his grip and knocking the man senseless with an almost musical 'thunk'. The man bitten by the staff had dropped to the ground, froth flecking his lips as he began to convulse.

Cold air assaulted Emmaline's naked body as she was dragged kicking and screaming up the stairs and onto the deck. Sheets of cold rain slapped her and the keening wind rose from a dull howl to a roar that blew out her air like a banner. The sky above was roiling darkness lit almost continually by flashes of lightning and great crashing booms of thunder. The rigging, so organized and neat a few hours before was a tangled shambles. One of the foremasts had been torn away by the sudden and unexpected wind and had dragged half the cables down into a tangle rats nest with its destruction. Crewmen frantically hacked at cables with axes, trying to free the shattered yard so they could get it overboard. Up on the quaterdeck Diego stood white knuckled, shouting orders that were largely ignored in the panic. The deck rose up and plunged down into the troughs sending great sheets of spray up over the decks, paradoxically warm compared to the hammering rain.

"What are you doing?" Garza demanded as the man dragging Emmaline all but trampled him. The pudgy first mate looked grim but calm despite the storm and the sudden appearance of a naked woman on deck.

"Mannan will take us if she dosen't go over the side!" the sailor yelled, struggling to make himself heard over the gale. Garza opened his mouth to object but the fellow struck the first mate with his free hand sending him reeling an dragged Emmaline towards the railing. There was a sudden crack as lightning hit one of the remaining masts, the flash and boom simultaneously. Pieces of charred timber and smoking embers rained down on the deck like a rain from one of the Hells depicted in the passion plays.

[POOHEAD189]

Meanwhile, another crewmember swung at Amal and managed to give a glancing blow to his shoulder. The cutthroat spun with it and kicked out, cracking the man's knee with a well aimed heel. Roughly, he grabbed the man's shirt, pulling his face into Amal's elbow, breaking his nose and sending him unconscious into the ground. Amal leaped over him, grabbing the fallen dagger from the ground. Thoughts of protecting Settra's jewels were overridden by fear over Emmaline. It figured, just as he had found the riches of a lifetime, he found a girl he cared for even more.

"Guard the stash!" He yelled, and to the last crewmember that was running away from the crazed naked man it sounded even more insane. Truth be told he was talking to the magic carpet, which he heard beginning to rummage as he leaped up the stairs as quickly as his feet could carry him. He reversed the grip on his dagger as he ran, calling for Emmaline desperately as he ascended the stairway that ran with a small stream of water even now. He shoved a surprised crewman out of the way, sending him tumbling down the stairs with a cry. Soon Amal found his way on the foredeck, leaping out to slide along the rainslicked wood, in awe over the maelstrom of rain and wind that surrounded the ship in a deathly spiral.

To his horror, he saw the mainsail toppling with an echoing crack, and it slowly fell towards the crewman that was trying to throw Emmaline overboard. "No!" He screamed with more despair than he ever had since his mother had sold him into slavery, and he leaped with all of his strength. The mast was falling, a dozen meters away and moving what seemed to be two seconds away from crushing her and the crewman. Amal tossed his dagger just as the man reared Emmaline back to toss her overboard, eight inches of steel entering his back and stealing the breath from his body.

He couldn't make it with the jump. The length was just too far. So instead he landed on his knees and slid along the wood, catching Emmaline's falling form to slide just out of the mast's path. Skidding to a halt, Amal held her protectively, moving her hair to see if she was harmed at all. "You think you can get away from me that easily?" He asked, his words filled with true concern. The wood under them began to splinter, and the men who had not fallen overboard were now praying to their gods or being buffeted against the walls from the waves that leaped onto the deck as tentacles from a malevolent monster. The light of the clouded sky was suddenly blotted out as a wave more monstrous than any previous rose up before them. Holding her legs and back with as much care as he could, Amal knew what he had to do.

He slid his hand into her hair and kissed her passionately as all turned to darkness.
@Penny

[Penny]

Time seemed to move in a series of stutter steps punctuated by flashes of lighting and periods where the waters seemed to close over them. Only for the first few such flashes was their any sign of the ship, first listing heavily to port, then sliding broad side into the waves and then gone save for the occasional bits of flotsam and jetsom which polluted the waves. Emmaline kicked and thrashed, she wasn't a strong swimmer but she was able to stay afloat long enough to catch hold of a large wooden hatch cover which had been shaken lose in the final moments of destruction before the Tilean frigate had become one with Mannan. Handles of ancient worn leather furnished hand grips and they both clung on for dear life. The roar of the was appocalyptic and the wind whiped water off the foaming sea at such a pressure that even breathing above water was a challenge. Emmaline found she had to cover her mouth with her arm to avoid from being half drowned. She kept a grip on Amal, tangling his hand in the strap and binding it around him. After several attempts she managed to incant a spell, originally intended to keep noxious vapor out of an alchemists mouth, to keep him from drowning in the saturated air.

How long the storm raged was impossible to tell. There were no stars visible and the pounding waves made her senses uncertain. At one point she lost consciousness and awoke with a start to find herself, to her infinite, relief, still tethered to the catch cover. Amal too was still securely attached, breathing through the spell she had worked in her sleep, she offered a prayer of thanks to Apsath that the enchantment had not failed when she slipped into unconsciousness. When the seas finally began to calm she hauled herself up on top of the hatch and collapsed once again. Strange dreams came to her as she slept, visions of strolling the streets of Altdorf while Amal stole Karl Franz' pocket watch, strange barren tundras and far away places, snarling Araybian Gods playing cards with Sigmar while Ranald offered advice.

"Wake up," Amal's voice sounded in her ear and Emmaline sat up to tell him that stealing Karl Franz' watch really wasnt a great idea, only to find herself sitting atop the hatch cover, stark naked with a gently rolling sea extending in all directions. The sun was just over the horizon but there were enough clouds in the sky to keep it from broiling them alive. Amal was equally naked she noticed, and while the sight was still impressive, it lost some of its romance given they were adrift somewhere in the ocean with no food, no clothes and no supplies.

"It isn't as bad as all that," Amal was quick to point out, obviously catching something of the sudden panic stealing over her space. She opened her mouth to ask how but as she did so the carpet they had stolen from the sorcerer in Araby floated sedately from the sky to land beside them. It was soaked and bedraggled looking and Emmaline got the impression it was very tired but she had never been more relieved to see anything in her life. Or at least she hadn't been until a cobra slithered up out of the water took a moment to give her an irritated glance and then coiled around her wrist becoming a golden bracelet wrought in the form of a serpent. A serpent that still looked rather put out.

"Did you see anything?" Amal was asking the carpet. The carpet seemed to shake itself in the negative and then slump into exhausted inanimacy. Emmaline blew some of her soaking wet hair out of her face and sat back glumly, folding her arms beneath her bare breasts.

"Well, I had a lovely evening but it took rather a sharp turn at the end there," she joked weakly.

[POOHEAD189]

Amal had needed a vacation away from Araby, but this wasn't exactly what he had in mind. His muscles ached and he still felt every breath was precious despite being well above the water. The carpet landed beside him, and while it was still clearly a threaded cloth, he knew it would likely be as miffed as Emmaline's serpent if he or she were to use it to cover their genitals. Luckily, he had not dreamed; only faded in and out of consciousness as the waves roiled around him.

"Usually that doesn't happen when I'm with a woman," He replied, trying his best to smile and keep their spirits up. He never thought seeing a naked Emmaline wouldn't immediately make him speechless, but this was extenuating circumstances even if she did look ravishing sitting atop the wood. It was at that moment his stomach grumbled angrily and he realized he had spent the time he could have been eating with Emmaline. The thief shrugged. "Worth it."

"Hmmm?"

He shook his head. "I'm simply thinking. How long were we out?" He asked, but neither could rightly tell the answer. All night it seemed, and they had only been a few days at sea. The frigate was likely just beside Brettonia it collapsed, which even Amal had some inkling of the geography there. It did not explain why the sun even behind the clouds was beginning to become sweltering. He groaned and got to his feet, naked as the day he was born and looking around the horizon. He didn't know if it was the sun peeking out of the clouds that blotted his vision, or if there truly was no land in sight.

The sound of the gently bobbing water that buffeted the small raft beneath them was palpable and made him feel very alone, even with Emmaline and the magical items right here with them. He heard Settra's mad laughter in his mind, and a fire grew hot within him. The realization made him angry, and the hunger just drove him to rage even moreso. The Arabyan shook his fist in the air. "The next time I find you Settra, I will steal more than your crown!" He cried, his voice echoing across the water. "Do you hear me!?"

He plopped back on the wood, being all too aware of a few splinters on the underside of his legs. Placing his face in his hand, he sighed. "I guess we lost the jewels to the crown as well... fuck." Amal lay back on the wooden planks and looked up at the clouds. He had gotten out of dodgy situations before, but being stranded in the middle of the ocean with no food, water, shelter, or clothing was a new one. "I doubt our luck could get much better." He stated facetiously.

The water puddled atop the wooden planks for a moment, and the raft shook lightly from the wind. A wind that Amal did not feel, even on his bare groin that was, at the moment, the most verticle thing about him as he lay there. He blinked and raised himself up on his elbows, turning to see Emmaline clutching the serpent's mark on her chest, staring wide eyed past her new lover. Amal followed her eyes and saw a ridged, webbed crest upon a serpentine body sliding out of the water in a coil. Amal's breath was stolen from his body as he watched the flowing, huge serpentine body disappear with a flash of a forked tail.

"Allah preserve us," he whispered.

Another crest rose out of the waves, but this time it was beneath their small raft that looked dangerously fragile compared to this beast that was as wide as Amal and Emmaline side by side. The thief caught the briefest glance of Emmaline's tattoo, and it looked as if it was writhing before both of them had to hold on for life as the raft was suddenly yanked across the water like a whip. Even the carpet uncoiled and held onto the slits in the plankings.

The raft went back and forth in great sloshes of water, threatening to toss them into the depths. But after a minute Amal glanced at the sky and realized they were head generally west. Not that they weren't going to be pulled under the water and devoured at any moment.
@Penny

[Penny]

For a time their progress was terrifying, the speed at which they travlled was as fast or faster than a horse could gallop and at times they seemed to all but skip across the tops of the gentle swells. Emmaline and Amal both clung to the hatch as best they could. Trying to get a look at whatever beast dragged them was more than difficult as the foaming wake the thing left in its wake was opaque to Emmaline's eyes and she dared not open her magical senses for fear of disturbing the thing. As minutes stretched into hours though other problems began to present themselves, the sun was hot and their earlier activities had left them sadly bereft of any clothing. The solved this problem by sheltering together beneath the carpet which, rather reluctantly it seemed agreed to the treatment. Emmaline would have suggested they try to fly on the carpet but she knew that its endurance was limited and was obviously at the end of its tassels after having stayed aloft all night in the fierce storm. They resolved to try it only if the monster turned on them or other disaster threatened.

By the end of the second day, with sleep taken in short snatches during the night time hours, hunger became a torment. Emmaline, driven to risk her magic was able to purify handfuls of sea water for drinking but at the speed they were moving there was no practical way to catch fish. For the most part they tried to ignore it, huddling together and telling stories. Emmaline told Amal of the great cities and mighty forests of the Empire and of the dark and terrible things that dwelt there. In his turn he told her of his days as a thief in Araby and the many close escapes he had made over the years. Unfortunately despite their nakedness there was little opportunity to do more than occasionally tease each other physically, something that Emmaline freely admited she wanted to claim the bragging rights too. How many women afterall could claim to have entertained an Araybian thief while being dragged across the ocean by a sea monster?

On the forth day Emmaline awoke suddenly, the stabbing pain of hunger in her belly preceding her eyes. It was not Amal that woke her however, the raft it seemed had lost the speed it was accustomed to and drifted on natural current once more. There was a faint whiff of flowers and rot and a greenish smudge on the horizon, a few hundred meters ahead of them the water began to foam as it hit a reef of some sort.

"Ummmm..." Emmaline stammered and then shook Amal awake.

"By Allah!" he muttered as the current drew them toward the shoals at an ever increasing rate. He grabbed the carpet and shook it gently. The carpet seemed to stir from its own torpor.

"My friend it is not far can you manage it?" he asked hasitily, clearly uncertain, as Emmaline was, if they would be able to swim that far in their weakened states. The carpet snapped taught magnanimously and hovered a few inches above the improvised raft.

"Your chariot awaits," Amal declared in Araybian stretching his hand out to her. Emmaline took it and climed on.

"My camel does what?" she asked but before he could correct her mistranslated the carpet soared up and away. A few moments later the raft crashed into the shoals and stuck fast, sure to be pounded appart by the waves before long. The rose high enough that Emmaline could make out a vast expanse of greenish forest very different to anything she had ever seen, it was fringed with the most incredibly white sand she had ever encountered and a large river mouth forced its way out to the ocean like the mouth of a gaping serpent. Somewhat further up the coast another object caught her eye. Aground on a shoal was the remains of an ancient looking ship, half smashed apart by years of tides.

"Can you take us to the beach near there?" Emmaline asked, pointing with an outstretched finger. The carpet obeyed, zooming towards the indicated spot and a moment later it touched down softly on the beach. Emmaline and Amal both collapsed gratefully onto the sand huging solid ground for long minutes.

"We need to find food," she stated but Amal was already looking at some strange looking growths hanging from what appeared to be a kind of palm tree.

"What about those?" he asked.

It took fifteen minutes and several tries for Amal to recover one of the large green fruit. It appeared to Emmaline to be like a giant nut with no easy way to get into it. At last she resorted to magic.

"Stand back," she instructed and incanted a spell, slashing a blade of golden light with her fingertip that neatly bisected the fruit. Water spilled from the inside to reveal a hollow brown nut filled with bright white flesh. Amal looked at her and she tried another spell, searching for poisons. Nothing.

"It isn't poison that I can tell," she told him. Without another word Amal peeled out a chunk of white flesh chewed it and swallowed.

"Mmm its actually...pretty good," he managed around the mouthful. Emmaline took her half and began to eat equally ravenously.

[POOHEAD189]

Amal and Emmaline ate together, but once the two had their quick fill of the strange edible, Amal decided they needed some more. With a slight modicum of his strength back, he decided to be an enterprising man and searched the beach until he found a particularly sharp rock. It made him lament losing his favored dagger in the wreck of the El Cargador, but it was no use dwelling on it now. The stone was weighty in the hand but fairly jagged, and he used it to poke into the next hard shelled treat until it was then pried open, and he and Emmaline ate some more until they felt the bottomless pits of their stomachs had grown slightly less chasmic.

Satisfied, with their asses coated in sand, the two made their way over to the wreckage of mottled wood that stood as a ruin along the beach. It was an old ship by the looks of it, but not ancient. If Amal had to guess, it was a Brettonian vessel judging by the writing on its side and the coloring of the outer planks. He had never left the Southlands, but he had seen many ships in his time. Before they looked, they both waded into the sea for a moment to clean themselves of the rocks and sand that caked their skin.

"Let's find some clothes," Emmaline said tiredly, lifting out of the ocean in water that tickled her hips. "If the Gods are merciful there will be some."

Amal grabbed her hand, and she turned to see him with a glint in his eye. "I agree, but since we have some of our strength back..." His eyes explored her body, and she snorted when her mind caught up to her.

"I think survival and then fun is the most responsible course of action, even a risk taker like you can appreciate that." Despite her words, she gave a little extra sway of her hips as she stepped out of the water. Amal couldn't help but grin, despite his disappointment. The two stepped out and found themselves under the torn canopy of a fallen mast, long years and constant exposure to bugs and the elements giving it window-like holes where the beating sun pierced into the sand.

Amal was afraid to press to hard on any of the fragile wooden structure that rose out of the sand, lest it all fall atop them. There were two chests that lay covered in sand with crags scuttling across them, and fallen cupboards sat prone besides skeletons of unfortunate lost souls. Emmaline could not sense anything magical in the area, though Lustria had a strange polymetric quality to how the winds of magic flowed, as if there were intensely powerful magics further inland like the astronomers described the fabled 'black holes' in space, with density greater than suns that drew all matter around it. It was faint, however, and unimportant next to her find of relatively clean (save a few cobwebs) set of clothes inside one of the cupboards.

Within minutes, Amal and Emmaline looked like two deckhands, brown breeches and lowcut, unimpressive cotton tops that had a simply string at the neckline to tie up and cover their chests. Their boots were hardened, having been wetted and dried numerous times throughout the years, but they were certainly better than nothing.

After days in the merciless sun, even Amal felt clothing on his body was welcoming feeling. Emmaline practically squee'd in glee, eyes brightened and hands shaking. The Arabyan thought if she had more strength back she would be leaping. As she spun to tell Amal how grateful she was, the sorceress saw Amal holding an aureate tricone hat with an extravagant plum atop it. It was so large it looked nearly ridiculous. With a light humor, he placed it atop Emmaline's head and gave an equally extortionate bow.

"Yoeu look sew a-beautiful, mademoiselle." He performed in his modestly bad Brettonian accent. "Now if you will ekesxuseme, I will check if zese chests 'ave any eh-treasure."
@Penny

[Penny]

"Mo oui, oue are so'gallant," Emmaline replied sweeping the hat off her head in an elaborate bow. Clothing offered a degree of protection to a civilized person that was beyond mere protection from the elements. Even so she gave Amal a playful pinch on the rump while he fiddled with the lock on the first chest using a rusted nail and a sliver of wood as improvised picks. The ship looked as though it had been reasonably well cleaned out, there was little in the way of tools and nothing in the way of supplies left, as though everything that the surviving crew could carry had been hauled out of the vessel. Emmaline could easily imagine the surviving crew gathering up everything they could for a march... somewhere. Unfortunately whatever navigational records or charts had guided the ship here were also long gone. It was clear that they were somewhere far to the west of Brettonia but where exactly that was, or whether there were any settlements here was beyond her knowledge. Perhaps the crew had merely been searching for a stretch of coast not ringed by shoals and rescue might be more likely. Or slightly less unlikely.

"Almost got it," Amal muttered as he fiddled with his lock picks. Emmaline drew back her foot and bought it down hard on the lock of the second chest, the hasp sprang free as the ageworn timber crumbled. Amal clicked the lock open on his own chest and looked at her critically.

"Well sure, but no points for style," he admonished. They both threw open their chests. Inside were an assortment of personal items, quills and paper, a leather bound book that looked to be the captains journal, an old hurricane lantern and some more clothing. More practically there were a pair of jeweled daggers and a short sword with a leather bound hilt. Emmaline's chest was less usefully stocked with several bottles of liquor a darning kit and some navigational equipment including an astrolade and sextant. These were of limited use without charts but Emmaline gathered them up and tucked them into a leather rucksack that lay neatly folded at the bottom. A further search of the ship revealed nothing much of use, though they did gather up some rope, some canvas and a few of the large metal decking nails before reluctantly wading back ashore.

The sun was already going down so they strung the rope between to palm trees to make a tent and Amal began to construct a fire. About halfway through he realised he didn't have anyway to light it, but Emmaline conjured a flame that set the kindling alight. She also was able to use a spell to stun some of the fish that ventured into the shallows and they prepared a meal of fish grilled on short sticks which seemed heavenly in comparison to days of hunger and the meager fare provided by the strange fruit. It might have been possible to fashion a pot from the metal they recovered using magic but such a feat was beyond Emmaline without proper preparation. Once they had eaten Emmaline tried to read the book by firelight. Her Brettonian was not really up to the challenge however and after divining that the name of the ship had been the Caroline and she was a merchant out of Bordeaux she had to give up the text as impenetrable.

"Well," she said at last as she lounged against a large log of driftwood beside Amal, walking her fingers up his chest absently.

"What do you think we should do?"

[POOHEAD189]

Amal's belly filled with food and water, for the first time in near a week he felt comfortable. Even in this strange land, where the night fell late and the air felt strange and humid. He had taken all three weapons to carry over to the area they had chosen for camp. Behind them the trees were thick and hard to navigate through, even for Amal, so an attack from there would be unlikely. In front of them was the wide open ocean, and the twin moons of the world stood tall, bearing their reflections down on the soft waves that slid over the sand with a calming rhythm.

As Emmaline had been reading the Brettonian letters, Amal had initially been throwing a roughly circular rock towards the sea, watching to see if the carpet could catch it before the stone hit the water. It managed to whisk away the stone close to a dozen times before it wasn't swift enough, the water 'plunking' into the surf as the carpet spasmed in a fit. It zipped over and huffed, flattening on the ground on the other side of the fire.

"Come now, it happens to everyone." Amal said, but it was unwilling to perk up again except for a perfunctory wave from its fluffed arms.

After that, Amal had examined the daggers. Some weapons were jeweled because they were mere ornament pieces, but he knew blades well. These daggers were sharp and combat ready, the blades being a hand and a half tall by his reckoning, two hands tall by Emmaline's he guessed. The short sword was nearly twice that length, though it didn't look as finely crafted. It would do in a pinch, made from good steel and likely castle crafted. Setting the sword down, the thief lay back, head resting upon the log as he took a small piece of driftwood and used one of the daggers to idly carve its length.

Perhaps it was because he missed home, or perhaps because he couldn't take his mind off of Settra's curse that stranded them here, but he began to carve a Sphynx. Deftly maneuvering the knife along the soft wood, a rough shape began to form as the minutes passed. Despite his lack of education, he was skilled in more ways than looting and violence, with a quick mind and an attention to detail. He wondered if this was how the elders felt when they had retired from their duties. To sit by a fire calmly and whittle away at something trivial but fulfilling to give the long hours meaning.

These musings flew away when Emmaline turned and leaned against him, her book closed and her fingers walking along his bare chest. Amal's eyes ran along her jawline and her lips, immediately feeling a stirring below the belt. He leaned in to kiss her, only to stop and perk up, looking back behind them like a hound. He had heard nothing, but he needed to make sure. Long years alert told him to check, but also the fact that the boat collapsed last time before they could cuddle irked him.

A long moment passed before he relaxed his posture again, not giving Emmaline time to question it.

"One another," He answered, cupping her chin and kissing her greedily, having been nearly as famished sexually as he had been in other areas.
@Penny

[Penny]

Emmaline returned the kiss hungrily, her full lips moving over Amal's as the book fell from her fingers into the sand. The remoteness of their situation made her feel safe both because they could expect not others to be near and because few animals would dare approach a fire. Even with the hunger and fear of their voyage on the raft, days of looking at Amal's naked form without any safe way to take advantage of it had enflamed her desires.

She wrapped her arms around him and allowed her body to meld to his now that they were safe on dryland, the heat and warmth of him next to her more pleasant and urgent than that of the small fire that snapped and crackled a few feet away. Inspite of herself she cast a superstitious glance at the sky, making sure no storm or other cataclysm was gathering this time.

"I'm not sure that Brettonian sailor is my best look," she giggled as he broke the kiss momentarily.

[POOHEAD189]

He gave a mischievous grin, moving a thick fringe of dark hair out of his ways from her hands having ruffled it. "Are you kidding? You look born to it. Me? I'd be labeled a stowaway in a minute." After he said so, he thought for a second. "You know, they likely wouldn't be wrong."

"The thought crossed my mind..." Emmaline wrinkled her nose, but they found they couldn't stay apart for much longer and within seconds they began to kiss again as if they would drown without one another's tongues in their mouth. The carpet and Emmaline's animated snake sat a few meters away, the former somehow rolling its eyes without eyes to roll and the snake shrugging its vestigle hood. The two scoundrels didn't notice, the clothing they had found so appealing earlier now seemed unimportant as Amal's hand slid within Emmaline's pants to grip her bare rump as her back arched.

Amal was famished for her, but in the midst of his lower self standing on end, there came an awful smell. The two were even reluctant to pull apart then, but it grew so overbearing they stopped kissing. Amal looked confused and sniffed the air again, and Emmaline sat back up and held her nose.

"It wasn't me." She insisted. He wasn't thinking that. No human could make that smell, in the dark there came a chittering as twigs began to break and leaves began to bend and flap. The two turned to see a multitude of eyes dotting the treeline, beady and reflecting the light of the moons. There had to have been two dozen of whatever they were. As horny as he still was, Amal's honed instincts for survival kicked in and he pulled Emmaline to her feet and moved her back, shoving the sword sword in her hands. It was lucky they weren't unclothed this time.

"Man-things!" Something squeaked.

"What do?"

"Kill kill. Quick quick!"

"Five days," Amal whispered under his breath. For five days he had been waiting to have sex with his new lover, and this happens now? Was Settra's curse still upon him!? He would have claimed it was so when twenty rats that walked like men leaped out of the tree line. A few even squeezed through the thick wall of trees they had been kissing beside. Emmaline gasped, eyes wide in disbelief at the sight of what Amal knew was the dreaded Skaven.

He had never seen one before, but they weren't considered a mere myth in the lands of Araby. Simply another horror of the world, even if they were uncommon at the most numerous of times. Tunneling beneath desert was risky business, he had been told. It seems the wisemen had been right about many things. He wished he had listened more when he was a child. Their stench had never been mentioned, however. Considering how bad it was, it was a glaring oversight. The ratmen were armed with tiny daggers or shoddily made but cruel tipped spears.

"Face my blades." Amal said, flourishing the daggers. Outnumbered 10 to 1, he was far too pissed that his night with Emmaline was interrupted to truly care. "Come! I've not eaten rat in months!" He cried menacingly, being his usual uncouth self in his honesty.
@Penny

[Penny]

Emmaline squeaked in very unwizardlike terror as the reeking rat things took Amal up on his challenge, wicked blade held to strike. For her own part Emmaline tried to think of a spell that would help but before she could do so the skaven were upon them Amal parried a spear thrust and stepped in close, slashing the first attacker across the neck. Emmaline shrank back as the creatures rushed forward chittering in anticipated triumph, one made a lung for her with its dagger but she skipped back and delivered clumsy backhand cut that opened a gash from shoulder to forearm in its matted fur. The thing howled, dropped its weapon and fled up the beach screeching. Another Skaven bounded forward and slashed at Emmaline, knocking the sword from her hands. Seeing her peril Amal grabbed the brute by the tail and yanked it into the fire. The oils in its filthy fur ignited with a soft whuummp and the thing screamed in agony making a staggering down the beach towards the ocean like a living torch, the stench of burning furn unbelievable.

"Advance to the rear quick quick!" the largest of the things chittered as Amal gutted another of the attackers with a quick upward thrust and ripping motion that sent coils of intestines spilling to the sand. The creatures needed little encouragement and turned to flee en masse. Emmaline, finally finding the presence of mind to focus incanted a spell and a beam of golden light shot from her hands burning a neat hole in the back of the creature who had given the command, dropping him smoldering to the ground, the whole in its breastplate glowing cherry red for a few moments where the spell had struck. A sudden silence descended on the beach broken only by the rawkus cawing of sea gulls and the equally strident objections of jungle birds as the surviving rats fled into the verdant forest. Emmaline sagged with exhaustion, fear and the aftermath of battle while Amal stood glaring into the jungle for long moments.

"What have we here?" Amal asked, stepping to the Skaven Emmaline had felled with a spell. The creature had a leather satchel around its waist. Not new but of better quality than the rude weapons and equipment that the other ratthings had carried. He tugged it free and opened it. Inside were several gold coins of Brettonian minting and a rolled parchment map. The map was not Brettonian, covered in strange glyphs symbols, but there were several notations on it that were clearly Brettonian and, unless Emmaline missed her guess, in the same hand that had filled the journal on the ship. The map showed several cities, or what Emmaline assumed to be cities, depicted as strange blocky pyramids.

"Do you think their could be people here?" Emmaline asked cautiously.

[POOHEAD189]

This coastline was unlike anything Amal had seen on the myriad of maps shown in the bazaars. Or was it? He vaguely recalled something akin to this place, roughly, but he was so battle fueled and blue balled that he couldn't think straight. He took deep breathes and calmed himself, but still it didn't come to him. "If there are not, at least there will be shelter," He said. Most people might think that questionable, but three walls and a roof was a luxury for him back in Araby.

He memorized the closest pyramid-settlement, and where they likely were roughly considering the lines that indicated from the ship not half a mile away. "There could be more ratmen between us and the city, not to mention in the city. But it's worth a look." Briefly he wondered about going in alone, since he was used to moving silently. But the jungle was new terrain for him, and he couldn't risk leaving Emmaline here alone. Feelings were so very limiting sometimes, but he found he wouldn't have it another way.

He found her looking flustered and understandably scared at the notion. She had many strengths he wish he had, but when it came to dangerous situations like this, peril was an old friend to Amal. The thief took her hand in his and rubbed his thumb along the back of her hand, lifting it up to kiss it. "You will be safe." He told her, and she calmed with an uneasy smile. "Very soon, we'll make it back to where we came from. We'll have food, wine, riches, and I'll fuck you on silk sheets."

The pleasant thoughts coupled with her serpent coiling about her arm and solidifying in a golden arm ring gave her new strength. The carpet now rolled within the rucksack, the two rogues entered the jungle proper. Less than a minute of bumbling through leaves passed, and Amal asked for the short sword so he could better chop through the vines. Even at the edge of it, the jungle was impossibly thick and teeming with noises from all around. Chirps and chitters were backdrop noises to hisses and ribbits all around them. It was so dark in there it felt like they had been thrown underwater again, but their eyes adjusted just well enough to see without bumping into most roots and critters.

The trees were strange in texture and differed every few feet, from palm trees to jungled trees with strange leaves of all different sizes. The humidity was still a new experience for the Arabyan, and he could only imagine it in the daytime. Something sinuous and snake-like but furred slid passed his foot, scuttling away as soon as he touched it. He cursed in Arabyan and chopped through another collection of vines, causing a bird to screech like a dying woman and fly away.

Amal held his hand back, bumping Emmaline's breasts. He steeled his mind from the thought of them and whispered. "Hold." to her, and both stopped for a moment, having realized the jungle's noises had died down save for a familiar noise that began to spread to all around them. A rat-like tittering that filled the jungle, and the smell returned ten fold. Immediately Amal looked for a tree to climb, grabbing Emmaline's waist only for another noise to sound in the jungle. It was a guttural and brutish `rup-rup-rup-rup` followed by an increasing amount of growls and roars. The trees around them seemed a flimsy wall from the noises that erupted just meters away from them, roars and terrified squeaks and cries of near human-like terror. Amal couldn't see anything, but he could smell blood in the air and he knew even without that terrible violence was being wrought for an agonizing amount of time.

After one last screech, the noises ceased utterly. Amal held Emmaline close, not daring to breath. Suddenly, a light materialized before their eyes, shadows dancing off the face that held it in its massive jaws. Even Amal was frightened when he saw the hulking creature, nearly twice the height of a man with a crocidilian head that could snap a tree in half, with thick limbs that could break stone walls with ease. Soon smaller reptilian's appeared, though they were still head and shoulders taller than men, deadly in appearance and baring fangs and claws that could rend stone and pierce mail. They held strange bronze and black steeled weapons, coated with blood and matted fur from slaying ratmen. Finally, a multitude of smaller lizardmen stood between and beside them, the size of the ratmen with large eyes and frills along their arms and heads. There had to have been three dozen of them, the majority comprised of the smaller creatures.

"Do you have a plan?" Amal and Emmaline asked one another simultaneously.

A diminutive smaller lizardman, with a headdress that looked just as extravagant as Emmaline's pocketed plumed tricone, only with even more feathers strode forth. It opened its mouth and hissed, splaying its arms as wide as it could. In the darkness it would hard to see its tiny teeth were it not for the light right upon him. It tilted its head and regarded Emmaline, before pointing at her.

"Sotek." Was all it said.

[Penny]

Awkward silence hung for a moment, punctuated only by the chittering and cautious calls of jungle creatures returning now the violence had abated. The lizard creature regarded them steadily, motionless save for the rhythmic contractions of the gill like slits behind its ears. It was obvious the creatures didn't mean instant violence but there was no way of knowing that the choice wouldn't be made soon. Emmaline stepped forward and took the creatures hand and shook it firmly the way Altdorf merchants did.

"Sotek" she told the creature, whose eyes blinked with two seperate sets of eyelids in what might have been confusion. It's hand was cool and dry like a lizards, though it pulsed with vitality in manner more remeniscient of more energetic creatures like frogs. Emmaline stepped past the creature and took the hand of the next creature shaking its hand also and repeating the word. One by one she greeted each of the warband in the same fashion, having no idea what she was doing but unwilling to stop a course of action that so far hadn't resulted in her being disemboweled.

"Sotek to you as well," she said to the last crocodilian of the group and then returned to Amal who was staring at her in shocked horror.

"What was that?!" he demanded in a hoarse whipser. Emmaline brushed her hand on her tunic and shrugged her shoulders.

"Well I didn't see you coming up with anything," she whispered back. The lizards continued to stand motionless though they looked a trifle less tense now. Perhaps they were just confused. Emmaline reached into Amal's purse and took out the map and walked over to the lizard with the headdress.

"Ummm... I don't suppose you could give us directions?" she asked, pointing to what she took to be the nearest of the pyramid cities. The lizard tilted its head at her in astonishment and then took the map from her hands, turning to face the other members of its warband. It held the map aloft hissed and clicked in its own language, waving the piece of parchment above its head like a battle flag.

"Sotek!" it thundered in conclusion.

"Horray for Sotek!" Emmaline echoed fighting the urge to giggle with suppressed terror.

[POOHEAD189]

The massive lizardman who held the lantern in its jaws bent down and picked up Emmaline to rest on his huge shoulder, the ridges of his armor-like skin poking her uncomfortably but moving or wriggling would send her falling nine feet into the root covered ground. Amal had been ready to stab the thing in the back, but once he realized he was merely carrying her he held his weapon back from striking. What he did not expect was the entire contingent turning face and walking back into the jungle with Emmaline, the lead lizard in the headdress leading the way.

"HEY!" Amal cried and followed them, annoyed they ignored him and worried they were going to sacrifice Emmaline to some forsaken god. It was lucky that they paid him no mind in an aggressive manner, either. They simply ignored his existence, even when he came close enough to brush one of the warrior Lizardmen's serpent-like tail, the skin dried and cold along his lower leg. It simply looked back and bared its fangs in a warning, but didn't turn to try and rip him open.

What seemed like hours passed as the group of man-lizards trekked and waded expertly, moving as an inexorable force. Amal marveled at their stamina, as through the night they neither slowed or showed any discomfort to the jungle around them. Amal felt like the prime meal for the large bugs that landed and bit onto his skin. Even the little ones leaped and hopped above the larger roots, only pausing to flit their eyes and heads in an alien fashion before continuing on. Soon they found the jungle receding and the ground was now simply filled with weeds and low reeds, the group now coming upon a moderately sized pool of water, collected by a waterfall from a strange, carved cliff. In the light of the rising sun, Amal could see the faintest outlines of strange statues and heiroglyphs behind the moss and water above them.

Gathered around, the lizardmen formed a huddle and discussed in grunts and roars that seemed almost intelligible. As if it was a theatrical performance, the priest-like lizard stepped out of the group and began waving his gecko-like arms, thrusting its hips this way and that in a strange and unabashedly suggestive dance as the others cried. "Sotek! Sotek! Sotek! Sotek!" In its hand was a staff with a frog-like figure head at the top, and he shook it with delight as it began to glow like a small star.

The waterfall almost imperceptibly began to recede in its flow, slowing to smaller trickles that unveiled an ancient stone tunnel in the shape of a vast serpent's mouth, complete with stone fangs framing the entryway. It was chasmic enough so that Emmaline and her 'steed' could walk in without needing to duck.

The lead lizard began to shake its butt and strut towards the entrance, the others beginning to follow. Amal's eyes locked on Emmaline who looked frazzled but otherwise unharmed. The Arabyan took a few steps further, the Lizards all stopped as if he had personally stomped upon each of their tails, and they turned to look at him in unison. It was difficult to see any emotion on their faces, but judging by the looks of things, he was finally not welcome to follow them within.

"If you think you can skip hop in there with her and leave me out here, you've got large imaginations for walking crocodiles." He said haughtily, crossing his arms. To his displeasure, they made no sound or movement at all. They simply watched him, which was unnerving after a few moments. Ever the rebel, he decided to suddenly jerk to the left and right, and still they didn't move. "Hmmm..." He whispered, and decided to take a step forward.

Immediately the lizard's weapons were bared and ready, Amal mirroring the movement lightning quick with the short sword and a dagger in his offhand.

"Zalleench." The gecko-like leader squawked, looking at Emmaline before bobbing its head to the others. "Zalleench!" Somehow, Emmaline could understand it's meaning: Challenge.

"Zaaalleench! Zaaalleench! Zaaalleench! Zaaalleench!" During the chanting, one of the warrior lizards stepped forward. In the light of the sun, it looked less ominous but even more formidable. A powerfully built warrior organism, cold intelligence in its eyes. It was a pure predator of unrelenting energy. In the march the things had moved deceptively sluggishly, but here it's leap forward was lightning quick. As its tail lashed like a whip, Amal saw it armed with an obsidian headed axe and a shield made of the hide of a mighty beast.
@Penny

[Penny]

Emmaline had been listening closely to the sounds and ululations of the lizardmen since they had lifted her onto their shoulders. There was something familiar about their speech though from where she couldn't rightly say. Perhaps it was from the old spell books she had seen back at the Colleges of magic, written in the old arcane tongue, this seemed to have some similarites though modified by necessity to pass through their reptillian vocal cords. The leader, the headress wearing lizard, appeared to be known as T'krit and she thought that she picked up the words for time, or maybe dawn and an interrogative that might be 'how far'. The word challenge however stood out both in word and intention.

"I ahh.. I think they want you to fight that thing," Emmaline called to Amal concern evident in her voice.

"T'krit, must my mate fight," she said in the odd arcane langauge that was ordinarily reserved for spell casting and the tedious debates on the nature of magic that the master wasted their time with. The lizard turned in surprise at the sound of its name and then cocked its head at her words.

"Tlaloc inacta Zalleench kastata Sotek!" it replied. Inacta maybe meant worthy and tlaloc probably meant doorway or entry point or maybe beginning.

"Uhhh, I think you are supposed to prove your worth by fighting the lizard thingy," Emmaline called, encouraged that some communication was possible but frustrated with how difficult and imprecise it was. T'krit expanded with a stream of almost unintelligable words that did nothing to improve her grasp of the situation.

"Zalleench!" he concluded with a final stomp of his foot.

[POOHEAD189]

Amal briefly considered denying the challenge so as to sneak into wherever they were going later and take Emmaline away in the darkness, but he dismissed it. She could be dead by then, or he could find no other route within. So he beat his chest in acceptance and crouched, ready to fight this monster. He did his best to hide his apprehension, because his fighting instincts screamed at him. He honestly would have rather fought the brute Emmaline still sat upon, at least with him he could outpace him. The thing in front of him seemed purpose bred to be the perfect killing machine. Well, Amal had fought worse before.

The other four warrior lizards began to stomp, incanting the word. "Saurus!" before stomping twice and repeating "Saurus!" He had the inkling that was their 'type' of breed and not the thing's name, judging by the sounds they emitted. He didn't have time to ponder as the Saurus charged him, moving so rapidly he knew then and there he had little to no chance of outpacing it. The lizardman leaped eight feet in the air and swung his axe down to smash into the dirt, Amal having rolled out of the way. The thief kicked at the thing's shin, but it barely brunted and attempted to snap Amal's leg in half. Quickly he curled the appendage away and rolled backward. Once upright, he threw the dagger at the Saurus, who to his horror was quick enough to knock aside it with his shield midflight.

"Damn!"

The Saurus spun, its tail whipping out and slicing a razor line across Amal's abdomen as the man had risen. He expelled air out of his lungs in surprise, but he didn't cry out. Instead he took the initiative, hoping to bewilder the thing with some acrobatics. He pulled out the second dagger and leaped, flipping in a cartwheel and pressing off the soft ground, launching to the left to clean a vicious swipe of the thing's axe. Handily, he caught the shield in the Saurus' grip as he flew, nearly yanking it out of the thing's hand with the pull of Amal's body weight. When that didn't work, he used the reverse momentum to kick the beast in the face. It's head snapped to the side for a moment, a small trickle of blood seeping out of its maw before it hissed and pushed back. Amal lost his balance and hit the dirt two meters away, winded and nearly out of tricks. All he'd managed to do was crack a tooth or two.

He regained his feet swiftly, but the Saurus was already upon him. It sliced it axe horizontally, and for one terrifying moment it seemed as if he had cut Amal clean in half. But the cunning Arabyan had arched his back and dodged the blow, now inside the thing's defenses. He jumped up and sent his short sword into the warrior's neck, piercing scales as it dug into its flesh. The Saurus stopped midmovement, paralyzed as Amal tore his sword out of it and backpedeled so it didn't take advantage and tear his neck open with its teeth.

Amal, bleeding and tired, had the horrible realization the thing wasn't dead. In fact, after a few moments it straightened and regained its posture. If these things gathered in an army, they could sweep over Araby without much difficulty! Emmaline gasped, and the Arabyan was ready to die fighting when the Saurus dropped its axe and shield, and knelt humbly.

"Zalleecha inacta! Zalleecha inacta!" T'krit cried.

"You're worthy!" Emmaline called in relief.