Blackfridayrule

Festival of Colors

Reposting (and reworking) this idea since the first version of it flopped before it really got off the ground. If you're gonna write with me, please post semi-frequently and be in it for the long haul. Absolutely no groups. 1x1 only. Bonus points for using Discord but not required.

The basics:

There is a yearly festival called the Festival of Colors. It's a celebration of culture and peace on the anniversary of the Armistice of a long, complicated war in which three nations were involved: Azurei, Vyyrica, and Rhylea. Long story short, at the end of this war Vyyrica (the larger of the three) sort of dominated the other two and has attempted some colonization in small amounts. Since Rhylea has some cultural similarities to Vyyrica and doesn't have quite as strong a military, they accepted this smoothly enough and the two nations have been getting on fairly well since. To celebrate this union and the end of the war, The Festival of Colors is held annually. It's full of exchanging customs, swapping stories, F O O D, and a lavish display of each nation's colors.

Azurei, however, was not so stoked about the outcome of this treaty. They felt like their way of life was being threatened by attempted colonization and what little natural resources they had were at risk. Few citizens attend the Festival of Colors and it's no secret to anyone that there is a quiet resentment brooding in the hearts of the Azurei. So at this year's Festival, they attack the event and rekindle the flames of war.

My Character (an Azurei) happens to be at this event and quickly becomes a suspect. However, she is also half Rhylean and in the wake of this event must choose where her loyalties lie.

Your character should be from one of the other two nations (your choice). Whichever one you pick, I'll sort of 'give' to you so that you can create a culture of your own. The other we will build and develop together.

This is only a jumping off point for the plot and I hope that from there, we come up with something together. That's usually how I roll. Perhaps our characters make attempts to de-escalate the impending war? Maybe there's more to it somehow, like another, 4th nation is using the Azurei's unrest to benefit themselves in some way, and there's some sort of conspiracy going on? Maybe your character convinces mine to use her understanding of the culture/language to find the people responsible and bring them to justice? Something else? Always up for suggestions.

Setting wise I was thinking like, maybe some kind of alternate universe, either with 'modern' technology or maybe it's more futuristic slightly? Either that or we could go with a classic fantasy sort of setting. It could honestly work in either.

Anyone interested?

In Dark Seas We Sail

Uban gave another one of his half smiles, half winces and glanced between his mentor and the rising sea as if he wondered, Do you not see this?. He let the question hang for a moment as his mind raced. This wasn't mermaids. So then...what could it be? He was clearly nervous, but his curiosity was stronger and eventually he asked with a little nervous laughter, "So uh, Pieter...what did you just summon, exactly? Because uh...heh, That's not mermaids is it?" He leaned over the gunnel as much as it would allow without tipping the small boat and peered down into the sapphire depths.

--

"Oh, I see," Berlin said with a nod, his tone indicating that he guessed his vision was too good to be true and he was now coming back to reality. But it was still a reality that pleased him. Fire was the fear of every ship's captain, and Berlin in his youth once barely escaped a flaming ship with his life as it plunged into the deep. A lantern had been broken and the whaling ship's tarred timbers went up like a bobbing torch, and twenty souls went into the sea, with only half of them making it back out.

"I think the sails," he said after a moment. "If I were to cripple a ship, I'd take her sails first, so we'll protect ours. And if you have anything left, is it possible to protect specifically the barrels of our powder hold?" And, thinking of his own experience with ship fires, he said, "The other day you were teaching Rheoaan to read, and you created a little light...if given the right materials and equipment, could you eventually make some deck lamps without flames? Is that possible? Forgive me," he laughed a bit, "I've never met a mage before, so I don't know what's possible." Berlin's eyes were kept on the knife fighting lesson now and not Hana; after Rohaan's quick shift into his favorite form (which was often an indication of heightened defense or offense on his part) his heart had skipped a beat in fear that the training had gone sour, but the boy quickly mastered himself and the skirmish stayed civil. Perhaps he hadn't been giving Rohaan that much credit for his control, but he couldn't totally forget his worry either.

--

Acceptable! Rohaan beamed with pride at that, his focused battle-rage dissolving just as soon as Wheel called a halt. His anger, after all, had not been true rage but the kind of intense zeal that comes with tackling a challenge. This was a game, and it was one he liked quite well. "Ta'neia, Estehan." ((Thank you, teacher)) Rohaan touched his fist to his forehead and it left a wet silvery blotch of blood from the tiny nick on his finger, which he then brought to his mouth and sucked. It was no deeper than any cut he ever got chopping food in the galley, but it stung a little. The lad trotted off to one of the rain barrels, picked up a tin mug that hung on a makeshift hook beside the barrel, and scooped up some cool water.

Berlin looked down at him, noting the silver blood on his face. "How...how'd it go?"
Rohaan, midway through chugging water, merely gave an affirmative "mm" that resonated in the tin mug.
"Yeah? Your face alright?"
Rohaan nodded and held up his nicked knuckle; it had stopped bleeding but it left a little line of dull silver tinged with red. "He owes me blood now!" He grinned wickedly. "I'll get him. I'm getting better Ca-mm."
"If you manage to mark Wheel, I'll be truly impressed, Rheoaan. I wonder if I can. One of these days you'll have to show me just how good you're getting."
Rohaan brightened at this; Berlin was quite good with a blade and he was eager to show off his new skills. But for now, he had more things to learn from Wheel, and he hung up the tin mug and bounded back to Wheel, his cobalt eyes fixed on the larger man. "What next?"

In Dark Seas We Sail

Uban felt a chill that seemed to cut through the midday sun, then noticed he had goosebumps and his hair was sticking straight up as Pieter spoke. In the five years Uban had been with Berlin, it wasn't the first time he'd heard Pieter speak this way. But he'd never paid attention, and never been so...up close. He could not suppress the feeling of awe that blossomed in his chest at the withered man. Something in him, some childish impulse made him reach out his and towards the water, but some other, more weathered instinct of his kept it from reaching the water's surface.

Uban blinked. "Gin? Ah, yeah, hand that over!" He was never one to say no to a drink, but he did especially like gin. He wasn't aware of it, but some quiet part of his brain made a mental note to himself that Hana liked it. The young man took the proffered flask and put it to his lips, but no sooner had he taken an appreciative swig of the clear, almost piney liquid did he notice the little rowboat rocking a little more than usual. His pleasant expression melted into alertness (he trusted in Pieter's skill as a priest enough to not be worried) and as one hand steadied himself on the gunnel of the little boat, he used the other to hand back the flask.

"Uh...Pieter...?"

----

Berlin laughed. "No, belay that, I was joking! Don't try. Really. Don't. You need him to like you, after all. And a never-empty hip flask would be flying too close to the sun." He grinned, and that expression grew evermore as she told him she could protect his sails. His expression was nearly hungry, eager, like a man who'd just found innumerable treasures. "You can do that?" he asked incredulously. "Aye! Do! Fireproof everything you can! Fire is more of a risk on this ship than on others, I would say, and any protection against it would be invaluable. Yes, do that."

She explained that her magic was not so much developed for offensive might, and he nodded his understanding. "Yes, I wondered if that was the case. That's alright." And there was no hint of disappointment in his tone, no note of judgement. Berlin understood. "A fog would be very good, if you can manage it. Keep our approach secret until we spring our trap, and then to make us seem like ghosts in the gloom. But no rain....I'd like to see their ship burn to ashes." There was a darkness in his tone that she had not yet heard before, and that the rest of the more experienced crew rarely ever heard either. Berlin was an even-keel man most of the time and not one to be prone to wild fits of anger like his young charge. Even Uban, who was as good natured as they came was more vulnerable to losing his temper. But Berlin still had one. And when it showed in full, it came down like a clap of thunder.

But as quickly as his hard edge showed itself, it vanished. Cool gray eyes searched her with all the easy curiosity of a gentle friend. "Cannonballs, hmm? Mmm..." he nodded to himself, approving of this. "You'll have to inform Pieter of whatever it is you plan to do--he's the one who mans the guns. But I think that's a good line of thinking. On another note, do you have everything you need? I don't just mean for the upcoming battle--just, anything you need? I expect we'll head into port again after we find our quarry--either The Borealis will need repairs or we'll have--hopefully--some freed prisoners to send on their way. If it's practical things you need, let me know. If you're longing for some more extravagant items or other luxuries, Rheoaan is the one to talk to, actually. He's good at erm...obtaining things." He smiled.

--

Rohaan had been foiled, but he remembered the trick for later anyway. Chances are, not all of his opponents would be so quick or as observant as Wheel, who knew him and knew his ways. The boy keenly felt the welts and bruises left by his teacher the day before, and even more so now that they were being doubled. But he fought on. The pain seemed to fuel him, to trigger some instinct of pride or self-preservation that made him push harder, made him more aggressive. He was not perfect, not by any stretch and some of the techniques which he'd been passable at the day before, he seemed to have forgotten until he was reminded mercilessly and painfully by Wheel. But other techniques seemed to have stuck. The shifter expounded on them, pouring into his new knowledge all the street-rat instinct that had kept him alive so far, and he quickly began to improvise. Beyond the knife, he would use nearby objects as plots to trip Wheel up, or to distract him, and once he aimed a deck brush squarely at Wheel's face. If the man had not knocked it aside with a speed only he could manage, it would have gone squarely and firmly for his nose.

Once, however, he gave an awkward parry, his feet just slightly uncertain beneath him, and Wheel's blade slipped a little and bit his knuckles. Silver blood welled up in a little bead and he yelped angrily. The boy's instinct kicked in and he quickly became a Cyradan before his teacher's eyes and attempted to snap at him with his smooth black teeth, his powerful jaws clamping together with a hard, audible snap. But the sudden weight rocked the ship violently like it had been struck by a malicious wave.

Berlin staggered, one hand shooting out to the gunnel to steady himself, and his other gripping Hana's arm briefly. Rohaan, realizing he'd broken the rules of their game, shifted back quickly and the ship lurched again, rocking back and forth in diminishing sweeps until it finally returned to its usual bobbing in the calm waters. Rohaan heard his captain shout, "DAMNIT RHEOAAN!" but he ignored him, snarling challengingly at Wheel instead. Rohaan looked at the little silvery blotch on his hand and wiped it across his face, just under his eye. It was not an errant swipe but something purposeful, and the vokurian battle ritual left a glittering streak like macabre paint under his right eye. He gave a little war cry and lunged back at Wheel again, stabbing and swiping and parrying as best he could against the much larger man.

In Dark Seas We Sail

Uban, as always, gave a smile but this one was less sincere and merry than his usual. Instead it showed both apprehension and an embarrassment that he hadn’t considered they weren’t alone. It was almost a sheepish cringe. Not that he wasn’t eager, just understandably nervous after his last encounter with mystical beings. It had struck him hard and he would not forget it.
“Are we...visiting mermaids again? Or uh...something else?” And before Pieter could answer he seemed to know in the pit of his stomach which it was. He felt both a chill and a wild thrill. There was so much of this world he had not known before, but he would know it now, bit by bit. No matter how nervous he was, he was unflappably curious.

—

Berlin shrugged. “I mean, if you can enchant my hip flask to never be empty...” he chuckled a little. “Anything you could do towards preventing holes being blasted in my beautiful ship would be appreciated, if that’s something you can do. Or...” and suddenly Berlin began to chuckle darkly, and though he tried to master himself as he spoke, he never fully did. “Or you could give Rheoaan a bath.” This was obviously some good joke he found very amusing. “He’ll get in just fine with a little cajoling. The lad likes water. And if you bark at him he’ll scrub well enough. The trouble comes with getting him out. And not even I can save you if you have the gall to try and comb his hair.” His look was severe, but there was a glimmer in his eyes. “Once, when the lad wasn’t yet nine and knew about a quarter of the Carisian that he does now, Uban was supposed to keep watch one night. And during his watch he decided he would get himself drunk, and as a punishment I sent him to try and bathe the little devil.” He laughed. “He never did it again.”

Berlin leaned against the rail and glanced at Rohaan and Wheel and, seeing that both of their body language read as amicable, he turned his gaze out to the horizon, enjoying the morning sun on his face. “But all jokes aside, I’m pleased with your work, Hanabaptiste. You’ve been a real asset in your short time here and I’m amazed I haven’t picked up a mage sooner. But I’ve got to ask you…we’re coming up on a true battle. It’s gonna get hot, and I would never throw you in the midst of it if you weren’t ready for it, or against your will. So tell me, where are you most suited? At the very least I would like you to be prepared to aid if any one of us catches a wound. Uban and Rheoaan in particular, I worry about. Pieter mans the guns and thus has some cover if he needs it, and trying to injure Wheel is like trying to injure a mountain. I would like you to be prepared—whatever that means for you—to do some healing or wound-tending when its said and done. And if that’s all you’re comfortable with, I am satisfied. But…” a curious gleam showed in his gray eyes. “Do you have any skills in combat? How was training with Uban?”

Berlin liked to know his crew, perhaps better than most captains ever bothered to either for lack of time or to maintain a feeling of higher rank—a philosophy Berlin did not believe in much. Men march further for friends than orders, he learned. And beyond a personal interest, he, like the rest of them, were curious about what she could do, and how her skills fitted in with others like Uban’s.

—

Rohaan huffed, rolling his eyes. “Well last time you said I could shift AND fight like a human, so I asked!” But he didn’t argue. He liked the challenge and only wanted to know what the rules of this game were. Wheel had tossed him a knife and he looked down at it, admiring its shape and the craft of it, even though it was old, used, and not anything of note—a good practice blade. He touched its edge curiously but carefully as he listened to Wheel’s story of the man with the axe. He’d never used an axe for a fight before—only for chopping wood back home. Distantly, he wondered what it would be like to fight with one. Rohaan bit back a comment about their previous argument about archery and instead hatched a dark, impish idea in his brain.

The boy shifted his weight to one foot in a relaxed, carefree stance, focusing still on the shape of the blade. “The pits?” He asked, glancing up at his teacher. He was eager to hear more of Wheel’s past, as the man was pretty close about it and he guessed it had to be interesting. But he had other intentions. “What pits? Tell me! Tell me!” Rohaan did not expect to get an actual answer, but he waited for the moment that Wheel began to answer and in the middle of that answer, Rohaan leapt forward and slashed at Wheel’s legs with a cry of, “HHYYAAH!” And then recoiled back, his stance ready and his eyes alight. The fight had begun, and he was determined to show his teacher that his previous lesson had stuck.

In Dark Seas We Sail

Berlin nodded thoughtfully. "Aye. I'll have him do that. The work would be good for him with things as they are. Busier the better. Aye..." he said this to himself, then his eyes came back to Pieter. "We'll be here waiting for you." He eyed the barrels of rum as Wheel hauled them up and wondered quietly to himself if they had any left. He hoped they did. If not, he would have to sack the next ship he saw just to get some, because they would need it for their upcoming battle, either for celebration or to ease old pains not yet worn away. He looked up and watched Rohaan in the rigging with Uban and a twist of anxiety wormed its way into his chest, though he made no sign of it. He always felt responsible for the lad, and though he'd weathered many fights just fine, this was going to be different in a lot of ways. He just hoped it wouldn't turn out to be a disaster.

It was then that he noticed the water on the deck. It beaded and pooled on the wood instead of soaking it through, and as the ship rocked slowly and gently the little droplets rolled down and away. That was new. The captain stared at it, blinking, then turned to find Hana. Ah, of course. Why he hadn't taken up with a mage sooner, Berlin never knew. He caught her eye and, gesturing to the deck, gave an approving nod. Good work.

--

Uban climbed and swung down to the deck with his trademark smile. "Gonna have us a chat with the locals eh? Alright, yeah, let's--oi, hey, the locals?" The strangeness of that, being in the middle of the ocean and a good distance from land, suddenly dawned on him. He stared at his mentor for a moment, then his eyes widened in a kind of half recognition. He had a guess, but couldn't say for certain what 'locals' really meant. "Aye...the locals. Um...I'll get the rope." He didn't know if they were going to meet mermaids, but if they were, he wanted to be a little more prepared this time than he was before. A look of fear was on his face, but not a deep fear. It was mingled with excitement, like the nerves of someone riding a horse for the first time. But he joined Pieter in the rowboat all the same.

"A'right, so we got rum...what's it for? Not for drinking, I assume?" Uban paddled dutifully, allowing his elder to simply sit and direct him. His mousey brown hair was tied back in a knot behind his head, but the few loose curls that strayed out of it swayed back and forth in the wind as his body lurched forward and back with each stroke.

--

Rohaan stood dangling from one of the shrouds as Wheel called up to him. He didn't move at first and instead kept his bare toes curled around the rope they rested on with all the skill and ease of a bat. The lad looked over at Berlin, who was at the helm and from his expression had obviously heard Wheel...Rohaan waited to see if he'd intervene. After what happened last time, he was sure there was bound to be something from Berlin, but all he got was a warning glance that he understood with ringing clarity. Behave.

A little grin sparkled in his lapis eyes and he simply dropped from the shroud, plunging down towards the deck like a lead ball except he changed to a bird at the last moment, swooped over to Wheel and presented himself to him as a sleek, silken ocelot. The blue of his eyes seemed to clash against his black and golden coat, but it made them stand out all the more for it. The svelte cat crouched low in a readied position like he would either bolt or pounce at any moment and his tail twitched sharply behind him. But his ears were forward, his eyes bright and locked on his teacher. All together, he had a playful look, but no less dangerous. Rohaan gave a single swipe at Wheel's ankles like a little cat playing with a string before returning to his natural form.

The boy was grinning. "Gimmie a blade, I'm ready, estahan!" He held a hand out to his teacher, grasping at the air with his fingers impatiently. "I'll stick you this time!" That wasn't likely, but he liked the idea anyway. "Do I get to shift? Or do I have to do it without?"

In Dark Seas We Sail

Berlin's eyebrows raised up with a smile. "You AND Uban eh? Oh ho ho! Someone's moving up in the world, I see. Good. Good." He nodded to himself, obviously pleased by the new layer to Uban and Pieter's relationship. "I'm glad to see that you've found a suitable apprentice and I'm doubly glad you found it in him. Good! If you think you can get some information for me, I'd be in your debt. I'll leave it to your capable hands. Is there anything you need from me to help you along? A particular heading? A different speed? You just let me know."

Berlin loved Pieter. Not only had they been great friends for what felt like ages now and had been through many adventures together, the younger man had to admit that he was just damn resourceful, among other things. And that was a trait he greatly admired out in the middle of the ocean with no sight of land. And it was good to be able to trust someone implicitly--both their skill and their character.

---

Uban, meanwhile, was helping Rohaan manage the ropes aloft. He was a good topman and had the experience to boot. But he could not match young Rohaan's agility or fearlessness in the ropes. If his hold slipped, he could flutter away as a bird, unshaken. If Uban's failed, he'd end up injured or dead for certain, and that made him a little more cautious. But for all that, he was comfortable and confident in his own right.

"Nah, see how the sail there has gone a bit slack?" Uban pointed.
Rohaan looked at it, studied it, then studied Uban with a perplexed gaze. "It ain't slack."
"Aye, it is too. Look, see that bit there? It's got some tension, aye. But it's got more in it. Squeeze it out of it! You just gotta adjust it until it's at just the right spot. And to do that, you need...which line...?" He was quizzing him, watching his lean little face screw up for a second in thought before the boy became a monkey and swung effortlessly over towards a different lineset and, turning to an older version of himself, he hauled on his guessed line. Sure enough, the cloth responded and even he saw the tiny, subtle stiffening of the canvas at the corner.

"Like that?" the older Rohaan asked, scratching the beginnings of a blonde beard.
"Aye, good!"
Immediately he was a boy again, perched casually up in one of the shrouds like it was his own vertical hammock. "How do you know when to stop pulling, exactly? I mean, I thought I had it."
"It comes with practice. And a careful eye. You gotta pay attention to the whole sail, including the little corners. That's how you start squeezing every little inch out of 'er."

Rohaan nodded, filing this away for later thought and practice.

In Dark Seas We Sail

As they walked under the moonlight, Uban merely listened. For one thing, he didn't trust his own voice. For another, he was content to be in silence and just listen to his mentor recount his own first encounter. A sudden rush of fear, like he'd brushed with death and only just realized it, came over him. His eyes, though a little blurry from all the wine, looked at him with some mixture of awe and horror, but then after Pieter finished, he simply said, "Thank you for not letting me drown." It was perhaps the most sincere thing he'd ever said, and not just because he valued his life and didn't want to die. No, Uban had known all along that Pieter would see to it that didn't happen. But he realized now that Pieter could have done it differently and he chose not to. In some way, Uban knew he cared. And that meant more to him than any prize the Borealis could have ever won.

---

Berlin had been last to bed and first to rise the next morning. As time ticked on, he could feel each minute passing in an almost physical way, like each passing moment added to his anxiety and his simmering anger towards what had been done to that little port city. To members of his crew. To countless others out there before and yet to come. Typically Berlin was a bit blasé about attacking other ships--sometimes he would chase one down, other times he'd let one pass depending on his mood and how their supplies were doing (or how bored they were). But there were times when he did more than give chase and delight in the plundering. There were times he wanted blood.

This was one of those times.

Berlin had breakfast ready for the crew. It wasn't anything special--just some oatmeal cooked quickly over the fire. And what gear they'd brought that wasn't actively being used, he'd already loaded and stowed. He didn't have to say anything for the crew to know he was anxious to get underway. He woke Rohaan and Uban, who were still snuggled close beside the fire as man and wolf. Uban, however, was less willing to actually get up, so Rohaan nipped his nose with his pearly wolf teeth gently. That was enough to get a bolt of adrenaline into Uban and truly wake him.

Rohaan could sense the nearness of their impending battle, or at least that they were actively moving towards it and as they boarded and shoved off, the whole thing no longer seemed like something to be done later on. He didn't let this interfere with his duties. In fact, he was more attentive to them than usual because of it--after all, he wasn't sure how he felt about it all and wasn't keen to think about it, so he poured himself into his work instead. But in the moments between he was fidgety and quiet.

Berlin took some time to study his charts a bit before he pulled Pieter aside. He was trying to speak to him in a casual manner as friends, but his mind was clearly not in the right place for that and he had a business air about him. "I want that galley," he told him, tapping the gunnel impatiently as he looked out at the passing water. "But I don't know where they've gone and my ship, she's fast...but they've gotten distance from us now. How am I supposed to find them? I don't feel keen on letting them go..." he said as if preempting a suggestion that he ought to. And when Berlin got the mind to chase a target, he meant it and would not be easily swayed. "But even if I send Rohaan air-scouting day and night...the sea is so wide. I need your intuition, old friend."

The Lines Between Us

Ridahne did not like the way the one-eyed man looked at her. It wasn't so much his searching gaze, nor the fact that it seemed that he saw through her bluff and could see she was not in peak condition at the moment. She couldn't fault him for being observant. But it was the way he sort of smirked, the way he casually told the other man that she wouldn't charge him. Hah! He knew nothing of her if he was willing to make judgements so fast. He was obviously military, judging by his clothes and his synthetics, so she guessed that he had some experience with Azurei.

But some was not enough. Not for her.

Ridahne Torzinei was a force in and of herself, wild and with a personality that could only accurately be described as 'vivid' or 'passionate'. In short, she was intense and stubborn, and she did not appreciate being made light of. As if to prove a point, she took a few steps forward on dead silent feet, the chain whooshing as she swung it. "You wanna test your luck, asshole?" Her teeth showed in a snarl. When it came to self preservation, Ridahne did not screw around. Besides, it took more than one gun to make her feel afraid, whether that was wise or not. She'd been shot before and knew that not everyone was as good with a pistol as they liked to believe. She'd take her chances and call his bluff until the situation changed.

But the second one didn't seem to take his words to heart and still considered both of them a threat. Wise, she thought to herself. Ridahne was concluding very quickly that this second man had little to nothing to do with what had happened here today, or at least in any way that concerned her. Something fishy, yes, and he seemed shifty and nervous. But not burned. Not torn and blackened and scorched like her or the other man. On another day, she might have been curious. On another day, she might have tailed him to see what he was up to--just to keep her skills sharp and her mind occupied. But today, she cared for nothing and no one but survival. The shock of the event and the gravity of what it meant would come later, but now was all about fight or flight.

"I was here first, shithead!" She snarled, feeling obstinate. Her amber eyes burned in fury, but what she wanted most was just to get out, get her things, and flee. She had to distance herself from this place. From this. Still, at that moment she knew them and with the gun was not there for her, and that emboldened her. If he had other business to attend to, he wouldn't care if she got away. In fact, he wanted her to.

And then she saw an opportunity. Keeping her eyes locked on the two men (especially the one with the mech-eye), Ridahne began quickly making her exit, skirting around them against the wall and hoped that they would either just let her go or that she could outrun them. After all, she was fast--drunk, injured, or not. She was certain she would make it, when a dark shape swooped down in front of her, just as she was reaching the front of the alleyway.

A drone, larger than the one that had been hovering above the three of them unnoticed, blocked her path. It was a sleek black piece of machinery, rounded and smooth looking with little red and green lights blinking or glowing steadily. A large lens like a big cycloptic eye fixed on her with an intensity that made her highly uncomfortable. As the thing whirred gently in front of her, moving accordingly as she tried to sidestep it, it flashed a universal symbol--a little red hand--that clearly meant 'halt'.

Uh oh.

While she'd been standing off with the two men, authorities had tracked her down. They'd tracked her down and would take her in, and as far as she knew, she'd never see the light of day again. She had no idea exactly how strict the local government was in general, and she had even less idea how they treated potential terrorists. But she knew that in Azurei, the stakes would be high. She didn't want to take her chances here.

A rough, robotic voice chimed, "IDENTIFIED. AZUREI." And then in (very primitive, she thought) Azurian it demanded, 'HALT. YOU ARE UNDER ARREST.'

"JE!" She snarled back at it defiantly, and with another war cry swung the chain at the thing. It dodged smoothly away, just out of her reach.

"DO NOT RESIST. YOU ARE UNDER ARREST. FORCE WILL BE USED. DO NOT RESIST."

Ridahne snarled and, swinging her chain a bit to gain momentum, hurled it with accuracy at the black drone. It attempted to dodge but failed, though to Ridahne's dismay it was equipped with a kinetic damper, which meant that though the chain struck its mark, it lost a significant amount of force and momentum as though it had suddenly passed through water or syrup. The drone was unhindered.

At that moment, Ridahne knew her only hope was to run. It wasn't much of a hope, but she had to try and she wasn't about to go quietly. She dashed forward, attempting to just push it away far enough to get past it, but it was designed to thwart this kind of behavior. Though instead of blocking her further, it appeared to let her pass and just followed behind for half a second before a puff of air burst from its front and Ridahne felt both a pinprick and a cold sensation spring from the back of her shoulder. Alarmed, she whirled around to try and remove the dart, bu the damage had been done. Whatever toxin had been used, it was potent and worked very quickly.

Ridahne's knees buckled and would not respond to her urgings to move again. She tried to think about her training, to keep her heart rate down so that it wouldn't spread as fast, but it seemed too late for that too. Cursing, she felt her core muscles slacken, dropping her fully to the dusty ground where she lay paralyzed for a moment as a dark vehicle stopped not far from her. Three figures came out of it, two of them grabbing her, and the last thing she remembered was attempting a furious scream as she was hauled away.

Then her world went quiet and dark.

In Dark Seas We Sail

Closer. Oh, if only he could...Uban strained even harder against his bonds, giving Pieter's grip a run for its money. "Sure, I can--ooof!" But Pieter, though he was a wiry old salt, had muscles like tree roots, old and strong. And Uban felt himself being physically dragged further and further away from the mermaid's beautiful figure. He gave one whimper of protest, and then she was gone. Uban laughed, then, and began to sing, "Farewell and adieu to you pretty ladies...farewell and adieu to you fairest maids..." And he began to laugh again. It started out as a small chuckle and blew up into a wild, fey laughter that made it unclear whether it was a result of their magic or all the wine. Both, probably.

But then he felt his eyes sting a little, and something warm touch his cold cheek. They were gone. They were gone and he felt the absence of them like a knife, cruel and sharp. The world felt cold, loveless, hopeless without them. Without her.

Her.

Uban hadn't meant to, but one last trick of the mermaid's magic made him involuntarily and with painful clarity think of the only woman he ever loved. He thought of the way her hair seemed to light afire in the red sunset as they sat up on the hill where he grazed his sheep, and she would listen to him play, and sometimes, if he played anything recognizable, she would sing the tune that went along side it, and no one was there to disturb the except for the soft bleatings of fat, happy sheep grazing nearby. He thought of her hands and the way they moved, how her slender fingers combed through her horse's hair when she brushed her. The cool touch of them on his arm. He thought of the way she smelled: of good tilled earth and ripe berries, of hay and wildflowers. And worst of all, he saw her face that fateful night. She was at the bar when he'd fought with Garion, and he remembered her screams for both of them to stop. Why hadn't he? Why did he have to keep going? And he saw the horror in her eyes when Garion fell dead to the floor after a flash of bluish light. He had panicked, and she had been the one to yell for the constable. And when they hauled him away, he saw there in her face the most painful disgust and anger he could have ever imagined.

And before he knew it, his laughter had turned to sobs. Pathetic, breath-robbing sobs that only come to the extremely grieved or the very drunk. And his forehead was pressed in the wet sand as he shivered, wet and cold in the darkness at Pieter's feet. When he finally came around, he wiped his face clean of sand and tears and wordlessly retrieved his shirt from the lapping waves and his belt from the sand. He had expected a lot of things with mermaids, but never that. Uban felt thoroughly embarrassed and wouldn't look Pieter in the eye. After all, disappointing him would be a kick in the teeth to Uban.

But after they walked a bit in silence, Uban finally spoke. "Mermaids. Heh. uh, wow. On a scale of one to 'absolute dolt', how much did I make a fool of myself? Y-you know, in comparison to what others go through." He thought for a moment, then added, "How'd Rohaan get away? He wasn't tied. And he got close enough to touch one. Do you think he made a fool of himself? Or is he even old enough for lust yet?" Uban had to laugh at that.

--

After they made it back to camp, Berlin was still sitting by the fire, smoking his pipe and watching the flames with no particular interest, enjoying the silence. As he heard them approach, he smiled. "Well Uban, how did you do?" The younger man looked at him and cringed, and Berlin saw his eyes were still a little red and puffy. Berlin smiled. "Looks like you did about as well as my first time. But they're wonderful, aren't they?"
"Sun and stars, yes! I just hope I remember them tomorrow."
"Oh, you will. No bender can erase what you've seen. C'mon, you should get to bed though. You're a drunken mess." Berlin said this while laughing, clearly finding the whole thing amusing.

Uban couldn't find any argument with this, so he hung up his soaking wet shirt near the fire and went over to Rohaan, who was passed out in the sand. He shook him gently. "Rohaaaaaaan." A small hand fumbled and then shoved his face, but Uban persisted. "Cmon, I'm cold and wet. Turn into something to keep me warm? Pleeeasse?"

There was a soft groan, then Rohaan stirred, shifted to a sable wolf and lay beside Uban with his fluffy head on his chest. With the fire on one side and a wolf on the other, Uban finally began to feel the icy cold that had taken hold of him melt away. He threw his blanket over both of them. "You're a good lad." He received only a wolfish, sleepy groan, and soon the both of them were fast asleep.

In Dark Seas We Sail

Uban felt like he'd died and gone to heaven. Three gorgeous women were looking at him. At him. And he felt on top of the world for it. He also felt like if he couldn't get closer to them, he would explode. He just wanted to touch their silky hair, or to caress their scales or to feel the press of their petal-soft lips on his... Uban actually gave a very soft whimper at the thought. He'd do anything they asked of him. Anything at all. An--

"What's your name?"

Her voice hit his ears like the most pleasant brick he could fathom. His brain was swimming with the musical sound of it, so much that he neither thought about it nor cared that he blurted out almost immediately, "Uban Taeleth Harriah!" He thought vaguely then that he would have killed a man to hear her say his name back to him. "But you can call me anything you like. Call me and I will come, sweet Tevira. And I'll bring you--" but he was distracted by the younger one moving effortlessly towards him, almost close enough to touch. Of course, he tried. When he failed, he dropped down to his knees like he'd been shot so that he could be more level with her, still straining against his bonds.

Stars above, she smelled good. Good didn't cut it, actually. She smelled like ocean spray and the breeze through tall pines and the earthy scent of hay on a summer's evening and the delicate aroma of wild flowers and honey. "I'll...I'll bring you flowers," he began, thinking at first of gestures women found nice, and then he thought that it was possible she'd never seen flowers up close before, as they were distinctly and exclusively a land thing. "Flowers and exotic sweets--do you like chocolate?--and coffee from distant lands. I'll find it and fetch it for you with a glad heart."

Uban smiled conspiratorially at her and, if it was possible for him to do so, he leaned forward a little more and his voice lowered. "I could give you music, my lady." He was breathing hard, he realized as he caught sight of the mist from his mouth illuminated in the moonlight. He laughed softly, smiling pleasantly and once again looking like a sunbathing cat. "I'm a good hand at the lute, though I haven't got it with me right now but, but I can sing too. Do you sing? I'd give anything to hear your voice sing to me...I'll bet it sounds like water falling, like the sun glittering on the waves, like the gentle kiss of the wind..."

He was pulling so hard against the rope now that it was digging painfully into his skin, though he didn't notice. Tomorrow he'd have a bruise on his hipbones where the rope pressed there, but tonight he'd break those hips just to get close enough to touch her.