To two prestigious inns it would be sent, a sheet of parchment impaled upon oaken doors, each specifically addressed to a combatant. They were made of the finest goat skin, scraped and dried to perfection like most manuscripts of its day. Upon them was written with impeccable penmanship a clue to the succeeding trial. It would seem as if the scribe preferred an indirect method of revelation, a provocation of thought for a change for he stated naught a destination, but a riddle…

“I am the convergence of copious flows and the father of squalls. Where my might comes to ebb lay woven meshes, wound, mayhap adorning abodes upon poles. I may be north, south, east and west but I advise you west where you will find my darling Catalina. Her veil awaits to be lifted… three grooms and a bride before a sanguine cross upon the third night.- The Chronicler of Aedvn”

Such a message would be found pierced upon its center by an intricate dagger whose hilt was adorned by a throng of carved serpents. Embossed upon its guard was the Nocturne’s seal, an eye bearing an onyx stone. Not an emissary would be in sight, just spreading rumors of an ominous stranger, hooded to anonymity. It is said that the phantom had rented the neighboring chamber for the night yet the innkeeper would merely protest that the beddings have been untouched and the washbowls have yet to be stirred.

---------------------------

The Third Night

Aedvn, Adune. Such is where the riddles would lead. The breeze was unforgiving, a biting cold that bore the scent of salt. The melody of waves roared, withdrawing first unto the open blackness only to hurl its wrath against the towering rocks. The port where drunken sailors celebrated their return was a distant sight beautified by flickering lanterns and isolated pyres. The tunes were barely audible, loud enough to be a figment of one’s imagination. It is here, upon a distant dock that the boat “Catalina” was restrained by four-inch-thick twines of rope. Interesting how gloriously its image was initially painted within a roll of parchment. It almost sounded as if she were a sight to behold, a behemoth worthy of being considered a colossal wonder.

Upon such vessel, were four ores… well, that is if the two houses would at least be capable of reserving their eagerness to kill for a measly ten-minute reversal of an hour glass. Of course such was not expected of the wicked. Manual labor too, it seems, was expected even for the femininity of one such as Merenwen. The boat appeared to be sturdy and capable of holding four seafarers however it also spelled a hint of age. A puddle of water had gathered within. Luckily, it was armed with a bucket. It lay afloat upon a shadowy corner where light barely graced its presence to reveal yet another hint shrouded by patches of moss.

“East behind the rocks”

Aye, to the east would be several sharp towering crags that marked the end of a terrain of sand... sand upon which bizarrely carved words seemed to be nearly washed away.

“For victim of mutiny. Sanguine Cross beyond black strongholds. Revenge upon thieves for ‘ere they come ‘round. To seize, an opportunity. A dive and a little swim.”

The faded earthly engravings led on far towards several levels of sea-sculpted boulders. Pitch black, they appeared like mighty fortresses whose battles birthed waves of foam. To traverse them seemed to be perilous but still they were unrestricting to the desperate. Beyond them lie in majesty, the writhing glory of the “Catelina,” a carrack which smoothed along the crystalline surface of the water at a relatively unconquerable paddling distance. Its mast rose high into the heavens where upon it lay partly drawn, a flapping white sail whose center bore the unmistakable insignia of a twin swords that clashed in combat. Both were crimson in all their implications of blood-lust, foreshadowing what was to come with the progression of time.


------------------------

OOC:

For some strange reason deity magic appears to have little effect in the area... such an odd occurence :p In compensation, I will allow the use of gauntlets and belts for both parties.

Tip:
Make your way to the Catalina. We don't care how you get there :p .... but do get there within four rounds that way we can continue with our adventure........ ;) Deng and I will intervene when it's time.

To say Nathaniel was anxious would be a lie. To say he was afraid, or even on that other end of the spectrum; confident, would also be lying. Certainly he'd gone through the motions ever since the participants of the second round were revealed and, true enough, had initially been mortified. Imagine, the Lady of Lakes, the Woman of Waves, that lovely Maia known as Merenwen. Hair the colour of spun gold, and eyes brown that glinted with an equally golden hue as her hair. If the rumors were to be believed (and really, why shouldn't they be?) she was a woman who was not abnormally tall, though still carried a lithe frame with tones in all the right areas for one of her gender. It was a shame he would be fighting such a lovely creature, but this test was as much mental endurance as it was physical.

Her compatriot, Sraxen, he also knew of. Yet another he'd rather not fight, for he wanted to remain on good terms. Like his partner, Sraxen was not a tall man; though his reasons lay in his race. Yes, Sraxen was a dwarf, or the more politically correct 'naugrim'. Nathaniel knew a decent amount of dwarves from his time spent fighting; strong immune systems that left them resistant to most poisons, skilled in making weaponry, mining, and even wielding weapons such as axes. They could do a great deal of damage on their own. This particular one, Sraxen, was over two feet shorter than he, which meant Nathaniel would have to keep his weapon low to avoid having his knees hacked to bits.

But the worst part was that Sraxen, in a roundabout way, was his boss. Nathaniel had recently taken to joining the guild known as the 'Keepers Of The Sacred Deed', and though the missions of such had yet to start and he wasn't fully acquainted, he did know that it would make the relationship awkward. Unless Sraxen was the sort of man creature who appreciated and respected his foes; then Nathaniel would be fine. Rumors abounded about him being one of the chosen of a God, and wielding an axe capable of cutting through some of the strongest metals. It was good Stella had agreed to loan him her staff, for without it he would certainly be looking at a shattered blade.

The dark haired warrior shifted in his seat.

Trepidation over this match had built for some time, and for a while he'd been certain he was doomed. Nathaniel had gone to the blasted library of all things, in hopes of learning some way to combat the magical properties of the water woman. But in doing that he had forsaken studying for combat, and so he was left no more equipped against Sraxen than he had been when he joined the Keepers. The staff was long though, and he had convinced himself that so long as he kept distance between himself and the elf he could try to ensure the other didn't rip off limbs with his axe.

So was that why he held no fear? No. Nathaniel had no fear left in him because he'd exhausted it. All of his emotion towards it had built and flourished until he eventually had been left with a hollow sensation, numb save for a desire to get it over with. His tall frame, bent over a table that had one too many mugs of ale on it portrayed as much. He was in the process of carelessly rolling one that had been tipped onto its side back and forth along the table, catching it with his fingers before it could fall of the edge entirely. There was no alcohol left in it, or any of them for that matter. Heh ad managed to drink enough that the keeper informed him he'd had enough. It wasn't like him to drink this much; but he hadn't been able to eat much and he was trying to make up for it.

THWUCK! The noise of metal thunking into wood made him jump, and bloodshot eyes looked blearily to the door. His shoulders sagged, and he swayed even in his seat. Thankfully he didn't need to test his balance standing up; someone else went to check it out. They paused at the door, standing there listening. It was clear the man, or woman, or... humanoid table didn't want to get caught up in a fight outside if the need didn't arise. The whole lounge fell into a hush, the previously singing bard ( There's a singing bard? When'd he get here?) stopping. For a time there was silence, broken only by the occasional soft cough into a fist and the whistle of the wind through not-quite-adequate window shutters.

Silence. Long, blissful. Every eye was either upon the door or a drink, and no one dared whisper even to the closest of allies. For a good long minute it lasted, and then, with nothing heard, the poor fool that'd been elected to open the door began to ease the oaken entrance wide. It was done slowly, and Nathaniel didn't know if he were shaking or it were an illusion caused by his enibration. Whatever the case, the man/woman/table didn't look happy about it. It was with slow movements something was wedged out from the wood, and brought inside along with a parchment attatched to it. The figure looked it over slowly, obviously frightened it was directed at them, but when the shoulders eased down Nathaniel assumed it was not.

Perking up, he waited for the other to read it-- and was miffed when he did not. Instead the fool walked to the innkeeper, handing it over to him. Dark blue eyes, with lines of red and black circles under them, watched with a lack of amusement. In a bellowing voice the inn keeper called; "This parchment be for the House of the Voice o' Chaos! If ye be here speak now!" Voice of chaos? What kind of idiotic name was that? It sounded familar. Perhaps he'd made fun of it before? With a groan he contemplated going back to rolling the mug. Thankfully, for whatever reason it clicked when he looked upon his mug. The Voice of Chaos! Oh yes! Now he remembered! "I be one of 'em members! Bring it round here."

"Get off it Rystoff, yer justshammin'." Muttered the innkeeper, who he levelled with a glare. "I said bring it here. Me an' my mate... Obs... Odds... Oda! Yeah, that's it. He's part of it, y'know." The innkeeper eyed him over uncertainly, before handing it off to the being that'd initially opened the door and whispering something. The other nodded, then came close; at which point Nathaniel realized it was a boy. Obediently he put his hand out, like a child expecting a cookie. "Give it, then." The boy looked uncertain, before sighing and placing it down. "Good luck." Nathaniel lifted the mug he'd been rolling, swinging it high in the air. "Aye!" The boy shook his head, wandering off; his departure was mostly unnoticed by the drunk man.

"Now then, let's see here." Nathaniel tried to right himself in his chair, but only ended up slouching to one side. His fingers quaking with excitement, could barely pull free the dagger. Placed on the table, he let his eyes look at the words. Well, scribbles. Black lines that were skipping across the page, clasping hands as they merrily went about. He thought he saw their mouths moving, but he didn't hear anything. So he pulled the letter close to his ear, squinting one eye as he tried to listen. Still they were silent.

With a soft mutter of irritation to himself he pulled it from his ear, biting his lower lip. "Neat trick." He put it down, tapping the blade on the corner of the page. "Wish you likedm e 'nough to talk, though." He frowned, oblivious ot the stares on him. "Maybe you'll talk for Odds... Bodds... Oda.. Yeh. Maybe Oda." Standing up abruptly, he was quick to catch the leg of the chair and fall backwards, cracking his head off the floor. It was a painful noise, but he was too drunk to feel what would turn into a splitting headache. "Oda... hmm. Where is that guy, anyways?" Nathaniel rolled onto his side, pushing himself up and grasping the table for support. Maybe he'd wait here a second while it wore off. Then he could show it to Nobunaga.


~~~~ Day One ~~~~

The next day saw one embarressed Nathaniel nursing a horrible headache. He'd doused himself with the magical heal, having punctured flesh but thankfully not bone with his fall. Sadly the cure did nothing to alleviate the heaache, which he'd garnered both from the blow and the poor drinking habits. After apologizing profusely to Nobunaga he'd locked himself in the room, going over the letter with the other. It was a good thing Nobunaga could read, because it allowed Nathaniel to copy it down in his own poor writing to try and understand it further. He'd asked the other to go train elsewhere, wanting to be alone so he could concentrate in total silence. It was what he was currently caught up doing; locked in his/their room with no lights on and a heavy curtain on the window. The light that forced through the drape was enough for him to read by, and he was currently trying to decipher what it meant.

"I am the convergence of copious flows and the father of squalls." He murmured to himself, stroking the goat-skin parchment as if he could gain insight from the gesture. "Father of squalls? What could that mean?" Pulling out more paper, he started writing down everything that came to mind with the trm. Alternate meanings, alternate words for father and squalls. Something stood out about squall though. Nathaniel knew he'd heard the term before, what seemed a lifetime ago. When he'd been a lad of nineteen, with no notion of the world and the same confidence a buck wears before the hunter slits its pitiful throat. Squall. Storm. That's what Damien used to call them, whenever he spoke to the Captain. Could that be a clue, then? If squalls were a sailor's term, were they looking for somewhere with boats? On the other hand, it could merely mean that whoever wrote it was someone that served on a boat, possible even a mere fisherman.

"The Chronicler of Aedvn." Chronicler. No, that didn't sound like a fisherman's term. Most of the wording was too fancy for a simple-minded sailor anyways, words like 'sanguine' and 'copious' would be lost on most of them-- it was, after all, lost on him; and he'd travelled far and wide and dealt with many scholars. Perhaps it was a clue, then. Quickly he lifted his feather quill, the white of it contrasting the black ink on its tip. With a flourish of the wrist he underlined 'skwahl', which was his phonetic writing of squall. He refused to dirty the goat parchment they'd recieved; it might be needed, and if they lost it was possible the thing might be sold for a few crowns.

"Where my might comes to ebb lay woven meshes, wound, mayhap adorning abodes upon poles." Woven meshes were baskets, he knew as much. Homes on poles, though? That hardly made sense... Flags went on poles, lamps, birds nests as well. Perhaps the Sanctuary of Angels? Angels were sort of like birds... But what did squalls or 'flows' have to do with that? On a sailor's view, it could be a reference to a crow's nest or even a dock. There were a few homes around docks that were upheld in the water; one famous tale told of the Mistress Lachyrmose. With an irritated sigh he scribbled in a few question marks around the statement, then wrote down 'docks? homes? crow's nest?' on his seperate paper, then continued on. "I may be north, south, east and west but I advise you west where you will find my darling Catalina."

All directions? That could mean light. Or shadows. Or wind, or sky, or anything really. If it was light it could be referring to the sunset; the sun rose in the east and set in the west. It would make sense, for every good sailor knew to look at the sky at sunrise to know how the following day would be. To know if it would storm. Red sky by night... They were fighting as well, so the red could have double meaning. If to the west was where Catalina was, he needed to know who Catalina was. A woman? A monster? Another riddle? Again something struck him about it, something pulling him to believe to be a home; perhaps an abode on poles. He scribbled this down, then finished the last of the riddle. "Her veil awaits to be lifted... three grooms and a bride before a sanguine cross upon the third night."

Her veil? Was she hiding? This made everything profoundly more confusing. If she was hiding, that could be important. But if she was what they were after, it also meant she was likely where they were destined to fight. With a sigh he scribbled a question mark beside it. The ending, three grooms and a bride, seemed an obvious reference to the teams. The sanguine cross... that he truly didn't know. But he did know he had three days to figure it all out, or he and Oda would fail due to their failure to show up. With a despairing moan he slouched, elbows on table and his face pressed into his hands. Nathaniel had exhausted his other possibilities of figuring this out; he'd tried paying a few people in the pub for what they interpreted it to mean, had looked for anyone who had seen what figure put the dagger through the doors to begin with.

No one even knew what a blasted Catalina was.

Cutting off a corner of the goat-skin parchment and tasting it for any unique spices or salts that could have fallen on it procured nothing (except that it was excellently dried out and he needed to learn who did such wonderful workmanship), and sniffing it left him with no assumptions except that it was certainly goat. Even his strong senses weren't a match for this. The ink did not look unique, and the only clues to be found had to be in the riddle. But that was hard to decipher for a man of his age and rudimentary studie, and left him feeling nothing but a strong sense he was stupid.

Another sigh, which he seemed full of today, and he leaned back from the table. Nathaniel reached across the table he'd been using, lifting the dagger and examining it critically. The insignia he thought he recognized, but he couldn't quite put his finger on where. The working was immaculate, the blade sharp and wicked looking. The hilt also featured a number of carved serpents, though nothing was particularly startling. There were no gems engraved in the eyes to represent elements, and pressing on their jaws did not open them to reveal another clue.

Counting them for lack of a better lead he came up wit hthe number of eight. Eight serpents, perhaps representing eight teams? And eight snakes would hav sixteen eyes-- he recounted just to make sure, and sixteen was the number of members. One snake held two, which also seemed to represent the fact each team had a duo. What else was important about eight, though? What did he know of it, in reference to his past? You needed mroe than eight men to crew a boat, there were more than eight jobs. His first voyage had been eight months at sea, but he didn't think that was important. Oh! Octopi! They had eight legs! They enjoyed tormenting boats as well. Carefully he looked over the grouping of snakes, looking down to see if they perhaps attatched in a fashion similar to an octopus. Then, once more, something clicked, and he felt like a moron.

A hydra!

Terrible beasts, who normally ended up with more than eight heads. The dagger represented the tournament and the next hint. Yes, he was convinced now. Water was what they needed. It was just a manner of how, and where. He knew to the west, but there was a large coastline and Nathaniel could never hope to sweep the entire area in that time. Was there perhaps a village called sanguine cross? Or better yet, Catalina?

A soft yawn escaped him, and he patted his mouth as it slipped past. Tired, and with a headache, he decided that was enough. He'd deciphered a large chunk (or so he thought), and further investigation could be head the following day. Right now he needed a nap, to abate this pounding headache.


~~~~ Day Two ~~~~

Nathaniel was finally feeling better, and he had met with Nobunaga. They had discussed a great manner of things, with the weaker of the two explaining what he'd discovered. He didn't admit that he may be wrong, nor did he mention the large pieces he still did not fully comprehend (an abode on a pole?). But with sharp charm and thick confidence, it was hard to imagine he wasn't fully convinced he was right. After some time he reccomended they yet again break apart, allowing Oda more time to train so that he could try to iron out the exact location. He was sure someone must have seen who had nailed the message there, and he was determined to learn who. Not willing to take no for an answer, he had been able to go and do just that.

Dressed in a clanking suit and specially tailored clothing, he investigated the town the whole day. Anyone who had been around during that time had been asked if they'd seen something, and he even showed the dagger around and asked about a Chronicler by the name of Aedvn. It hadn't faired perfectly, and though he eventually found someone with information it was simply that she'd seen a hooded stranger who ebbed an ominous air. Nathaniel wondered if that could be the chronicler, and when he returned to the inn during the night he headed straight for the inn keeper and asked if he'd seen a hooded man.

"Oh ay, there was man what seemed a phantom. Took up in room uh... room 133 I think." Nathaniel felt somewhat uncomfortable knowing it was the room beside his and Nobunaga's. "I don't think he stayed though. He didn't sleep in the bed or ask for no wash." Nathaniel scratched at his beard thoughtfully. "Perhaps he made the bed?" The man shook his head. "The blankets and what were stiff, y'see? It was downright weird. Still, he paid, so I imagine he wa'n't to bad a guy. Mighty peculiar, though."

Nathaniel nodded stiffly. "Alright, thanks." Turning, he was surprised when a hand grasped his arm. He turned, looking to the other. "One more thing, lad. He smelled weird, y'know? Sorta like.. like fish or somethin'." The warrior paused. "Fish, eh?" The baskets! Of course! It... it must be a dock then! Or at least a port. "My good man, would you know of any ports to the West?" The man grinned widely, revealing three teeth amongst an empty gum. "Oh ay. Port Adune!" Nathaniel smiled widely. "Thank you much, I appreciate it." He reached into his pouch, giving the other a few coin as he walked away. Adune, of course! Not Ah-dun... Ae-doon! It occured if he'd pronounced the name a few different ways he'd have understood it, but didn't have time to beat himself for it. He needed to find Nobunaga, do he could train during what little time they had left.

~~~~ Day Three ~~~~

Nathaniel was quick to alert Nobunaga of the game being afoot. It would take a good time to travel there, for he wished to walk so that his muscles could stretch. Rather than drink himself stupid he refrained, instead eating a great hulking breakfast and lunch. They set out quickly, and Nathaniel was mostly silent on their way there. He responded to anything the other had to say, but he was otherwise lost in thought. It wasn't long before the day dimmed and darkness descended, and Nathaniel barely noticed the change in lighting. Drunken sailors sang merrily about vodka martinis and the devil, but they were ignored until he and Nobunaga could make it to the dock.

Here, in the unobscured moonlight, a distant boat could be seen writhing in its bindings. Not unlike a butterfly caught in a spider' web, fragile wings trying to desperately free the writhing insect. The waves here were large and almost black in the night, and foam continuously sprayed against large grey rocks. Clutched in Nathaniel's hand was the dagger and the parchment, the paper rolled up for safe-keeping. The boat, located at a far off dock, was not at all threatening. Unless you were someone who hated boats, as Nathaniel did. Gritting his teeth he resisted his twisting stomach, moving along the coast as fast as his legs would carry him. Both he and Nobunaga were tall men, and that bestowed them legs that could carry them quickly. It wasn't long before the dock with the ship was approached, and Nathaniel shuddered.

He turned for a moment, wondering if the others were coming and if they were supposed to fight on the floating bathtub. In the dull light he noticed something written, though; "East behind the rocks". Nathaniel looked their boa up and down. It wasn't as magnificent as he'd imagined, but then things had a funny way of sounding better on paper. The rocks weren't too far, but it was a decent walk. "Nobunaga, come. We can sail this boat to the east yet. If we get there first, perhaps we can set some kind of trap." Nathaniel took a step onto the dock. It shifted in the waves. Then he took another, and again it wobbled. By his third step he was more confident, and his pace quickened so he could quickly make it into the boat and placed the parchment and dagger down, pulling out his borrowed staff from where it was bound against his back, and putting the sharp mace-tip to the rope. He intended for them to cast off the moment Nobunaga stepped in. Sraxen and Merenwen be damned; the two men were more than strong enough to pull the weight needed.

Another wave came, this time shaking the boat. He fell to the side, curling against it and vomiting everything he'd eaten in the past twenty-four hours. So much for filling himself so that he would have enough energy. Heaving away into the black water, he relied on Nobunaga to cut them free. Only after thirty seconds of regurgitating his food did he finish, splashing some of the water in his face and sitting back down heavily. He muttered something under his breath about hating water, then grabbed two oars. Nathaniel's face was more green and he looked less confident, but he took up his pair of oars as if the incident had never happened. "We'll beat them yet." Those words said, he spat to the side of the boat and out into the black water. Hopefully the "sanguine cross" they were looking for would be found to the east, and that would be the end of it.

He wouldn't exactly have called it a "prestigious" inn. It was nice enough, he supposed: the service was fine, though the food wasn't anything to write home about. His main complaint was that the bed they had assigned to him was much too big. It threatened to devour him.

"Now the Dwarves," he grumbled, "they would know how to build an inn glorious enough to house the kings. If I were among my own people in those majestic Dwarven halls, I certainly wouldn't be having this problem." He grunted. “Elves and humans have a lot to learn about fine craftsmanship.” Unfortunately, Sraxen didn't have time to teach them.

As he entered his room and closed the door behind him, he produced a sheet of parchment from his pocket. The note had been conspicuously pinned to his door, held there by a most conspicuous dagger. The herald responsible for delivering the note, however, was most decidedly inconspicuous. The Dwarf didn't give too much thought to that. He was probably better off not knowing what stealthy figure had managed to stalk him to his inn. Hastily he began to read the contents of the note:

I am the convergence of copious flows and the father of squalls. Where my might comes to ebb lay woven meshes, wound, mayhap ado-

"Well, forget that," he mumbled as he crumpled the note up and tossed it to the side of the room. The last thing he needed tonight was a cryptic riddle; he simply didn't have the patience for those, nor did he possess a mind great enough to decipher it. As the healer attempted to climb up into the colossal bed, he was once again thankful for his partner. Elves, more so than Dwarves, were known for their expertise with puzzles. He knew Merenwen would be capable of discerning the meaning of the note, as soon as he shared it with her in the morning.

"Thank the gods for that Elf," he breathed, as he blew out the candle and closed his eyes. He didn't know what he would do without her.

---

Two months earlier, the Shrine of Water

Somehow, he found himself here yet again. Though he was a paladin and cleric of Life, and a devout follower of Holiness, somehow he was forever intrigued by this place, this Shrine of Water, more than he ever had been by the Shrine of his chosen element. Perhaps it was because he couldn't bare himself to visit the former home of Avénnian, his close friend and ally who had since ascended to Aman and then turned mortal. Every time he journeyed there, he felt only abandonment and mourning. Holiness no longer had a guardian, and now neither did its shrine.

But water. Water it seemed would always have a keeper. And even though it had been guarded by Draco the last time he was here, the element now belonged to someone new. Merenwen Coamenel, she was called, daughter of Elves, but above all else a Maia. He didn't know much about her, didn't know how she had come to power. He had only caught a few glimpses of her during the War for the Moon, when he had fought against a dragon rider in order to come to her aid and give her the healing she desperately needed in order to keep fighting. But beyond that, all he knew was that she was drawn to the same mysteries of the water that had piqued his own curiosity. Dwarves were known for their close ties to the earth, to rock and stone, to metal and weapon. But Sraxen, though interested in those things as well, had always found something alluring within the waves, below the depths of the sea. It was something so free, so uncontrollable, unpredictable, unbiased. It didn't matter who you were, if you were out in the open water during a storm, you would suffer its wrath.

The shrine had been altered, it seemed, under the new management. Before him he observed three paths that would allow him entrance to the new shrine. A pathway through the water, a series of stepping stones to the left, and large lily pads that one could take through the right side of the temple. After deliberating a moment he decided to make use of the lily pads and take the scenic route. Nervously he stepped onboard, then sat down on the massive leaf and grabbed one of the tiny wooden oars. He set the paddle into the water, creating a small ripple as he moved it through the liquid. As the lily pad carried him through the shrine, he looked around in awe at his surroundings. Nature was at peace here, free from the troubles of war and hate and darkness.

He wished he as well could one day be free of such things.

His lily brought him beneath the towering waterfall. Water cascaded down on top of him. For a moment he stayed there, shielding his eyes from the onslaught, letting the raw power of the water rush over him, consume him. Then, he continued his journey.

From the waterfall he was led into an immense cave. Light shone through from above and revealed a pristine pond devoid of pollution or waste. The pond filled the entire chamber of the cave, and Sraxen's jaw nearly dropped at the sight. He couldn't remember ever in his life seeing anything more beautiful than this sanctuary. Flowers and reeds of various species floated on the surface of the pond, while fish scurried about below them. For a moment, he was humbled. For most of his life he had prided himself on the creations of his race, their vast monuments and architectural wonders. But the handiwork of mortals could not lift a finger to the organic inventions that had been forged by the deities. No building or work of stone could ever hope to capture the untouched beauty of nature.

At length he reached the altar and, with his newfound marvel, he knelt.

"I come to you now full of wonder," he said softly, speaking more to the idea of water than to anyone in particular. It was unlikely anyone would actually hear his words, but still he spoke them aloud. "You hold more mysteries than I can ever hope to solve. The mortals of Arda may never fully grasp what you are. But I, Sraxen Stoneshield, I would aim to try. I am your servant.

"The last time I visited this place, it was very different, but still it had secrets to give me. You taught me a valuable lesson, one certainly worth learning. I have put your lesson to good use. As the army of Tulkas waged war against Raku's evil servants, Merenwen was in danger. Determined to give her the healing she required, I took to the skies atop Kheled, the mighty steel dragon. And it was then, in my need to save her, that I put to use the knowledge you trusted me with. A dragon and his rider stood in the way of me reaching her, but the grip of ice froze him in his place, sent him crashing to the ground. And so, though I could not have known it at the time, that lesson, that spell you gave to me, aided me in helping the one person who would become your new guardian. It could not have been more poetic."

He took a breath as he pondered that sequence of events, then continued somberly. "I am eager to learn a new lesson, if you are willing to trust me with it."

As he let the silence surround him, as he meditated on the secrets in the water, he noticed a strange movement. Suddenly, all of the koi in the pond began to come together in a swarm and danced in front of the altar. He raised his head. She was here.

---

Indeed, Merenwen had been able to decipher the clues of the riddle, or at least she thought she had. Her solutions had led them here, to Adúnë, the port of Lómëdor. Darkness cloaked the docks, the moonlight and the blinking of the stars the only source of light they had. Waves washed up upon the rocks. They had been brought back to the water, the very thing that had brought he and his partner together in the first place. He sighed and closed his eyes briefly, and mumbled under his breath, "It could not have been more poetic."

He knew they had a great challenge ahead of them. As they walked, inching closer to their supposed destination, he considered their opponents. Nobunaga Oda was a self-proclaimed legendary swordsman, feared by many. He was altogether an evil being, one that Sraxen would surely find himself fighting even outside of this tournament. He had heard that the man employed advanced tactics, not the least of which being the poison he tipped his weapons with. He needed to be ready to face this man and all of his tricks.

Their other opponent was another that was known to him. Nathaniel M. Rystoff. The human was an ex-captain, but more than that, he was a Keeper of the Sacred Deed. Nathaniel had joined the guild not all that long ago, but already Sraxen could tell he would like the interesting character, though he couldn't say he approved of Nathaniel's chosen partner. Unfortunately, their relationship within the guild could prove to make this match a potentially awkward one. Just like last time against Zenith and Umbra, he thought. Would he ever face someone who wasn't his ally?

He was determined to not let those emotions get in the way of the match. It was not a fight to the death, after all, and it allowed him the chance to try his hand at sparring with a fellow Keeper. It didn't have to get ugly. Though he was sure Nathaniel wouldn't be too happy with him, if his plan for this match worked.

That's when the tiny boat finally came into his view. Nathaniel and Nobunaga had already reached the vessel, but the House of Ossë had planned for that possibility. He turned to Merenwen, going over the details once more before the action began. "It is time. We didn't come this far just to lose now. You know the plan. You know what must be done. Don't worry about me." With that, he took his leave of the Elf, allowing her to do her part in their plan.

As he made his way to the small boat, their only hope of reaching the Catalina, he readied himself for the imminent conflict. He found deep within him his magical reserves, then began to put them to use. "The strength of a dragon," he said aloud. He thought of the mighty power of his steel dragon, Kheled, then focused on acquiring that power for himself. As he made the thought become reality, he felt Draconic strength rush over him. It flowed through his veins, entered his muscles, surrounded him on all sides. The adrenaline completely took him over, and he embraced it. He felt stronger than he ever had before, and it gave him the confidence he needed to do what was required of him in order to win this match. Finally ready, he sprinted towards the boat, took as large of a leap as one of his stature was capable of, and landed firmly on the boat that held Nathaniel, causing it to sway in the water and almost sink beneath the surface. Khûzera was already out of its sheath, and he now held the axe tightly in both hands, then called out to his opponent. "Where do you think you're going?" he teased.

I hope this works.

Merenwen had been rather surprised by the tournament so far, it had not been what she had expected. The introduction of additional physical feats beyond the fight itself had been a shock. In the last match, the judges had forced her to scale a cliff, without the use of any magic, while handcuffed to her partner. Who knew what they would throw her way this time? She knew for certain that something must be planned, though - why else would they have been sent to wait at an inn, secluded even from their opponents? She had only been at the inn a short time, and already she wanted to be on the move. She was getting anxious. She wanted to know what was to come, she wanted to get on with the tournament. Waiting in that small room only made it worse, especially considering the mediocre food they had served. And though Sraxen’s company was enjoyable, a fight was looming just around the bend; and each day that she was left waiting, she had nothing else to do but worry and wonder what would be required of her next.

Merenwen laughed a little when she saw Sraxen handed her the note and told her to solve the riddle. She grinned at him a little and said, “For all your talk of the skill of the dwarves in building, and yet it takes the brain of an elf to solve a riddle.” She enjoyed joking with him, but soon she was preoccupied.

In truth, receiving the note from Sraxen had given her another blow. Sure, the mind had to be in use for a fight, you had to think things through before attacking if you wished to succeed, but solving riddles? Yes, she had some talent for riddle solving, but the point of making them solve a riddle was beyond her. I guess they want to ensure that the winning team has both brains and brawn, she thought to herself as she sat down at a small, rickety table to work through the clues.

She began by reading through the entire riddle, but quickly realized that would not be the most intelligent way to go about solving it. There were too many components and if she tried to take all of them at once the answer would always stand just out of reach. Instead, she broke the riddle down into pieces and worked each piece on its own.

“The convergence of copious flows,” she said to herself. That portion alone didn’t seem too difficult to figure out. “The ocean. Of course, the copious flows would be the waves and the shore would be where they converge.” She smiled at that, thinking, maybe this won’t be so hard. “As for the father of squalls, squalls are strong winds which are most often coming off the ocean, so that would seem to make the ocean the father of squalls.” These were the easier clues for they were of her own world, of the ocean, the water that she loved, but she knew that as she continued things were more likely to become muddled. She expected to be up late piecing together the puzzle that had been set before her, but she would do it. This was one of the areas in which she could help, whereas her partner would always be there for healing and brute strength. Sraxen had always been rather good at healing...

________________________________________________________________
Two Months Earlier: The Shrine of Water

Merenwen had returned from a meeting with other guild members and found herself tired. Although the time with Vaudeux had helped to lesson the pain she felt, to make it bearable and make her believe she had reason to live, it still held strength within her heart and soul. When out in the world she felt as if she had to hide her pain, to hide what others might see as weakness in order to save face in front of them. Doing so was hard, and now that she was alone again her tears once again rose to the surface. She missed her parents greatly and she still yearned to destroy the malicious beast who had taken them from her. She slipped back into her private room, hoping to be left alone for time to think things through. Curling up on an ice chair, she lets the tears run slowly down her face to her chin, where they would drip off and become a part of the frozen ground.

At first she didn’t notice that someone had entered her shrine for she was lost within her pain and sadness. Her mind had once again become bombarded with images of her parents, of their teaching her when she was young. Her father, teaching her to use a bow, to aim straight and never let one’s eye falter from the target. Her mother, teaching her spells, and telling her the secrets of the earth, of the plants that many did not understand. Over it all was a taint of red, the red of their blood that had been spilled not but a month before. The pain would never fully go away, and would take a great deal more time to ease itself unto a point in which she need not need to give into its power at times.

When she finally sensed the beings presence she did not immediately move to attend to her visitor. She did not know who she would be facing, but she wanted more knowledge as to the identity of her guest before deciding if she was ready to greet them or not. As such, she moved just behind the falls that led into her personal chamber and listened to what was being said.

Sraxen, that name sounds so familiar, she thought to herself as she listened. It sounded familiar, and yet, hard as she tried she could not place it. Then, she heard her own name flow out of the man’s lips, she had not yet looked out to see that he was a dwarf, and hers eyes widened in amazement. That is where I know the name from, she thought to herself, the dwarf who saved me in the war, saved my life before I even knew the truth about myself.

As she continued to listen to him, gentler tears rose to her eyes, for though she would have given her life for her parents, she would never even have had the chance to take the curse from them or see them again if it had not been for this man. He may have been small in stature, but he was mighty when it came to heart and that mattered a great deal more. When he finished, and she had realized that he was not even speaking to a Guardian, but to the water itself, she slowly stepped through the falls from her private sanctuary into the main chamber. He had made a request that she would be more then happy to fill, even if he had not saved her, he was pure hearted and she knew that he would do his best to protect the element she loved most. She would never feel a love for him like she did for Vaudeux, she would feel that kind of love for no one else, but she did feel a love for him of a softer sort, a love in the form of friendship.

She smiled at him as he looked up at her and her eyes, though still glossy from the tears she had shed, glowed with the warmth of her gratefulness. Even through the gratefulness, her eyes still also showed her pain, showed the sadness that threatened to consume her. She knelt beside him, knelt to him, and said, “You need not kneel to me my friend, my savior. You gave me my life back, and the least I can do is to teach you what you would wish to know.”

________________________________________________________________

She jumped up from her chair and ran to find Sraxen. Merenwen had been up most of the night contemplating the clues in the riddle and determining how they worked together, and now she had it.

The might of the ocean was known to ebb on the shore, so again, the note pointed to the ocean. With that in mind, she concluded that the woven meshes were the nets of fishermen.
"Abodes on poles" had first made her think of her home back in Yomeniampa, only it wasn’t poles that the homes sat on, but rather trees. Her mind shifted through her travels and she was drawn back into the rainforest. She had recalled seeing many homes that were supported by stilts, so as to keep them secure from the seasonal floods. But none of the other clues had led her to a forest, and her thoughts had turned back to the ocean. She ran the clue through her mind until an image appeared, an image that must have been from her last life.

A young women with hair a warm brunette was walking slowly along the docks, her mind lost in the beauty of the ocean before and below her. She came here when she wanted to escape the confines of her shrine, when she sought the peace of the ocean. A small home was set out before her, built on stilts to keep it above the level of the crashing waves, and it is here that the women would stay. That was it, that was what was meant by abodes upon poles! It was so simple, and yet so deceiving at the same time.

West, she figured, meant not as far west as Ea would allow her to travel, but rather west in relation to the ocean for it was the ocean to which the riddle referred.. At the Palanen's westernmost point, she would find Port Adune.

Now she knew the direction in which they needed to travel, and even thought she knew the exact location. But they had to get moving. They had long trip ahead of them, and, according to the riddle, only had two more days to get there.

________________________________________________________________

When they reached the port, Merenwen wondered on her own luck. For two fights in a row, the judges had placed her on her own element, had surrounded her with the water that gave her strength and that she would protect with her own life. It was the same element that had brought her and Sraxen together, the element he had used to reach her and save her in the war, the element she had worked to teach him more in. Either the judges wished to give her some advantage here, or they had some trick up their sleeves. She was thinking the second answer was more than likely true.

Merenwen stood upon the docks with her Winter’s Embrace cloak drifting about her body and her hair flying about in the gentle wind that seemed ever present at the ocean. Though she did not know if she would need them, knowing that her gloves were allowed for this fight she had attached them to her belt, along with her sword, medical kit, and a few potions. Her dagger was yet again shoved into her boot and her shortbow and arrows were slung across her back. She did not know either of her opponents, only knew the small amount Sraxen had told her. But she did know that once again he had some friendship with one of them. It seemed they would not get through a fight without having to go up against someone they knew, or who at least one of them knew. She could see in his eyes that facing another of his close allies was hitting him hard, and she did what she could to give him strength by standing beside him and being there if he needed to speak before they moved on.

She could hear the waves crashing on the beach, could feel the gentle spray of water drifting up and settling about her. She could see the glinting stars singing their nightly song, and the moon standing strong above all in the dark night sky. When they spotted the boat she was glad to have arrived in time. It seemed that if they had been but a moment later they may have been left behind, but they had made it and she prayed that their plan would not fail. She listened to the words of the Dwarf, and though she nodded to him she knew that she would still worry. It was not normally her way to leave one on their own when it came to a fight, even if it was for a short time, but they had their reasons and she would not falter at this key moment in time.

As Sraxen sprinted away from her, Merenwen looked to the water, to a point some fifty yards from where the boat was docked. All her concentration held on that spot and with a blink of her eyes she felt the icy cold water of the Palanen Ocean sweep around her. She had transported herself into the water, but that was only the first step in what she had to do if their plan was to work.

She pulled her arms into her self, pulled her feet together, and began to spin while speaking one word, “Oaris.” At first it felt as if her legs were being bound together, as if someone had take a strong cloth and wrapped it so tightly that she could not move her legs at all. Then, within the binding, her legs seemed to become one, to grow together so that the binding could pull more tightly about her. Her feet seemed to stretch uncontrollably, until they formed a massive fin of a brilliant aqua color, and the binding of her legs transformed into slick, aqua scales. It hurt some, but it was nothing compared to what was to come. Gashes seemed to tear into her neck, forming the gills through which she would breath and causing her to scream out slightly. But when it was finished, all the pain diminished. Her legs had become a great aquatic tail that would move her forcefully through the water, her clothes had transformed into nothing more then a bikini of scales across her body, and she could now breath no matter how deep she were to go in the water, she did not need the air on land to breath, and so could move through the water with the ease of a dolphin, or more so of a mermaid.

With the transformation complete, Merenwen’s eyes returned to the shore. She couldn’t believe in some ways that she had agreed to leave him behind, if even only for a short time. “I believe in you Sraxen,” she said to herself, “I know you can do this.” She glanced up to the sky, to where she knew Aman floated somewhere above and sent up a prayer saying, “Keep him safe, he is one of yours Lothlómendil, even more than he is one of mine. Please, keep him safe.” Her eyes were drawn back to the shore and she thought to herself, I hope this works.

Why? Why was the only question that one could think of if you were holding a scroll in your hand with the next round tourney matchups and you see you are fighting a guardian. It was the guardian of water if you want to really get technical. Someone must really dislike Nathan and Nobby if they matched them up with a pair such as this. Actually, the only person Nobs knew was the guardian of water. Who was Sraxen? Hell, what was a Sraxen? Sounded like a funny new drink that was out, and that would leave one with a hurt stomach and bad bathroom breaks for a week. Well whatever; it, he, she, or whatever was, it sounded like it was strong enough to be teamed with the guardian of water. Was the guardian of water male or female?

Angry about who the next round is with, nobs stormed out of the poor excuse of a room. It was small, cramped, and had a bad smell. Two beds and a rickety door. The room to rest in for the first match was so much better than this one.

The beast traveled to the nearby tavern where he sat on the stool at the bar counter. “What will you be having mister” the bartender said in a horrible way. Such a horrible little man. He hates them. “Give me something hard. You got a Sraxen?” nobunaga said fulfilling his curiosity about a hard drink by the name of Sraxen. “Coming right up” the bartender said as he placed a short little mug on the counter. The mug was horribly short and if a serious drinker were to drink this they would be very unhappy with it.

The poor old fart poured the brown drink into the short mug carefully as if he didn’t want to spill one drop of it. “Here you go sir. Hope you have fun”

Now what the hell kind of comment was that? “Hope you have fun?” Who cares, Nobunaga picked the mug up and gulped the drink down with one large gulp. His face went from calm and laid back to frustrated to giving a constipated look in a matter of seconds. His stomach locked up and his intestines felt like they were on fire. What the hell was this Sraxen drink? On top of the horrible effects of the drink, it also tasted completely vile. Sour, bitter, nasty, icky, bleh. Any of those words can be used to describe the taste of the Sraxen brew. “You know…” nobunaga said struggling to keep his insides on the inside. “You should not sell that drink at….*burp*…all”

~Day 1~

After spending the night in a outhouse getting the horrible drink out of his system, Nobunaga went back to the room in which Nath and him were staying. Nath was having either a very bad hangover, or a horrible headache. Maybe both? Either way, Nathan showed him the letter and Nobunaga read it out loud. He read slowly for his partner was writing something. As he continued to read it hit him that he either must be really stupid, or this letter must be really hard for after reading a sentence he felt more and more lost and confused.

“I may be north, south, east and west but I advise you west where you will find my darling Catalina” nobunaga read as he was now completely lost in frustration. This was the most confusing thing ever. That drink was bad, but this riddle, was so much worse. Once he was done reading it Nathaniel had pretty much kicked him out of his own room. What kind of partnership was that?

Nobunaga left, taking nothing with him but his pride and his still feeling bad inside. He was supposed to go train a for a bit, but honestly he didn’t need to train physically. He needed to train mentally to get himself ready and psyched up for the match. He was as strong and as fast as he would be three days from now, but he was not prepared mentally which was really what needed to happen.

He walked to a nearby place where there were trees and people. Kids playing and adults laughing and talking. Playing with animals and loud conversation filled the air. That was a beautiful sight. Among all of the trees, directly in the middle was one tree that hung over giving shade to a vast amount of space. Nobs decided to sit under the tree and chill for the entire day as instead of working his body physically, he would mentally come to peace within himself so that things like fear and anxiety would not be present.

Peaceful dreams ran through his head. Night went to evening and went to night. Children playing went to birds chirping, to calm and collectiveness. Cool breezes ran across the sleeping warriors face as him sleeping under the tree in such calm and collected ways was that of pure bliss.

~Day 2~

Nathan had woke Nobunaga up from his amazing sleep under the tree to talk to him about what he learned from the Scroll. Why did he have to catch him sleeping even though he was instructed to train? Oh well. Nathan talked about his discovering for a while. It was not that it was boring, but more that even though Nobunaga had just got it handed to him on a silver platter, he was still lost and confused and not to mention sleepy.

The day went bye the same way the day before had. He spent the day under the tree thinking of ideas and brilliant ways to dominate his adversaries. He thought of various combo’s they can pull off and he also cleared his mind of any and all unnecessary thoughts about the fight itself. Now the only thing he had to do was clear his stomach of the drink before the fight comes up or they would win because nobody will want to come near Nobunaga. “There’s a thought” nobunaga said chuckling to himself as he got up and ran to the nearby outhouse.

~Day 3~
The day of the battle was here. The day that it was going to be all or nothing. The day that Nathan told him who Sraxen was, and Nobunaga also told him what the Sraxen drink had did to him. What a very embarrassing moment that was. The walk was long but it was worth it for it gave the exercise to the two of them that they had neglected for the entire three days.

After walking for a while night had fallen upon the place as they arrived at he destination. At least that’s what nobunaga thought for he was following Nathan, and Nathan had led them to a port. Nobby kept following his partner until he noticed the boat that was tied down. Boats was the one thing that was not so high on his likes list. In fact, it was the first on his dislike list but in order to win, the warrior would have to suck it up and deal with it. He would have to unless he wanted to go home empty handed. He didn’t want that, but he didn’t want to let his partner down the most. If anything in this tournament, the thing that kept him going was the thought of not wanting to let Nathaniel down at all.

“Lets do this” nobunaga said with a loud yell as he watched his partner get into the small boat. The boat was tiny and could fit two people perfectly but in order to fit another person in, they would have to be really short. Like the height of a dwarf, or something n that level.

CRACK

That was the only noise one could hear as instead of just cutting the rope to let the boat free, nobunaga completely kicked and destroyed the small wooden pole it was tied to. Why wouldn’t he just untie the rope? Maybe it made him feel a bit tougher to know he can kick things apart. Everything dropped into the water with a short splash as the night sky and the night breeze matched perfectly with the mood of this fight.

A wave came in slowly setting them away from the port and everything was wonderful. Everything except that his partner was sea sick without even being fully on the sea. The odds were stacking badly for the two of them for Nobunaga’s stomach was not fully done with its torment of that horrible drink, and now that they were fully out in the sea, his partner was hurling his lunch like nothing.

Swoosh….Swoosh, went the water as nobunaga paddled the boat in the direction that Nathan had pointed to. They were maybe a twenty or thirty yards away from the dock when he saw one figure on the docks. It was a female figure with long hair that blew in the wind. He couldn’t see details but all he could see was one person. From the way she stood and had studied the water, the only guess of who she was, happened to be the guardian of water. (yay two points for Nobunaga)

“Hey I think we won. I think her partner is not showing up.” He said as he looked back to the docks only to see some kind of flying figure heading straight for them. “No room for you sorry” nobunaga said as he started to paddle a bit faster trying to make whoever was coming towards the boat completely miss.

After three paddles, he realized that the person coming this way was not going to miss. Thinking quickly, he hit the paddles together completely breaking them so that nobody could use them. Wood chunks flew everywhere as one grazed the rough cheek of Nobs. “He thinks he is going to have room on this ship but unless he is short he’s going to….” Said nobs being cut off with the loud thud of the mans landing on the boat.

Just his luck, it was a damn dwarf.

The gods really hate Nobunaga and Nathan. Not only do they have to fight a guardian of water, they have to fight a dwarf. Most would think that was a good thing, but there was something about him. A confidence that would make the strongest man keel over for no real reason. Well, his confidence wouldn’t make one do that, but that axe that he had sure as hell would. The axe this short man carried looked brutal. Sraxen looked like he could really put a hurting on someone, just like the drink could.

“No midgets allowed shorty” Nobunaga said acting quickly. The only thought going through nobunaga’s head was if this dwarf could swim. Hope so. Looking at the size of the boat, the huge axe, and of course his lack of height, the final decision would be get far, far away from this man, dwarf, Halfling, midget, or maybe all of the above.

The boat had drifted kind of far out and nobunaga being preoccupied with the dwarf failed to noticed the beautiful woman enter the water or transform. He was too busy getting up and jumping to where Nathan was hoping he would get over his lost lunch and fight. “Ill buy you dinner after this. Come on NOW” nobunaga said noticing that he had his adamant staff just laying on the boat ready for anyone to use.

Maybe that anyone was meant to be for him? With a shrug nobunaga picked it up and quickly surveyed the black ocean noticing the large rocks a small distance out. “Hold on to me Nathan.” Nobunaga said quickly swinging the staff downwards as it slammed into the boat causing a massive hole. His staff was made out of adamant and could cut through most metals, that made cutting the boat little to no effort.

“Now. Lets ride.” Nobunaga yelled as he reached his hand out towards Nathan hoping he grabbed on. The feeling of helplessness rushed over Nobunaga as he teleported to the rocks some distance away. The teleport used a lot of mana thanks to the distance. When he reappeared, he completely ignored the boat, his partner, the ocean, or anything. He was trying to hang on to the rock that he was on as he felt himself slipping off of it.

His hand had almost let go before he pulled himself from a helpless state of mind and pulled himself together. Still holding the staff, he lunged it into the rock and used it as a way to push himself higher. He peered over the rock and saw the large ship a few meters out. It would have been a long swim but instead Nobunaga closed his eyes and counted to three and then reopened them and gave a loud yell. His yell was not to scare anything, but to bring confidence in himself and hopefully his partner.

With that yell, nobunaga teleported once more, but this time onto the large ship. Hopefully his partner had latched on as well for he couldn’t tell for he threw the staff away from him and closed his eyes. Traveling by teleportation was harder for a fighter than a mage, but to travel that distance sure took a lot out of him. His body was slightly tired and in pain from the strain but he could pull through with a quick breather. He had a few seconds to recover from a little stunt like that for the dwarf more than likely oculdnt swim. Well hopefully he couldn’t. Either way, anyone swimming that distance would take them a nice amount of time.

“Set up something” nobunaga said out of breath hoping his partner was there. If his partner was not there with him when he tried to teleport the both of them, then his partner was in a lot of trouble. Sweat trickled down Nobs face as the battle to come would prove to be more strenuous then that little teleportation stunt. Would he be ready? Lets hope so, lets also hope his partner was too for nobunaga was slowly putting his mind into a mindset to kill. That would be the only way to win. So let anger fill their hearts, and fury fuel them. They would need it for these two. “I wont let you down” he whispered to himself as he laid on the deck of the ship with his eyes closed thinking about the fight and what needed to be done. He had a promise, and these two would not let hinder him from keeping that promise.

There was a time when Nathaniel, stuck retching and shuddering, might have missed some of the most juiciest bits of the first portion of their fight. On his hands and knees his hands had dropped the loaned staff in preference to gripping the boat. Even with his stomach empty he was still unhappy about the idea of rowing, caught up in the sickening drawl of the boat on the waves. Thankfully his partner was there to row it, or they'd have never made it past the docks.

"Bristol docks! Fine sight, ain't she?"

"I... don't know, sir."

"Hah, well, given enough time at sea you'll learn to miss her, right enough."

A jarring rock from an obese wave sent him careening to the other side of the boat, a large amount of water soaking his face and gathering in the boat. Laying more or less flat he tried to make himself useful; grasping the bucket he began to scoop up the water, throwing it over the side. The monotonous task was perfect, it would let him zone out from the black abyss they floated on and drown in memories instead. Nathaniel's knuckles ran against the poorly sanded wood, scooping up water into the wooden bucket. It was in just as bad shape as the boat, and water drizzled from it as soon as he lifted it. Normally such a thing would have made the task more frustrating, but he found himself soothed by the knowledge he could keep doing this.

Heaving over the side of the boat with the bucket, his eyes caught something glisten in the pale light. Some giant fish... a silver dolphin, perhaps? On the seas legends and tales were all one had, and he'd heard his fair share of stories. One told of a silver dolphin that granted luck to whoever could catch it. By day it transformed into a simple silver trout, but by night it was a dolphin with silver scales that promised rainbows and troves of gold. Perhaps that was part of the test as well, then? To capture the sea animal first? It would be grand luck, and with it they could try to turn the tides of the match. Yes! That was exactly what they needed to do, it was just a matter of how. Perhaps Nobunaga had that floating blade? It'd have to be careful nto to injure the animal, but they could at least frighten it in their direction, the--

"Hey, I think we won. I think her partner is not showing up." Nathaniel shifted so he could keep his attention divided between the dolphin and his partner. "Hm? Why do you say that?" Unlike Nobunaga he had failed to realize it was the guardian of water, so missed out entirely on the fact the other team was arriving. "Look, if we can reach that dolphin, I hea--" His words died in his throat, the sight of a flying object hurtling towards him getting his full attention. It looked like a canon ball, and thinking quickly he grabbed a paddle and aided in Nobunaga in trying to row away from it, his original distaste for the sea forgotten. His powerful ally muttered something, but with the loud ringing of the waves it was lost on the dark haired warrior.

"He thinks he is going to have room on this ship, but unless he is short he's going to..." Nobunaga had raised and broken his paddles, and taking the hint Nathaniel thwacked his own against the side of the boat until they shattered as well. He didn't know what the other had planned, but he had thorough confidence and faith in the tactical mind of Oda. Unless it came to drinking, of course. Still, the loud thump was enough to rock the boat again, and his stomach knotted pitifully from the motion. Nathaniel knew this form though, and felt a surge of conviction that he needed to stand firm. Until another wave rocked the boat and splashed his feet, forcing him to vomit over the side again. Whatever his warrior friend said was lost, for suddenly the other reached out for him and they were gone.

Teleportation was odd. For those who had done it they no doubt had grown used to the feeling of being here and there, of being everywhere and nowhere at the same time. For those not so used to it, it could move one to retching again. It was like being trapped in a spider web; your limbs had some movement and freedom but were otherwise forced to go in a certain place. Every movement sent ripples through the large web, but you never seemed to be go anywhere. A sense of vertigo transcended, not unlike stepping forwards and falling back at the same time. What really took the cake was the fact they weren't actually on any safe platform or dock. Oh no, they were instead left clinging from the black rocks. Nathaniel's fingertips ached, a few nails were bent back further than they should be.

I hate this place. It wasn't unusual for him to think so poorly of locations, though burning down this one didn't seem as though it would work as well as burning down the Taurerosa Rainforest would have. Maybe he could convince some God of the Sun to bake the place, if not the infamous Vaudeux Jupiter. Ah Vaudeux Jupiter, now that was a pleasant sight to contemplate as he shouldered and hauled his way up the rocks. More than once his foot slipped and rocks careened into the roaring waves and thick foam, but through simple determination he managed to get on the highest point of the rocks. It still meant letting his legs dangle and clinging, but gravity was a lot less forceful with his stomach more or less supported. Nathaniel contemplated hanging on to the place and resting for a while, but once again he found himself eying the sight of a traveling dolphin. From here he could see tangles of golden silk in the water, and a thought occurred to him. Shifting painfully he grasped his staff and pointed it, pouring all his concentration into the staff and his body. "Dispell!"

With full concentration and the addition of the staff, it would likely strip away the power that had granted her mermaid powers. Yes, Nathaniel had coem to realize it was Merenwen when he saw the golden hair, which was spoken of in the tales he'd heard. There were also tales of her walking on land and looking like a beautiful woman, and he couldn't imagine some half-carp being attractive. Not to many, anyways. His dark eyes set on Nobunaga, and he gave a sharp nod to signal he was ready. The other let out a war cry fit for the mightiest of lions, then grasped him and teleported once more. When again they came into being he dry heaved on the deck, spared any mo--

Wait. Deck? Nathaniel rose from his kneeling position slowly, looking around. They were on a boat... no, not a boat. A ship. It was huge, and a sense of nostalgia washed over him. The decks were all perfectly shaven and clean, with a glossy finish that spoke of care and upkeep. This particular ship was a nao, with four masts marking its uniqueness. Two large sails billowed, with quarter ones hanging on either side of the ship. A massive crow's nest was set high above, and from it another sail was hung. From this height he could only imagine belows deck was massive, and that this ship had been built for cargo and not for fighting. A pity, it really was a beautiful thing.

"Set up something." Was that voice the same as the feared Nobunaga? Nathaniel eyed his companion, nodding mutely. The teleportation had to have taken a lot out of him, even with his powerful abilities of endurance. "Stay low, and quiet. If they come while I'm gone... well, just stay here, alright?" He looked around for something to set up, and his eyes fell on the helm. A thought came to him, but before he did anything with steering he needed to make sure Nobunaga was safe. Moving to the swinging wood that allowed for smooth movements he stroked the thick wood. No splinters came off of it, and he bit his lip as he contemplated.

Then, with pure adrenaline he pulled out the staff he'd managed to snatch before they'd teleported over, hitting at the ropes that upheld the sail. It took a good number of thwacks to hit the right place, and when he did it the sail hung limply. Grasping the rope he intertwined it with the helm, twisting it so that the wooden beam could be controlled by tugs on the rope. Getting low with the looped rope he tugged a few times just to make sure, the groaning of air his evidence of it swinging. Smiling to himself he moved over to Nobunaga, handing the rope over. "If anyone comes, pull it. The beam should knock them flat in the water. In the meantime you can rest here, and get your strength back. I'll handle this." Nathaniel rose his fist to mid chest, a silent way of oath. Then he moved off, to try and figure out more traps.

Easily he slipped into past memories as he descended the small stair well onto the main plank, the massive ship dwarfing even his considerable size. There was no time to mope though, he needed to figure something out. His eyes scanned the place, taking in every detail that might be useful. The first thing he noticed were the canons, but to try and aim them would take too much time. A sinister smile heralded a different idea entirely, though it would need to wait while he decided on other things. The sails could be useful, along with the myriad of ropes. The crow's nest, the beams atop the sails. Nathaniel began whistling as he left the main deck to try and find the storage areas, humming to himself as he went.

"Blue blazing bottles, burning brightly by night. The sailor sings softly, shaking with fright. A beast with a... hm, how'd that go again?" Nathaniel paused in his soft musings, swinging open a door and entering a dark cabin. The multiple windows along the side illuminated it enough that when he descended the stairs to the lower level he wasn't thoroughly blind. Of course, just because he could see didn't mean he couldn't smell, and the scent was almost over-bearing. The droppings of mice and roaches filled the area, towering crates filled with all manner of things lining the place. Cheese, bread, cabbage and carrots made up one side, while the other was composed of weaponry and the more hypocritical boxes of holy artifacts.

Stepping in he was met by the squeals of trapped animals, all of them calling for his attention. The one that most drew his attention was the net full of fish, the creatures writhing and flapping. They had to be fresh, for how else would they still be alive? But then, some of them were missing fins and eyes, bodies ravaged by the rats that had been able to reach through the netting. With a disgusted noise he strode over, rats scampering away from his heavy footfalls. A myriad of black eyes stared up at him, lips opening and closing as they fitfully fought for air. Relinquishing them of their torture he rose his staff high, then brought it down upon the creatures. Wet thwucking was all that sounded as he beat the living things to mush, the creatures incapable of screaming or fleeing. It seemed cruel, but the fate they would have endured was just as bad. Such moral implications were not important right now though, for his reasons were beyond simple mercy.

When the flopping stopped and the staff had a thin sheet of pink on it he lifted the net, beginning to haul it up. Pieces of fish fell out between holes, but more or less he managed to carry it without loosing too much. Then when he had reached the deck again he moved behind the closest cannon, dropped it, and began dragging it in as straight a line he could to the other side of the boat. Pink guts and entrails greased the floors, and they no doubt would prove dangerous if one slipped. His intention wasn't to make opponents slip, but rather the canon. y making it a wet trail to follow whenever the boat rumbled, he could ensure it would roll back and forth and injure whatever idiot had gotten forced there. Nathaniel intended not to be that moron.

Soon enough he repeated the gesture with the other canon and, satisfied with his work, opened the netting and emptied the contents along the ship to add that little extra danger. The hardest part came now, while he had to busy himself with ropes and levers. It was a tiring process, but using the ropes and sails he was able to set the fishing net up so that if anyone stepped on it they'd more or less be catapulted into the rocks. The other ropes he had cut down in the meantime were used as simple foot snares and for whiplash effect. The masts he hit repeatedly with his staff; initially to knock them down, but eventually he tired and did it enough that a good body slam from someone would make it tumble atop the unfortunate. Though they would likely only be caught in the fallen sail, that would be enough to disorientate them and let he or Nobunaga go for the kill.

Then the lobsters and canon balls were put to good use. Climbing the crow's nest, he used what planks of wood had fallen or chipped and made precarious perches with that and the ropes, setting the balls and crates up so they would either fall open or upon some unlucky sod that tripped the ropes. It essentially meant that almost every rope was dangerous, but those who could work out the tangled web could get an enemy below one and tug it as well. That meant both parties stood in danger, though Osse especially for Nathaniel more or less knew which ropes to tug. Nobunaga... well, he hoped Nobunaga would stay up there. It was the safest place, and if they could keep to knocking them off board they could tire them into submission.

"Fifteen men on a dead man's chest, yo ho ho and a bottle of rum..." Nathaniel again descended below deck, this time striding purposefully to the barrels containing petroleum. Usually it was allowed to harden and used for corking holes on ships, but the more sinister side of it allowed it to be set aflame. Though setting a ship on fire didn't seem like a great idea, it would serve wall in the case he got them trapped down there. Carefully he pulled the lids off of the barrels, tipping some on their sides and leaving others standing up. When he left the lower deck he went to where he knew Nobunaga to be hiding, crouching low. "I'm going to crash the ship.. you might feel a slight jarr." Grasping the lower part of the helm he twisted it sharply, the wooden beam behind him swinging futilely as the ship turned and crushed its side against the rocks. It tore a decent hole in the side, but was maneuvered away quickly.

"Right... that'll do." Not raising any higher than four feet from the ground he made his way down again, descending to the lower deck carefully. With water sloshing in the rock was shaking more horribly, and the cannons had begun to roll back and forth. He was lucky the anchor was set right to the side, just below steps up to the helm. Taking out the staff he hit the rope repeatedly, eventually allowing the anchor to cast off into the murky depths and then into the blackness all together. Without sails or anchor the ship was more or less the victim of the waves, and he needed to ensure it didn't get too bad. So below deck he went, descending carefully.

The water was already deep. The barrels rolled around, some of them bobbing and others simply turning on their sides like a lazy hippopotamus, the pulverized side of the ship trying to suckle them out. With a thought winter's embrace touched upon his staff, encircling the weapon and hardening it with ice powers. Wisps of the cold air raised from it, and leaning from the stairs so as to avoid descending into the water, he touched it near the hole. The effect was immediate; the water began to harden and ice, freezing in place. Though it didn't cover the whole area down here, the rate it could enter was considerably slowed down. Now they had at least eight hours before the ship would be laying in a grave, as opposed to one or two. Nathaniel nodded sharply to himself as he noticed the leaking petroleum in the water, and myriad of rats trying to swim away. A sharp turn on the heel and he was above decks again.

It was getting late. A kilometer was a long way to swim, but they would be here soon if he didn't hurry up. Indeed, they might have already been there. Cursing softly he turned in to the door just below the helm, shutting it behind himself. A great yawning window spilled white light upon the floor, and a desk ahead held a thick tome. Shelves with glass and the finest drinks lined the walls, and a trunk to the side whispered of wealthy belongings. Striding to the side he touched the cabin of drinks, debating momentarily. Nathaniel couldn't drink while he was on a ship, not if he was fighting at the same time. But the judge before, Wurzag -- he had made great use of these things. With his only uncertainty portrayed by a pout, he pulled the glass doors open and began to pull the drinks out, setting them upon the table. He emptied the entire cabin this way, and eventually moved to the other side to do the same. When all the liquor was out, he opened the drawer of the desk to look for matches.

"Aha! Here we are..." The words were purred, and after setting them out he began to uncork all of the drinks. At first he wasn't sure what to stick out of the top portion, but a quick glance about let his eyes befall a large regal curtain. Moving to it he chopped it down, then began hacking it up with his staff. When it was torn enough he pulled free strips, sticking them into the drink and then putting the cork in partially to hold the cloth in place. It would also allow a greater bang when the gases couldn't escape. Nathaniel's hands flew as he did the job, having mastered such things long ago. Indeed, on the final bottle he couldn't help but recall earlier days that had seen him on a ship, when he'd been a lad of eighteen...

It was Nathaniel's birthday at the time, his coming of age as it were. He'd been on the abysmal passage for nineteen whole months, and never once had he found his sea legs. Men would come over while he threw up, patting him on the back and jovially crying, "You hold your grog quite well, lad!" It pained him that he couldn't hit the sarcastic men in the face. For now he was not retching though, he was celebrating. The captain, a man with a hole for a heart, was actually being nice and letting him dine with the other officers. With many his father had bought him a title in this wretched place, and clearly that fact had paid off. Now he was able to drink wine, wine that tasted like they had collected juice from a man's sweaty armpit. It was disgusting and wet, with a bitter after taste. It was difficult to swallow it down, but with false smiles he was able to bob his head and slowly drink it.

"I'm sure you've wondered why we were out at sea so long," Commented one of the officers, and he waited for a nod of agreement before continuing. "It's rough out here, isn't it?" Nathaniel frowned, clearly not certain how he was supposed to answer. The man continued anyway. "There is a man we are hunting. A whaler, with a penchant for wanton cruelty. His name is Tim the Enchanter, and he likes to promise people fortunes before making them disappear. Supposedly he's tried to use people as bait, though that remains to be seen. It is our duty to find him... do you understand, lad?" Nathaniel nodded, taking a bit of bread from his plate. A harsh slap on his back made him tense, but the other only chuckled. "Good lad, good lad! I thought you'd understand. He's wicked, don't you think?"

Nathaniel gave a soft nod again, agreeing to whatever they wanted if it meant he might be able to eat in peace and devise away to lose the drink. "They say his latest one, a female whale? Mighty steed that one was. They say when another hunter killed her babes she swallowed him, the crew, and his boat whole. Crushed between her teeth, she did." Another man, somewhat balding but with soft brown eyes, gave a faint shrug. "I can't blame her. So the horse took revenge. Good on her, I say." The other officer grinned widely. "But you see, she's the one were out to go find, so 'in we can stop Timothy and his wild little game." Another lad spoke up, perhaps a year older than Nathaniel. "Can't we merely let her eat the sod and be done with it? They sound like a grand match."

A general chuckle went around, and the officer, Jamie, smirked at Nathaniel. He glanced away shyly, not entirely feeling part of their group just yet. The next to speak was a more portly fellow, one who had a heart of gold. Many wondered if the heart wasn't worth just the same as the food he gourged upon. "We're not gonna hurt the whale though, aye? Just stop Tim?" The emotion was effusive. He was frightened, perhaps sad, and the words came off jittery because of it. Clearly the man did not seek to kill any whales (an animal lover, perhaps?), and the collective group chuckled. The first officer turned to lecture him, and while they spoke to the man to explain why a mad sea horse couldn't be allowed to kill he caught his reflection in the plate.

Nathaniel realized he didn't look bad, all things considered. His hair was long and tied back, still soft and silken like his mother's curls. Scruffy hair wa beginning to line his jaw, but he sought to shave it later on. Far later, when he'd gone and met with the cabin boy first. Yes, Nathaniel was interested in the cabin boy; though he wasn't really a boy at all. The young Jack was actually Jane, and she reminded him of nothing but a rabbit. Soft hair that many would love to wear upon the finest of coats, soft eyes always wide and searching. There was a naive charm she carried, and yet at the same time she seemed ready to dance away at a moment's notice. He was fond of calling her his little rabbit, and she was fond of calling him all manner of other names.

Indeed, dinner could not end fast enough, and by the time he had finished his wine it was pitched darkly outside. A few officers remarked on his quick departure, leaving the moment he was excused. Out the door he went, and down to the deck. It was a mistake to skip past so quickly, for no sooner had he touched his toes on the deck then a wave rocked the vessel. All that perfectly cooked food and disgusting wine was tossed over the side of the ship like garbage, the young man gripping the railing painfully tight as his throat burned and his tongue quivered. It was a foul thing to endure, especially as regularly as he did. All of his musculature was leaving to instead set down a lankily framed boy, suffering from a wide frame and thin body. It wasn't pleasant to scrutinize, which was why he usually wore a whole host of clothing. This whole thing taught him something, though. After having eaten a hearty supper on the ship and tossing it back to the gulls, he'd learned from the mistake and never did that again.

"Enjoying the sight?" The deep voice made his body tense, and he growled without looking back at who was there. "You're not clever, Patrick. I could have you thrown in the brig, and..." Turning to accent his point, his words failed when he saw that it was indeed not Patrick. Instead Jane stood there, her red and white striped shirt hanging from her, a blue cap holding up long pools of hair. A frown tugged his lips, and even i nthe dark he could guess she wore a similar expression. "I... sorry. Patrick likes to say things like that." A slow smile touched his lips. "And I'm not used to you sounding like a man." It was more or less enough to break the ice, and she gave a softly wilted sigh that bordered a laugh.

"You know, they say he got lice. All he does is itch and itch at his head, the poor thing." Nathaniel smiled widely, turning again to the sea as Jane mimicked his action. "Itch and itch, eh? You know, I heard a song about men trying to itch themselves once. Funny little thing, how'd it go..." He frowned, looking down in thought. Jane, no longer trying to pretend, nudged him and spoke in her usual femininely soft voice. "To itch and itch is a sitch, you need only know which itch it is, for to itch and itch that which is not an itch is to itch an itch that cannot be itched." A triumphant smile graced her full lips, and Nathaniel chuckled softly. "Now you're making me itch." She laughed softly as well, the sound fading slowly into the dull thrash of waves.

"I hear that's usual for men at sea, though. Lice, stench, beards," The last one she turned and smirked knowingly at him, then turned back to the sea. "I don't know why men bother when there's magic that can let you fly." The rather romantic metaphor was lost on him as he shifted subtly, inhaling near his shoulder to check for said odor. Beards he didn't mind, but those other two categories were hardly pleasant. Then again, he reasoned she wouldn't come anywhere near him if he did smell that bad. "Boats exist to torment me, my little rabbit. Haven't I told you that?" Another melodious laughter, like ringing bells. Nathaniel would have been content to leave the night at that, but a sudden foreboding note entered her voice as she turned to him.

"Nath I... I have to tell you something. I..."

Nathaniel blinked the memory away as he moved out of the captain's quarters. The bottles were cradled in the what remained of the curtain, and he could bring them where he needed to go. Right now that was the side of the ship, the one that below had a hole in it. Without a ladder or anchor there were few ways they could possibly hope to climb aboard otherwise, and as soon as they entered he would left fly his full set of bottles. Grasping some loose rope that remained he tied the curtain shut and in place, so that they were supported and he could reach in as the need arose. Nathaniel took a long gander at the waters to try and see if he could spy them, before turning towards Nobunaga to tell him something.

Unfortunately he ended up flat on his face. The ropes here were enough to trip over, and with his shoes full of fish guts he couldn't maintain a grip. For a moment he glared at the planks, not wanting to get up. He was exhausted from all of this being set up, and he'd be happy to just curl up now and call it a draw. Indeed, trying to push himself up made him realize just how exhausted he was from all the work, adrenaline starting to fade. But he couldn't lay down now, not when he was most needed. Painfully he grasped at the side of the boat, slowly pulling himself up. He swayed twice, both times tiredly, but more or less cemented himself by clinging to the side of the boat.

"Nobunaga! Let's do this!" Yelling to the other made him consider just how much his partner was like Jane. No, he was not in love with Nobunaga; but that strong bond was there. Both of them with a will to survive, both of them willing to aid him when he was vulnerable. Most importantly, both of them needing his aid. However, he had no intentions of letting down Nobunaga.

"We'll beat them yet!" He called in encouragement, then shifted to stare off down below, getting one of the drinks out and preparing to strike a match. "We'll beat them, you'll see...." Nathaniel muttered softly to himself, watching with eyes more softer than usual.

A foreshadowing of what was to come arrived through the winds’ haunting torrents. It came with a low hum combined with the rustling of sails against the masts. A stir has begun to brew amongst the tides of the ocean. The stellar map of the heavens had vanished behind a thick gathering of gray. It wasn’t long before the inevitable occurred. It came, a blistering blaze, brilliant, blasting beneath a sea of nimbus. It was a spectacle to behold as its magnificent pillars of branching incandescence brought to life, a vivid portrait of the Catalina.

She rose among all others, a colossal chariot of the sea. It was armed as if for war with cannons on either side of the deck. Intricately carved wood adorned its sides, climaxing to the sculpture of a maiden whose arm was lifted as was her sword. One could almost swear a testimony that she was indeed alive for as the heavenly light cast its radiance upon her, an illusion would occur. It was as if she would become more human. Her golden curls swayed just as her ocean hued orbs sparkled ever so fiercely to her warrior’s flailing arms. She was in the image of Threnody, in the hour where gods fought in the field of a mortal battle.

It was then, when the tides roared, battering against the ship, that the lightning paved in revelation, an ominous presence amidst the sails. It was but a shadow of a vigilant watcher who stood firmly astride upon the Catalina’s highest turret. The Obsidian Nocturne whose true identity was revealed only to a selected few, remained there in keen observation with an arm clasped around the wooden pillar by his side. Unstable the ship was thus even the mightiest of warriors sought for a moment of balance.

From afar, he was the image of majesty. Ebon robes flowed to the passing of the breeze as he received the needles of precipitation. He welcomed the rain as the droplets fell upon his cheeks, forming beads that trickled down his finely chiseled features. It wasn’t long before the dampness enveloped him, urging back his dark strands in an unruly display.

With one hand, he held a sword whose shimmering length pointed downward to the platform upon which he stood. It was drawn naught for a violent purpose. It was waiting to deliver the severing blow that would send them all to sea… yet it would not be so eager to perform such an act just yet. Many of the combatants have yet to make their appearance upon the deck. It would have been unreasonable to depart without them for what lovely adventures was for them, in store.

Thunder clashed, leaving a trail of resonance in the air that was laced with the sound of creaking planks as Nobunaga as well as Nathaniel arrived first in a blink of an eye. It would appear that the pair had arrived through unnatural means of teleportation. Arching a brow, the magistrate would manifest an expression of displeasure. Thus, as a measure of a host’s kindness, he sought for the most loving form of a greeting one could provide.

Lifting his armed hand, it was almost as if he taunted the heavens to strike him down. His stance, however, would not last for long. In a forceful swing, he brought to reality that he had surprises of his own. The blade sliced through the wind in an accurate swipe, taking with it the prolonged faintness of a metal’s whistle. It was razor sharpness, a gleam in the midst of the night’s darkness. It was a swordsman’s signature that would lead to a startling thump. One would think that it had ended there; edge like that of a knife’s, buried in a cleave upon the very pillar beside of which he stood. Soon came a moment’s pause followed by the sound of a line snapping with urgency. The threads of a rope began to strain as friction met it with such violence.

A round shadow began to form upon the space at Nobunaga’s side, darkening to the illusion that it was a hole of expanding manifestation. To the combatant’s eyes, what would be greeting him would not be a smile nor one worthy of it. What came for him was the thundering deliverance of an otherworldly barrel that surged through the torrents in a fateful display of imminent danger.

Von Mortem sneered, a scornful expression laced with amusement as his gloved palm encircled a drenched sheet of cloth that was gathered around an extended length of a taut line. It was there that he left the entirety of his weight upon his arm as soles dove first into the air, departing the platform where he once stayed. His figure was at a blaze, a flaming blackness as he traversed distance in an acrobatic act. His orbs blue as the depths of the sea reflected a vibrant exchange of light as well as shadow as sails threaded with beams of incandescence passed before him. He waved his blade in rapid succession, each time successfully severing a prearranged trap from dormancy.

A combination of crates as well as barrels would be sent hurling from the heavens, spiraling in an act of judicial sadism unto those that thought isolation in the world below in such accuracy that each would fall mere inches short of harming limb or torso. Such an effective method that would likely lead to an effusive manifestation of a lasting torment of fear.

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OOC excuse the bold lettering... :) The post is also for dengeh's game :)

Two months earlier, the Shrine of Water

Merenwen. The daughter of water, the fair maiden of Elvenkind, with the spirit of a warrior and the passion of a mage. Here, in front of him.

He hadn’t expected the guardian to be here at this time, though now he realized he should have. Perhaps the deities were capable of being in two places at once, so that they could continually dwell in their shrine and protect their element from invaders with ill intents. He didn’t know. He didn't really want to know. Maybe he wasn't capable of understanding such secrets of the gods. The fact of the matter was he wasn't as alone as he had previously believed. His words had been spoken aloud, and so she most likely had heard them. At this thought he blushed, not intending for anyone to ever hear his rambling. He suddenly became ashamed that he was here, and cursed himself under his breath. What was he doing?

She knelt beside him. He bowed his head, so as to not look directly upon her, instead boring his eyes into the water, his gaze so intense it threatened to evaporate the liquid.

She spoke.

“You need not kneel to me my friend, my savior. You gave me my life back, and the least I can do is to teach you what you would wish to know.”

He closed his eyes and breathed with relief. She had remembered him, and had not thought his words to be foolish. He was surprised that she recalled his face from that chaotic bloodbath that still stained Isiltelpë's surface. He had been wholly unrecognizable as he sped through the air to her aid, commanding his dragon to spread its healing breath down to her traumatic wound. Yet still she knew him to be the same Dwarf, and still she thanked him for his service.

His embarrassment washed away and was replaced with replenished wonderment. He remembered the favor he had asked of the water, the favor Merenwen had just agreed to grant him. He centered his thoughts upon it once again, the thought of being bestowed with such a gift. The water around them seemed to swirl and collect, the vapors were ushered into his nostrils, and he breathed heavily of the refreshing air. Whispers formed around the scintilla particles of liquid and moved through Sraxen's consciousness. At first they were barely audible, even in the bowels of his mind, and he had to focus all of his being on listening to what they uttered. As the seconds passed, however, the whispers became ever clearer, until they were a clamor within his body, moving effortlessly throughout his bones.

Nukhrus... nukhrus... it is nukhrus.

He pushed in further. What was nukhrus? The secret had been granted to him, but the explanation still had not been revealed.

He dared to utter the word aloud. "Nukrhus."

Instantly, the sound of distant chimes perforated the air throughout the shrine. Sraxen felt the atmosphere around him begin to cool, a chill ran down his spine. Instinctively, he reached for his axe. Before he even brought his weapon to his eyes, he understood what had transpired. The tip of his weapon was coated in a sheet of ice, frozen through its core, yet still retaining the strength of the steel it had been forged with.

He smiled. He had very literally been given the power to bring the fury of Merenwen's element to his enemies, to subject them to an icy chill as Khuzera cleaved through them. Water and ice would be on the front lines, unleashing its might through his hands. He couldn't have asked for a more perfect gift.

He raised his head at length and looked the guardian in the eyes. "Thank you," he said simply, knowing he wasn't capable of coming up with a more eloquent expression of gratitude. Yet even as he thanked her for the secrets she had unlocked, the healer recognized she had more secrets yet untold. Traces of tears remained in her bright eyes, revealing a deep sadness that disturbed her even now. Her thoughts had been on other things.

He didn't want to intrude, but he felt obligated to inquire of her distress and, if possible, offer any comfort he could. Not only obligated, but willing to give her aid, albeit a different form of aid than he had given when they had been on Isiltelpë. He wasn't the most comforting person, he knew that - but they were alone.

"My lady, why do you cry?"

---

He wanted to cry.

It wasn't that Nobunaga's insults had offended him - he hadn't expected anything less from the twisted man. It wasn't the fact that Nathaniel had lost his lunch over the side of the boat, creating a foul stench that saturated the night air. It wasn't even that both men had just teleported away from the boat, destroying the oars before they jumped. No, he was fine with that, actually - though he had been itching to get into some combat for once in this tournament, he had actually planned to do very much the same thing to his opponents if they hadn't done it first. So he had that coming.

He wanted to cry because the small boat, of which he was the sole occupant, was sinking. And Sraxen was no swimmer.

It wasn't his fault that Dwarves weren't exactly all that buoyant.

The plan he had devised with Merenwen had gotten slightly less complicated at the exit of their opponents, who he assumed were well on their way to the Catalina, soaring through the fabric of time to reach the boat in a matter of seconds. He had expected a resistance here in the water, while Mere was working on her part of their plan. That was no longer necessary. However, he had to deal with the fact that his current vessel was collecting water, and fast. He felt the wooden boards that made up the dilapidated boat carry him deeper into the oversized pond. Through clever deduction he concluded that the sinking had something to do with his draconic might. Perhaps he hadn't chosen the best time to cast that.

"Well," he grumbled, "this sucks."

He cast a glance at Merenwen, hoping she was still on board (figuratively speaking) with their plan. He certainly hoped so. He didn't have a backup plan.

As he slung Khuzera across his back once more and planned to take his leave of the rickety dinghy, when he spotted something on the floorboards, revealed by the pale moonlight: East behind the rocks.

"Bah. Damn riddles."

He grazed his weapon with his hand a final time before stepping off. For a moment, he considered putting to use the knowledge he had gained the last time he had visited the Shrine of Water. He decided against it, however. "It is not yet time." As bubbling noises emanated from the drowning vessel, he inhaled heavily, prayed to sweet Lothlómendil that Merenwen still knew her part of their plan, then grabbed his legs and jumped a mighty Dwarven jump, cannonballing straight into the crisp water.

As he continued to sink through the murky depths, his arms flailing helplessly, a final thought flashed through his mind. As much as I love Merenwen and the water, this is truly quite demeaning.

As Merenwen watched, she was shocked at the sudden turn in events. She had not expected their adversaries to make such an immediate exit, to “run” with such speed. It seemed they did not wish to face her partner, even when he was alone, but they had made things a little tight. Before leaving they had done what Sraxen had been planning to do on his own, they had put a hole in the boat and she could see that it was beginning to sink. She would have to move quickly in order to accomplish her own task for though Sraxen may have loved the water, may have been connected with it, she knew that swimming was not his strong suit. In fact, she did not know if he was capable of swimming at all and did not wish to test it.

With urgency in her movements, Merenwen dove below the surface of the water, never knowing that her sudden movement saved her from being hit by the spell Nathaniel had cast towards her. She dove deep in the water and used her echolocation to find a school of dolphins a short ways off. She called out to them with her echolocation, and almost immediately she heard one respond. Again she called upon her powers, summoning the dolphin to her, asking the beautiful creature for his help.

She spoke to the dolphin, sensing his willingness to help her, and told him that her friend was in need of his aid. She told him of Sraxen, giving him all the details she thought necessary for the dolphin to recognize the Dwarf. She assured the dolphin the her friend was safe, would cause no harm, and cared for the ocean nearly as much as they each did themselves. It was all she could do, and she had to hope that the dolphin would arrive in time.

Inside the Dolphin

When he heard the call, the dolphin immediately responded. He could sense who was calling and would do anything for his Guardian. Listening to her pleas, he knew that it was urgent and without even advising the others of his purpose, the dolphin took off in the direction from which the call had come.

The ocean water washed across his body as he swam rapidly, moving across him without any tension. He was fast, and he was strong, one of the strongest in his school. His body moved gracefully in the water, parting it as if it was nothing more then air, and his silver body looked like a streaking bullet as it moved along.

The dolphin hoped he would arrive in time, that he would be able to help the Dwarf. Even as he swam, he caught sight of kicking legs ahead of him in the water, of a body beginning to sink. This must be who I am after, the dolphin thought to himself as he came up alongside Sraxen. His nose bumped the sinking Dwarf, trying to get his attention, and sending out a message to his beloved Guardian that he believed he had found the Dwarf.

Merenwen’s Point of View

After speaking with the dolphin, Merenwen kicked back the surface of the water and what she saw scared her. Sraxen was gone from the boat and she could not spot him in the water right off. Merenwen dove back into the water, swimming hard for the spot where the boat was beginning to sink, and fear rushed through her. Why did I agree to this foolhardy plan? She thought to herself, If something happens, it will be my fault for agreeing to this, knowing that he is not a swimmer. I can’t let him get hurt, I must find him, I must help him. Her body continued through the water and she prayed that the dolphin was on his way, that he would reach her friend in time, and that if the dolphin was further away than she thought, that she would get there in time and be able to help her friend back to the surface of the water where he would be able to breathe. She did not know how long he could hold his breath, but it was not something she wanted to test, not in this situation. Maybe one day she would work with him on swimming, if he wanted to learn, but the ocean was not the place to learn, and with his weapons attached was not the way to do so.

When she heard the dolphin call out to her again, tell her that he had found Sraxen, she relaxed, though only slightly. She did not know what state the Dwarf was in and would not lose her fear until she knew that he was ok. She continued to swim, her fin moving her rapidly through the ocean current, and continued to pray that her friend would be ok.

The Catalina was a very large vessel. It was much bigger now actually on it than standing looking at it from a distance, err, hanging from rocks looking at it. The ship looked almost as if it could be taken to war, or to some special get together for old people at a dock. Something special on those terms. The moon shined on the ship in a wonderful way, even though it was cloudy and slightly raining, it was still peeking through the clouds to illuminate the ship. This ship was something of beauty, and if Nobunaga had the man power, and the patience, he would take it. Yes…an entire ship. Sounds fun.

Nobunaga laid on the ship breathing heavy as he closed his eyes. The light rain fell upon him but it didn’t matter much, they were at sea. Why would one get mad over being wet when everything around them was water? Rain fell down his cheek and still he laid there still, eyes closed, and in deep thought. That little teleportation trip was not easy. Normally he could teleport a few times before he was tired or drained, but this time it was the distance that made the difference between being weak and tired, and still pumped up.

Thoughts of pass, thoughts of present, hopes for the future. All things that went through nobunaga’s mind. His breathing went from fast and had to soft and content. He had calmed himself down and had started his regaining of his strength process. He was able to stand up, but yet he still didn’t. He let the rain drops fall upon him as it signified to him that he still had life and it was something that shouldn’t be so quick to toss out the window, or off of a ship. How his mind got to the entire spiritual meanings of life and all this mumbo jumbo was beyond him, but it was a good feeling to just know that life was still there and that one could overcome all obstacles to keep it. One obstacle being a guardian of water. “Who the hell fights the guardian of water on a ship surrounded by water” Nobunaga whispered to himself. Another obstacle to overcome would be a dwarf. Something about him, something...something about Sraxen made his stomach hurt. Bleh, that was the drinks effects still controlling him.

A small sigh left the lips of nobunaga as he still laid on the floor of the ship. Within seconds of his sigh, something heavy crashed into the deck directly next to Nobunaga. “Oh my god.” Nobunaga said standing up quickly drawing his sword. A few pieces of wood smacked him in the face, but still Nobunaga stood tall and firm and looked around. He could see his partner running around doing something. “What the hell Nath.” Nobunaga said as he put his sword back in the sheath and looked up. He was horrified by what he saw. Bunch of flying circular things. The definite object cannot be determined yet, but if they were anything like what just landed next to him then it was time to run.

Nobunaga turned to look at his partner and then turned to run towards the back of the ship. As one step got taken, a loud crack, followed by a loud crash resounded in the air. Nobunaga had fallen into the ship somehow. He fell through three levels of wood, pain, and more wood. “What the hell” Nobunaga yelled out as he landed on his back while a sharp stinging pain went down his back followed by the tightening of his stomach signaling that it was time for a bathroom break. Nobunaga stood up grunting softly as the noises of heavy barrels resounded as they crashed into the ship. There was still falling pieces of wood coming from the hole that nobunaga had made.

“Just my luck” He said looking around. What he noticed was something that seemed almost to be as if this was all happening for a reason. He landed in a bathroom. A very stylish one too.

Nobunaga’s stomach rattled loudly as he ran to the nearest stool to take care of his “Business.” Grunt after grunt went by as the thoughts of how this fight could turn out. He was plotting out things in his head as he sat on the toilet and listened to the constant footsteps from up top. Nathan was doing something serious as nobunaga continued on the toilet thinking of ways he could dismantle the dwarf and the guardian. Tales would be told throughout the land of how two mortals managed to defeat the guardian of water at her own battlefield, the water. Nobunaga and Nathan would succeed. They had to.

A few moments passed as the footsteps started to slow as well as the sounds of barrels also ceased. Nobunaga had finished his business and stood up. “I feel lighter.” Nobunaga said as he walked out of the fancy bathroom. He walked into the room directly next to it as the room seemed to be just as fancy. Red cloth plastered everywhere, a completely made up bed, and lots and lots of alcohol. There was also a window above the bed that if you looked out you could see somewhat of what the guardian and the dwarf was doing.

Nobs peered out of the window only to see nothing. The boat was gone. The guardian was gone, the dwarf hopefully was dead, but it was a horrible feeling that crept down Nobunaga’s spine as the thought of Nathan being in trouble that made him worry greatly.

Nathan was the one thing in the world that he felt he had a connection to. He had helped him in the tourney, and he helped him. It was odd, but nobs had not trusted anyone like he trusted Nathan. They had a battle field connection that only lead to great things on the battle field. Poor teenage girl, and that ugly orc brute thing from round one were prime examples of how great the two of them could be. Time to be better.

Nobunaga grew his swords not knowing if his partner was in trouble or not. He wanted to take no chances at all. His two swords were his greatest source of power for him, and holding them gave him great courage. He ran through the smelly bathroom and a few other rooms as he finally came to the stairs leading upwards. He stopped at the stairs and gave out a large yell as he ran up the stairs at top speed. The dock came into view as the moon’s light and the rain smashed into his face.

When nobunaga arrived at the deck, he was surprised only to see his partner fall face first into the deck. “What the hell” he said to himself as he found himself lying on his stomach on the deck. A spare barrel had caught him in the back, but it was not falling like the rest of them were. It kind of just rolled from an upper level and fell on nobunaga. All of that fear and worry, only to be hit with a barrel. This was the worst fight ever.

Nobunaga closed his eyes as the inspirational words from his partner met his ears. The words his partner spoke rang an emotion inside Nobs that he had not seen in many years. Last time he felt this close to someone was with his old friend Vaul. Nobunaga stood up on his feet and looked to the sky. The dim lights from the stars had brought back an old memory of Vaul. “I know your watching. Watch me become great. Just like you did.” He said out loud as he clutched his sword tightly in his hands. Vaul and Nobs had history, it was just Vaul made guardian before Nobunaga. But Vaul had always been there for him, and it was time to show Vaul, and the world how powerful he was. Time to show to Nathan that his trust in him was not misplaced. And it would start with the defeat of the guardian of water and a poor little dwarf. Once they reached the ship mercy would not be shown, it would be nothing but bloody battle. Let it begin soon, for Nobunaga had courage only death could rip him away from.

(( ooc- sorry if its not really clear. Also. That part about Vaul was BEFORE nobunaga knew that he had returned to a mortal being.))