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A Banquet set for Davy Jones - The Humble Sage - 05-24-2017
The Sage awoke with a start as the wall he had hidden behind splintered into wooden shards. Blinking away the last echoes of his astral-induced coma, the Sage staggered to his feet. Never a moment’s peace in this place. He thought with regret as four sharply dressed sailors filed into his hidden room. They were only armed with cutlasses and pistols, though the make of these weapons looked solid, and more advanced than the flintlocks that the Sage had seen others use in this world. Even if he had been expecting their arrival, the Sage was not confident he would have succeeded in the exchange so outnumbered. In his disoriented state, he did not even make an attempt, instead waiting calmly as the sailor’s commander stepped through the breach.
He was not an old man. A captain in his early thirties, likely a star officer given the decorations that adorned his jacket. A neatly trimmed blonde moustache perched above his firm jawline. He swept into the room with a practiced gait, the imperial navy’s circular symbol bright white against his properly trimmed gray-green suit. Not a field commander then, the Sage thought as the officer took in the hidden room with an air of mild disappointment, The Sea would take that pomp from your step quite quickly. You probably don’t even run the ship, do you? Just issue commands from the captain’s quarters. Despite himself, the Sage’s mouth twitched upwards in smug confidence, a fact the officer took notice of quickly. The imperial’s brow furrowed as he addressed his newest find.
“What are you smirking at?” the voice came sharply, the tone of one who isn’t used to dissent or questioning. A voice of a leader not yet ready for their post. The Sage thought, though he made sure to contain his emotions as the officer continued. “Is this some kind of joke to you, Stowaway? Well speak up!”
The Sage’s response was much more at ease, he was outnumbered five to one, and there was no telling how many more of the imperials were scuttling about the vessel. This would not be a fight for him to wage today.
“Good sir, I am afraid that my erstwhile captain has sold me out to you. In truth, I would confess myself more disappointed were it not for the fact that he made his intentions so clear that I cannot have missed them. It would seem…” his rambling was interrupted by a sharp interjection from the officer, his face a taunt mass of consternation.
“You’re not the captain then.” It was a declaration not a question, and the Sage shook his head with genuine perplexity. Was Daedlin not the one to tip them off? The Sage had assumed that his supposed dwarf friend had been behind the imperial’s arrival. “That’s no help to me!” the imperial shouted and stormed out of the hidden room, his guards taking the Sage along with them as they left.
“He’s a dwarf, if that’s any help.” The Sage called up as the officer ascended the stairs to the main deck.
“And you expect me to trust your words? No law-abiding prime hides in a room with no doors!” his captor shot back as he stalked onto the deck. The Sage followed and was set down with the rest of the crew, a score or so of terrified boys who had clearly never been detained before. The Officer strolled up and down the lot of them, some of the crew looking down, while others stared wide-eyed at the dozen Imperial sailors who had boarded the ship.
“You all are sorry excuses for seamen!” the officer shouted, eyes raging as he stared down the crew, “Your captain disappears and not a one of you can tell when it happened? He took your Rowboat to do it! Not a man among you saw him leave?”
The Sage’s confusion and incredulity only rose as none of the crew spoke up in dissent. This course of action didn’t make any sense. The dwarf had abandoned a brand-new crew and vessel, he would be losing a huge amount from this flight, far more than he could from a simple confiscation of illicit goods. And how had he evaded the Navy as well? The Sage quickly glanced at the surrounding ocean. A large fog-bank billowed to the east, and the sun was approaching its descent. He would guess that there were but a few hours of good daylight remaining, but certainly enough that the Imperials should have been able to spot a Row boat travelling far by itself. He must have hidden in the fog. The Sage reasoned, the only islands in sight were small tufts of sand, sporting only the most basic vegetation, an unlikely choice of self-marooning. But why had he left to begin with?
“How long were you pursuing this vessel?” The Sage asked, the Officer turned sharply to face him, a look of self-satisfaction clear on his face.
“Since the inspection. It wasn’t hard.” The man bragged. The Sage sighed internally, he had no idea how long he had spent in the Astral realm, so the answer did nothing to assist him with his questions, “We kept a discrete pace, intending to follow you to whatever little hideaway you smugglers have been using now. But your vessel stopped moving. Casting anchor in here in the middle of nothing.”
At this one of the crew-members, a lad barely old enough to have started a beard. “Daedlin said we would wait out the fog bank! He said he wasn’t interested in smashing into any rocks on such a routine journey.”
Now the officer was sharing the Sage’s look of confusion, “Routine journey? We’re nearer to the gate to the Frozen fields than any conceivable trading port!” Ahh, It would seem I have been in the Astral Realm for some time then. the Sage thought with mild surprise. As if resolving its own dilemma, his stomach decided to confirm the length of time it had been emptied, momentarily distracting him as the officer continued to ponder incredulously.
“You must have a hidden port in this sector, it’s the only explanation! With the size of your vessel, you won’t make it back to civilization before running out of supplies! Even my own crew,” and he gestured back to the Galleon, smaller than many the Sage had seen fly imperial colors, that waited a short distance away, “will have to take half portions to make it back with a comfortable margin! This ship has been sent on a…” the officer trailed off his gaze shifted watching something off in the distance. “…Suicide mission…”
The Sage followed his gaze. There exiting the fog-bank with alarming speed, was possibly the most powerful warship the Sage had ever seen. It could best be compared to a Trireme with a concave bow and jutting ram, but the juggernaut towered out of the water, four full rows of cannons extended from each side, well over a hundred by the Sage’s estimate. Its bow was easily fifteen feet above their deck, and both the front and rear of the Warship had armored decks above the center. No sails were visible above the goliath vessel, for indeed what sails could be enough to propel such a monstrosity at speed? But nevertheless, it moved towards them, not riding the waves but plowing directly through them with an unearthly speed for a vessel that large. Its concave front was ornately painted, and a single cannon extended from the mouth of the laughing dwarf who adorned the warship’s prow. The Black flag of Piracy flew atop its prow, tall enough that no mast was needed.
The Sage was rendered speechless by the sight, unable to comprehend the craftsmanship that would be required to render such a tremendous vessel waterborne. As they stood there, mouth agape, a loud crack split the air, and a whistling cannonball struck the water, narrowly missing the Imperial Galleon. The Sage’s heart sunk as his suspicions seemed almost inevitable. Truly, they all had been sent on a suicide mission.
RE: A Banquet set for Davy Jones - The Humble Sage - 06-06-2017
The Sage and the imperial officer exploded into action at almost the exact same moment. The Officer barked a series of rapid commands and his forces quickly and competently made to disembark from the relatively defenseless trading ship for their own Galleon. The Sage began climbing the rigging, forcing his stiffened muscles to respond. If he was too slow, then he would die. He knew who was behind this, and the Imperial Galleon was the least of his worries right now.
The monstrosity of naval engineering began to turn broadside, its side bristling with cannons. The Sage wondered how many men were in the vessel, and whether they knew just what they were getting into with this employment. The Sage reached the crow’s nest of the vessel, eyes straining to catch a glimpse of the bow of the warship as it swung starboard. The crow’s nest swung alarmingly as the Sage stared, and he nearly fell from the rigging. He managed to tangle one arm into several loops and stay suspended as the leaderless crew of the trading vessel attempted to flee without direction. Like a fish flopping feebly on a shoreline, this vessel is clamped firmly in its predator’s jaws. He took some small satisfaction that his guess about the ship had been correct. The wake of the vessel was far too choppy, even considering the ship’s size. It must have some engine propelling it, a very dwarven design. He knew all the players of this game, but their arrangement still confused him considerably. Why would Daedlin be working with her? Perhaps he had misjudged the dwarf considerably?
The air was split with a cacophony of cannonfire, then again by the cannonballs themselves, as nearly 100 of the metal spheres peppered the water and the stunned vessels. The warship had focused the majority of its fire on the Imperial Galleon, and the proud three-master had been all but obliterated in the hailstorm of metal. Only one of its masts remained standing, and the sails it contained looked comically similar to a slice of swiss cheese The sides of the vessel were honestly little better, and the ship was taking on water fast. Of the three boarding ships the Imperial’s had sent over only one was still intact, and the Sage could see the Imperial officer being helped out of the water by his men. They weren’t even half way back, by the time they reached the imperial Galleon it would be all but sunk. The Trading vessel had fared much better, taking several hits to the hull and sails, but nothing that looked immediately dangerous. There was a cheer of relief from the crew below him, but the Sage had a feeling this was only because it was no actually threatening to their opponent. After all, what could it do to a ship that large.
As he looked the imperial rowboat started to turn around making back for the trading ship. The Sage scrambled down the rigging as quickly as possible, there was no time to waste. The warship had idiotically fired all of its cannons in a single volley, but without any sort of returning fire it would take them little time to reload and finish the job. Reaching the deck, the Sage grabbed hold of the nearest crewmember, hoping he wasn’t in the middle of something too important.
“Quickly, does this ship have any sort of weaponry, at all?” The terrified youth could not have been more than 15, why had he even been selected for the crew because the less experienced the sailors that go missing, the less questions are asked. The Sage realized with a grimace.
“Only two sir! And one of them’s been taken out of commission during the bombardment!” the boy yelled immediately, more out of panic than any attempt at following orders.
“Below deck or on top?” the Sage asked, glancing around him quickly.
“The forcastle!” the boy shouted, pointing towards the front of the ship. The Sage turned and ran towards it, clambering up the short steps and reached the single working gun. The warship had veered back around, and seemed now intent on ramming the crippled imperial Galleon. For the moment it seemed to be completely ignoring the trading ship. Daedlin wasn’t expecting the Galleon was he… the Sage mused, as he pulled the cannon back slightly from its position. His plan would hopefully buy them some time, but they needed to get in close to the Warship, out of the arc of the cannons, otherwise they would only be delaying the inevitable.
A commotion from behind him meant that the Imperial boat had made it back. The Sage turned and jogged over to the officer, as he and his men started to take command of the ship. He turned abruptly as the Sage approached, clearly seconds away from some proclamation of commandeering the vessel. They didn’t have time for that kind of posturing.
“The Ship is yours officer, I need this crew organized, and I am no sea captain. But if you want any of us to live to touch land again, you will need to listen to me.” The Officer’s eyes were wrothful but he did not immediately start shouting. A good sign. The Sage thought. “We need to attack now while they’re distracted by finishing off the Galleon. Daedlin’s taking this ship for a test drive, and he wants to use all of his new toys. This is our only chance to…”
“To run.” The Officer cut him off simply, without anger or emotion. It seemed not all of the Empire’s dogs could be discounted as simple fools. “We don’t stand a chance in hell of taking on something that large in a civilian vessel? We’re hoping to outrun it while its busy gloating over its dishonorable ambush.”
“A respectable choice, but you won’t make it!” The Sage argued back, he was tired of how frequently he was questioned in moments like this, “The ship is powered by an internal engine, and I can promise you they have at least one prime onboard. We run, and even if we can make it out of range before they give chase, even if they don’t outpace us, the moment our wind dies we will die with it. This is our only chance to take down that monstrosity. If we don’t do it here, then its only a matter of time before it finds your fleet. Will you defeat it? Yes, you’re the Imperial navy. But can you imagine the damage a ship that size could do in a large-scale battle? It’s a ramming vessel, if it made it into your midst the collateral damage would be horrifying. And it wouldn’t stop there. The story would get out, and every malcontent with a prime would be making these behemoths. You need this idea to die in obscurity, a tall tale of the sea. Otherwise you can go ahead and abandon the Deeps.” He turned, shouting at the nearest crew member. “We’ll need lantern oil!”
The Imperial Officer stared him down, mental gears clearly working. To his credit, the man took less time to listen to reason than some Astronomers he had met. “Fine, if we’re going to fight, then what are you proposing?”
The Sage cracked a desperate grin. “That we dive into the mouth of the dragon.”
RE: A Banquet set for Davy Jones - The Humble Sage - 06-10-2017
The Imperial Galleon fired off three cannons, but in the end there was nothing that it could do but await its fate as the massive behemoth of wood and metal plowed directly into its side, splintering the vessel in a violent explosion of broken timbers and flailing rope. The Trading vessel closed from behind, trying to gain as much ground as possible before the warship decided to finish them off as well. If they could get behind the vessel, then they would be out of the arc of fire for at least part of their approach.
The Sage was at the prow of the vessel, along with some of the strongest crewmembers, attempting to wrestle with their lone functional cannon, pulling it free of its locks and turning it to point just to the left of the front of their ship. The Sage looked up as one of the younger boys on the crew brought the bucket of oil he had requested. This was quite likely to end very badly, but they didn’t have a lot of better options.
Taking the bucket, the Sage grabbed one of the nearby cannonballs and poured oil onto it. He would need to time this spell carefully, otherwise he would lose his hand. As he let go of the cannonball he muttered the incantation and his hands burst with a slight flame, igniting the oil that dripped down the ball and coating it in flame. He jerked away as the cannonball reached the gunpowder and immediately fired out, the now flaming shot arcing away from the barrel and towards the rear of the warship.
“They won’t let us keep doing this for long!” the Sage shouted as the crew reloaded the cannon as quickly as possible. They were closing in on the rear of the vessel, though it was turning around to present them with its broad side. There was a decent chance they’d have reloaded the volley by now.
He repeated the maneuver with the cannonball, feeling the heated rush of air as he pulled his hands away. The lit cannonball sailed away and impacted the back side of the vessel. Hopefully the shots were starting fires internally, otherwise this was mostly wasted effort. He fired a third shot before noticing that the crewmen were looking at him strangely.
“What is it?” he asked, motioning for them to reload the cannon again, “Keep up the pace! We need to cause as much distraction as possible, otherwise we’ll all be splinters in a matter of moments.” They did so, but continued giving him that strange glance. Almost accusatory.
“Well speak up.” The Sage said as he applied the oil to another cannonball. Given the plan he and the imperial officer had agreed to, it was the least he could do to treat the crewman with respect.
“Why ain’t you just shooting fire at the ship? Since yer a wizard an all that…” asked the one man, his draw making the words sound slower to the sage’s ears.
He had expecting something along this line of questioning, but he didn’t have an answer that would satisfy the man. Yes, I am a failure as a wizard, We’ve been over this! He thought with frustration. He didn’t have time to revisit that conversation with his father right now. Instead he decided to ignore what would likely end up being this poor man’s last request.
“Keep firing! Aim for a variety of spots so they can’t fix it all at once! I’m going to solve the next problem.”
The Sage raced back towards the middle of the ship and began to scale the rigging again. The merchant ship was swaying as the officer attempted to pull up beside the back flank of the warship. Their quarry had pretty much stopped dead in the water and was turning to face them with the broadside of its cannons they had closed considerably, but not enough for it to matter. The many cannons of the dwarven warhulk tore into the ill-prepared trading vessel, splintering wood and bone with little distinction. Any farther away and the ship would likely have been torn to shreds.
The Sage clung to the swaying mast, working momentum. The officer was an impressive helmsman, and the trading vessel drew very close to the warship. The polished barrel of a cannon stared him down. Through the hole of the gun port he could see the surprised face of a dwarf. the pirate raised a pistol, but a pair of bolas whipped around his beard and throught, causing him to stumble backwards with a gasp. The Sage braced himself against the cracking wood, and jumped.
RE: A Banquet set for Davy Jones - The Humble Sage - 06-10-2017
Imperial captain Vodar watched the rebel prime as he jumped nearly ten feet and grabbed hold of the gun port and scrambling inside. Primes the captain thought with a mixture of resignation and frustration. The man looked almost sixty and there he went with the aptitude of a scampering monkey. He was inside. That was good. Vodar grunted, swinging the wheel of the trading ship into a hard-starboard tilt, falling behind the massive warship once again.
He did not like having to trust his legacy to this conman. The old codger had explained quite carefully just how much he needed Vodar’s help, and had even come up with their current plan. This was precisely why Vodar couldn’t trust him, but he already had. Vodar couldn’t help it. He wanted to see the good in people. Sheil had taught him to do that, and it was the least he could do to try.
Vodar did not like many of his duties as a captain in the Imperial Navy. To him the blockading of Cinnabar island seemed like a pointless waste of resources. The pirates of Blue Flame island continued to prey upon merchant vessels, and Admiral Kizaru seemed quite content to sit and leech resources from the critters instead of dealing with the actual threats. Vodar wondered slightly as to Kizaru’s long term goals, the Imperial navy seemed like it would struggle to hold the verse together should they lose the emperor’s support. And with a man like Palpantine in charge this was a disturbingly possible situation.
It was not Vodar’s place to question, though, he was still a low-level captain, not even given control of a full-sized Galleon. Vodar sighed, then adjusted the angle of his approach. And it seemed likely that he would never be given one. Up ahead, some of the crew had noticed his intentions, and were looking up at him in alarm. The prime had certainly got the easier of the two jobs. They hadn’t had time to make sure that every man aboard the vessel was willing to follow the path Vodar was forcing them on. And as expected one or two of the braver looking lads were making their way towards his position at the helm. His own men would bar the entrance. They at least had the foresight to realize that there would be no running from this fight.
There would be no dreadnaught for the pirates to rally behind. Not while a captain of the Imperial Navy could do something about it. There were sounds of a scuffle at the base of the helm. Enough of the sailors were seeing his plan that they were trying to force their way through his guards rather than simply running. He didn’t expect them to make any progress, but it was still regrettable that they couldn’t see this was their only chance of keeping their dignity intact.
Vodar surveyed the angle of his approach. They had done it. They had gotten close enough to the enemy that the giant warship would not be able to destroy them first. Vodar gave a grim smile, it was a minor victory. He would have liked to have died on an imperial vessel, he thought almost idly as he gazed up at the mast, imagining the standard of the imperial navy waving proudly in the sea air. Eyes still fixed on the non-existent flag, Vodar gave the signal. Several of his men tipped barrels of oil, soaking the front end of the vessel thoroughly. There were cries of dismay and alarm from the crew of the trading ship, and they rushed to try and stop what was already happening. Vodar could not make them understand but to his gratitude, his crew did, to a man. He saluted them, back straight and arms crossed. They replied the gesture, the rear of the large battleship looming far too close behind them, then dropped their torches.
The burning prow of the christened trading ship smashed directly into the engine block of the dreadnaught, in an explosion of fire and wood.
RE: A Banquet set for Davy Jones - The Humble Sage - 06-12-2017
The Sage vaulted over the edge of the porthole, tumbling into the dimly lit room with the surprised dwarf. He had managed to escape the bolas, but he was not expecting an attacker to reach him in here. The Sage scrambled to his feet, fatigue ebbing in the face of desperation. He needed to get to the top of the deck before the imperials blew the engine block. The Sage rushed towards the dwarf, dueling cane out, and unleashed a rapid series of strikes that the dwarf could only endure as he pulled out a long knife. The burly seaman settled into a comfortable crouch and began to take experimental swipes at the Sage.
The Sage didn’t have time for this kind of a fight. He dove feet-first, feigning a kick at one of the dwarf’s knees. The sailor had the wherewithal to evade the attack, and took a swipe at the Sage as he came through, though it was deflected off the Sage’s dueling cane. He kept the momentum going, swiping once at the dwarf as he sprinted away towards the stairs. Again, the dwarf dodged, then cried out in surprise after his suddenly fleeing opponent.
The Sage raced down the rows of cannons and supplies, his foe trying to keep up on shorter legs. The ceiling was low and cramped, but even slightly ducking the Sage managed to put distance between himself and his pursuer. The Dreadnought seemed remarkably empty of crewman, Only a skeleton crew. This ship isn’t ready yet. You shouldn’t have let that Imperial track you Daedlin. It’s going to cost you dearly. Only a few other dwarves looked up as he raced by, though had he taken much longer, he doubted he would have managed to slip past them. He would need to do something about the now several dwarves that were chasing him. There was a crack and the splintering of wood as a flintlock shot pinged off a nearby crate.
Reaching the stairs, the Sage sprinted up them, barely glancing at the floors as he ran. Another shot exploded through the wood directly where his foot was about to land, causing him to jerk his momentum backwards and almost stumble back down the flight of stairs. He wheeled around, noting several barrels nearby that he hoped he could shift. He grabbed one and heaved, knocking it to its side. A foamy ale began to seep from the top of the barrel as he strained against it, finally managing to send it careening down the stairs after his opposition. A chorus of surprised cursing followed the resulting crash, and the Sage raced up the rest of the stairs without opposition.
He reached the deck of the ship and came to a quick halt. Standing there, arms crossed on the hilts of two flintlock pistols, was Carmen, the pirate who’s ship he had sunk in a desperate bid to avoid… What was it she was suggesting anyway, just planning to kill me? he was admittedly confused as to her initial plan, since killing a prime like him seemed like a pointless waste of resources. She looked a lot more haggard then he remembered too, her outfit was faded and her signature red hat drooped slightly more than she likely wanted it to.
“No response?” She asked with a smirk, “Are you so surprised to see me again?” staring him down with a visible glow of exultation.
“Not particularly. I’m afraid you’ve overplayed your hand.” The Sage said straightening slightly. The Imperial ship was barely visible from his position, but he could see its collision course. He needed to make sure that nothing else stopped that from happening.
“It was the touch with wall that gave it away.” He said nonchalantly, dropping into a more relaxed posture, the polar opposite of Carmen’s keyed-up anticipation. She didn’t look pleased. “Not many people are idiotic enough to put themselves in a wooden box. It can lead to a bad case of drowning. An accomplished smuggler like your dwarf friend,” he gestured towards Daedlin who was out of easy earshot at the helm of the ship, “wouldn’t suggest that as a first course of action of his own initiative.”
He shrugged, waiting for Carmen to interject. She seemed to have been utterly derailed, her anticipation giving way to confusion and hesistation.
“Then why did you let…” she trailed off as she began to put pieces of the puzzle together. Too late, I’m afraid. The Sage thought with a hint of smug satisfaction. She pulled out both flintlocks, training them on the Sage. “Even so you can’t stop me!”
The Sage opened his mouth to protest, and two bullets flashed, one skimming his shoulder and the other punching into his gut. His retort died in his gasp and he sucked in a sharp breath, doubling over in surprise and pain.
“I said YOU CAN’T stop me!” Carmen yelled, the look in her eyes growing wild, “You got on board somehow, but you won’t get past me! We’ve learned this already! I’m better than you!”
The Sage winced as he straightened back up, his strange inky blood was already starting to pool in the holes, slowly pushing the metal ball back out. “How much Omnilium did it cost you to summon this vessel?” he asked, his tone more serious than before. A bullet wound did that.
Carmen looked unsettled by his question, and she fingered her smoking guns. She wouldn’t be able to reload the flintlocks quickly, but they both had to know that her pointing the unloaded weapons at him made her look foolish. She wasn’t threatening to kill him with those blades on the end of the pistols, was she?
“It doesn’t matter.” She said after a moment of silence, “You can’t stop it! This Ship is the strongest on the sea!”
The Sage gave a sort of half cough half laugh as the metal ball dropped out of his repaired gunshot wound. Carmen stared at it as the Sage planted his dueling cane on the floor of the deck. “Strongest in the sea? That’s a claim that would need some testing, my dear!” He could hear several of the crew waiting at the bottom of the stairs. Clearly Carmen had ordered them not to interfere. “Or was that what this little excursion was? The Imperial Galleon certainly threw a catch in those spokes.”
“But we handled it!” Carmen retorted angrily. “You snuck on board this ship to avoid sinking with the others!” The Sage just shook his head.
“No, I snuck on board this ship to make sure I was sinking with the others.” He said with an even simplicity.
There was a horrible sound of splintering wood, as the trading vessel struck directly into the engine of the dreadnought, spraying fire and splintering wood. The deck rocked less than the Sage would have hoped, neither he nor Carmen had to do more than take a step or two keep their footing. Daedlin swore loudly and abandoned the wheel, running to the edge of the boat to see how bad the damage was. Carmen watched the Sage, who gave no signs of any intended action, then risked a glance back at Daedlin
“How bad is it?” She called with a noticeable edge. The Dwarf looked grim
“we’re taking on water!” he shouted running towards the stairs. His crew raced to try and combat the damage, He fixed the Sage with a hard glare as he passed “What did you have them do, you madman! Set their own ship on fire?”
Actually, no. the Sage thought, That one wasn’t my idea. He shrugged. “well we had a hunch…” he fixed Carmen with a significant glance, and the color drained from her face.
RE: A Banquet set for Davy Jones - The Humble Sage - 06-13-2017
A second explosion rocked the vessel, this time tipping it dangerously to one side, and causing all three of them to stumble and pitch in an effort to keep footing on the suddenly treacherous dock.
“A combustion engine on a wooden ship?” the Sage asked with a hint of condescension, “That’s just plain dangerous.”
Carmen gave a cry of rage and charged the Sage, but her approach was reckless and the Sage batted away one of the weapons and then snapped the dueling cane against the side of her neck, halting her momentum, and causing her to stumble sideways in shock.
“You don’t have the power for this Carmen.” The Sage said simply. He didn’t know how he had gotten so powerful since their last encounter, perhaps Omnilium means more than just the ability to summon… “You’ve put too much of yourself into this ship...” There was an audible crack and the deck shifted again. Probably a section of the bottom coming loose… “…Which is now about to reach the bottom of the ocean.”
Carmen struggled to her feet. “If you kill me, I will come back!” she muttered in defiance. The Sage just shook his head.
“And this will just happen again. Listen to me, and listen well. Our feud is ended. Twice now I have sunken your ship, and twice have you shot me. Should you force me into conflict again, it will be our last meeting.”
Behind his back the Sage used his magic to apply some extra weight to Carmen’s attire, add to her fatigue, he wanted to be done with this one’s schemes. He didn’t have the time to be constantly fearing assassins.
“Find somewhere quiet, grow stronger. Find your story.” He locked eyes with her, as smoke started to pour from below the deck, “This battle is not part of it. For either of us.”
She opened her mouth to argue, then the dwarven dreadnaught split in half and the Sage was lost once more amidst broken wood and water. Altogether I am quite done boats, I believe... He thought as he began to sink.
RE: A Banquet set for Davy Jones - The Humble Sage - 06-13-2017
The Island was covered with frost, this was how the Sage knew that he had found the portal out of this forsaken endless ocean! Slowly, the exhausted prime dragged himself out of the water, and began summoning a campfire. No, he would summon a bonfire. He didn’t want to be wet anymore!
The Sage thought back to his words with Carmen as he sat next to the roaring fire, his clothes drying on a nearby rock. He needed a chance to start collecting stories, himself. This world was young, the opportunity it presented him could not be passed up lightly. He needed to find the threads. Tracing the threads would lead him to their weave, the tapestry of the past. There he would find his stories. He sighed, standing and stretching the knots from his body.
Finding the threads would be easier said than done, but he wouldn’t find anything out here in the Deeps. The Sea is where you went to avoid being found or heard from. It was a place of silence and peace, with its own trivials to worry inhabitants. They had no need for outsiders. He turned his attention to the portal into the Frozen Fields. He needed to find the pulse of the Omniverse. It was time to make himself known.