Where In the 'Verse,

[The Humble Sage]

The Sage awoke with a start, then remembered his location. He stretched, and tried to work loose the cramps. He had only a small space to work in, and the light was intentionally poor, lest it be noticed by the crew. They had been sailing for what he felt must have been almost two weeks by now, and the Sage was finding his hiding place quite stiffling. Using Omnilium, he had constructed a fake wall, designed to look like the actual back of the ship where he currently was. There were a few barrels in here with him, and he had summoned some phosphorescent fungi from his homeland as a light source. When he had found them in the catacombs of the Capital they had always been pretty, but he now found their light irritatingly impotent. The sage had made trips by sea only once or twice before, and the conditions had been much better than this.
The Lexistone had provided him with material to study, but he still vastly preferred a book to this other form. Putting away the stone, he glanced up at the pale mushrooms again. He wondered about the reserves of his new-found power. Creating the wall definitely felt like it had drained him, as had everything he had summoned thus far. Yet, he felt... fuller than he had in the nexus, even before leaving Coasta Del Sol.

Are you the one giving me this power Omni? I can see no other source, since you yourself assured me of your current supremacy in this place. If that is the case, I wonder what you will be wanting in return...

The Sage moved over to the barrel and pulled out another of the loaves he had summoned. He was getting tired of the rather bland food. He supposed the quality of the food reflected on his own lack of imagination more than anything else, but this fact only served to make him more irritable. He bit into the loaf and returned to the spot he had decided was the comfiest, although he was using the term very relatively.

He sat back down and for lack of a better option, opened the journal once again. He was making very little progress in deciphering much of the language. He was fairly certain that this word was actually a phrase of some sort, but he possessed no means of deciphering the actual way to pronounce the term without knowing the rest of the language. He would need to find someone that knew the language in the book, but that would be virtually pot-luck in this place. The writer may even have taken the secret of his language to the grave.

There was some sort of commotion going on in the rest of the galley. The sage tried to listen in as well as he could without making noise. There sounded like there was some kind of argument happening inside. Suddenly there was a sharp crack as a blade struck through the boards separating the sage's hiding place from the rest of the ship. The Sage fell back instinctively. He heard an exclamation from the other side, and the shouting got more intense. The wood was still mostly intact, but the Sage caught snippets of the conversation on the other side.

“...Hole in the freakin' Boat! You idiot!” one of the voices shouted. The blade was wrenched free, leaving a hole big enough that the Sage could probably fit his hand through.

“ And do you see any water coming out? Eh? Lookit! I was right! There is somethin' back here!”

The first voice seemed much more hesitant, higher-pitched than the average sailor by far. “We'd better tell the cap'n about this Topps, she ain't gonna like it...” The second voice cut in almost immediately, thicker and sounding exactly like the average sailor.

“Use yer noggin Vic, what if this is the captain's doing? Maybe she's got some treasure hidden down here? She'd get us keel-hauled quicker than you can say Davy Jones! Now quit yer whining and help me!” There was a pause, and then another crack as the hatchet struck through the planks again. The Sage slid himself into a corner, and reviewed his options.
He clearly had no chance of prevailing by combat, not to mention he knew very little about the actual intentions of the ship's crew. It wouldn't do to attack a ship full of curious merchants, though the speculations of the two crewmen thus far did not give him very high hopes for the ship's moral caliber. That meant he would need to try and stay out of sight if possible. The hesitant one, Vic, was now helping to dismantle the wall, and the summoned wood was quickly splintering under their combined efforts. There was not nearly enough time to summon something. It seemed he would have to play this off with only his wits. Well, let's see if we can make a starting impression. he thought, and began to extract the wall himself. He was gratified to hear the muffled surprise from those outside. He continued to extract the wall, making sure it was a noticeable from the outside as possible that something was going on.

The Sage stopped before fully extracting, and gave the weakened boards a sharp snap with his dueling cane. The weakened wood gave way, suddenly bursting outward into the face of the surprised sailors. The Sage stood there, expectantly, in the soft blue light of the fungi. “Were you looking for me?” He asked, and took some pleasure in the looks of uncertainty that passed between his discoverers. And now we begin the dance...

“...Imma go tell the captain 'bout this...” Vic said after a pause, and scampered back up the ladder. The Sage regarded the lone sailor that remained in the galley with him. He was clearly not part of a uniformed company, and he regarded the Sage shrewdly, sizing him up. He didn't seem to find anything particularly noteworthy in the appearance, as his formerly very defensive posture took on a more commanding stance. That display just now didn't work on this one, the Sage noted, but then, he's not the one relaying the situation to the captain, so that's less important.

“Making sure I don't vanish?” The Sage said off-handedly, and the sailor the other one had called Topps, snorted. “That would be difficult to explain to the Captain, wouldn't it Topps.”

“You can jus' shut up for a moment pal. And we'll see about explaining things to the Captain now won't we.” Topps said with a grin. The Sage nodded, not surprised with this kind of a response.

“And what would your captain say if I told her about your little escapade to begin with? putting holes in boats isn't something to undertake lightly.” he phrased the question simply as if genuinely curious of the outcome.

“Nothin' light about stowaways bucko, the Captain'll drum that into yer skull soon enough.” the sailor leaned back against a wooden beam and began to pick his teeth with a small dirk.“Might not be the only thing gets driven in.”A crude attempt at a threat, the Sage felt, but he supposed the pirate hadn't had a lot of time to think about it.

“And as she tortures me to learn my secrets, will I be keeping yours?” The Sage said, arching one eyebrow for full mysterious effect. Topps didn't say anything, but he did stop picking his teeth. “I'm not a naval expert, but I believe theft is not something highly prized in a crew member. What if I was to tell your captain the real reason you were tearing holes in her boat?”

To his credit, the pirate did not give much indication that he was concerned, and the Sage knew that this string was a very thin one to pull on, nevertheless he had few options. Any port in a storm. That's an appropriately maritime saying isn't it?

“...And I know the word of a stowaway isn't something to be taken too much to heart. But how are you felling about the loyalty of your pal Vic just now?” Ah, the dart of the eyes towards the hatch was telling, now he was getting somewhere. “When I call your loyalty into question, clearly your captain will turn to Vic for a second opinion. Now you are welcome to gamble that Vic is your buddy, and will have your back. But I wouldn't want to be caught lying to my captain, and Vic struck me as a rather smart fellow.” The pirate hadn't told him to be quiet yet, and they were taking a good amount of time up on deck to prepare, he had a chance to make this work.

“I am quite certain that you can... confirm the bond between yourself and Vic, and make sure he's there to back you up, the question becomes if I give you enough time.” Topps eyes narrowed in preparation for the inevitable next part of the conversation. The Sage didn't have a better alternative though, so he just plowed ahead, “I have no want to be tortured. It will likely still happen, I am captured by pirates, but as a courtesy to those with things to do... I could be persuaded to try and delay my own fate for as long as possible.”

Topps grunted and re-sheathed the knife, “And what is it you would be wanting of me in return for your... courtesy.” he said, spitting the last word out with distaste. The Sage just smiled.

[The Humble Sage]

“Bring him up!” Vic called into the galley of the ship. The assembled crew was finally in order, and ready to properly welcome their new guest. Captain Sandiego drummed her fingers on the banister, humming an old tune. She was looking forward to this encounter, and now everyone was ready. They were far enough from a port that they were unlikely to be interrupted. She was slightly bothered that the first hunter had managed to stow aboard for this long, but primes were a wily lot, and she was glad to see this one didn't think a simple assault of the ship would have been enough. The VILE had been spotted by a couple imperial frigates before, and had soundly bested them. She felt quite confident that her crew would be able to easily foil an assault from a single prime.

“What is taking Topps so long?” She called down, “Get that stowaway up here! We don't have all day for this! There's stuff to be done!” Vic shrugged and started to climb down. He stopped only a few rungs down and started to climb back up almost immediately. The stowaway followed and Topps brought up the rear. Captain Sandiego pulled down the rim of her hat and smirked. This prime certainly wasn't very dangerous looking. She was almost disappointed, but really this just meant she should come up with some new schemes to antagonize the Empire. After his throne goes missing Palpantine might see fit to send actual hunters after her.

“Welcome aboard!” Captain Sandiego called down to the prime, “In the future you might try checking with me first before you start making changes to my ship. The boys aren't too fond of that kind of thing.” Her assembled crew gave an appropriately stilted chorus of shouts and threats. “What are you doing on the VILE?” she declared. There would be no mistake about the purpose of the coming events.
The prime seemed relatively unafraid of her crew's display, not that Carmen was expecting much, and gazed around him at the sails of the ship. He climbed atop a crate in the middle of the deck.“ I simply wanted to sail!” he said, leaning to one side and holding onto a rope to support himself, “Is that everything you wanted to know of me?” he called up to her, Attempting to play this off are we? You'll have to be quite good to get away with this one, friend. Carmen chuckled to herself. She decided not to press the issue quite yet, it wouldn't pay to underestimate a prime, no matter how inept they seemed. Carmen had learned that from her time in Ambrosia, and it had remained the case pretty much everywhere in the Omniverse.
“Go ahead and let yourself into my office, I'll be down to see you in a trice. I will warn you not break anything in there, some of those things were a tad expensive.” The prime gave her a curt bow, and made for the back of the boat. Carmen turned away and headed back towards the wheel of the boat. She stopped over with the navigator, to review their heading.

“How are things looking Bart?” The grizzled seamen grunted at her by way of response. She smirked, “Care to elaborate?”
The elderly man flashed her a nigh-toothless grin, “Aye, aye, Cap'n. We're about a week out from Coasta del Sol, wit' about three days to go until we hit Bilge-water again. Everything's looking alright with the VILE.” The navigator gave a rasping cough. “There's a storm brewing off the aft, and I'll be darned if we ain't gonna be riding its waves all the way to Blue Flame.” There was a loud thump below them. Carmen frowned.
As she had ordered, a few of her larger crew-members had followed the prime in, 'breaking the captain's orders' to rough the prime up a little, to shake loose a surprise or two he'd prepared over the week he'd been hiding. They weren't supposed to hurt him badly, though she had pointed out a piece of furniture or two that she was planning on getting replaced anyway. She hoped they remembered which ones.
Carmen lifted her eyeglass to get a better look at the storm. “She's a spectacle isn't she. I'd almost like to get a closer look.”
The old man gave a hearty seaman's-laugh, “Now that's a sign if ever I saw one. Challenging a storm that size in an old dingy like this? You've gotten almost as fey as ole' Senile Bart! 'Tain't many can say that.” Carmen laughed softly.
“Perhaps you're right. Steady the course Mr. Bart, I need to go have a chat with our stowaway.” She said, and handed him the spyglass. The old Seaman gave a rasping cough as she descended the stairs, which turned into a series of hacking coughs. Carmen frowned, she depended on Senile Bart for running a lot of the VILE, she needed him to stay in good health.


Her frown only deepened as she entered her quarters. The prime was lounging on her chair, not in arrogance, rather because he didn't have the strength to sit up. One eye had a significant bruise, and he was holding his Omnilium to a large cut on his left arm. Just your standard healing, eh pal?He looked up when she entered the room, then spat some blood.
“You're going to clean that up.” she said matter-of-factly, and crossed the room to lean against her desk. A dirk was stuck into it, with a scrap of what had been the prime's robe. She had always liked that desk. The prime still didn't say anything, he just shrugged, coughing slightly.
“Care to explain what you were doing in my hold?”
“Not particularly, Care to explain why you're men are all unimaginative grunts? I was expecting a little more than getting punched in the face. It's almost disappointing.” He grinned at her through bloody teeth. Carmen smirked again He's still trying to play tough? That's odd...
“I could say I asked first, or ladies first or any other sort of clichéd response. But that would be unimaginative, so I think we'll settle with a different question. How much do you know about being a prime?” The Sage gave her a quizzical look. Carmen sighed in irritation.
“Do you know about what happens when you die?” she asked pointedly, allowing a hand to stray to her cutlass as she said so.
“If I recall, I was promised a return should I be sufficiently entertaining. It was rather vague on the particulars of the arrangement” he said distantly. Carmen pulled the brim of her hat down over her eyes, she wanted to watch the stowaway's reaction, but that would be easier if he didn't know what she was doing.
“Bullet to the back of the skull. Tier five of Coruscant, I'd been three days here, then three days nowhere.” she sighed in frustration as the memories resurfaced.

“You come back yes. But you still have to die.”

There was a pause where neither Carmen nor the captured prime spoke, one digesting the implications, the other treading through places she had hoped never to go again. After a time, she hopped up and pulled out one of her bladed pistols, cocking it she whirled on the stowaway prime.
“Point is, you won't like it when I shoot you, so don't think you're in any form of control here. Now, you working for Camelot or the Empire?” The stowaway just stared at her. “Fine. let's say Camelot, you look too old-fashioned to fit in with those posh imperial types. Am I wrong? You're here hunting a bounty right? Don't give me that look, clearly you aren't an idiot.”
“Why do you want to know my affiliation? Wondering where to send the body?” her captive asked.
“You must be fresh pal, killing a prime does mostly nothing for the killer. No, if I do that you just come back in a week or so, we've been over this.” It was strange, the guy didn't seem very concerned about his situation. Under the feathered fedora, her brow furrowed. There was something she was missing here.
“Your crewman Topps was looking for treasure by the way. Not saying that you believed him to be honest I assure you.” The prime said, with the off-handed nature that continued to irk her. Carmen snorted,
“You go ahead and say that. Still not the issue at hand here.” Now it seemed to be the stowaway's turn to chuckle.
“Indeed, the issue here is about hands, or rather within our hands to be precise.” He said with a wry grin. Carmen stared at him.

Then the boat lurched sharply to the left. Captain Sandiego leaned, grabbing her desk for support, The captured prime tumbling out of the chair he had claimed. Carmen hurried over to the door of the cabin.
“What in the Omni's name is going on!” She demanded, although her eyes were already catching on to the problem.
“One of the restraints snapped on the mainsail, it's all out of control!” yelled Senile Bart, as he struggled with the wheel. Her crew was scrambling across the rigging, trying to catch hold of the wayward coil. As she watched, a belted coil broke loose and slammed into a man, lifting him off his feet. He crashed into the side of the boat and grunted. Carmen watched as one of the more agile crewmen, Sheg, managed to grab hold of the rebellious restraint.
“Its all rotted or something!” he shouted, and even as he said this, the end he had grabbed disconnected from the rest, sending him reeling in the rest of the rigging.

Carmen cursed and turned as the prime closed with more speed than she would have guessed from his prior actions. He had snatched the dirk from the table and Carmen jumped back as he swiped at her. “Look out, Captain!” Topps called down from the rigging. Carmen shot him a glance, Don't think I didn't recognize your dirk on the table there, Topps. I'll be keeping an eye on you. landing a short distance away she drew her saber-tipped pistols.
“A good try friend, but I don't think we'll be playing that game anytime soon.” The Sage's face was still largely unconcerned, he held the dirk easily and ready in one hand, relaxing into a comfortable crouch.
“It'd be unwise to fire into your own cabin. Besides, killing me does mostly nothing. we've been over this” He said parroting her words with a vaguely patronizing tone. Carmen growled slightly, and fired both pistols. The flintlocks had as poor aim as ever, one striking into the wood behind him, but the other grazing his already injured shoulder. He gave a grunt and staggered backwards against the boat's edge.

“Knock it off, bud. I'll give you credit for extracting the rope, A nice distraction. Maybe I'll use it better in the future. It'll take more than that though, particularly if you're going to be just lunge at me when you get the drop.” The sage grunted, still leaning against the side of the boat, he must be in worse shape then he looks, Carmen thought as he rested there.
“Wasn't...the point...” he huffed, and forced himself upright. He pointed a finger straight upwards, and forced his grimace of pain into a grin once again. “Waiting for my... Air support.” Carmen looked up and her eyes widened as she realized the true significance of the sabotaged mainsail. The crew had managed to get the wayward sail tied down and controlled, but it was only at half sail, and they had already lost their lead on the storm. Carmen noted the grim face with which Bart was commanding the wheel, and understood the true gravity of the situation.

“You would drown us all?” She accused the Sage, as he stood there dirk no longer ready for conflict.
“Did I have another choice?” he shot back, the most emotional response she had observed from him yet, “You cannot restrain a man without expecting him to conflict his confinements. To impinge upon freedom is to expect opposition.” The ship rocked as it began to rise on a large wave, “Your lack of understanding is what has doomed us all to this fate. I had no knowledge of nor desire to inconvenience your crew, whatever issues that you feel, they are entirely your own desires. That is the truth,whether you will accept it or not is on you!” An ear-splitting thunder-clap severed the sky directly as he finished.

The storm had caught up to them.

[The Humble Sage]

It was a strange thing, to be drowning on air.

The Sage floated in an empty sky, but could not draw a breath. His mouth opened, closed, nothing passed between his lips. No

thing disturbed the soft blue glow that surrounded him. It was so still, so peaceful, so quiet. His mind was slow... at peace... melting away...

ԢՅՅժ ҴԢӔҴ ՃԢՒՇԢ ՇӨѾՅҨ ԷӨҊ ДӨԥ

The swelling tone shattered the stillness of the sky, shocking painful awareness into the Sage's mind. He would have cried out, but the emptiness inside his lungs was suddenly far more present. The Sage screamed mutely as memories flashed though his brain like the lightning that had rent the sky above him. The Storm was more powerful than even he had expected, tearing into the ship with an avaricious enthusiasm. His wounded arm smacking painfully against the banister of the ship as it was slammed into a wall of raging sea.

ӔՇՇՅԖҴ ДӨԥҊ ԷӔҴՅ ӔѼժ ՀѼӨՃ ДӨԥҊ ԖԥҊԖӨҨՅ

The Voice was formless, meaningless, and unrelenting in his mind. He watched a member of the ships crew hurled from the rigging and into the sea. The pirate captain rushed back towards her cabin, emerging in seconds in a strange suit and helmet. Without hesitation she dove off the side of the ship, a large metal container connected to her back. The lightning continued to arc across the sky, weaving a web more deadly than any spider could dream. There was a horrendous crash, as the secondary mast snapped clean off and flipped end over end away from the ship, taking another screaming sailor with it.
He pushed himself off of the banister, he had to get to shelter. There was another snap, and the world below him was flung into turmoil.

ԷӨҊ ДӨԥ ӔҊՅ ҴӨ ҊՅѾӔՒѼ ӔѼժ ҴӨ ҊՅѾՒѼժ

He was falling, through air, through wood, through water. Lost beyond hope of the surface, or even of knowing his fate. He could not draw breath, but there was nothing filling his lungs. This was to be his fate, to perish in the wreckage he had caused. He could not find an escape. He would learn what it was to die.
The thought did not scare him as much as he expected. True he did not wish his life to end, but at this point he seemed to have no other option. In the face of this unavoidable conclusion his raging and railing seemed pointless and futile. His already dulled mind sank into acceptance of his fate.

ҴӨ ӸՅӔҊ ҴԢՅ ҨԖՅՅՇԢ ҴԢՅ ՇԥҊҨՅ ҴӨ ԹҊӔҨԖ ҴԢՅ ՅѾԖҴՒՅժ ԢӔѼժ

But this voice would not leave him in peace. It railed against him, demanding his attention and enforcing its supremacy. It forced sensation back into his limbs, refused their limpness. They tensed abruptly, his back arching as the hitherto missing pain returned in full measure the debt it had promised. There was now fire within his lungs, burning through to replace the nothingness that they contained. His mind had also transformed into a brimstone hell-scape, the fire within his chest reflecting the flame that suffused his thoughts. He was a beacon, blazing in the depths with a boiling heat.

ҊՅՀՒѼժվՅ ҴԢՅ ҨՅӴՅҊҴՒՅѼ ҊՅҴUҊѼ ҴHՅ ӸՒӸվՒӨѾӔѼՇY ҊՅҨҴӨҊՅ ҴԢՅ ՃӨҊժҨ ҴӨ ҴԢՅՒҊ ԖӨՃՅҊ

The Voice commanded him, refused to allow him to slip away from . There were plans that needed him, opportunities that were not to be ignored.
He was too valuable a tool to be allowed to sink to the bottom of the pool.
He was forcefully lifted out of the nothing, into the water. He was drowning far below the tumultuous surface of the ocean. With an internal scream of rage he made to swim upwards. His foot was stuck, one of the ropes from the ship had coiled itself around his right leg, and was dragging him farther and farther below the water. The Sage tried to free his leg, but the rope had him in as firm a grasp as any kraken's tendril could aspire to. He didn't have time to extract the rope again, every second gave him less time to make it back to the surface. Already his lungs felt near to bursting, There was no chance he would make it back. Already the whiteness was encroaching on his vision. It reminded him of the Nexus in a way, the purity and stillness. He began to feel his mind slipping once more, the newly found awareness fading from his senses already as the water surrounded him. The briefly lit candle, afire with intent, doused in a torrent of water. And the voice had fled.
It no longer echoed in his mind, did not prevent the erosion of his awareness once again. The voice was gone, as abruptly as it had intruded. It was simply being unfair, the Sage decided. To re-alert his senses and awaken his mind to his own assured death, simply to do nothing and let the futility and helplessness wash over him again. It was cruel.
The anger and rage welled up in his brain, amassing into a single ball of power deep within his core. The power surged from his core, searing the sides of his throat as it went. It filled his mind and mouth, consumed all of his thoughts. The Voice was not gone at all, was never going to leave. It owned his thoughts, and would not ever release the grip it possessed. He was to be a vessel, a conduit for the return.
Somehow, there was air in his lungs, where none had been previously. With a concentrated power behind his motion he spoke with a voice that was not his own.

“ѼӨՃ Ւ ՃՒվվ ӔҊՒҨՅ”

There was a blazing light deep within the depths of the ocean, and the Sage felt himself lifted, hurled through the ocean at breakneck speed. Propelled onwards by the currents of the future.

[The Humble Sage]

There was a lapping about his face. Simple, Rhythmic, it marked the meter of time, bringing peace and regularity to his heartbeat and breathing. Gradually his eyes fluttered open, staring up into a deep blue sky. The water washed past him, at equal intervals covering his ears and exposing them to the sound of the surf nearby. His body was drenched, Like the quintessential drowned rat... he thought as he worked himself up onto his elbows. What a strange phrase that is, can't rats swim well?
Glancing around he saw the battered carcasses of several ships. What is this place? He wondered, and attempted to work into a sitting position. The fatigue struck him suddenly, and he sank back into the sodden sand with a pained groan. There was nothing immediately threatening him right now, even his arm seemed painless enough. He was vaguely aware that this fact should concern him, but he was too fatigued for this idea to properly impact his mind. His consciousness lulled, and he passed once more into the darkness of unthought.



When he awoke he could not tell that time had passed. The sky above looked the same as ever, a deep and pure unbroken blue. He realized that he was no longer on the edge of the beach, and as his senses started to return he caught the sound and smell of a small campfire. Not the only one here then... Doing his best to remain still, lest he alert whomever had taken him here, he glanced around. He seemed to be inside the broken shell of an old sea vessel, the campfire's smoke dissipating through one of the larger missing chunks of boat. Judging from the state of the wood, this ship had ended up here a very long time ago. There didn't seem to be anyone else inside the boat, and the Sage experimented with sitting up. It took longer than he liked, but in a little while he had managed to work himself into a sitting position.
There was a pile of clothes and furs in one of the more sheltered corners, and some strange totems hung from the decrepit timbers supported by lengths of rope and tattered sail. Less than cheery... the Sage thought as he crawled closer to the fire. His clothing was stiff with salt, and torn in many places. He considered trying to create a new set, but couldn't muster the resolve to summon anything. It may be better to keep my nature quiet for now. Staggering to his feet, He moved towards the entrance of the broken ship, to get a better look at his location.
Boats, broken boats and sand were the only things in sight. A wasteland of shattered hopes and lives. Stumbling, he made his way from the campfire, not knowing his aim, but searching for something that could allow him escape. The campfire had belonged to a much more permanent resident than he had any intention of becoming. He began to search for as intact of a boat as he could find, hoping he could use Omnilium to make it sea-worthy again. The words of an old ballad came unbidden to his mind, and he began to whisper it under his breath:

Three princes of Norden went to the sea,
and they sang, and they danced, and they sauntered.
But only two princes came back from the sea,
for one of the princes wandered...
 
Shambling among the carcasses, he idly wondered if the ship he sank had ended up here with him. It seemed likely, but he supposed it would be indistinguishable from the rest of them. The bones always look the same in the end. On a whim, he made his way towards the shore once again, and choosing practically at random, up the shattered slope of a ship towards the cabin. He wasn't sure what he was hoping to find, this ship had been split clean in half and wasn't going to be sea-worthy anytime soon. Nevertheless, he planted his feet as best he could on the sand-pocked boards, and shifted open the door to the captain's quarters.

He wandered far over island and wave,
and the eyes of the deep were awakened,
and the deep dragged him down to a watery grave,
his ship on the shore lies forsaken.
 
He was pleasantly surprised to find the office almost entirely intact. Moving towards the desk, he found several papers spread out upon the desktop. His attention was drawn to a letter pinned to the desk by a rusted dirk. Its writing was smudged and stained with salt, though he felt like the handwriting contributed to the illegibility in equal portion to the environmental degradation of the document. He couldn't make out many details, but it seemed to be a report by a wizard. That much was evident from the condescension that its author could not keep entirely hidden, even from one of his superiors. It seemed to concern a strange artifact that was being tracked by the writer, who seemed convinced it was a key to some sort of power. Nothing too surprising there... he mused, scanning through the rest of the letter. The wizard seemed to be holed up in a place called Cinnibar island, and had sent for additional resources via this message. It seemed the message had not made it to its destination. Leaving him in desperate need of support... The sage took the note and folded it into a pocket. As he did so the journal he carried slipped out and slid across the sloped floor. The Sage dove after it, sliding out the door of the office and down the ship itself. He managed to snatch it in time to slide down into the brine himself, cradling the journal to protect it from the water.
 
As he landed with a slight splash the world grew darker around him. He looked to the sun, but it shown unimpeded, there was no cloud from which this darkness was to have come. A sense of foreboding stole over him, and he became aware of the many overhangs, and shadowed ruins nearby, from which any number of eyes would be watching. He was exposed.
Brushing the thought away with a shudder he turned back to his original objective with a renewed purpose. As he continued to wander among the sunken vessels, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being followed. At times he glanced behind him to catch a piece of wood falling from its mooring or a settling dune slide into place. He could feel his anxiety rising as he plowed on, he had always preferred solitude, the presences of his own thoughts without others to get in the way of their message. Now he grew concerned that he would remain here alone. With a sigh, he crested another of the small coastal dunes, noticing a ship that looked more or less intact. He began to shuffle down the slope, dislodging sand into a small cascade as he went. It was a simple fishing boat, much smaller than the galleons and trading vessels he had wandered amongst so far.
There was a crack, and the Sage whirled around as the banister of a nearby ship snapped clean and went tumbling to the sand. He tensed, eyes searching for movement, ready for an attack. His hand clenched, missing the cane he had not thought to summon. He would not make that mistake again, he vowed, assuming he outlived this one.
Nothing seemed to be moving, the rotted remains of the rail lay in the sand now, as naturally as if they had not just fallen. He was getting jumpy he decided, letting the stillness of the island unnerve him. Besides the owner of that strange shack, it looked likely there as no one else on the entire island. A solitude of thoughts and an escape from the world. but also from the good food... he thought, wishing not for the first time since his departure from Coasta Del Sol, that he had not relied on his Omnilium for sustenance. He turned back towards his goal and set foot on the deck of the fishing boat.

Immediately sound and sand exploded outwards from behind him as something large burst out of the beach not far inwards from the shore. The Sage leapt up onto the planks of the boat, Where one creature lurks beneath the sand, many others will also lie in wait. the cloud of sand settled, revealing a large chitinous creature serrated mandibles sampling the air with an eager purpose. The Sage remained silent, as he slowly edged away from the beast's sight. It seemed to be tracking by scent, and it let out a high-pitched clicking sound, as it began to skitter along the sand of spindled legs. The Sage could not help but notice the strength that was evident in something as simple as planting a foot. It bespoke a power even greater than could be expected from the horse-sized crustacean monstrosity.
The Sage continued to back away slowly, as the beast scanned the area. It seemed to have lost track of the initial target for which it had burst into the light, and its irritation was already becoming evident. The Sage inched along the far rail of the ship, the beast's forelegs punched straight through the deck as it clambered aboard the far side. The Sage stepped backward slowly, not wanting to let the beast get too close. Even as the floorboards splintered under his foot, the Sage knew that this fall would end up costing him dear. His leg broke through, and on a second's impulse he let his other leg slide out from under him. He watched the creature locate the sound and cross the distance in less than a second, felt the claws cleave through the air above him, crashing straight through wood where his head had just been without the slightest of hesitation. His leg was now definitely trapped by the broken planks, splintered wood rained down on him. He grabbed a plank as the beast reared up with a chittering screech, he would have to time this perfectly, or he would be quickly dispatched. As the scything spike came arcing down at him, he swept the plank into it, barely deflecting it into the floor besides him. Again the wood was splintered, and the Sage plunged into the galley of the boat. His ankle landed underneath him and he grunted in pain.
The monster gave a screech of vexation and began to tear madly at the hole, rapidly splintering the fragile wood. The Sage crawled to the far end of boat as the stabbing claws continued to tear their way through the weakened planks. He was low on options, he didn't have time to summon anything, and there was nothing here he could use to fight back. The speckled light of the hatch-cover shown down on him, feet away, but the decrepit ladder was in pieces at his feet. The hole of was almost big enough for the monster to get though, and the surroundings proved fruitless in his searching for a means of escape. The hole was definitely big enough for the creature to get through now, and the beast's delay was concerning. It had him cornered, why not pursue the kill?

He wondered what it would like to be eaten, it did not settle his thoughts.

The momentary silence was shattered when the Beast gave an ear-rending shriek, but rather than entering through the hole it had torn the ceiling above the ceiling above the Sage splintered as the full body of the monster crashed through, jagged timbers and armored carapaces tearing through the Sage's clothing and skin. The Beast was on its back, the sage pinned and bewildered underneath him. With an irritated chittering, the monstrosity rolled over and tore through the shattered remains of the floor with a ferocity and speed that put its earlier performances to shame. Through the haze of pain, the Sage was aware that the monster was retreating. Which means there's something worse out there.
It wouldn't help anything to stay inside. He struggled to his feet, wincing on his bad ankle, and looked for a way out. The holes from the monster’s attacks were there, mere feet above him. Minus the ankle it would be simple enough for him to clamber up, given his injury he did not feel capable of springing the required distance. Where finesse is not an option brute force will have to suffice. he thought, and made his way over to the wall of the boat. Here's hoping this is still above ground.
The Sage placed his hands against the wall of the boat, and began to extract a portion of the wall. He felt sick as the rotting timbers were absorbed, their broken bonds stale and riddled with decay. He watched, growing slightly concerned as sand began to pour in through the holes the extraction created. After about five minutes, he had created a sizable hole, through which the sand was spilling into the floor of the boat. Here goes nothing! he thought and threw his weight against the weakened section. There was a further snap, and the inflow of sand pushed the Sage backwards as it sloughed into the bottom of the boat. He was pleased to see that there was light visible over the top of the sand, and he crawled up through the shifting sand. It was not a simple process, but after a while he was able to squeeze his way out through the crack.

Well, it’s time to see what’s scarier than a giant death-lobster. he said, stepping up back onto the surface. The world seemed to be growing steadily darker, despite the perpetually cloudless sky. The Sage hunched his shoulders, whatever it was that had scared the monster couldn’t be far. He didn’t have any direction to aim for, but it would be better to keep moving. The Darkness seemed to be getting thicker, almost fog-like, and through it all the sun shone down from above, a light from above but pale, so far away and helpless.
Off to his left there was a flash of bright light, about half-a-league away. There was no way of knowing what it could be, but simply being something in this
silent stilling place was enough to send him towards it.
He had very few options. 

[The Humble Sage]

The light of the flash ebbed away slowly but inevitably, and the sun had again been rendered all but impotent by the time the Sage neared where the flash had come from. He was still on the beach, despite having left the shore behind, but this thought barely registered as he began to search the nearby wrecks for any sign of the flashes source. He felt sick as the dread stole over him once more, but vastly strengthened in this sun-defeating gloom. He trudged on, the mixture of dry and wet sand caked onto his boots. The thing about looking for a flash, after the fact there is very little to go on. He was relatively certain he was near where the flash had originated, but between the darkness and the shifting dunes, there was no sign of anything that could have been the source.

The Sage was becoming frustrated. The natural laws did not seem to apply to this place, the sun was lightless, and even after scrambling atop an overturned galley, there was nothing but sand and broken timbers in sight. He couldn’t even see the ocean anymore, though he felt that he hadn’t wandered far inland at all. Even if the darkness prevented him from actually sighting the water he should at least have been able to smell it and hear it. The darkness seemed to encroach ever closer, crowding him and encroaching on the farther edges of his mind. He shook himself with irritation. There was no sign of the flash, no scorch, no smolder, nothing to prove to him that the thing had ever even existed. That was no longer a surprise in this place. The darkness seemed to laugh in his ears as it continued to destroy the sun. The Sage gritted his teeth.
“What are you?” He shouted into the void, almost shocked at his own volume in the silence. He waited for a reply, standing in the darkness atop the broken sea vessel. For a time, there was no sound, no cry of bird, no wash of water, no breath of wind. Then the smallest of voices whispered into his ear.

“Your… death.”

The Sage’s will sagged as he heard the voice. It was too close, nothing normal could have crossed that distance without him noticing. There was no delaying the inevitable, he decided, and turned himself around every muscle tensed, preparing to react within the smallest of windows. He did not expect to get more than a sliver of time.
He turned, and at first he thought he had been struck blind, for there was no light and he could not even make out the boat on which he stood. He realized the truth as he held up a hand in front of his face, the gloved fingers still faintly visible in this utterly cloaking darkness. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and he slowly raised his head to look at whatever he had sensed above him.
Easily thirty feet above his head. The darkness was punctured by a slitted pair of orange-tinted eyes. They gleamed down at him with a predatory interest. The Sage froze, his face a mask of uncomprehending terror. It would be better to play the fool until he learned more about this thing. The eyes gleamed down at him, their own glow the only source of light that did anything to illuminate his surroundings. The voice sounded again, far louder this time, a deep baritone sounding from the sky, “I have found your little HIDE-AWAY,” it rumbled to itself, “…and now the poem has reached its FINAL verse.” The Darkness seemed to coil in readiness, as if anticipating an action from him. The Sage simply stayed put, there was no chance of escape, so running would only provoke the thing to action. “You seem to have me at a disadvantage,” he shouted up at it, his own voice also seeming to rise far above its normal volume, though I cannot tell you how many times that’s been happening lately, he thought with slight irritation “You seem to know me, but I cannot imagine where I would have met one such as you before.” He said, putting off his best air of non-chalance.
He had been on his back-foot since the pirates had first found him, and his continued reactions seemed to be pursuing an inevitably downward spiral of peril. Culminating in a shadowy monster on an island of dead ships. There’s probably a reason for this… he mused, …or perhaps I just should have picked a different boat. The thing was still there, it seemed even to have grown slightly larger. It’s orange eyes watching him closely, they flashed slightly as the thing spoke again.
“Truly it would be a strange tale to tell, I have neither the reason nor do I care to explain to you. Neither of us will be here for long, and I have no need to assuage your crippling lack of knowledge. Outsiders who are unable to adapt are quickly are removed from circulation.” In an instant the largest mass of the shadows crossed the distance until it was blocking out everything else he could see. The Large orange eyes boring into his face with their intensity.
“Natural selection. ONLY the strong survive.” The Sage leapt backwards sensing an imminent attack, and there was a snapping off timbers from where he had stood seconds before. He never touched back down however, as he felt himself caught by something unseen. It was too solid to be shadow, but he couldn’t see anything to know what it could be.
“Only the strong, not the cowardly.” The Sage felt himself gaining altitude, as the orange eyes followed him. He lost all reference as only darkness surrounded him, “Not the cowards, not the sickly, not the slow, not the foolish, not the naïve…” The being continued, with every proclamation the Sage felt himself squeezed a little bit tighter. He was thoroughly caught; he could make barely the slightest of movements.  The Eyes gleamed, two bright fires into his face as he continued, “NOT the WEAK.” It finished, then hurled him away. Only after he connected did the Sage figure out he had been hurled downwards. The Sage grunted, the force of impact knocking the air from his lungs even though the spray of sand greatly cushioned the impact.
The Sage pushed himself up and spit sand out of his mouth. He struggled back to his hands and knees, he could sense that the being was growing close once again. With a slight growl he sprung to his feet and began to run blindly in the darkness. It seemed running was the only course of action after all.
“You would DENY your FATE?” the voice sounded mildly annoyed, on an instinct the sage flung himself to the side, and felt something rush past him at extreme speeds. The Sage managed to turn the momentum of his dive into a roll, and he continued to flee, spraying sand into the shadows. He needed a plan, he had to find someplace to hide.
“You cannot RUN from THIS.” Suddenly the Orange eyes were in front of him again, and The Sage was flung against the wooden hull of a ship. He fell to the ground in a heap, pain sparking up and down his spine. He got back to his feet quickly, his body running off the adrenaline of unbridled terror, but was immediately slammed into the boat again. The being held him there, his feet dangling above the ground that he could no longer see. The orange eyes drew close, staring into his core once again, “You CANNOT, run from the inevitable.” The eyes glowed with a balefire and whatever it was that was holding the Sage began to apply extreme pressure, crushing his chest. “I need you to UNDERSTAND this.” The eyes somehow continued to grow brighter, but the Sage wondered if that was simply his vision being affected by his lack of air.

“but it would SEEM, you humans never learn it.”
The eyes disappeared, leaving the Sage in darkness. He struggled, the grip on him still continuing to tighten. Spots began to dance on his eyes, the only light in the utter darkness.

He was trapped in a void.
No sight save the darkness that surrounded him.
No sound save his own gasping struggles.
No smell save the stink of his own fear.
No feeling save the wooden planks ground into his back.
No taste save the blood he could feel trickling out of his mouth.

Somewhere nearby, there was a creak as the pages of a book were opened.

Another flash of light exploded in his face.

[The Humble Sage]

The Sage woke up suddenly, he hadn’t even realized he had gone under. The flash still burned in his retinas, and he blinked several times before he was able to actually make out anything about his surroundings. To his confusion he found that he was back in the ramshackle hut he had first awakened in, but this time there was a figure poking the fire, their identity was shrouded in the heavy folds of sailcloth that surrounded them, but their general size showed that the being wasn’t too large. Not large enough to be dangerous hopefully. The Sage shifted slightly trying his best to stay unnoticed. There was a ruffling amongst the sailcloth, and before the Sage could get to his feet, the figure somehow appeared in front of him and pushed him back down.

“No.” The figure said, and the Sage was surprised to find the speaker was a small, almost withered old woman. She stared down at him with one good eye, the other closed and diseased-looking. There was a pause, as the old woman eyed the Sage skeptically while the Sage attempted to gather some clue as to who the woman was. He did notice that her left arm seemed shriveled and stunted, sporting a charred black color. The same side as her bad eye… he noted, though he was convinced that they were the same affliction. The woman seemed to have reached a decision though, as she turned away with a shake of her head.

“Too Young! Too young!” She almost shouted to herself as she started to stalk away to the far side of the hovel, “The flames of youth will scorch the words away even as he reads them. He needs more time for his mind to smolder!” She seemed to be having an argument with the air. A week ago the Sage would have assumed her simply mad, but since his experiences in this world, and on this island in particular, he was much less ready to dismiss the possibility that she was actually speaking with someone. He took comfort in her lack of apparent threatening means, but still kept a wary eye for any possible advances.
The withered old woman seemed to pause for a time, and the Sage thought he could hear her muttering to herself in some language that he did not comprehend. The Sage considered trying to flee the hovel, but the truth was he needed answers and he wasn’t likely just to find the answers he was looking for in the carcass of one of those derelicts. As he weighed his options the island’s only real resident seemed to make up her mind, and motioned for him to sit at fire, at which the Sage noticed there was some kind of meat cooking.

Realizing he was starving he took the seat, and reached for a piece of the meat, though the old woman smacked his hand away before he even got close sharper reflexes than I would have guessed… not that he had really been paying close attention, the gnawing in his stomach was making its wishes far too apparent for him to properly focus on anything else.

“Do you want to live?” the woman asked him suddenly, and the Sage paused before nodding in response. His hunger dwindled as he began to worry more about his surroundings. The woman in front of him had somehow survived for what was clearly a long time in the same place as that strange insectoid monster that very nearly made a meal of him within a few minutes.

“I find it the preferable mode of being…” he said, deciding to humor the person who was cooking the food. “I would imagine that to be the standard response however, so I would posit whether you actually meant…Agh!” The Sage stopped short as the old woman jabbed him in the face with one of the sticks from the fire. He fell backwards clutching his face, as the woman clucked in disapproval.

“Reflexes are too slow. You wouldn’t make it. Won’t last a minute against the Carcoginox. Eat you up, eat the words. Maybe burn tongue, but won’t care.”
She turned back to the fire and began to stoke the smoldering flames, trying to get enough of a blaze to even pretend that the meat had been cooked. The Sage almost started to counter attack, but as she seemingly continued to ignore him he paused. The Sage began weighing his options. The woman seemed to be dangerously eccentric, but she had managed to find something to eat in this wasteland, an accomplishment the Sage had to respect. He pondered trying to simply take the food and hope he could escape, but he was less than optimistic about his chances against a person who had not only survived on this island long enough to set up a living space, but also had managed to hunt down and kill at least one of those beasts that burrowed through the sand, and the Sage noted the discarded carapace of at least one other beast resting against the wall of the shack.

“Since you are clearly the one in the know here, tell me. What is this place? What is that thing, and how did you destroy it?”
The Old woman turned on him fiercely as he uttered the last question, gesturing pointedly with the smoldering stick.

“Did not destroy, only dispersed. Shadows, stick together, pool. Will be back soon enough. You must not be here when it does.”
The Sage frowned in irritation when she turned back to the fireplace. Part of him knew that his frustration was overpowering his wiser caution, but at this point he didn’t care.

“And how am I supposed to leave when you keep bringing me back here?” He demanded. The old woman gave no indication he had even uttered a word, which only served to aggravate the Sage further.
Communication is a double-edged sword hag, we can both be cut with the blade. You wish to play with silence. I am more than willing to oblige.
They sat there for a time, the old woman watching the fire, the Sage’s thoughts drifting over the choices that had landed him here. He should have fought Carmen’s thugs, he decided. Topps had kept his end of the bargain, leaving his dirk behind him when the three pirates had finished throwing their weight around. As it was, the Sage was in no shape to actually do anything by the time he had gotten the opening. He had barely any energy left when he had actually made his move. The pirate hadn’t even really been phased, and her aim with the weapons had been good enough.
The Sage rubbed his shoulder, although there wasn’t any pain there when he touched it. Confused, the Sage glanced down at his shoulder but was interrupted yet again by the Old woman, again pointing the stick at him. This time however, it contained cooked food. The Sage was still leery of this situation, the woman clearly had some plan for him that he was unaware of, and he considered refusing the food. His stomach protested this strongly.

“Why are you giving me this? What is your aim here?” The woman simply thrust the chunk of meat closer to his face.

“To leave this place, you must know it. Understand it. Accept it into yourself. Take! Consume! Then you will leave.”
Still unsure, the Sage pondered for a short while longer, then gave into his stomachs demands. He took a bit of the chunk of meat, unsure what to make of the taste, but too hungry to actually care. He ate quickly, aware that the old woman had not eaten, and was now watching him do so.

“You carry a book. When you get back to where you are going, you will read it. Right.” She intoned, her wavering voice suddenly firm, “Now we will leave this place.”

She said and crossed to one of the sides of the shack. She lifted a tattered satchel from the timber where it hung and exited the hovel, the Sage following behind as he finished the last of the meat. Already the surroundings were growing darker once again, and the Sage’s uneasiness returned. The two of them moved at a decent pace, picking their way along the shoreline, weaving in and out of the gutted derelicts. After a few minutes the Sage saw their destination, a small sailboat, probably not meant to go out of sight of the shore. A part of him began to question the wisdom of trusting this woman, but the ever-growing darkness proved difficult to ignore.

They reached the ship, but to the Sage’s dismay he realized that the boat would be too large for them to push into the water. He glanced behind him, and thought he could see two orange lights in the growing gloom. They were getting closer, and fast.

“How is this supposed to be an escape route? We’ll never get it back into the water!”
Starting to panic, he ran around to the front of boat and began extracting sand as best he could, trying to create enough of a depression that the boat could reach water. It was too slow, he doubted it would actually be possible to get away before that thing reached them.

“Stand away.” The woman said, pulling a tome out of her bag. As she opened the book what small black shapes began to spill out of it, in the darkness the sage could not make out what they were, as they spilled outwards like skittering spiders. The Sage quickly got back to his feet as the black shapes swarmed towards the ship. He backed away as the ship began to slowly move forward, borne by the swarm. The Sage looked at the old woman in surprise, but she was clearly concentrating, her eyes closed and brows furrowed.   The sailboat continued to make its way towards the water, rocking on its own personal wave.

“Get aboard. Time to go.” The old woman said, the effort noticeable in her voice. Without hesitation the Sage caught up to the boat, and clambered up the side onto the deck. He began to ready the sail, wishing he had more experience with sailing. As the boat crashed down into the water the Sage looked back, noting that the woman was still on the shoreline.

“Defend the words. Record them. Learn them. Become them. That is your purpose now. Your youth is ended. Your calling has begun.” As she said the last a streak of light flashed forward to strike the Sage in the forehead. He fell onto the deck as the boat began to sail away, pain searing through his brain.

After a time, he sat up, his vision blurry. The sky above him was a tempest of sound and fury. He glanced down, only partially registering the long white beard that seemed to be covering his chest. He raised a hand, staring at the gnarled limb that he barely recognized as his own.  Struggling to his feet on unstable limbs, he looked back to the shoreline. Through the storming winds that engulfed the vessel he could see flashes of light breaking through a dense black cloud that enveloped the island. The darkness festered over the shoreline with a heavy presence. Now and again the bright light, that he could only assume was the woman somehow, would thrust through the darkness, providing him a glimpse of the shoreline and the tumultuous ocean around him.   

She was losing, that much was quite evident. There would be no escape for her. Though as he watched the lights become fewer and farther interspersed he realized that she wasn’t planning any sort of escape. Escape was not part of a distraction.   

As the lone witness to her bravery drifted away into the storm, the light spread out in one final burst of power, but the darkness was eager to overtake the light, and rushed forward without hesitation to overtake it. The light faded, and only darkness remained on the island.

The Sage turned on stiff and weakened legs. His respect had been paid, now he had to ensure that he actually did make the escape. Facing the bow of the ship, he thought he could see an island on the horizon, a point of calm in the wrathful sea.
Then a large wave rose on the port bow, swamping the ship. The Sage was flung backwards, and his head struck against the mast of the sail. He crashed against the starboard side, as the wave rushed past and over him. He vaguely felt the boat tipping sideways as another larger wave began to form, but his thoughts scattered, and he lapsed back into unconsciousness.