Phantom Chasing Phantoms...

[Tearen Wover]

The deep, damp morass that was organic sleep had thrown the dual God-Minds for a loop, once the sun had risen once again on the lush Blue Flame Island. The mental clones had spent the night sleeping behind one of the local tavern's building's, the warmth of the sea breeze serving to caress their normal frenetic minds to sleep. It had been a long time since Nealaphh had dwelled within an organic form entirely of its own ownership. The sensations of hunger, weariness, excretory urgency and the myriad of other biological impulses had nearly been overwhelming to the point that the god-mind considered forgoing this entire ruse and simply rampaging through Bilgewater until it had what it was looking for. Of course, that kind of impatience was, in and of itself, a product of biological chemical incentives. The shadows had calmed their fraying nerves be recalling memories back from another time when it had still owned a single organic form...traveling a cursed land, doomed to suffer until their outlook on the situation had shifted. Remembering lessons such as these was almost akin to calling on the power of a mantra or prayer. The lessons that had ultimately led it to its unlimited power.

The time for rumination was past, however, and the god-minds commanded their shared body to rise to its feet and stretch its limbs into a more limber state. The distant, muted hubub of the bustling morning rabble down in the markets was cut with the crisp, fresh overtones of distant surf. Glittering palm fronds swayed in the ever present breeze overhead, and the dirt was damp and loamy. This brownian swirling of life was quite enriching to the soul of the god-mind. It was often the place of mortal-minded folk to assume that Outer Gods had a marked disdain for the ways of the lesser beings, but Nealaphh found the diminished humility of such a life to be enriching in a certain way. Their limited scope of reality must be such a relaxing state of mind. As the body made its way into town, it got a few sidelong glances from locals unfamiliar with the enigmatic visage that their face wore, but otherwise, no real attention was drawn. Being a port city, unfamiliar faces frequented the streets quite often.

It was on this breezy, crowded morning that the body was moved into the musty warmth of the Lumbering Lubber, the tavern that coincidentally served as the primary point of sale for the food and booze that Lady Jereson moved in and out of the island. The Nealaphhs had come in for information. Lady Jereson was there for a drink. Well...Her fourth drink that morning. As the light from the opened door flooded the dismal interior of the wooden shop, Lady and her three most favored muscle men turned to regard who else on the island might be so thirsty this time of the day. Some sea-dog, fresh off the fishing barges by the smell and look of him. With a barely audible scoff, Lady turned back to her grog and sipped the pungent beverage in dour fashion. The body sat quite conspicuously next to the four organized criminals. They eyed it suspiciously, and Nealaphh could feel their minds running at a blinding clip (for humans) as to who they might be. The body chuckled and ordered a drink of its own in a hushed, controlled voice. The bartender looked at Lady for a moment, which the Nealaphhs noted, before turning around to fix the alcoholic concoction.

"An' wot's yer rib there, matey? Got a prob'um wit the Lady's disdain?"

"Better shove off iff'n ye do. Ain't no one gonna fret over a missin' ship's hand 'round this town."

Nealaphh took great pains to roll the body's eyes before delicately picking the port it had ordered off the grease-polished bar top and taking a pull from the grimy cup. In a puerile outburst, one of Lady's henchmen pulled his flintlock firearm and fired a shot which sent a bullet crashing through the thick clay chalice from which Nealaphh drank. It pulled the shattered cup away from its mouth and observed the fractured vessel with slightly raised eyebrows. Lady had been in a foul mood before this deck ape had sauntered into her bar, but now it was just getting straight-up intolerable. With grit teeth, she stood up and drew her cutlass, pressing the flat of the blade to the underside of the stranger's chin.

"I dearly hope ye was lookin' fer a scrimmage mate, coz I'm about to give it to ye." she said in a seething tone. When Nealaphh didn't move, Lady screwed her face into a sharp glare of rage and kicked the Nealaphhs' stool out from under them. The body went tumbling to the floor, but it caught its weight with a dextrous roll before standing up slowly and brushing itself free of the saw dust its fisherman's garb had collected in the maneuver.

"En garde then, ye offal suckin' fish gutter!" she shrieked, stepping forward and throwing her momentum into a sharp jab. The body stepped deftly to the left of the attack and almost preemptively ducked as the blade whipped back around for a swiping follow through. With a shocked snarl, Lady lunged backwards and flicked her free hand forward in an angry gesture, signaling her three goons to show the stranger some proper manners. With great howls of intermixed frustration and glee, the three men drew their own weapons and began taking turns swiping at the dextrous foe. Alas, their uncoordinated attacks were no match for the body's skillful evasion. The shadows stepped and twirled through the storm of flashing steel like a dancer, swooping down towards its feet, and then shifting its weight over the pivot point of its left hand, narrowly evading the deadly edges. All this martial discourse was quite amusing to the Nealaphhs till they caught a glimpse of motion out of the corner of their right eye. The female was training another flintlock firearm on the body. Dodging the clumsy swipes and jabs of the henchmen was one thing, but the god-minds sincerely doubted the body's ability to leap clear from the trajectory of the supersonic ball of lead. With a sigh, the body tumbled backwards and tossed up a quick hyperbolic shield. As Lady pulled the trigger on her weapon, a great plume of smoke erupted from the gun, which sent the fated pistol ball careening into the veil of bent space. There was only a shuddering rumble as the shot was deflected up into the ceiling of the bar.

At this, the henchmen and Lady all recoiled in shock. It was now abundantly clear that they were out of their league with this opponent. Was he a Prime? Or just some devilishly bewitched Secondary? Lady personally hadn't heard of anyone with powers such as these landing on Blue Flame Island, and she did like to think her information network was top of the line. With a slow, two handed wave, she called off her goons before crossing her hands over her chest. The wild red hair that flowed down over her shoulder was tossed by a flippant hand as she scowled at the chuckling rogue.

"Alright then Captain Giggles, wot's yer story and why are ye in me bar?" she said, spitting at his feet for emphasis. The god-minds consulted with one another before responding. They hadn't really intended for any of this to happen, but based on the control that this female had over these warriors, her proclaimed ownership of the premises, and the respect with which the barkeep had regarded her, this Secondary was clearly someone of considerable influence. It was likely she would have the information they were looking for...or at least know someone who did. The best recourse was agreed upon; make it seem like this was all planned.

"I'm looking for some privileged information. I figured that simply walking up and asking someone of your status for the knowledge wouldn't work, so I decided to bait you into letting me audition for your attention." the body said in its calm, soothing voice. Lady scoffed but cracked an impressed smile nonetheless.

"Heh. Well. Ye certainly got that, at least. You realize we was gonna kill you though, aye?" she said, a confused tone in her voice. The body nodded.

"Oh, I know. But that's just a risk that is run in this trade, is it not?" the body responded, shifting its weight onto its right foot.

"Oh yeah? And what trade is that?" Lady asked, maintaining her stand-offish pose.

"The illicit transportation of goods. Smuggling."

"I ain't shit-fer-brains ye lubber. I know what 'illicit transportation' means. So, what? You the new competition in town?" Lady said, suddenly becoming much less enthused about the general situation. Nealaphh shook the body's head.

"No, no. My affairs are entirely personal, and not a matter of profit. Like I said, I just need some information."

Lady stroked her chin for a moment, eyeing the stranger with a suspicious glower. She couldn't exactly go disclosing her personal knowledge out to any person that came asking for it. That was how other pirate lords got themselves screwed. No, she wasn't gonna spill the beans on this one. At the same time...someone with that kind of power was not someone she wanted to cross, and it would be better to have him in her pocket as opposed to anyone else's.

"Alright...let's head upstairs and talk it over, stranger. Wot's yer moniker anyway?" Lady asked, striding forward with an out stretched hand. Nealaphh took it with a firm yet polite grip and smiled softly.

"Bob."