brave_kreyu | OOM All Skate Skellig Dream Magic Weirdness -Part Nine

Skellig's bag of supplies is even smaller - he expects after all to carry both of their bags for at least part of the journey - and it isn't like he needs all that much anyways. He notices her moving to pull down her hair, and moves himself closer.

"Let me help get some of those," he says, as he approaches and stands behind her. "It appears your mane is feeling a bit wild today," he teases gently as he twirls a loose strand around one of his fingers.

She laughs at his comment about her mane feeling wild. "It SHOULD stay up with all those pins in it, but it never does," she huffs.

She's more than happy to let him pull the pins out of her hair while she gets her chiton off by unpinning it.

"Free-spirited, we will call it."

Once he has the pins free and set aside, and she has removed her chiton, he can't resist the urge - it is slight, given that his body is still tired from their previous day's escapades - to allow his hands to fall to her shoulders, rubbing slightly before he smooths them down her back to trace along her spine.

Leaning in, he presses a kiss to her hair near her ear. "We will both fight well today," he says.

She leans into his touch, sighs in pleasure. "We will, my love."

Once they are outside the Lair, she takes her dragon shape and casts the usual spells to carry words, ease their journey and hide them from prying eyes down below.

"Fair wind and clear skies, good hunting weather!" she rumbles as they climb higher into the sky.

Each time that they fly together like this, he is finding it easier to settle in against her scales, brace himself and adapt to her movements, anticipate her motions simply based on how she feels as her muscles (so powerful!) move beneath him.

"Hunting is much more pleasant when it is not in the midst of a raging thunderstorm," he agrees. (Last time they both got MUCH too wet, and there was the whole instance of him getting stabbed...)

Kreyu will be MOST upset if he gets himself stabbed on this outing!

She glides on the thermals, so graceful in the air. "The ship is supposed to have a red lion painted on the sails and on the side of the ship," she explains.

There are ships coming into the port, but no slave trader would DARE dock here, they will be farther out to sea.

He focuses his attention on the ships below them - no red lions to be found - and it is a bit difficult to 'listen' when they are gliding through the air at the speed they are traveling, but he senses something further off the coast line...

"A bit northwest," he offers. "Not sure what it is, but I can hear the energy."

Which is an odd concept in itself. "It may not be the one we are seeking, but there are several pockets of sound at the edges of the horizon." Multiple ships, crews, travelers, slaves...

Kreyu tilts her wings, shifts her flight a bit northwest, toward the energy Skellig has heard.

The first few ships they pass in the northwest direction are fishing boats, but Skellig keeps hearing something just a little farther out.

At last, the Red Lion comes into view, although Skellig might have felt its energy before he sees it. It's not the well of Darkness the last ship was, no ritual sacrifice or dark magic to taint its energy. But less intense despair, misery and suffering have seeped into it just the same, is being added to by the ship's current 'cargo'.

As much as it pains him to do so, he has to put up a 'wall' to avoid being pulled too forcefully by the sadness and the other feelings of misery and despair; if he allowed himself to 'feel' all of it, it might wear on him too quickly.

(Though he knows as soon as they land upon the ship he will likely drop the wall, but he can at least try for now...)

Once their target is 'confirmed', Skellig repositions himself a bit as they circle high above, still out of view and range. "What is your plan?"

"I do not think they are likely to cooperate if we ask nicely," Kreyu rumbles. "I will take my eagle shape and we will both go down. Perhaps once I have picked off one or two in the rigging they will be more inclined to cooperate."

"If you start from the rigging, I would take the bow," he says. "I will fight better on-deck anyways."

Even with his aerial skillset, he is much more of a hand-to-hand fighter (though not as strong or fearsome as she is) when it comes to brawling. And there are captives on this ship, slaves, and they will need help. Like the last ones...

...at least there are no blood sacrifices happening this time.

"An excellent idea, Skellig," she replies.

Once he has taken his leave, she shifts into her giant eagle shape, moves to swoop down toward the rigging of the ship.

The concealment spell breaks as she dives down toward the rigging, and there are shouts of panic at the sight of such a fearsome beast! The first sailor in the rigging that she hits with her talons is dead before his body hits the water, all according to plan.

But she has not accounted for ALL possibilities. Bows are difficult to maintain on a ship, but slings are far easier to keep in working order. She sees the man on the deck with a sling let loose what she thinks is a stone or a clay pellet, knows from experience that such a missile against the large muscles over her thick keel bone won't do more than bruise.

The large clay sphere hits her square in the chest, shatters, spilling Greek Fire all over her chest and flammable feathers. She shrieks in pain, in fear, lands awkwardly on the deck of the ship as she tries to pull off the burning feathers with the strange substance, get the fire to go out before it spreads! Other men on the deck advance toward her with weapons drawn. They don't even NEED to hit her, just keep her distracted enough defending herself that the fire has a chance to spread.

That is also a possibility that Skellig had not considered, but the moment she is struck by the sphere - and then catches on fire - his 'considerations' shift instantly and he tucks one wing into his body to spiral downwards in a tight dive - aimed directly at the sphere-thrower. The rest of them advancing closer to her with weapons drawn can wait - he needs to get this one out of the equation.

(Oh, how he would WANT to make this torment linger, want to make this one pay for causing Kreyu to shriek in pain and panic; the emotions that surge up in his soul are DARK and full of shadow. But he does not have time for that, he can hear other crew below deck as the alarm is being sounded that they are under attack!)

His dive is a bit too fast to land comfortably on the deck. But that does not matter as Skellig uses the offending sphere-thrower as a landing pad - he's mindful (just barely) of the pouch with other spheres at the man's side, not wanting to break them open as he literally tackles the guy into the ship's deck boards, snapping bones and crushing internal organs beneath the force of the impact as he hits the deck HARD, driving them BOTH flat into it without hesitation.

Edited 2024-08-20 12:07 (UTC)

The sphere thrower is dying or dead already by the time Skellig starts to get to his feet. (It might be a good idea to grab that pouch with the spheres in case anyone ELSE gets any bright ideas.)

Kreyu is pulling out feathers with her beak, her talons, trying to get that stuff OFF! She feels so very vulnerable, helpless, and it HURTS.

One of the men approaching her is bolder than the others, takes a swing at her with a long pole and hits a wing. The bright spike of PAIN from the blow spurs her to lash out at the man, but she misses. He laughs when she misses hitting him, either from being adrenaline drunk from the situation or from actually finding her pain amusing.

It is a good thing that they are all focused on her at the moment, because it gives Skellig the opportunity to pick himself up off of the deck, grab the bag with the spheres in it - he is tempted, oh so tempted to take one into his hand and smash it over the skull of the one who just struck her wing (her beautiful wing! her lovely feathers!) and set him on fire. But there are people beneath the boards of this ship, and he knows if it burns they won't be able to put it out in time to save the captives.

So instead, the one with the pole earns a snapped neck for his 'efforts', body dropping to the deck with a loud thud - loud enough to distract the other crew members that there is a second winged-creature on board their ship.

This one is smaller in stature than the eagle, so a few of them shift their attention, come at him with their weapons! Skellig still wants to get to her, wants to get that fire out, but first he needs to deal with a few of these men!

Several of the men freeze at the sight of him for a moment, partly fear, partly wondering just what kind of sexual dimorphism could POSSIBLY be at work here!

Kreyu has pulled off MOST of the burning feathers, though she's given herself minor burns in her mouth and on her feet from her efforts. She knocks one man over with her uninjured wing, then steps on his neck with one set of talons.

One man with a club charges at Skellig with a loud battle cry, the other lags a bit behind his 'friend' with a knife in his hands.

Skellig has widened his field of 'vision' just slightly to include both the men coming at him, as well as Kreyu, and the others that are trying to fight her. She seems to have dealt with most of the burning feathers (he will deal with her burns later) and that danger has lessened; this one in front of him with the club is at the forefront of his priority list.

He ducks the club (easily) and attempts to wrestle it from the man's hands - this distracts him long enough for the one with the knife to slip around the back side of him. When the one with the knife springs and leaps in close to strike, Skellig quickly spins his body and uses the 'friend' as a shield, the knife sliding between the muscles and spine. THAT cry is not a battle cry, but a cry of pain - and Skellig feels no guilt for that, as his hand was not the one holding the blade!

Her clever love! That wound will quickly be fatal. The stabbed man staggers, goes down, but the blade of the knife is stuck in his body, leaving the one who stabbed him weaponless.

Kreyu gets the last of the burning feathers off, shrieks in rage and triumph! The wing that was hit HURTS, but she doesn't think anything is broken. Even a normal sized eagle can do quite a number on a human, Kreyu's attacks are even WORSE. It's going to get rather messy in a moment.....

Now that the man has no blade, Skellig does not feel quite so bad about hauling back and slugging him square in the jaw bare-handed (he holds back his talons for now), knocking the man out cold and dropping him to the deck next to his 'friend'. This leaves him free - for the moment - to turn quick back to glance at Kreyu, who thankfully is no longer on fire, though there are feathers of hers scattered across the deck of the ship, burnt and smoldering...

And her eyes are focused sharply on her next target, another group of men who are coming up from below deck.

Skellig is rapidly scanning their weapons - looking for more of those damned spheres of fire - and closes the distance between him and Kreyu faster than should truly be possible.

"I grabbed the rest of his spheres," he touches the small bag at his hip. "But I do not wish to set the ship ablaze, there are many below deck who need help," he mutters rapidly. More men keep coming up from the stairwell; and a few others from behind them. "What is your desire, love?"

He does not ask are you okay because she was just on fire; clearly she is hurt. But they will deal with that in a moment.

"Best to throw them overboard, where there is no chance of them setting the ship aflame," she tells him.

"I, I do not know how to operate a ship. It may be prudent to leave most of them alive, if we can."

Without hesitation, Skellig does just that with the small bag of the ceramic spheres; they sink rapidly below the waves and out of sight. The others advance; seeing the blood on the deck and the bodies of their fellow sailors, a few are clearly enraged and attack with a cry, armed with knives, hammers, another with a long pike as the one who struck Kreyu earlier had.

"You would be much better off," Skellig growls at the leader of one bunch of the clan, as he heads the opposite direction from Kreyu towards the rear of the ship. "If you all would listen--"

He ducks a punch, and another as he wades into a trio of fighters, flaring his wings wide in an effort to look THREATENING! (It works well enough, but he doesn't manage to miss the third punch, which lands hard on his left ear and momentarily sends his senses ringing.)

Kreyu tackles the bunch near her, sending them flying with blows from her wings, snapping at them with her beak. "You will all DIE if you keep fighting!" she hisses.

By fate or by luck, it is the captain of the ship who tries to hit her with the pike when he thinks she is distracted. She isn't, knocks him over and PINS him with her talons to the deck!

"STOP, STOP!" he yells. It takes a little while for that order to register with some of them, but they pause.

There is a trickle of blood coming from Skellig's ear, and he's in the middle of a true old-school wrestling match on the deck itself (he's on top) when he hears the words - STOP, STOP - and he listens also, even though he's not taking any orders from this 'captain'.

His ear hurts and there's blood in his eye, so he's squinting - so his glare is even more ferocious than usual. But he can listen with his good ear, for now. But his grip on the sailor beneath him does not loosen...

"We, we're willing to negotiate," he says, aiming his request to Skellig as much as he can with the way Kreyu has him pinned. (Probably because he looks closer to human than Kreyu does, at the moment.)

"What is it that you want?"

"Your cargo," Skellig says bluntly. "We have questions about it."

He not-so-gently suggests to the man beneath him that he 'stay' where he is at on the deck , pushing a hand square against his chest as he stands up. "There are rumors this ship is carrying captives to be sold as slaves. Is it true?"

(Skellig knows it is true. He can hear the voices and cries from the holds below, smell the stench of bodily waste below their feet. But he wants to see how 'honest' this man is.)

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