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[P] Open Waters; Ahriman
Topic Started: Wed Mar 23, 2011 12:21 am (1,583 Views)
Ahriman Lordimar
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She had ignored the feeling of magic behind her, from the looks of it. Her eyes gazing outwards at the ocean, not seeming to register the world around her. However, when the man began to speak to her she showed interest, turning her head to face him. Her voice was like silk, low in tone and soft in pitch, "One of me?"
She seemed genuinely confused, as if unsure what she was. She turned to face the lich, drawing back her hood to reveal moon white skin. The symbol that clasped shut her cloak glowed almost warm compared to her skin, and her eyes were clouded and emotionless. Something was gone from her now, something that had left behind enough of itself to keep the body on it's feet.
"You know what I am, then?"
She stepped forward, lifting a hand from her cloak and pressing it against the symbol on her clasp. The harvest moon, black thorns pressing out from it as if they were growing from it, feeding off of it. The symbol of a necromancer. She stepped forward, "Do you know who, or what created me then?"
She seemed genuinely interested, if that term could be used for the monotone of her voice, and the emotionless gaze that came from her eyes.


Ahriman laid in his cabin below, turning and trying to get the dream from his mind. The skin on the back of his neck stood on end and shivered like a wave of apprehension. Something about the dream felt far too real for him to desire to lay his head back down to his pillow. He leaned forward, thumbing a gem that he had hidden in the inner recesses of his pocket. The ruby would prove comforting for him on this trip, and likely some time after until he had given it to it's true owner. A symbol of his normal life, untouched by dreams of death, or the feeling of dread that was welling up inside of him.
He shook his head, drawing himself up to his feet and out of his cabin. He would go to the one person on board who would comfort him, now. He pushed his way into the cargo hold, small beams of moonlight pushing in through the grate above and illuminating the fur on Mora's back. He smiled as he approached his precious yeti, pressing his head against her hide and hearing the familiar grunt as she looked up and saw her master. He sat down next to her, and laid his head against her flank. Looking up into the grates, however, he could hear the voices of the preacher and the prisoner.
He climbed onto nearby boxes and pressed himself against the roof of the cargo hold, listening in on their conversation. He was somewhat interested in hearing what the preacher had to say, but he wasn't quite ready for what he would hear...
Edited by Ahriman Lordimar, Mon Mar 28, 2011 4:13 am.
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Nicodemus
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One of you.” Nicodemus nodded, eyes flicking over the symbol at her throat. The symbol itself was not familiar to the lich, but the harvest moon was a classic symbol of necromancy. What the thorns could mean, he couldn’t quite guess. “That I do, but from the looks of you, you are not quite so much a what as a who. I must say, I’m intrigued. Sad to say, I know not the man who created you. But I would like very much to find out.

The lich cocked his head. “You are… a work of art, as far as the craft goes. I’m rather familiar with it myself, though I’m uncertain I would be able to casually create one such as you.” He turned to look at the sleeping form of the boy. “Not casually, no.

Nicodemus stilled, looking over his shoulder at the grates in the deck. “We have listening ears, love.” The lich hadn’t noticed the life before, shadowed by the yeti’s own brilliant light. Quickly, he leapt the distance between himself and the boy. Kneeling, he touched two fingers to the child’s cheek. “My child.” The boy’s eyes fluttered open, amber orbs clouded with sleep. Yawning, he rubbed his eyes. Leaning forward, he whispered in his ear and stood up to face the deck. The child sat up, scrambling to his feet. Gripping the back of Nicodemus’ robes, he peered around him quietly, golden hair falling over his face.

Abel.

Nicodemus cast out a fist-sized glass orb, the sphere catching itself in midair. Blue-green sparks sputtered inside, ghost flames sprouting. A transparent hand was shown, holding the orb in midair, a light shadow cast by nothing. Haunting light was cast over the ship as the orb floated down to the deck.
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Ahriman Lordimar
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She seemed confused, but her mind was starting to put pieces together. Created? And how would she count as a what? She looked at herself, thinking on what she could possibly be when the man pointed out they had company. She didn't remember exactly who Abel was, but she recalled the first mate of the ship giving her a rundown of everyone that was on board. She was a little more interested, wondering just what kind of preacher they had brought on board unknowingly...

Ahriman cursed his luck, being found in his own ship. He had a little more trust in his abilities then he should have had, apparently. But beyond that, what exactly had the man meant when he said craft? That she was created? And had he heard a boy's voice?
The pirate pulled himself to the grates, and unlatched them. They dropped down, snapping his feet painfully as he climbed down and to the other side of them. His hands clung to the cold steel for dear life as he reached the top of it and pulled himself up to the deck. He rolled as he reached the flat 'ground' and kept a safe distance from the two...
His eyes went wide as he saw the boy, his hand immediately snapping to the blade on his hip. His feet slid back and his teeth gritted, staring at the preacher he had taken on his ship those days before. What exactly had the prince gotten himself into now? First he has to deal with assassins and now the walking dead in his own home?
"What is he doing alive? What are you?"

His accent had completely disappeared, all attempts at hiding his identity lost in the face of things that should not be alive. He was quite sure now that the off-putting presence from the woman he had brought on board was very likely the same he was feeling for the boy who he had shot not a day before. They weren't human anymore to him, and he was worried at how exactly he would handle it. He had seen the preacher fight the day before and he was quite sure he wouldn't last very long when fighting him. He could outmaneuver him, especially if he wasn't used to the rock of the ocean, but he wouldn't be able to fight forever and he was quite sure the man had more spells up his sleeve that he hadn't seen yet. And what about the woman? He had no clue what she was capable of.

"And don't lie to me, this is my ship and I'd be more then happy to have Elnora carry you off into the ocean. Before you could make her let go you'd be far enough away that you'd be lost to the tides."
He looked from the woman then back to the preacher. Was one of them the source of that nightmare he had? Did either of them have that sort of hold over the minds of others? If they did, would he really be able to pull through with his threat at all?
For the first time in a long time, Ahriman Lordimar had to hide a glimmer of fear as it crept up his spine. He may have bitten off a bit more then he could chew, and hoped that if this ended badly the waves would accept him freely...
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Nicodemus
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Nicodemus snarled at the captain’s show of aggression, placing his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You will not touch the boy, Captain. He is not yours for the taking. He never was.” The mask the lich wore twisted a little as his temper flared, the intricate designs seeming clearer, sharper, hostile. “Is what I am of importance to you? What are you? What is the lady here?” Nicodemus waves a hand about the ship. “What are we all? Who are we, to cheat death of those who would otherwise deserve it? To sail over the raging ocean as she strives to reach the lives of her intruders?

The boy buried his face in Nicodemus’ robes, recognizing the man who had shot him, hiding behind the man who had brought him back from that darkness. “Do you not feel for the child whose life you so abruptly ended? Why so surprised? You seemed content to live with the fact you had murdered a youngling. One who may very well have been someone’s own.” Nicodemus’ eyes flared. Flicking his wrist, he drew back the sleeve of his robe, his sigil, matching that on the back of the boy’s neck, flared brightly. This man had placed an arrow in the chest of one of his own. Rage burned in his eyes as he threw out his hand, casting a wounding spell in his direction, bolstered by his anger.

The child behind Nicodemus went wide-eyed at the display, backing away from the lich. He edged away, stepping on the grate. His foot slipped, mist from the ocean coating the bars in liquid. Falling to the side, he fell into the pit.

Nicodemus heard the boy fall in with a yelp. His rage melted away even as he turned to see where the child had gone, fires in his eyes put out for worry, mind drawn from the man for a brief moment.
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Ahriman Lordimar
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He ground his teeth hard at the man's response to his questions, sending it back into his face. This was his ship, and his home, and he deserved to know what he asked while on it. But, when he drew his attention to what he did to the boy, Ahriman slid back a bit. It is true he felt little guilt at it, but did he really seem so uncaring about it?
"You reap what you sew when you take to the ocean! He knew what he was getting into!"
The wave of pain hit him like a brick, sending the captain down to his knee for a moment. It was like a burning feeling, grating at his insides with invisible clawed fingers. What had the preacher done to him? The only thing he could muster was a growl of rage as he brought himself back to his feet. His voice went back to his accent, rage showing behind every word as he spoke, "Yer comin' onto me ship and tossin' spells my way? And ask me why I wanna know what ye are? Bah! What manners did yer mother teach ya, lad?"
He rushed forward, drawing his blade from it's sheath. The moonlight glinted like diamonds along the edge of the blade. He barely noticed the boy fall in but it brought his mind back to reality and away from the pain for just a moment. He saw his moment to undo what he did before, because he was quite sure the yeti wouldn't be so nice to someone who had just woken her up so violently...
Ahriman's form disappeared into shadow, and he appeared in the shadows of the crates that lined the hole. As the boy fell through he rushed forward, dropping his cutlass as he bound forward and caught the lad, sliding over the wood of the cargo bay hard to avoid the disaster of an angry, freshly woken yeti. He looked at the boy and tried to hide the shame in his eyes from the look of fear he was flashing his way. For a moment all he could see was the look on the boy's face as his arrow flew into his chest, laying him against the wooden deck of the naval ship. He set the boy down, and went to retrieve his blade.

He appeared in the shadow of the woman now, blade held calmly at his side. The cutlass was built to fight on the deck of ships and in tight quarters, and he was sure she wouldn't let him down no matter what came to be. He stepped forward, ignoring the surprise and hatred that came from the looks of the woman.
Pointing his blade at the preacher-and now he doubted that's what he really was- his voice was calmed once again, "The boy is fine, now if you have an issue with me we can settle it evenly, without him in the way. I won't have my blade or bow drawn in his direction again, unless he draws one to face me first."
He ran his fingers from his other hand along the edge of his cutlass. No matter what spell would come at him he would have to keep fighting, if it came to that. He was the captain of the Mille Figli, and he refused to get beaten into submission by a man he had taken onto his home and accepted with open arms. It was a matter of pride now, and in those cases Ahriman Lordimar refused to back down, even if it meant his death.
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Nicodemus
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Nicodemus leaned towards the man, holding himself from sprinting the way across. “And how much could a ten winter old boy have sown, to reap death?” The lich moved his hands in quick, sharp motions to accentuate his speech. “[color]You grant me passage on your ship, take the life of one of my own, and draw a sword when I have taken care of the child? What is he to you, to so offend you by living?[/color]”
The lich made his move for the pit, but the captain was faster, catching the boy and relinquishing his sword in the process. He could have made his move then. He should have. But he couldn’t make himself take the opportunity to bury an edge in the man’s spine. He could imagine what Cadfael would say in the situation.
Weakness in hesitation, sire.

The boy’s screams silenced with the fall, unable to catch breath. The yeti came into his sight, freezing his lungs in terror. If it were to wake and catch him helpless…
He felt the fall come to an end, clenching his eyes shut at the impact. But there was no pain to accompany the stop in motion. Opening the ever so slightly, he made out the captain of the ship, the pirate who had shot him. He readied himself to feel a dagger piercing his flesh, a whimper slipping from him.
He was set down.
Looking up just in time to see the man disappear into the shadows. With a sigh of relief, he turned to face the yeti, sleeping peacefully. A chill ran up his spine. Creeping to the edge, he grabbed ahold of the grate and tried swinging himself up.

Nicodemus watched Abel intently. He couldn’t find a particular emotion to feel towards the man. Anger, disgust… gratitude? He was his enemy, but had just saved the boy he had condemned for being alive. Nicodemus stood straight, shoulders relaxing. Cocking his head at the man, Nicodemus pondered this new concept of the man. A scoundrel, killing with minimal hesitation, stealing and plundering. But he’d gone out of his way to save an innocent life. A very un-pirate like thing to do. And for a short time, he’d lost his accent completely.
The lich smiled. “What are you, Abel?” He muttered to himself. He’d have to keep an eye on this one.
I have no quarrel. Leave us be, and let us off at the next stop if you wish, or you may continue this hopeless venture and suffer greatly for it. In either case, I don’t believe either of us wishes for your blood spilled on this ship. For now.
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Ahriman Lordimar
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Ahriman sheathed his blade without a word, moving his hands to his sides to show no desire to fight. He would rather just end this trip peacefully, and never see the preacher again. The captain looked at the woman with a sigh, then back to the preacher. Stepping past the man, he moved for the helm of the ship with a stoic look on his face, "I'll get to the shore as soon as I can."
He unlocked the wheel of the ship and pulled it hard to the east. There was a port that was barely used beyond for raiding ship supply issues, and he figured unloading supplies were another standard of the place. A soft whistle called out into the sky, warning his precious Elnora to descend to the boat below. Her wings flapped across the sky, eclipsing much of the moonlight as she perched herself atop the ships mast. Every now and then she'd flap her wings, blasting air into the sails and keeping it going on it's way.

The days had passed by without incident since the midnight incident. Ahriman had asked the preacher to keep the boy out of sight of the crew so they could work the ship without problems, and asked the woman to remain in the room he had given her. They would freak out the crew should they learn that they weren't human, and that was something he would much like to avoid.
He had kept himself to the helm of his ship as much as he could, respecting the space of his guests more out of the desire to not fight either of them then anything. He had never encountered anyone able to manipulate life like that, and he was hoping he wouldn't for the rest of his days. The most he had encountered it was stories here and there of those that could bend life to their will, tall tales for the children at the schools.

They pulled the ship to the port, a dinky plank being all that one could muster in the place to make a port. The area was filled with trees, a small campsite being all that stood in area that distinguished this more then a half-baked shipping dock. Ahriman nodded to Luka who moved to let down the plank. They'd let off the supplies that one required to leave when you let on here. Those that knew about it had been sworn to such things were they here by their will and not by duress.
"Get our guests, then. We'll see 'em off here."
The pirate captain moved down to the deck of his ship and took in a deep breath of the sea air. He would hopefully be back to the open seas by the afternoon and off to Taras again, to a nice bed and a bottle of rum as he wished for days.
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