The Eye of the Phoenix

[Eclipse]

Nice job sounds great

[Darg]

Thank you. I apologize again that progress is slow, but as you can imagine, I have writer's block and little time.

[Angel]

Argh - writer's block is the worst...I have to go and read a zillion books and play Fable over and over again until my inspiration comes back to me...

Of course, having a five year old constantly nagging for something means I get zip all done most of the time....

I really like it - keep going!

[Darg]

Fable- the ultimate source of inspiration. After I play it, I get inspired as well. Just be patient and I'll eventually develop something or the other...

[Darg]

And so here we have the sixth installment of my saga. I hope you enjoy, and don't give up on me just because I take so long to come up with this. Here we are...

Chapter 6~ What Lies Ahead…

Badris looked for a moment into a mug of ale, as if pondering something, and he indeed was. Veros could see it in his eyes. It was something that Veros had the uncanny ability for, noticing thoughts through others’ eyes. He could tell the anxiety that Badris was now facing, choosing either to leave his job, his life and his family far behind or to abandon a friend in need. It was the biggest decision he had ever made, but he could not help considering Durig’s determination to go with Veros. He cherished the boy as if he was his son, and the thought of him leaving for that long would worry him. He made his decision.

“I- I’m going… but you have to promise me this one thing, Tom.” Tom cocked his head, a knowing expression crossing his bright face, “I need to go home and tell the news to me wife before I pack. I can’t leave without telling her what’s happening… I mean-”
A deep look developed in Tom’s deep azure eyes as he said, “Ah, I have once encountered this. My own wife has faced troubles with me, leaving off for adventures for months and seasons on end. Give it to her straight and gather your wits for the journey is all I have to say my friend.” Veros imagined it for a moment what Tom’s wife might be like. He wondered if she was as adventurous and strange as Tom…
Badris nodded, “I see, Tom. I just hope she’ll understand. Durig, lock up the tavern. I’m afraid it won’t be open for a long time my boy.” Veros sensed a tone in Badris’ voice that he had never heard before, a far-away sound that seemed full of sorrow and a bit of regret. I suppose Veros did not much blame him.

Veros suddenly realized something, turning to ask Tom, “What of the other two? Who else could come with us?” Tom gestured loosely to the right, Veros looking over to discover that in fact, two others had arrived. The two were Melinda Germain and Finrar Vodruke, always revered as the town eccentric, though he was exceedingly intelligent. Finrar was fairly short, with curious dark gray eyes and dark hair the hue of burnt timber. His face seemed wise, though he was gaunt and generally had a strange or humorous look playing across his face. A pair of sideburns hung down around his ears and two thick, bushy eyebrows dominated most of the area above his eyes. He was known as the town eccentric mostly because he was the only practitioner of the power of will, and could use all manner of spells, dark or light.

“What- these two?” Veros asked with suspicion.
“Yes, I know you may have your questions, but trust me as you trust yourself, Veros. I know these two, and they will make excellent travelers, my friend.” Tom stated.
Before Veros could respond, Melinda spoke, “You see, I am not just an old woman like you may thing, Mister Bantain! I am an experienced healer, and if you want to make it out there in the Northern Wastes, you’ll more than need me.”
Finrar Vodruke stepped forward, saying in his lighthearted voice, “I know you may not know me much, Veros, but I know you. And I’d be more than honored to help you on your journey. Besides, if you need an experienced will user, I’m your man.” At that, Veros decided he would no longer protest. Something told him he would not win if he tried to argue anyway.
“So, is it settled, my friend? It is in your hands when we depart.” Tom said, everyone looking at him hopefully.
Veros responded without regret this time, something within him reassuring him, “Yes, Tom. We depart at noon. How will we get there, may I ask?”
“Why, none other than a boat donated by a few kindly sailors who’ve come all the way from Oakvale. It’s a beautiful ship resting out on the Witchwood docks named the Sea Wolf. It’s a mighty nice ship, if I’d say so myself. You may not realize it, Veros, but you are the talk of Albion right now. With the rise of all these legends, and whatnot, you’ve earned yourself a special place in the peoples’ minds. You may just be the one to face down Jack of Blades himself and win the day.”

This thought ran a chill down Veros’ spine as he imagined what it would be like, or what it would even feel like, to be in the presence of Jack of Blades, not in a dream, but in reality. This thought he pushed to back of his mind, choosing not to consider it until the moment finally came. The morning passed quicker than he had expected, but for the first time since he had found out about his duties, he was happy and carefree. He and the five others journeying with him sat around the empty tavern, drinking and passing the time with tales and stories of their past adventures. His previous thoughts about his traveling companions banished, Veros finally found that he might actually enjoy the trip with the company of a few good friends. Friends? Yes it was true, they were not only companions on a journey, but they had already forged some bond that none could explain, not even Avo above. He had even come to know Finrar a bit, and had found that he was a rather humorous person, despite all the odd rumors about him eating tree bark and being more than a bit off his rocker. He even found that Durig, the quiet one, had more to him than what met the eye. He was actually quite a witty person with bold and beautiful ideas in his mind. Veros imagined that this was why he made such a talented artist. Melinda Germain, he knew would be a help, as she had already demonstrated her knowledge with her vast collection of information about Albion that little knew about. Badris seemed to have adjusted to the thought of the journey, now that he was in good company, something that lifted Veros’ spirits even higher. Somehow, some way, they’d make it.

It was a half-hour before noon and the bright autumn sun was in the center of the Witchwood sky. The band of travelers and Veros were assembled by the Witchwood docks, two sturdy long platforms that stretched out of the side of a rocky beach north of the glade. Veros could smell the scent of the seawater and the crisp air as he looked out to sea. He had only been at sea once before, on a brief expedition with a traveling party to an area south of Oakvale where there was believed to be pirates. He remembered that Melissa had been there, supporting him along the way. He remembered with a smile how she had bravely gone, ignoring his protests, always the bold one. She actually proved herself by saving the majority of the party from the pirate raiders with an impressive display of marksmanship, picking them off with ease. Melissa was always an adventurous sort, and in some strange way, reminded him of Tom.
“Now gather ‘round my friends. I must show you something,” said Tom, raising his voice over the murmur of conversation on the dock. On a large, wooden crate at the center of the dock, Tom had unraveled a vast map of Albion with torn, yellowed edges and various markings along with the occasional map marker of some point of interest. In the top right corner was scrawled in a long, thin writing:

T Meldrinas

Under his signature was a message that stated, “As long as the west wind does blow, as long as the river waters flow, and as long as falls the snow, traveling through this world I will go.” Veros thought about it for a moment, the quote in the back of his memory, though he could not recall it at the moment. It was almost as if something was blocking him from remembering, but he shrugged it off, gathering around Tom along with the rest of the crew.

Tom took a deep breath of the crisp air before fixing the small crowd with a stare and a smile, “Ah… It always uplifts my spirits when I am near the sea. Well, my friends, this is what I call a crossroads in life. It is the turning point that leads into a new chapter of the story of our lives. Nothing can prepare you for what we will face, but you must remember that this is not just a trip, a journey or adventure. No, this is a task far greater than what you could have ever imagined. This is a fight against Jack of Blades himself, and we must remember what this is. This is our duty and our destiny. This is what you will be remembered for and this is the time that legends are made. Keep this in mind as we set forth on our legendary quest.” All the while Tom was giving his small speech, Veros looked into his eyes. A fire emerged in his deep blue eyes and was the essence of what Tom was: an adventurer and a leader. With Tom by their side, Veros was assured that they could make it.

Tom spoke once more, gesturing towards the crate, “And with that, may I direct your attention to my portal to Albion, the Meldrinas family map. This very map has led Sir Monty Meldrinas of the Shadborrow Court through the dark channels of Keep Crestfire. This very map has also guided the way of Bontimor Meldrinas to great riches and plunder off the coast of old Hook Coast. And it is this very map that will lead us to the grand sword, the Dawn Breaker and to destiny’s gate. Now, if you will see here, we are on the northern shore of Witchwood. A vast sea awaits us, but we will take the Sea Wolf, the Oakvale ship, on a roundabout way northwest of here. We cannot traverse the sea between here and the mainland, for that would be far too dangerous, as Kraken sightings have been alarmingly high. This has not all disadvantages, for on this way, we will steer our way into the port of Hook Coast and restock for the rest of the way. It is then that the real journey will begin. From there, we will go directly north, through perilous waters. At Hook Coast, I imagine we can recruit a few good crewmen to help us navigate this area, as it is highly treacherous. We should arrive at the lost harbor on the southern shore of the Northern Wastes ten days from our departure from Hook Coast if my calculations are correct. We will not need to speak of the remainder of the journey until that moment is nigh. Before we depart, have you lot any questions?”

The crew looked about nervously, wondering of what would lie ahead. Then, they nodded, ready for anything that might come their way, whether it be Krakens, Balverines and Ice Trolls… Oh my!

More awaits...

[droded]

Nice, I like how you use a larger font for easy reading!

[Darg]

The next chapter will be coming soon with more interesting stuff on the way. Just be patient and there will be more to come.

[Darg]

And here we are at the seventh chapter. Just check in every once and awhile to see some new progress. Hopefully after this, things will get a bit exciting! Behold, Chapter 7:

Chapter 7~ The Beginning of Something

It was the hour of departure, and yet Veros could still not believe what he was doing. How had he gotten himself tangled up in this bizarre turn of events? He pondered for a brief moment what Melissa might think of him standing here today, ready to depart on a journey to the Northern Wastes with no true guarantee of success. This thought left his mind, quickly replaced by the sudden realization that the rest of the odd crew were ready to leave. Coming along with the six were three crewmen from a Bowerstone fishing ship, the only experienced seafarers other than Tom, who had recently revealed his prowess at sea to the other five.

The first of the three was Rolf Halmund, a burly boatswain with a scruffy beard and a weathered fishing cap placed askew atop his head at all times. The second was Kalon Smithson, a master at sail repair and a navigator. An odd monocle with a thoroughly rusted rim was balanced in front of his eye, and his face was curiously pale, dark circles under his stern gray eyes. Last but certainly not least was Rufus Almonder, a young, sturdy ex-admiral of the old Bowerstone fighting fleet that protected the sea during the times of the pirate clan uprising. He wore a military coat adorned with various pendants and medals. A look of confidence seemed always on his tanned face with sharp features and deep brown combed hair making him rather noticeable.

Armed with the knowledge provided by the three sailors and Tom, the company felt rather prepared for the trials ahead, but that could not mask the fear that each of them felt, even the sailors becoming a bit apprehensive. What amazed Veros the most about the moment, standing at the tip of the boat as it was ready to head off as he looked at Tom, was that he alone out of them all seemed so certain and heroic in the face of total danger. Veros almost envied him, standing steady without fear, but he could not bring himself to mirror his sudden boldness. Suddenly, a creak, loud and long sounded from the boat as it was pushed off from the dock. And so they were separated from their very last hope of ever turning back and giving up the journey. They were on their way.

Veros sat atop a heavy crate and the bow of the boat, watching as Rolf held his hands steadily on the ship’s wheel, turning it occasionally. It was barely after noon and the dot that was Witchwood could hardly be seen in the distance. Veros was surprised at how fast the boat had traveled, though he had always heard of how impressive Oakvale boat craftsmanship was. The Sea Wolf was no exception, and was a beautiful sight to behold, by any standards. It was made of a fine type of well-built wood that was a rich burgundy hue with supports made of strong steel and ebony. On the white, new sails unfurled from the mainmast was the insignia of all Oakvale traveling ships- a golden oak tree with a bronze shield backing it. As he looked up at it, he noticed something off in the distance at the horizon.

“Hey Tom,” Veros said, shifting to a standing position from the crate.
“Yes, my friend?”
“What would that be far over there, the shimmering and whatnot?” Veros pointed to the distant horizon.
Tom met him at the oaken rail of the ship, gazing out to where Veros’ finger pointed, “Ah, that’d be the Albion Aurora. It is known as the Northern Flare, the Sky Glimmer and my favorite, the Northbound Glow. It’s a natural event that occurs around the autumn to late spring in the Northlands. The beauty of it can all be seen by the port at Hook Coast, and if time permits, perhaps we’ll be able to see it.” A brief shining in Tom’s deep eyes suggested he was thinking about a long lost time… “But,” he said, suddenly coming back to the present, “for now we need to turn that way facing the Northbound Glow. Now we’re drifting too far east and we need to spin around to dock on the west shore of Hook Coast. Let’s go shift the rudder and send us northwards before it gets dark on us now.”

A half hour had passed since they had spun the rudder, and they were heading at a steady pace north, occasionally changing the course to head west, accommodating the fact that they were to dock on the west shores. The Northbound Glow was increasingly becoming greater as they drifted in its direction and stars began slowly filling the dark sky. Veros sat in the captain’s quarters of the ship with Badris, sipping some foreign brew that he was unaccustomed to. Rufus Almonder had made it out of a few onboard ingredients and called it Bluegin, a curious mixture that had been famous as a Bowerstone military drink while at sea, as it was cheap and easy to make.

“How’s the brew there, mates?” asked Rufus as he sat lazily at a rickety chair and propped his boots up on a table carelessly. Veros stared into the bizarre mixture, seemingly bubbling with a curious turquoise color. Veros reluctantly took a sip, realizing he had taken far too much for his liking. The mixture burned his throat and tasted more like saltwater than any drink he’d ever tasted. He swallowed the putrid beer, trying not to show his unpleasant expression to Rufus, who seemed more concentrated on Badris, who rather seemed to enjoy the concoction. Veros guessed that being a bartender, his knowledge of drinks was extremely wide, having tasted each. The reason for Badris’ enjoyment also had to do with the fact that Veros was quite the teetotaler and was unfamiliar with alcohol other than Knothole Ale.

“’S a good spot o’ brewin’ you done there, Rufus my man. Mayhaps you should consider becomin’ a helper at my tavern,” Badris said, taking a long draught of the Bluegin from his large mug.
“’Fraid I wouldn’t be able to do that my friend. I can’t stay in one place for too long or else I get a little homesick. My true home is on the sea. Hold on there- blimey, Veros. You don’t look too well… perhaps me Bluegin’s a might to powerful. C’mon, maybe a good night’s rest would do you good.” It was true, though Veros did not notice until he gazed into a dirty wall mirror and saw that he in fact did not look well. He looked pale and sick, and heeded Rufus’ word, venturing below deck to his assigned room. He walked down a flight of stairs to the lower deck, turning to find a long corridor with several doors on each side, a few scattered barrels around the area.

Durig stepped out from behind an open door, looking at Veros almost with surprise as he said, “Well hello there Veros. Tom was down here a while ago. He told me to tell anyone who comes down here whose rooms are whose. You and I will be sharing a room on the very end of the ship over there. Finrar and I already moved your bags down here if you don’t mind.” Veros silently stepped past Durig, too tired to say anything, especially not to Durig.
He stepped inside his assigned room and shut the door with an audible bang, though he did not exactly intend to. As he rested his back against the wooden door, he heard Durig’s soft voice say, “Night Veros.”
Veros thought for a brief second before opening the door and replying, “Good night Durig. And… thanks,” before he retreated back into his room, Durig’s footsteps perceptible as he ascended the steps at the end of the hall. The room was surprisingly larger than Veros had expected, two identical hammocks layered on top of eachother in the right corner, a table and two chairs in the other corner as well as Durig and Veros’s items placed in the center of the floorboards. Veros adjourned to his bed, too fatigued to unpack his items and almost instantly fell into a deep sleep, thinking about the day before his thoughts slipped away in the night.

Not all was peaceful that night, for Jack of Blades does not forget… Another Twilight Prophecy had dawned upon Veros in the darkness of the night at sea. His mind seemed in a blurry stupor as his dream vision came into focus. He found himself in what looked like a dimly lit, ancient chapel, its grand ceiling arcing in various complicated patterns high above, some large gaps of stone missing, through which blinding lights shone through. The light seemed to concentrate on the very center of the shadowed chapel, where a sword was thrust through the middle of a white stone circle. The blade glowed with an aura of impressiveness, with intricate designs of dragon images running up its magnificent hilt. The blade was an astounding blue, seemingly glowing with reflective sapphire gems adorning its long blade made of ancient rune stone ore. Veros suddenly felt the urge to grasp its hilt and stepped forward, before it happened. A shadow, darker than all shadows passed in front of him, appering out of nothing and sweeping in to block Veros’ path. Then, two blood red orbs materialized amidst the shadow and the foulest of all voices hissed, “Come to play the game of life, Veros? You will lose.” Jack of Blades hood and crimson cloak instantly emerged from the gloom and the two orbs became his eyes, veiled and evil as only the darkest of souls could have them.

“Get away from me, demon!” Veros snarled, planting his feet defiantly on the cold stone floor of the chapel and facing the one that he knew only in his dreams, the lord of despair. A deep, throaty laugh ensued Veros’s comment, Jack drawing his blade and pointing it at him menacingly.
“My power grows every day, and every day you fail the world. How does it make you feel, Veros, knowing that you can do nothing to stop me from destroying you and Albion?” Jack sneered.
The raw fury shone in Veros’ eyes as he shouted, “You know nothing, demon!”
“Of course I don’t.” he retorted mockingly, “and what would you know? You cannot save the world. You cannot even save yourself.”
“Never! You can’t stop me, no matter how hard you try. I will send your soul back to the dark pit it came from, just as my great-grandfather did!”
Jack’s voice dropped to an almost irritated tone as he said, “So sure of yourself, are you? You are no hero, Veros. You couldn’t save Melissa, now could you?” Veros’s heart stopped, his expression changing from absolute rage to utmost shock. Was it his fault that Melissa had died those many long years ago?
His expression reverted to a fury even greater than before as he yelled, “Melissa was killed by balverines in the forest. There was nothing I could do! You would never know.”
“It is you who would never know, Veros. All those long years ago I had began my plot to destroy the last of the Bantains. It was no beast that killed Melissa. I It was I.”
Veros let his fury loose on Jack, leaping upon him, kicking him and beating him around the head with his fists as hard as he could. Jack thrust his hands around Veros’s neck, throwing him off of him against the stone wall of the chapel. His chest suddenly emptied of air and he collapsed on the floor. He felt his body being dragged upward by the scruff of his neck and flung into the center of the chapel. His back throbbed with pain, but he managed to stumble to his feet. Veros then realized it: the magnificent blade was thrust in the floor right beside him.

Jack thrust his blade back, ready to attack as he stepped closer with a bloodthirsty look in his eyes. Veros clasped his hands around the hilt of the weapon and pulled it out of the floor, taking a step backwards as Jack lunged forward and missed by a hair. With the glorious saber in his hands, Veros somehow felt confident with the impressive sword in his grasp and decided it was time to act. Jack spun around, recovering from the missed blow and fixing Veros with his evil gaze, from the eyes that Veros hated more than any other. Then Jack spoke, “You really think you are worthy of wielding that weapon? The Dawn Breaker is not yours to claim and you will die with it in your grasp, fool!” The Dawn Breaker? This was the fabled sword that had defeated Jack long ago, and Veros knew it could strike him down once more. Veros steadied his hands on the hilt and swung with all his might at Jack’s armored chest. In that moment, as the blade struck, Veros felt glory and vigor all in one emotion. The blade slashed viciously at his body, forcing him back. Veros stepped forward, swinging the blade backwards and slicing a large gash in the side of Jack’s mask. He roared in agony and swung his katana blindly, missing Veros slightly. With one final blow, Veros hefted the blade high over his head and brought it down to destroy Jack. Suddenly, in that victorious moment, his vision blurred and the chapel appeared to spin before he woke to hear a particular sound.

He heard shouting above deck and snapped up out of his hammock, stepping slowly to the door to avoid waking Durig. Opening the door bit by bit, he was surprised by a sudden sharp creak which woke Durig barely. “Veros?” he could hear him saying, muffled by his thick pillow.
“Yes?” Veros whispered, standing silently by the open door.
Veros saw the glow of his eyes vaguely in the dark room before Durig said, “Nothing,” and fell back into the grasp of a deep sleep. Veros stepped quietly out into the hall, contemplating whether Durig actually had to say something or if he was just lethargic in his sleep. This thought was dashed out of his head as the sound of the shouting above stirred him. Something was going on and he wanted to know what. Suddenly he realized something. The ship had veered from its course.

[Vegeta]

WOW!!!!!!!!!! I haven't even read it yet but im giving you rep because it looks awesome

[Eclipse]

good job i like it +rep

[Darg]

Thanks everyone! Surprisingly, Chapter 8 is already just about done as well. Expect more within at least two days.

[Darg]

As promised, I give you Chapter 8 of The Eye of the Phoenix. Here, there is a bit of action to stimulate the plot, so I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it.

Chapter 8~ Jack’s Plot

Veros scrambled above deck, almost tripping on the stairs of the Wolf Queen’s lower deck. His mind was racing. Something was definitely wrong... His instincts screamed for him to turn back, but he ventured above deck. Veros’s eyes met those of Rolf Halmund, wide with fear filling them. They looked at eachother for a brief second as if realizing the unknown danger they were in before Rolf collapsed on the deck, his frame going limp. Veros looked up in horror to behold a rather shocking sight. Kalon Smithson, the navigator, held a thick wooden board in his hands that he had bashed Rolf in the back of the head with. There was a maddened look in his dark gray eyes and a bloody scar ran down the left side of his face.

Veros had not known the man long, but what he had heard from Tom was that, “I never really did trust the man, but seeing he willingly offered to help us on our journey, I suppose I cannot much say that about him.” As usual, Tom’s suspicions were correct. No one else of the crew was visible on deck, except for Rufus Almonder, slumped up against the mainmast with a bleeding shoulder and two black eyes. He shifted his body up for a moment and mouthed the word ‘run’ before he crashed back down in a heap.
Veros stepped forward on the deck, the bright moonlight shining on his face as he spoke, “Kalon? Why? What have you done?”
Kalon turned his attention to Veros, as if he had not discerned him at first, “You there! Veros, is it?” he said ignoring Veros’s question, “Here you finally are. That damned lot posed no threat to me, but when I tried to turn them against you, they challenged me, the fools. But I suppose I can take care of you myself.” In the midst of his insane ramblings, Veros began considering his options. There was a fight either way he chose to go... He could stand and fight the madman, or run below deck to be cornered... Another thought entered his head and he sprung into action before Kalon could say another word.

Veros concentrated his entire weight into one blow and rammed into Kalon to buy him some time, knocking him back on deck. It was then that he realized Kalon had another weapon besides the simple board. A black cutlass was thrust into his belt, previously concealed, but now visible beneath his dark coat. Veros spun on his heel and sprinted down the steps to the lower deck, realizing with regret that Kalon was much faster than he was. As he entered the quarters, he gripped the edge of the hard wooden door to the hall and slammed it in the navigator’s face, stalling him further. He pushed a chair beneath the door’s iron handle to block the door, though Kalon’s efforts could not be held back for long. Veros darted in his quarters, instantly rifling through his sack of objects he had taken from his home. Durig instantly woke up with all the commotion, but Veros had only one thought in his mind: stopping Kalon.

“Wha-” Durig started, but was cut off by Veros.
“Listen, Durig. There’s danger outside. Stay in here and don’t come out. Do you hear me?” Veros said hurriedly as he drew his steel katana out of his sack. His mind was suddenly taken back, all those many long years ago to when his father had given him it, on a beautiful summer evening in Knothole Glade. It was a weapon he had forged for him out of the finest steel the village had to offer and the hilt was made out of sturdy Balverine bones. He had never used it before, heeding his father’s words to use it only in cases of emergency and only for defense. And now he grasped its hand-carved hilt once more, being brought back to the present by Durig’s voice. Fear was in it.
“Veros?” he said, his voice wavering.
“What is it?” Veros hissed back.
He turned to face the doorframe, suddenly feeling a surge of pain rocket through his face and his knees crumple. Kalon had bashed into his skull with the blunt edge of his cutlass hilt and was standing in the room, a vicious grin on his pale face. Veros pulled himself to his feet and drew his weapon out, trying the best he could to have a defiant look on his face, even with a horrible sensation building in his stomach.

Kalon only laughed as he said, “You can’t fight me, whelp. I’ll run you throu-” before he could finish his sentence, Veros plunged into battle, throwing his body against Kalon’s and pushing him out into the hallway. While he did this, the maddened navigator slashed blindly, catching Veros in his upper shoulder and staggering him for a brief moment. A number of thin gashes were layered upon his shoulder which bled lightly, though he pressed on. He recovered from the blows and rushed forward, his blade extended out and ready to strike. Kalon leaped up from the dark wooden floor, kicking Veros viciously in his stomach before he could swing at him. Veros doubled over in pain, only to have his head snapped back by a blow from Kalon’s fist. Veros recovered, taking the upper hand, catching his unprotected side and slashing with bold long swipes. His vision was foggy and he was bleeding from his lip, but he wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his cloak. He heard Kalon scream and continued to make strong blows. Kalon was bleeding from one side from a small wound, but wasted no time in retaliating. He thrust one open hand out, catching Veros by the neck and pushing him against the far wall. With his dark cutlass in hand, he chopped blindly at his adversary, missing and burying this tip of his blade in the wall. Veros used this slight setback to his advantage, pushing Kalon away from his useless blade. He banged Kalon against a weathered crate, holding his katana a short length from his neck.
“Don’t force me, Smithson.” Veros shouted as he held the blade level.
“You have no power over me. Never underestimate the strength of what you can’t comprehend, Bantain,” with these final, almost prophetic words, Kalon’s eyes rolled back into his head and he slumped down against the crate, unconscious... or so Veros hoped.

Durig came to Veros’s side, looking first at Kalon’s limp form and second at Veros, fear and awe in his eyes. Whatever had just taken place, Veros would never quite understand, though somehow he knew it was nothing to be taken lightly. “D-did you... kill him, Veros?” Durig seemed to have an unmistakable terror in his voice as he said this.
“I hope not,” Veros said, looking one last time at Kalon before he turned and heard the sound of someone hastily descending the stairs. Melinda Germain stumbled down the stairs, staggering as if she was wounded. She look towards Veros and a look of utter relief and hope filled her face.
“Veros! What happened? Are you- Oh my...” she said this as her eyes slowly fell upon Kalon’s body, “You stopped that monster? Amazing, son. Amazing.”
“What was going on?” Veros asked, a slight hint of confusion in his voice.
Melinda nodded to Durig as if acknowledging him before continuing, “That damned navigator was naught but a fraud. Kalon Smithson is none other than a pirate and a rogue. He was a servant of Jack himself.”
“You mean that he was plotting against us all along?”
“I’m afraid that would be correct, Veros. See here,” she lifted Smithson’s limp arm up and rolled down the sleeve of his dark coat, only to reveal a dark tattoo with the likeness of a blood red Phoenix engraved on his skin, “Ah, my suspicions were correct. He is a follower of Jack, as this is his sign. It would appear that through Kalon’s revelations he unwittingly told us, that Jack is amassing an army of mortals to assist him in his dark goals. An army of assassins.”

Veros had had experiences with assassins long ago, once when he faced a band of them as well as bandits with a caravan of experienced archers and knights. Assassins were sneaky, full of spite, ruthless and determined to reach their goals, no matter the cost. He remembered the commanding officer of the caravan, the swordsman Robert. He had fought valiantly, but while the rest of the company was fighting off a charge of vicious bandits, the assassin commander took on Robert. Veros remembered the dark shadows that were the other assassins’ cloaks swirling around Robert, surrounding him and the commander. Then he was overwhelmed and killed by the assassins, brutally and relentlessly. Assassins were doubtlessly witty and dangerous, but Veros hated them ever since that day.

He suddenly realized what Melinda had told him and responded, “To kill me? Why is Jack sending others to assassinate me?” Veros looked worried, “Why has he not shown his face, that coward?”
“Simple,” said Melinda, “Jack has not gained his full strength. He is weak from ages long passed of his defeat. The Dawn Breaker is a powerful weapon indeed, but it did not succeed totally in defeating Jack. It merely phased his power, as your great grandfather was not the true wielder of the chosen blade.”
“My great grandfather? I thought all Bantains were the rightful wielders of the blade.”
“Veros, I had not the time to tell you, as you were deep in your sleep by the time I had discovered this, but you are the chosen Bantain.”
“What are you talking about?” Veros retorted, rather baffled and annoyed that Melinda would not get to the point.
“You see, I brought along the journal of your great grandfather to study it further, and I discovered a rhyme inscribed on a battered note shoved within a compartment of the vast tome.”

“If I remember right, it said simply, ‘The blade which in blood and mind are tied, for which many have fought and died, but none may wield the sacred blade, nor the ones fate has forbade, for down the Bantain line, will come a light in darkness that shines, for when the struggle has reached its end, when the heart and soul is rend, one final Bantain will remain, and amidst the loss there is a gain, when all darkness seems to have won, is when the Bantain prophecy is done, at the discovery of destiny, is when the lock is fit with a key, the final Bantain’s fate is sealed, is when he can the Dawn Breaker wield.’”
There was a silence that seemed as an eternity before it was surprisingly broken by Durig with a rather humorous comment, “Umm… How did you remember all that?” On that note, Veros was left with a rather odd feeling of what every other person aboard the ship thought of what was occurring. Veros suddenly also felt a sudden foreboding that he was perhaps a burden. A weight that brought the rest of the crew down with the looming shadow of Jack’s minions over him. Melinda suddenly beamed, though it disappeared in a moment. He did not exactly know or guess its meaning, but somehow it left Veros with a certain confidence. A reassurance that they were with him, through whatever trials they might face... Together. What they would face after this would be full of desperation, darkness, but eventual triumph...

[Vegeta]

wow Nice +rep

[Angel]

You truly are a bard and I am very very impressed Sneaky reppage for you (check your user cp)

[Darg]

Awesome! Thanks Angel for the sneaky reppage and expect more in awhile.