[Quest] On the Waterfront (Crimson)

[Thracyn Caldor]

Third Brightening of the First Cycle of Immanis, Era I of the Celestine Mandate, Era XV Post Fractum

Thracyn Caldor pulled the navy blue cloak of the Protectorat tighter about him and cursed very softly so that his squad would not be able to hear as they trooped along behind their sergeant towards the waterfront. The closer the patrol got to the sea the more deep and chill the biting wind became and the young Medonian thanked the gods that he had not come here during the Everwinter. Four months seemed quite long enough.

He turned his head to catch a glance of his squad, strung out behind him in single file, as they maneuvered their way through the increasing crowds near the waterfront and the beached Zaratan. His corporal, a Medonian elf named Kelenda Mor'atar, headed the little column following Thracyn and offered a nod of acknowledgement and a slight smile at her superior's gaze. Behind her tramped the other four members of his squad, a mixed though predominantly human group. Besides Mor'atar, his senior NCO, Thracyn had Darus Vectrix, a human as a tough, capable but somewhat shady Private First Class, and three additional privates under his command. Two were human, Erik Handshold the massive Vagaran with wits quicker than his looks belied and Elera Nynalti, a young woman who had just recently joined the squad under Thracyn. The final member of the patrol was a dwarf, Jorgar Pebblesmash, of indeterminate age whose chief pleasure in life was smashing heads, or knees, whichever was easier to reach. The squad had worked together long enough under Thracyn to be used to him and confident in his leadership, and he in turn had had time to find out the various strengths and weaknesses of the people under his command. Though he was still feeling his way forward more often than not in his new duties, Thracyn thought he had acquitted himself rather well so far.

The squad members were all arrayed in leather armor over which they wore the blue and gold uniforms of the Protectorat du Paix, and wielded weapons appropriate to their skills. Mor'atar carried a exquisitely crafted elven longsword, Vectrix an efficient looking steel shortsword, Handshold a shortsword and dagger, Nynalti, a short bow and long dagger, and Pebblesmash a wicked looking two headed axe. Thracyn himself had, after some consideration, returned to his apartment and clad himself appropriately for the new assignment. He wore the chainmail greaves, boots, and gauntlets which had already served him so well, though in place of the elven steel cuirass he now wore the black leather vest he had been gifted by the New Order after the battle at Chateau Noir. The vest was amazingly strong yet light as normal leather, and Thracyn had to admit the silver eagle emblazoned on the front was rather striking. The final piece, or pieces, of his equipment he wore were the twin elven steel longswords, which were secured on his back by twin leather scabbards which crossed over his chest in a X shape.

Thracyn nodded to other men of the Protectorat who were already present and keeing the crowds back as his squad finally neared their destination. He thought he caught a glimpse of some researchers from the Universite but he couldn't be sure from the distances involved and he quickly gave up the idle speculation as he pushed his way through the crowds and finally came upon the beached Zaratan. It was some few hundred yards away but its' scale immediately struck the young sergeant, who whistled softly as he saw small blue and gold figures around the perimeter of the poor dead beast who he belatedly identified as men of the Protectorat standing guard.

He turned to Mor'atar again who nodded and brought the squad to a halt and Thracyn looked around for any officers to report in to to receive his assignment as the crowds continued to swell.

[Crimson]

The waterfront was northeast from the city gates leading toward the peninsula that split Libertas Bay from the rest of the great ocean. Thracyn was fortunate to find himself so well equipped and draped in the medium sized cloak the Protectorat provided for its members during the colder months in Jaedaxia. Behind him, his crew of five guards trodded onward, exchanging a few complains now and then while the gruff dwarf occasionally said something distastefully funny to the amusement of everyone else.

"I'm tellin' ya", Pebblesmash ventured after a half candlemark of walking, "the last woman I slept with was so ugly, I swear she was half elven!"

The high grass over the rolling plains surrounding the cities of the Carmelyn was unusually frosty that brightening. Perhaps it was the cold bite of Winter and her frozen tendrils which hardened each blade of grass to form tiny ice spikes beneath the hard leather boots of the marching Protectors. Each step brought on an audible crunch and by the time the squad including their sergeant arrived some half a mile from the crashing waves, they realized why headquarters was so keen to have them helping Leuitenant Jasmine's teams outside the city.

A wide collection of people were gathered along the rocky shores of the peninsula. From where they stood, some three hundred paces above the cliff's face, Thracyn and his gang could see what looked like a parade beneath him. A myriad of colors meshed in with the vendors who claimed to be selling 'turtle oil' along with elite researchers from the Institute. Curious residents, young and old, were wading along the frigid waters while many gathered just to explore the shores that supposedly claimed the life of a young Zaratan.

Kelenda Mor'atar spoke first. "There's hundreds of them down there", she said while her almond shaped eyes narrowed, "the path down to the shore is over there, Sergeant", the elfmaid then gestured toward a jagged pass several yards to their immediate left. It consisted of a well worn path that dipped and sloped like an uneven staircase all the way down from their elevated position and onto the stoney shores.

[Thracyn Caldor]

OOC: Mor'atar is female

IC:
Thracyn whistled lowly when he came to a halt on the edge of the cliff face overlooking the Zaratan's unfortunate last resting place and looked down. The crowds were immense, given the season and the candlemark and Thracyn shook his head slowly as he took it all in, from what he could already tell were hawkers trying to push gods knew what wares on the gawking crowd to some who looked like they might have serious business at the site, to the ones he could clearly identify as belonging to the Protectorat. The vast majority of the crowd, though, were there simply to see something, whether a big dead turtle, or a ghost pirate or a buried chest of treasure Thracyn had no way of knowing.

Shaking off the thoughts he turned back to his squad, his demeanor all business. Thracyn was glad of the extra thick cloak he had been issued as another of the biting sea breezes which winter only exacerbated cut across the cliff face like a razor. He nodded in acknowledgement as Mor'atar indicated the pathway down to the rocky beach and opened his mouth to speak as the others turned and looked as well.

"Well, it looks like a real cat herding contest down there. Let's go give the Lieutenant a hand."

Thracyn led the way to the left where the pass eventually opened up into the pathway down to the beack. His breath fogged in front of him as he walked at a brisk but not overly fast pace. He was anxious to get down to the shore and receive his orders, but his real impetus was the Zaratan itself. He wondered if whoever had apparently killed the creature had already mutilated its' body looking for the supposed powers of the heart. It would be a rather gruesome scene if that were the case he imagined, and as he led the way through the pass and onto the downward sloping path which dipped down irrregularly in a kind of natural staircase, his mind was already whirling with possibilities which he stamped out after a few moments of thought. It was no use getting preconceptions before he knew what was afoot.

As the pathway came to an end Thracyn led his small squad of guardsmen out onto the rocky beach where the Zaratan and the milling crowds he had seen in miniature minutes before were now their appropriate size. He brought his squad to a halt with a quick command and looked around for Jasmine or another officer from the Protectorat amid the throngs of people.

[Crimson]

Thracyn and his band of brave Jaedaxians made it down the cliff face just fine, landing softly on the rocky shores without much of a hitch. The dwarf, Pebblesmash, however, continued to mutter something beneath his beard the entire way down. Mor'atar, who stood behind Thracyn, chuckled slightly when he mentioned something about dwarves falling faster than other races.

"It's only cuz we're so strong!", he barked and the others laughed along.

Upon arrival, a similarly dressed recruit approached Thracyn, saluted, before identifying himself as a member of the fourth squad under Leuitenant Jasmine. "We have a ... situation, sir" he went on, "there are a few boats coming in, against protocol. We tried to flag them down, direct them to the harbor where ships are suppose to dock but --"

"Either they are incompetent or something is wrong with their ship's controls", a voice interjected, a female one, and Thracyn immediately recognized the voice as Jasmine's. She approached from Thracyn's left, the rest of her squad behind her. There were six of them total, seven including the young guardsman who approached Thracyn first. "Thank you for finding Sergeant Caldor", she told the recruit who nodded, apparently embarassed, then scurried away to join the others behind Jasmine.

"Serale, Sergeant", Jasmine added with a bright smile across her pink lips. She wore her usual uniform, complete with the insignia that marked her rank. But her athletic form was covered by a fairly large cloak, one she probably needed against the harsh winter weather. Behind Thracyn, his squad straightened and saluted the officer. Jasmine, still smiling, saluted them in turn and motioned for them to be at ease. "Over there", she pointed across the marketplace-like scene and toward the water.

Indeed, Thracyn would soon make out the silhouettes of three ships -- not large galleys, but maybe merchant crafts, slowly moving toward the shore. One of them in particular hoisted the flag of Jaedaxia below the flag of the Imperial Government. "The Imperials are lending us a hand for once", she scoffed, "which is better than what Jaedaxia can remember. Nevertheless, we need to get these people off the beach -- just in case. Any ideas? There's less than twenty of us here. Sergeant Linterswan is on the southeast corner with his squad. He estimates that the ships will hit land in a candlemark or less."

[Thracyn Caldor]

The trip down the sloping pathway was uneventful except for the usual banter between his squad and Thracyn listened with half an ear and a slight smile as Mor'atar and Pebblesmash sparred verbally on the trip downwards. As soon as the pathway ended and levelled off into the rocky shore Thracyn paused for a moment and looked around. It was only a few moments later that a young recruit attired in the standard uniform of the Protectorat flagged Thracyn down and saluted him. He spoke about the unauthorized boats bearing down on the beach and Thracyn nodded as a clear female voice he recognized instantly broke in.

He listened attentively while Jasmine outlined the situation, a bit surprised at her small jibe at the Empire but not letting it show on his features, and looked over the milling crowd and the approaching watercraft as she finished speaking. He looked aorund for the positions the other guardsmen - less than twenty - had taken on the beach. He could make out some men to the southeast, presumably Sergeant Linterswan, and a few other scattered uniforms were discernable in the general throngs. Thracyn looked back to sea at the three approaching boats and wondered just who they thought they were. The Imperial standard flying from the lead seemed to imply some sort of official status and the young sergeant shook his head as he considered how and why the Empire would be sending a boat this far north for a dead Zaratan.

Thracyn shook his head once and brought his attention back to the immediate situation, and Jasmine's question about ideas for clearing the beach. He surveyed the crowd for a few moments while his mind went through the possibilities.

"Well we don't want to panic them, but we need to get them off the beach as quickly as possible. Perhaps....how about we annonce we're moving the carcass in ten minutes and we ask for volunteers? Even better, we annouce we're drafting whoever's still here in fifteen minutes. That should do a good enough job of clearing most of them out. The researchers and diehard curious we should be able to handle between the twenty or so of us available."

He paused after he finished speaking and looked to the Lieutenant to see what she thought of his plan. If she found it agreeable Thracyn would detail the members of his squad to gather any sort of debris available to fabricate a makeshift podium for the 'announcement'.

[Crimson]

Secrets : OOC: I hope you didn't mind the delay. I wanted to finish off your Piper Part II first Say hello to your new arch-rival !

While the Leuitenant and the Sergeant contemplated tactics and their strategy to herd the bystanders out of the way, a loud BANG filled the air, sending everyone in a panicked frenzy. Someone yelled "FIRE!" while another screamed "MONSTER!" until everyone was running, shoving, and rampaging along the shores. The guardsmen, their senses elevated by the sudden chaos, promptly got into a flank formation around their commanding officers. The dwarf, Pebblesmash, managed to climb atop a nearby boulder to peek over the hundreds of bodies scrambling away from what seemed to be grave danger.

"Oy, you won't like this boss", he reported from atop his tower, "somethin' hit the shore. Over there!" And indeed, even from their position, Thracyn and Jasmine could see black smoke rising in the background of the mad crowd. It was producing a thick haze, a smokescreen, blocking the view of the ocean. "Looks like a real bad way to be startin' off the festivities", he growled, "doesn't look like anyone got hurt... there doesn't seem to be any casualties ... though some of the stands and stuffs caught on fire ..." He squinted then took a wiff at the air. By now it smelled awfully like charred wood with a bitter aftertaste. "That's no normal fire", he barked, "it's alchemy!"

Thracyn's NCO confirmed the dwarf's statement. "I know that smell", she said briefly, "I used to smell it all the time when I was a recruit. We patrolled the institute then. It's sulfur. It's meant to make some nasty stuff. Thick smoke. Cover your mouths! Don't breath it in! We need to find some cover, Sergeant, before this stuff gets us!"

[Thracyn Caldor]

Thracyn took a step towards Jasmine so they could continue their discussion on how best to clear the beach of bystanders when a loud BANG jerked everyone's attention around to the water. Within seconds panicked shouts were ringing out from the suddenly frenzied bystanders, and Thracyn peripherally noted the smooth way his and Jasmine's squads fell into a flank formation to hold their position against the sudden swell of humanity. He himself tried to push forward for a look to see what exactly had happened, but the solid wall of blue and gold, coupled with the press of the crowd, kept him from getting a good look. Thracyn whipped his head around, trying to find some way of getting control of the situation, when Pebblesmash's voice rang out over the chaos and to his ears.

"Oy, you won't like this boss", he reported from atop his tower, "somethin' hit the shore. Over there!" And indeed, even from their position, Thracyn and Jasmine could see black smoke rising in the background of the mad crowd. It was producing a thick haze, a smokescreen, blocking the view of the ocean. "Looks like a real bad way to be startin' off the festivities", he growled, "doesn't look like anyone got hurt... there doesn't seem to be any casualties ... though some of the stands and stuffs caught on fire ..." He squinted then took a wiff at the air. By now it smelled awfully like charred wood with a bitter aftertaste. "That's no normal fire", he barked, "it's alchemy!"

The stench was unfamiliar but instanty repugnant and Thracyn nodded to the dwarf on his perch while Mor'atar slipped up behind him and told him about her expereinces with the stuff. Sulfur smoke, apparently hazardous, bad to breathe. He nodded curtly as his mind took in the new information and formulated a plan.

"First things first, get these people off the beach! Stay downwind and don't breathe in the fumes, pull your cloaks across the bottom of your face. Pebblesmash, stay where you are, you're my eyes! I want to know who's coming in off those ships and what they're firing at us."

After his inital orders were given Thracyn would draw his right hand sword and look for Jasmine and further input. He wouldn't take direct command of any of these men except his own without her say-so or in the event of her incapacitation. He hoped that would not be an issue this brightening as he waited for the crowds to be cleared and Pebblesmash to tell him what was coming towards the shore.

[Crimson]

There was no pause between Thracyn’s initial orders and Jasmine’s.

“You, Taylor” he turned to the recruit who greeted Thracyn when he and his squad first arrived “cover the dwarf. Make sure you route anyone who comes this way back to higher ground. You two” she then pointed at a pair of recruits, siblings from the looks of things, a dark haired duo with bright blue eyes and medium build, “scout ahead. And the rest of you” there were only two members from Jasmine’s squad left: a light elf whose grey skin and platinum hair looked almost seemed unnatural to Thracyn; and a light born elf with deep purple eyes and almond colored locks tied neatly in a ponytail. “Come with me.”

With that, she nodded toward the Sergeant and hurried forward, parting an incoming wave of people like a sharp rock. Within a few moments she managed to get her words above the general chaos to give everyone directions to safe passages back up to the peninsula’s peak. Her elven counterparts moved quickly, easily creating space for Jasmine to maneuver between them. Mor’atar was making quick progress too, her lithe form and natural agility allowing her to dart in and out of the crowd, evading the scrambling, reckless bunch with ease. Behind him, Thracyn had the rest of his squad minus Pebblesmash who was left atop his boulder. This was actually a clever tactical decision on Thracyn’s part since the dwarf would have been easily trampled in the mad rush.

The blue-gold uniforms of the Protectorate members soon made enough progress to see a dark chunk of what looked like molten rock near the edge of the water. Whenever the tide came close enough to lick its surface a slick hiss rose from it, further adding to the haze of blackness rising above them. By now, the sour stench had grown so strong that the two squads and their leaders had their sleeves against their noses and mouths to repel the smell.

Through the smokescreen, however, one of the elves managed to catch a glimpse of something in a distance. “Ships!” the light elf mumbled while attempting to thwap the smell with her free hand “they are coming!” And true to her words, Thracyn could now see a pair of wobbling figures with sails approaching the shores. Then another BANG! scattered the air like a horn and Thracyn saw that smoke rose from one of the ships. Cannons? But the low whistle of a speeding projectile was enough to interrupt Thracyn’s thoughts long enough to hear Jasmine scream:

“TAKE COVER!”

[Thracyn Caldor]

Thracyn watched as Jasmine swung into action right after his initial orders had passed his lips, taking charge of the situation with her own squad rapidly. The way the men and women named peeled off to their tasks was a real credit to them all, but moreso to Jasmine, who had probably had at least a hand in training them all. He watched as she took the last two memebers of her squad and nodded tersely at Thracyn before setting off towards the head of the crowd. Her clear voice soon rose above the milling chaos and the crowds began getting themselves up the cliff face and away from whatever was shooting at the beach from the water.

Mor'atar moved along the pathway, deftly keeping the panicked civilians moving while restoring at least a semblance of calm to the roaring crowd. The rest of Thracyn's squad watched silently with weapons drawn, noone knew what was coming next but it was apparent it wasn't going to be good. The stench of sulphur which had up to now been somewhat bearable became overpowering as the hunk of what looked like molten rock at water's edge began hissing with every wave which crashed against it, a fresh wave of stench rolling off the stone with every contact with the sea. The Protectorat personnel resorted to moving around with the bottom halves of their faces covered as the sulphur stunk too badly to be ignored. Thick black smoke only added to the confusion and Thracyn was glad the evacuation seemed to be going so well. Whatever, or whoever, was on those ships meant business.

The call of "Ships!" from one of the elves brought Thracyn's attention away from the sulphur cloud and back to the sea itself. He could just make out two sets of sails when a loud BANG! went off, echoing across the water and the emptying beachfront loudly as a puff of smoke became visible on the ship's broadside. His mind raced with possible scenarios, the ships had to be carrying cannon to be unloading at this range and Thracyn took a step forward towards the waterline for some inexplicable reason when he heard the ominous low whistle of something big incoming and Jasmine's voice rang out.

"TAKE COVER!", she shouted and Thracyn turned to make sure everyone had heard as he yelled out, "Everyone down!" For his part Thracyn turned back and reached up to jerk Pebblesmash down from his vantage point on the boulder and pull him to the other side where the rest of his squad had taken shelter. The young sergeant leaned against the massive stone as the whistle increased in volume and he sent a silent prayer to whatever gods happened to like him best that he wouldn't shortly be a red splat on the beachfront. He wanted very badly to find out who was on those ships and to give them their just desserts but getting hit by a cannonball seemed like a quick way to make his plans moot.

[Crimson]

Moot was a funny word. But Captain Moot didn’t think so. No, not at all.

He barked a series of commands to the rest of his crew totaling twenty in all. Most of them were fine sailors, but when rum or tobacco was in short supply everyone was worst than a starved bear faced with a chunk of fresh meat. The wolf-headed man had a lavish gray coat of long hair which he combed regularly. He liked to walk around with his bare chest to show of his scars and a myriad of tattoos on parts of his body which no longer grew hair. A heavy buckled belt kept his baggy trousers upright while securing an assortment of throwing knives and swords that hung about his waist. His canine feet were wrapped in soft leather allowing him to be comfortable without loosing the use of his claws. The dorin captain was a sea rat turned into a sea snake – at least, that’s how he told the story. When push came to shove, he shoved – hard; and everyone else who knew better yielded. Now he was one of the best whalers on the Eastern edge of the continent. He guessed that even the animals he hunted knew that much. The whales, when smelling his particular brand of sweet-smelling perfume waft off board his vessel seemed to alter their migration patterns just to avoid him. Not that it helped, of course. He was the hunter, they were the prey. But now he had some lazy, half-assed Jaedaxians on his tail.

It was time to give them a souvenir.

“FIRE SMOKESCREEN!” he growled. His speaking voice was hardly audible due to the ungodly amount of cigars and other illegal substances he inhaled; but somehow, the gods spared his yelling voice and no one seemed to know how that worked.

The thick smoke rising from the shores brought a half grin to his wolf-like features. The scar that ran down his left ear, forming a jagged line that seemed to split his face in half somehow brightened at the sight of utter chaos. The two ships behind him scattered, now less confident in overtaking a well-armed vessel. “They’ll be back” he noted then turning to his first mate, a dwarf with full orange beard and bright amber eyes. His name was Crone. The man barely spoke but when he did, Moot knew to listen. Everyone else did the same.

“There is a shadow beneath us” the orange dwarf said evenly “they lurk, watching, listening. They come for us.”

“GOOD!” Captain Moot laughed, raising his pawed hands to cheer the crew “WE HAVE ZARATAN BLOOD BEFORE DARKENING BOYS! READY ARCHERS! READY THE GIANT TOOTH!”

On the beach, Thracyn managed to finally stop coughing. And as his eyes cleared, he saw that the smoke screen was indeed just that – a form of intimidation and a clever use of confusion to scatter one’s foes. He hadn’t gotten to Pebblesmash quick enough, but those were the least of his worries. Blue-and-gold clad bodies were sewn across the rocky beach. Fortunately, all of them were alive. Jasmine, her silver bracelet gleaming against the rays of suns light that cut through the smoke, stood up and rushed to the closest member of her squad. Her face was covered in a dark substance, possibly a main ingredient for the second smoke bomb that blasted them off their feet.

"WE HAVE A MAN DOWN!" she cried and the rest of her squad eventually rushed toward her.

Thracyn on the other hand managed to find his NCO first, the elf maid was walking stiffly as if she sprained her leg; Pebblesmash was just beginning to roll over off his face before releasing a stream of curses and swear words. The rest of Thracyn's squad soon assembled, most of them still light headed from the ringing in their ears. "Are you all right, Sergent?" came the vagaran's voice from behind Thracyn. "What are your orders sir?"

[Thracyn Caldor]

Thracyn rubbed his forearm over his watering eyes in an attempt to clear the irritated blue-grey orbs and get a sense of what exactly was going on. The foul smoke from the sulphur bomb still hung over the beach though winds coming in off the ocean were beginning to break up the brackish smoke a bit, for which he was nothing but grateful. The young sergeant coughed reflexively a couple of times then sucked in a reasonably fresh breath of air and took stock of the slowly dawning new situation. He looked around for Pebblesmash, somewhat chagrined he had not been able to reach the dwarf in time while he saw the blue-and-gold bodies strewn over the beach thankfully beginning to stir.

Jasmine, her sliver bracelet flashing in the sunslight, was up and off across the beach, inspecting the damage done by the cannon shot as she examined all the guards slowly getting back to their feet. Her voice calling out about a man down rang out over the beach and her squad flocked to her while Thracyn turned and caught sight of Mor'atar, favoring one of her legs as she slowly approached. A loud cough followed by a string of guttural curses brought Thracyn's attention to Pebblesmash, who was thankfully alive and clearly very irate. The sergeant leaned against the rock as his squad slowly assembled around him and he heard Handshold behind him asking how he was and what was next.

"I'm fine Handshold. How about the rest of you?" Thracyn looked around at each of his squad members in turn, verifying they were okay before he thought about the private's second question. He could still see the ships out on the water which had fired at them, but it wasn't as if they could jump in the ocean and swim out after them, and he certainly was no sailor. A sudden idea popped into his mind and he turned to Mor'atar to see if it might have any merit. "Jaedaxia has a navy, doesn't it? Someone who can take the fight to these....whatever they are," he waved vaguely at the ships hanging off the beach out to sea, "poachers or pirates or whatever. Either we get ships and go after them, or we wait here and see if they want the dead Zaratan enough to come get it. Those seem like the only options we have."

[Crimson]

Mor'atar shook her head grimly. "We haven't had an actual navy since the seige" she explained "but you were probably still Empire-side when that broke out huh?" She grinned, her darkened features brightening up somewhat. Thracyn's squad knew enough about their Sergeant to explain local history and politics when the time came. And they never held it against him. In fact, that's what made them a great crew to start with. "The only thing Jaedaxia has left that resembles a fleet is Defiance -- which is a bunch of old, unused vessels. The Imperial Navy has their own ships, but they're not going to be interested in helping local problems." She swore and Handshold piped in.

"Perhaps we could ... ask the civillians?" he ventured. The towering Vagaran was looking out into the sea, as if calculating the ship's movements to estimate their probable course. "It shouldn't take too long. I have an uncle in the business." He shrugged his rugged shoulders. "He bases off Libertas Port -- err, the Western Harbor, sir."

By now Pebblesmash had already offered a flurry of derrogatory statements about pirates, pouchers, and occasionally elves. He also raised a first toward the trailing figure of the mystery vessel and spat at it as if cursing it with some invisible magic. "When I get me hands on them necks!" he growled "I'll squeeze fething gems and gold out of their arse all right!"

Meanwhile Jasmine and her crew were huddled together with the leuitenant seemingly giving our orders. She made a few gestures toward Thracyn, and when their gazes met she nodded to indicate that they were all right, before focusing on the task at hand again. Then as if on cue another band of six guards arrived through the parting veil of dark smoke that now produced a haze over the rocky beach. It was Sergeant Linterswan and his boys.

Thracyn remembered the flowery gentleman as one of the trainers for rapiers, sabers, and El Viatre at the Protectorat. His squad, personally trained and selected by him, all wore similar looking light blades along their belts. They came at a brisk jog with one of the blue eyed guards limping only slightly. Their faces were less blackened as Jasmine's and Thracyn's crew but they didn't seem to have escaped the preliminary smokescreen that roused the general crowd into a frenzy.

Sergeant Litnerswan was a lithe fellow, possibly half elven though Thracyn never smoke to him enough to ask him. He had short cut hair, a long thin nose, and usually wore a silver chain around his neck. He had almond shaped green eyes and a serious but friendly demeanor. He greeted Jasmine then Thracyn in turn. "We saw the Imperial ship make for the Eastern port" he said in even tones "they may have suffered some damage. Perhaps we should meet them there to get a more detailed account of this rouge vessel?"