The Vanguard, a weapon said to be possessed by the supposed leader of the newly fashioned Supernovas, had been in the sights of the ambitious woman whom walked right behind the wielder. A uniquely shaped sword, much different from her own infamous weapon, the First Mate, a cursed cutlass. She, like she had the cutlass, would have the Vanguard, even if it meant going to battle with the one named Zeal. She could already hear the countless souls of her former crew, now trapped in the stereotypical weapon of pirates.

She turned her attention away from the new object of her obsession, and turned it to nothing in particular, she was communing with those spirits she had trapped so long ago.

A flashback occurred, to that very night, when like a whisper in a howling wind, she stole through her ship and massacred her crew. A fresh coat of red blood painted the deck of the Dead Man's Hand, the ship they had stalked the seas on for so long. That night, she slaughtered her crew in an effort to gain possession of the cursed Cutlass, one of the rarest and most prized weapons of the seas. That same night, she was graced with a new ship, plain and unassuming, with no crew. Her ship and crew, thanks to the Mystics, had been decimated by the strange burst of energy that had been gathered and released, and caught within the magic of the weapon.

The Pirate Captainess shook her head, resuming her march behind Zeal, whom in the space of an instant, had been joined by the strange bucket headed man. None knew his name, nor where he came from. She shook the image of him away. Did he even really exist?

Accustomed to the voices in her head, she could tell when they went quiet. Something odd was happening within this space between dimensions. Standing to the side, the five foot four woman, hat not included, let the rest of the Novas pass without incident.

Something is out there, Mistress of the Deep.

The Captainess nearly snarled. She hated that title, bestowed upon her by Captain Alex, a pirate that disfigured the face of the legendary Planeswalker, Monk.

Hush, I can sense it. This realm enhances my abilities, and I can sense the rift occurring two miles away. Something is attempting to hitch a ride it seems.

Without another word, or noticing that another was gone as well, the Captainess took off. Half an hour later, he brisk run brought her to the site where another rift was opening; the dark night being illuminated and revealing a strange set of translucent tracks. With a kneel, she began examining them, when a strange honking forced her away from the tracks itself. Just as well, as a large, demonic looking hyper train appeared. Flecks of rocks pelted her from the force of the trains arrival, she quickly turned and let her slightly magicked coat take the brunt of the damage, which it mitigated to negligible amounts. Defensive magic worked in a pinch, she didn't like using it too often though.

For once in her life, and definitely so since becoming a Nova, she was startled. The enormous train was at least three times the width of her own gigantic ship, and an untold amount times the length. It came to a screeching halt, doors upon doors opening.

All aboard, the intermultiversal train, Yggdrasil.

Yggdrasil, the world tree? Once more she shook her head, she couldn't think about that now. This was the disturbance she felt, and without further question entered the train through the door closest to her.

Welcome to Yggdrasil, the form of the world tree between dimensions - my way of reaching more than nine world, but an infinite number of universes. The Norse were able to limit my power to their own imagination and needed reach.

The Captainess, if she heard, made little indication of such. She was in awe of the size of the ship, but soon her eyes turned to the single figure that lounged sleepily in the seat to the far back.

Careful with that one, Captainess. he just appeared here out of nowhere. Think it has something to do with that magic stench that's all of you. Allarian, is it? Rarely go there, got some visitors from there before though, what were their names. Ah, yes, Tr--,

The Captainess rose her hand, Hush your tongue, unless you intend to swear fealty to me, and my First Mate

A vicious train horn sounded and she could feel the moving beneath her once more; it was almost like home, years on the ship, riding choppy waves and battling storms had given her an uncannily steadily base, in fact, she felt more on her feet - than she did with a steady base.

She leaned to the right side, the familiar weight of her flintlock pistol, usable for one shot in a pinch, tapping against one of the cushioned seats.

Evil missus, you can smell the death on him too, can't you?

She shook her head. The voices in her head going off again, she'd get the answers they desired once he awakened. The most pressing of all being how he stumbled upon this foreign path, forged in Allarian magic.

Words threw themselves from his mouth with a terrible shout, fear and anger filled them and his mind couldn't discern the reason. "Itaroknos, chaka!" (Fury, no!) Sitting bolt upright from the ground, he had been lying down for some reason. His eyes couldn't see, a bright blur that filled his vision to the brim. Somehow he felt bad for something, like the man who had struck him down had made a mistake. Maybe he himself had made a mistake? Confusion clouded his memories. Was it a dream? Was it real? He realized just about now that two things were totally different from what he was struggling to remember. First of all, he was sitting down. Second, he's moving? An earthquake, maybe?

What jolting feelings was it to suddenly shift from Alive, to Dead, to Alive once again. Fractals of what had happened to him, broken images of the man who had been standing over him what felt like seconds ago. A flash of blue and a sharp pain in his chest, suddenly burning hot and then suddenly uncomfortably cold. The man was on the ground, but his surroundings were remarkably different- weren't they? The harder he tried to remember, the harder it was. Like trying to remember a dream, it drifted away suddenly but unnoticed. Only small bits and pieces of what had happened to him remain.

The discomfort of his body was very evident, as though he had just woken from a long night's sleep after a hard day's work, sore but rejuvenated. With a slight bustle of noise nearby, he arose to see people that he couldn't recognize standing around. Faces that seemed too soft, figures a bit too tall. They weren't like him. At least, that's what his mind told him. Somehow the man recognized them as something different from him.

After rising to his feet, his vision had finally begun to clear. Looking down at his own body, there was so much hair. Coating his chest almost entirely, if he had nipples he couldn't see them beneath the coat. There seemed to be a very large scar over his heart, wherever that was from. It looked like a burn and somehow a hole at the same time. But was healed over? Whatever the case, his hair was what he was looking at once more. A line of hair running down from his chest narrowed into a cone before widening down to his waist. Hair completely covered his lower half, strange cloven feet adorned the bottoms of his legs. Shaped like human feet but with only two toes covered mostly in bony hoof. The hair hung off his ankles slightly, touching the ground with their ends. His body was phenomenally muscular, he was actually surprised at his fitness.

From what he could see of his arms, he had very thick arms with hair on the forearm and the backs of his hands. On each hand were four fingers and a thumb, each one covered in the same kind of hoof that his feet were. It made his hands very frightful, and for a moment he was scared. Until he remembered that these hands were his own, at which point he was confused. Why did he look so terribly different from the people around him? Why were they covered in cloth garb and he in hair? Running his fingers through the hair adorning his head, he found that his hair was very long. It ran down past his shoulders and all the way to the center of his back.

Even more confusion, he reached up with both hands, bringing his right hand back from his hair and touched his face. Rubbing his fingers along the edges of his skull, feeling the contours of his bone and flesh. Even his face had hair on it, a thick beard of what appeared to be dark brown hair was cushioning his fingers from touching his chin. What he could feel is that his jaw was very wide, and very hard. How strange did he look? Bringing his fingers up further he could feel his nose, wide and flat. Almost totally square, it ran in a line up to his brow. From his nose to his brow he noticed his head was very square and harsh, was he a strongman? A freak?

No. No. Something told him, inside of his mind, that he should look like this. Something told him that even though the others looked different, he too was normal. Maybe even better than normal, he felt confident. Handsome even.

Running his hands down from his head, he felt out his shoulders. Especially broad, square figure, was he a warrior? A gladiator?
"Gondt tak Chi lunag rusa pela gan rah, towsa bek lireb chi wah? Liribah?" (Why do I know what these things are, but not who I am? Who am I?) His strange tongue went unnoticed to his own ears, the words flowed naturally from his mouth. Though the question wasn't geared towards those who were around him, more a question to the Ether with no real hope for answer.

Though now that he got his pointless question out of the way, now onto some actual questions. First off, why did the ground feel like it was moving? As his vision adjusted to his surroundings, he realized he was inside of a rather large container. Chairs were everywhere, and it was surrounded by glass on two sides, was this a bus? No, more like a locomotive.

Well, judging by the massive size, it most likely wasn't. But it certainly had a lot of traits of one. The other question was, why is everyone screaming? Everyone around him was, to our knowledge, human beings. But to his knowledge, they were very different from him.

Stepping forwards a few feet and finally pulling his eyes away from his body, the man raised his voice to grab the attention of the woman. Taking a moment to gather up knowledge of her. . .assets before speaking. A fully loaded woman, if you know what I mean.
"Cho yopah, yui soh wahta robuna? Gut yong thron chi nubii shu cho? Chi nawsn thus giaf chuuk vann troun awa lout. Deass kikku cho tagat viam?" (You there, what is this place? And why am I here with you? I feel as though this wasn't just a night of fun, so could you maybe explain?) For some reason, he felt kind of bad for checking the woman out. Like somehow he felt as though there would someone who would be very angry at him for doing it.

This whole situation was starting to wear on him, it was so strange.

The Captainess, at ease with the moving Yggdrasil beneath her feet, continued to hold her pose against the cushioned seat. She did not have any inclination of when the man would finally awake from the slumber he seemed lost in, nor when this norse myth would reach whatever destination it had intended for this snoozing passenger. She had all the time in the world, it seemed, as time here seemed unable or unwilling to pass. Even gauging time based off the rhythmic beating of her heart seemed an impossible task for the woman - as they here, it did not resonant with the soft thudding sound.

Were they truly in a place where time stood still, could even the legendary Wizard, once controlled by the father of the great Puppeteer Merlin, use his generous abilities in this place? This entire trip was turning out to be one large exploration into a world she had never dreamed existed. Were they really travelling to a new multiverse? Just what beings were such benefactors that they could arrange such a large-scale passing? Such powers were reserved for negotiators, middle-men as eloquent and devious as Liaison. Still, they had recieved word that two boxers had made the jump, yet none knew if they were Novas.

Yggdraesil noisily talked to her, yet mostly himself, remarking on the places he'd been and places he'd seen. He talked at length about Allaria, and some of the people who'd dared pass, and mentioned that among them - very few could pierce the multiversal veil. Even those of power had an issue passing, which made it doubly remarkable that Tre'Yan and Dyayun had been able to make it, and now an even larger group. He mentioned some of their weapons, and how they had sort of been a beacon for him, the sheer amount of power contained within them. What interested her the most was that he mentioned one burned brighter than the other, but seemed reluctant to confirm whether or not it was Vanguard, almost as if it were not what he referred too.

You know, lady, another of your group wandered off as well. Maybe we'll pick him up later.

The Captainess was slightly perturbed by this knowledge, yet before she could speak, the train answered.

Fruzio? I think his name is, the one with the latent spear. Lot of strength in that one; quiet before an unleashed storm.

She turned slightly; Fruzio, nor the spear he held showed any special properties, at least that she detected.

Soemthing gave her the chills, and with a flick upward of the eyes, she could see the sleeping man had finally awoken. Used to different langauges and not being able to speak them, she could tell the man was of foreign nature, yet not to Yggdrasil, whom translated every word in almost perfect sync. Even without the commentary of Yggdrasil, she could pick up on the body langauge of the man.

Confusion.

And then the typical male response.

Check out the woman before him. She was in half a mind to shoot him right on the spot, yet the whispers of the First Mate advised against that. A futile attempt they moaned.

She sucked her teeth, and took a step back, simultaneously calming her already viciously rising temper and increasing the distance between her and the lecherous man. The more distance between them, the better chance she had at several things.

Drawing either her pistol, drawing First Mate, or having a better chance at increasing the amount of power she was just now starting to conserve.

With Yggdrasil's expert skills as a linguist, the Captainess began her reply, steadying herself in case of an unwarranted attack. The man would find she was no mere woman playing at piracy. Her right hand angled before her, ready to make a pass at her sword, or at her pistol in a jam.

This, apparently, is an intermultiversal train that can get to literally any multiverse at certain points for pick ups and drop offs. You, somehow, managed to get on while it was in motion. This path, however, is not one of Yggdrasil's usual routes. It seems it was affected by the travel of the party I was previously travelling with, and the strange, yet powerful, magic that got us this far.

She watched the man, before taking a breath and continuing.

Who I, and my party are, is unimportant. What is important is how you got on this particular train, and why you needed to piggyback on us to do it. Answer in a satisfying manner, and I will let you live. Lie, or fail to answer properly, and I will kill you... right on this train, right where you sit.

Her eyes gleamed with a brazen green glow, and the words of First Mate danced in her head; she hoped for the latter, fresh bloodshed would make her feel better.

(For the sake of Brevity, and since it is understood that the two characters can understand each other, all posts will now be written in entirely English.)

Averting his eyes for a moment, he placed his attention off of the woman's face and to the windows. He put a hand on a standing bar to steady himself. Sweeping images and drawn lines crossing the portal in rapid succession, moving so quickly that even his eyes couldn't catch a proper glimpse. Whatever fueled this immense vehicle was likely the reason he was here. Even though he was on the receiving end of the magic wand that had waved itself over his life, he didn't remember a second of it. Even the memory that had danced at the back of his head just a moment ago had faded into obscurity. Trying to remember it was a futile effort, maybe it was better that way. Despite knowing nothing about what came before, he felt in his heart that it was a terrible fate.

Turning back to the woman, only now noticing that she had responded to him. Honestly he had missed a bit of what she said, but he got the most of it. Multiversal train, somehow got on board, so on and so forth. Dodging the question of what her identity was, somewhere in his core he knew this was a sign of a deceitful individual. His face drew into a frown and he let out a bit of a sigh.

Once again he spoke, this time a bit more confident with his speech. Knowing now that she could understand his words."Ma'am I don't know how I got here. I was hoping that you would have an answer for me, but it seems as though you've gone straight from pleasantries to fury." Suddenly his heart stuck cold in his chest, he paused.

A hot wave of fear found its way through his veins as the word left him. For a moment his eyes widened, his pupils dilated into tiny lines and his fists clenched tightly. The bar in his hand folded inwards, the squeal of metal being crushed and twisted filled the cabin.

"I-" He paused for a moment, not knowing why he was filled with such primal fear over a word. It took him a few moments to compose himself before he spoke again. Even though he had visibly calmed himself, his right hand still clenched the crushed bar tightly. "I don't know what kind of person I am, I can hardly remember my own name. But somehow I know that I'm not the sort of person to threaten Ma'am."

Despite a primal fear still burning hot in his blood, the man had no fear of the woman. Somehow looking at her weapons gave him a sense of comfort, they were primitive to him. They looked clunky and awkward, designed for singular tasks rather than being universal tools. Weapons were familiar and yet his own past wasn't, he was loathe to think about who he was before. Knowledge of war and bloodshed, but none of his own life, like he was a soldier bred in a lab for the sake of spilling blood. The idea unsettled him.

"If you don't know why I'm here, and I don't know why I'm here. I figure somehow your magic has something to do with that, you speak about it as though it's your doing. So why don't you explain, since you seem to be in the know?" With a firm tone about his voice, he asked her again for an explanation. Though she was armed, he had accidentally found a depth of his own ability on accident a moment ago. While he wasn't angry, he was growing impatient. This place was strange and with no knowledge of who he was and where he was, he at least wanted to know why he was.

The Captainess watched the man attempt to steady himself, A small chuckle threatened to part the woman's lips as she watched the events. A man who couldn't steady himself to a passable level without the use of environmental assistance, was worthless to her. His words came out in his gibberish, a langauge she didn't know or understand. As Yggdrasil translated, the ending bit caused what could only be described as a cackle to ring out.

What happened next was a mildly surprising shock, the bar he used to hold himself steady was now bending beneath the grip of his hands, and beneath what could only be described as his considerable strength.

Hmph, a test of fisticuffs would not bode well for her, even with her slightly increased defenses and devilishly swift movements. So, she had to get into his head to pry for a mistake.

There is no fury here, it is a simple stating of fact. A woman of my suitable rank, and infamy, has to command a healthy level of fear in those who face them. In this case, you face me, and you need to possess a healthy level of fear. It's the way things go, savvy?

As the last word left her mouth, she almost spat it out. Captain Johnthan Eagle had made a mockery of pirates and sought a different form of income - merchandising.

She shifted on her feet, sliding on foot back and letting her hand continue to dangle within easy reach of her weapons. Could she reach it before the man, and his thus far unknown abilities, could reach her? Well, she'd have done it in less time.

Her breathing remained steady as another round of energy conservation welled up within her. Another two and she could bring in the secondary namesake of the First Mate, as well as the primary. It would be amusing to see if she could stop him before then, and if she'd have to use her abilities before then.

She now had access to a wider pool of abilities, especially with her secondary set being more offensive based, with one defensive maneuver granted. With the distance, she was fairly sure he wouldn't survive the resultant blast; if she was able to make it at least another few moments, she could potentially user her favorite level three ability.

Her attention returned to the man, Not one to threaten? You, who cannot even remember his own name, where he's from, or how he got here? You, who are a worm beneath my boot?

The words came out of her mouth at such a rapid, relentless pace, that the virulent green in her eyes was sure to have flared. She never knew.

How you've gotten here is not my concern. What does trouble me, if even in the slightest, is how you managed to piggy back on this trail. Perhaps the total sum of our otherversal magic interacted strangely with the tide of magic that Yggdrasil uses, opening a rift to whatever world you hail from. But the point is, this is where you get off.

She maintained her position, judging the distance between them to be no more than than a scant twenty feet. The distance would be easily covered by either of them, in no more than a few strides. It wasn't an ideal situation, but there could be no unforeseen hiccups on her path to ruling Allaria with an Iron Fist.

With a slight crunch he uncurled his fingers from around the ruined metal post, flecks of metal tinkled down to the floor. Something about crushed metal in his hand seemed hauntingly familiar, ideas bounced around but nothing concrete. No memories, just conjecture. Being fully versed in a language and knowing about battle, but knowing nothing about yourself is strange. With no readily available source of information, he wasn't having a good time and it was becoming very evident on his bearded face. The furrows in his brow deepened and his mouth turned into a sour little frown.

It seemed as though this woman had noticed his reaction to that word, she either knew its meaning and was dangling it before him like a scrap of meat before a hungry dog. Or she was a bitch and wanted to see a rise out of him. That too was a likely story, he leaned towards that being the truth.With the word fresh in his mind, and his opinion of this woman rapidly deteriorating, he raised his arm and extended a finger towards her.

Something about this pose shook him, it felt so natural, so right. As though it was something he had done many, many times before. His frown grew into a smile that crossed from ear to ear, his teeth bared and he began to speak. "You've shown me several times that you're an unsavory sort, and you've been creeping towards your weapons since this conversation began. So I've decided that I do not like you or your guts." Drawing his arm back, every muscle in his body tensed before he launched himself towards the Captainess. A leap rather than a charge, more momentum but less control. It didn't really matter in a location like this. Not a terribly huge area to move around. That meant less room for her to dodge.

So, the man with the funny looking everything aimed to drop a powerful arm bar on this woman. His right arm extended fully and all of his weight thrown forwards, where the arm struck was totally up to chance, but he was kind of hoping to hit her in the throat. It would at least shut her up for a little while.

Words were long past their useful stage, as the Pirate Captainess looked once more at the ruined twisted metal. He was a strong one, perhaps greater in strength than those she traveled with. Yet that alone would not deter the demeanering woman and her scatching remarks.

What did, however, was the actions that man took after them. It was nothing short of remarkable, unexpected, and probably the worst thing he could have done in the situation. In truth, nothing would have been better, and further still, this was probably the only action he could have taken. Cutting the head off the proverbial snake with a physical onslaught.

In short, the man whose name she was still unfamiliar with saw fit to assault her person with a vicious running clothesline, not altogether different than the one made famous by Earth-2365's John Bradshaw Layfield's 'Clothesline from Hell', a tidbit she had picked up from a T'Lan Imass of her world.

Fanatic wrestling fans, even figured out a way to watch Live broadcasts from other multiverses.

In either event, she needed to survive if her own plans would come to fruition. For that, she needed to act. Almost as fast as the man moved, she did as well; pulling free her pistol, and, as cowboys would say 'shooting from the hip', she released all the steps she had cycled through in an unaimed blast, aimed somewhere in the general direction of her opponent's torso.

She hadn't proper time to aim, nor had she proper time to move to avoid the attack completely, so her response was the best option. In all likelihood, if the attack didn't kill him, it would slow him down enough to allow her to set up something physical for defense.

Inwardly, she scoffed. Defense. Pathetic. Reminded her too much of Zeal and the 'True Counter' abilities he possessed. She would have the Vanguard.