Eilis was barely responsive.
Around her feet a dark red liquid pooled, running over the deck as her ragged breathing made her shiver and shake all over.
The hands and arms however showed a strain and tenacity that seemed fixed upon the ship in front of her.
As her tattoo's glowed and blood seeped out of numerous cuts the young woman remained standing stubbornly, holding the massive ship at bay.
Her response to Nena was slow, as she turned her head towards her.
Nena could now see the lifeless dark eyes, that shone with a wild abandon. Whatever innerdemon housed within the girl, it was clear that the girl was ready to go beyond her limits, risking everything.
"Get them...out." The voice was still twisted, but held a sad soft desperate plea, before turning her attention to the frigate again.
They would have to be stopped. That frigate was going to come at them again and again...To Hell with them. She would crash it into the other...see how they like it!
Her breathing increased as she focussed her mind again, one final time. Bringing her hands to her sides she closed her eyes. Her mental hands grabbed hold of the ship and with a haunting and earpiercing cry she started pushing, her own hands mimicking for extra strength.
Her wounds bled more profusely steam or wisps of Aether escaping through them, resembling something akin to a screaming banshee she forced the frigate off course, turning it slowly, but steadily at the other.
To Nena and the others it must have been an unsual sight as they came back on deck.
That small pale woman, drenched in her own blood, shrouds of smoke wrapping around her body as cruel light shone brightly from her tattoo's.
This small person stood between them, them and that massive ship of war. They watched as she turned it, her arms violently shaking and letting out a heart wrenching cry. She turned this beast of metal away from them.
'Come ruin or death.'flitted through Eilis's mind as she felt her body slowly shut down. 'Just a bit longer...' her mind pleaded. 'Just a bit...lon...ger.'

The Battlemage grunted as he was thrown from the meager safety the pillar provided. He landed on his side which made him loose his breath but he kept on rolling and ended up in a kneeling position. There was a split second when he thought that he would soon feel the pain of bullets tearing through his body as the machine gunner took aim for him but it seemed the jolt had affected not only him but the machine gun team too.

Utilizing this unforeseen but welcome change of pace, the Battlemage dug deep into his connection to Gia. While humidity and water were ever present in the air, it was harder to coalesce into usable magic which is why he used fire more often. However, he needed enough pressure to blow the machine gun team out of the ship. His eyes glowed as he commanded and strained for every particle of water in the immediate area to condense in his hands.

A spell’s potency depended on the duration of the cast but since he did not have enough time to gather more water he extended the radius of his magic influence which cause even more exertion. Feeling as if he was holding back flood waters, his joints aching in the milliseconds it took for him to weave his spell, Arn finally allowed it to burst forward. A stream of water expelled from his hands making him skid backwards until he hit against a side railing. The other end of the potent spout slammed into the machine gun team. With accuracy born from practice rather than actual ability, the mage managed to hit each member in a sweeping motion in either chest or face propelling them with such force that they were like rag dolls being thrown from the ship.

The last Viamesse soldier managed to straddle the railing and stay on the ship. Arn’s spell ran out of synthesized water and spurted out of existence. The mage slumped forward on all fours. Holding himself up only through grit and as a veteran of many near death experiences. His swordmaster, the one who had gifted him his Daisho, had taught him that strength was like a fire. One needed to fan it to keep it alive. However, just like a fire, a strong wind might put it out if it was too weak.

Arn concentrated on fanning his flame, but he needed time. Time that the Viamese who was crawling back into the ship side of the railing would more than likely not give him. The mage kept his eyes on the would be attacker. His breath ragged as he tried to force his body to move but it seemed to be of no use. He already felt what people called casting exhaustion starting to work on his body. It was like lactic acid build up but much more pronounced. Even staying on his hands and knees made him wince. However, this was not something he had not felt before.

The Shooting Stars often trained their mage’s to the limit. After all, being the first one is in the battle meant that your survival depended on your skill and grit. So he waited, conserving as much of his energy as possible until it was time to strike. Like a snake, waiting until the last minute to sink his fangs into the prey. This may well be the mage’s final encounter, but he would be dammed if he would go quietly.

With a wordless howl of rage, Lucina leapt forward and brought her battleaxe down in a cleaving vertical strike meant to split the Belisian in half. His words had cut more deeply than any sword ever could, but in the moment it took to cover the distance between them, Tyrhallan had already dashed passed in the blink of an eye and entered the wheelhouse.

Lucina immediately turned to pursue, but was interrupted as a flying beast swooped down from the sky and its rider, another Belisian, swung a mace into her helmet, knocking it off.

"Go forth, I will back thee!" the knight, one of Sarban's group, shouted at Tyrhallan while dismounting and pressing the attack with blow after thunderous blow.

"You cur!" Lucina roared as she defended herself with the haft of her weapon, being slowly driven back.

Meanwhile in the wheelhouse, the helmsman of the frigate, a young man clad in a grey cap and uniform, struggled with the controls as the entire ship suddenly began to drift off course, listing to one side.

"It's not me!" he shouted as he heard the door open. "It just started turning on its- oh Terra!"

As soon as the helmsman noticed Tyrhallan standing in the doorway, he reached for the holster at his waist and drew his sidearm in a panic.

But Tyrhallan was quicker.
He was upon him before the man could even take aim.
Standing beside him now Tyrhallan's face showed displeasure, he yanked the sidearm from the man's hands.
"Really?!" He said showing the stupidity of the move. "Get out before I take your miserable life!" He snarled tossed the weapon aside before grabbing him by the neck and literally tossing him out of the wheelhouse, in an attempt to make him stumble into the other Captain.
He shut the door behind him and tried to focus on what was happening in front of him.
He watched the ship turn on it own, though no one clearly was steering the ship, something or someone was making it happen.
Thank the heavens, he thought as he took a quick glance over the controls, trying to figure out what was what.
As soon as he more or less understood what he needed to do to steer this monster, did he grab hold of the helm. Pulling a heavy lever over to him, he felt the engines of the ship roar and rumble underneath them.
'Accelerate.' Tyrhallan thought as a wicked grin spread accross his face as he grabbed hold of the wheel, turning it rapidly, to make the ship turn bout 45 degrees.
Like a madman he watched as the ship sped up and started steaming towards one of the other ships. It gave him a weird satisfaction watching on realizing that he was going drive this frigate into the other metal beast. From the overview he watched the Belisian long range cannons crippling the third frigate as the received the brunt of its barrage.
If they were wise they would tuck tail and limp home, they would be the lucky ones, because if Tyrhallan had anything to say about it, he would make sure the other two frigates would go up in flames.
He heard a voice over the com system, most likely the Captain of the other ship.
"...Are you copying? Respond! I demand, Respond. Alter your course. I repeat alter your course! You're heading straight for us!"
With a silent prayer, Tyrhallan looked at his view, the frigate trying to steer out of his way, but it was too late.
"For Belisio." He spoke calmly as he lurched forward, being thrown against the wheel upon impact.

@deia876lat

The blood, the trembling in the limbs and the wisps of Aether light rising from her body like smoke... this went beyond casting exhaustion. The girl was dying and still she tried to hold the frigate back. No, not even that, she was actively pushing it aside! The feedback from attempting such a feat must have been staggering. Even a thousandth of the forces involved would have been enough to crush any lesser mage into a smear on the deck.

Nena could not, dared not, imagine the amount of pain the girl must have been in right now. All she could think of was trying to stop her somehow before the power consumed her entirely, before passing beyond the point of no return that all mages feared if she hadn't done so already, but then the girl finally stirred after what felt like an hour of silence.

Her response to Nena was slow, as she turned her head towards her.
Nena could now see the lifeless dark eyes, that shone with a wild abandon. Whatever innerdemon housed within the girl, it was clear that the girl was ready to go beyond her limits, risking everything.
"Get them...out." The voice was still twisted, but held a sad soft desperate plea, before turning her attention to the frigate again.

"Uh, yeah, working on it," Nena replied, quite intimidated by the sight before turning to the other refugees, "Come on everyone, over the side!"

"What? We'll die if we do that!" the smuggler shouted back.

"Would you rather go down with the ship?"

"Maybe!"

"Oh for the love of..."

Nena rolled her eyes as she flung her hands up and conjured a powerful blast of wind, blowing the refugees over the side of the deck like a bunch of screaming leaves. Shortly after, Petra rose above the deck with a kick of her wings, shrilling a victory cry after each and everyone of them were accounted for. Well, almost everyone.

"Come on, you too!" Nena called out as she ran towards the tattooed girl, making a grab for her wrist. "You've done enough now let's go!"

---

@Omni5876

Leo watched Arn trying to cast his magic for a moment before turning towards the Vaimese soldier struggling over the rail and then back to the battlemage. Shaking his head, the Spider stood up to his feet again and sent a rush of air forward with a leisurely flick of his sabre, knocking the soldier off the rail and into the depths of the sky.

"You know, you really ought to use those every now and then," Leo said as he pointed with his weapon at Arn's own swords. "That's if you know how."

Then the deck began to shift again, only this time instead of a violent jerk it was the unmistakable lean of the airship making a turn.

"Well shit, looks like he's done it," Leo remarked as he saw the frigate to one side getting closer and closer while the other was being fired upon by the Incorruptible, raining down a bombardment of long range cannon shells now that the storm was starting to clear. "Let's do what we came here for and get out, come on!"

Running towards the rudder, Leo hopped over to the other side of the machinegun and sheathed his sabre as he manned the heavy weapon, keeping it pointed down the way he came.

"I'll cover you while you... oh shit, that's coming in fast. Hold onto something!"


Once again, the entire world seemed to shake as the frigate collided with the other far sooner than expected. The artificial muscle fibres in Leo's nerve suit strained as he clung onto the machinegun, which was fortunately bolted to the deck. Even so however, his own arms felt like they were about to tear off as his feet lifted into the air before immediately slamming back down onto the deck, bouncing painfully with bone shattering force.

The whole deck continued to rumble as the frigate pushed into the other one, but when the worst of it was past, two mounted knights appeared in the air as they descended from above. They had no doubt arrived to provide an evac, but Leo's focus was elsewhere as he looked around and called out above the screech of metal upon metal, "Hey mage! Are you still with us?"

@TheMerlin
Nena rolled her eyes as she flung her hands up and conjured a powerful blast of wind, blowing the refugees over the side of the deck like a bunch of screaming leaves. Shortly after, Petra rose above the deck with a kick of her wings, shrilling a victory cry after each and everyone of them were accounted for. Well, almost everyone.
"Come on, you too!" Nena called out as she ran towards the tattooed girl, making a grab for her wrist. "You've done enough now let's go!"

And not a moment too soon.
Her sight blurred and faded, the darkness in her eyes dissapated and her bindings flickered before they faded out.
The woman turned limp into her arms, instantly turning like a ragdoll, no energy left as she gasped a last shuddering breath.
"Thank...you."
She leaned toward the railing of the ship, her body barely responding.
Her skin had turned almost paperwhite, holding a deathly glow, without the aid of a healer Eilis would be joining the countless dead.
She heard the rumbling above her as she felt herself falling, tumbling forward.
Everything turned dark as she finally slipped into unconsciousness.

Eilis's Theme: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jdqcB_lKS1A

The battle mage had managed to recuperate enough to place a hand on the railing and use it as support to stand up slowly. He let out a humph/grunt at Leo’s jab. Arn knew that a mage sporting swords was a walking punchline. He knew that there was an unwritten rule that swords were meant for swordsmen i.e. knights and ki users.

He placed one hand protectively on the smaller bladed weapon. “I am able to hold my own against common soldiers. I dare say that I would be less than a challenge for the likes of you or the Knight Captain. These were given to me by my master.”

The young mage did not want to get into such a tale at a time like this. As if to answer his unspoken request, the ship started to turn more smoothly than the jolts that had been felt before. He agreed with Leo’s assumption and Tyrhallan had managed to gain the control of the steering wheel. All that was left was to somehow jam the rudder into place.

He grunted as he prepared himself to execute the remainder of the plan. His body groaned and strained. It had been many years since he had felt this way. He had not strained so much, but during his tenure in school it was not uncommon to find him passed out on the training grounds. He would be punished for such recklessness but this had not dissuaded him. Indeed, he often welcomed his time in the solitary room where students were sent to penance.

Arn was setting himself against the railing so he could be able to utilize his hands to perform perhaps his last spell ever. His idea was to melt the metal and in so doing, he would accomplish their goal of ramming the frigate into the other.

Their goal however, came to them. No sooner had he let go of the railing that the two behemoths crashed against each other. Metal squealed and groaned under the impact. As if in its death throes, the frigate that the mage and Leo occupied lurched violently. The motion of the ship sent Arn flying out of the side of the railig so he never heard the young Knight’s comment.

He was soon a leaf in the wind falling through the sky. He saw the deck of the refugee ship below him.. A close mounted knight may still have time to pick him off the sky as he fell. Arn however, was already planning. He even entertained a quick thought of just allowing himself to slam into the deck of the smaller ship. But that thought was immediately cast aside. He figured he could still cast a last spell which he had not used up since he did not have the chance to melt the rudder.

So he fell, the mage timing his fall and waiting untilt he last moment to try and cast an air cushion that would at the least allow only for injuries rather than death.

As Lucina fended off the knight's onslaught, she felt a weight bounce off her backside and chanced a look at the cause of it before parrying another swing from the enemy's mace.

"What are you doing out here, helmsman?" she grunted as she swept her battleaxe in a wide horizontal arc, forcing the knight back.

"Th-the enemy has control of the ship!" the helsman replied, his eyes flickering nervously between the two combatants. "I tried to stop him, but-"

"Enough. Go and find reinforcements, I will deal with this."

"Just you try, invader!" the knight retorted as he charged once again.

With a roar, Lucina met the attack with equal ferocity and launched into a blitz of her own. The resulting struggle was fierce yet brief as she rained down an avalanche of blows with ki enhanced strength and though the knight fought valiantly, he could do nothing but parry in vain as a final devastating strike shattered through his mace and armour, chopping into the ribs from the collarbone down.

Pulling her axe free, Lucina stood with grim satisfaction as the knight fell away coughing blood and breathing his last. Now it was Tyrhallan's turn, but as the Vaimese captain turned towards the wheelhouse she was surprised to see the helmsman still standing around, his mouth agape in horror while staring off towards the bow of the frigate.

"I thought I gave you an... order," Lucina began, trailing off as soon as she saw what the helmsman was seeing. She had not noticed it during the fight, but the airship was turning steeply to the side and seconds away from colliding with another frigate.

With a choking laughter almost entirely drowned out by blood, the fallen knight managed to utter in between gurgling coughs, "You're... too... late."

And as he laughed the rest of his life away, Lucina erupted in an explosion of rage while screaming towards the sky, "TYRHALLAN!"

Then the world became empty madness as the collision sent her flying through the air, her limbs flailing in a last ditch effort to save herself.

As the two frigates collided, one rammed the other with such speed, that it tore through the side and plunged itself into the engine room, its mechanics torn to shreds or blown beyond use.
As the two frigates heaved, rumbled and were partly exploding Tyrhallan pushed himself from the wheel. He needed to get out.
He turned on his heel and blasted himself to the door, throwing himself outside as the ship's heavy leaning made any movement or even simply standing upright practically impossible. He activated the jetpack in his armour, allowing him to move more easily as it stabilized his footing.
He noticed the absence of those he had left behind on the other side of the door. The smear of dark red blood however coloured his suspicions, turning his expression grim realizing he was probably responsible for the loss of one of their knights.
Pushed himself outside and quickly flew off, following the quickest way out he felt the familiar tug of the wind jumping off the ship.
He checked his surroundings, watching the madness go down as the two frigates started to loose altitude whilst the third was struggling to maintain its position, slowly realizing that their ploy had failed and that continuing on would be suicide.
It tried to pull away, whilst it kept blasting at the Belisio forces, picking up their own men when they could.
Tyrhallan flew around the ship as a last check for survivors.
He knew the others would have everything under control now, eventhough 'that woman' had probably escaped. She would be a serious problem and he would need time to think about matters, aside from informing the king.
His thoughts were however cut short as he saw a familiar figure fall. With an instant boost from his jetpack he dove down, swooping very much like the bird of prey that was visible on his armour.
"Need a lift?" He asked as he grabbed hold of the wizard. He rotated himself around slightly, as his boosters added the extra power to stabilize the two in the air. This gave the wizard time to calmly grab a hold of his armour.Have you seen Dalmer?" Tyrhallan asked as he tried to figure out if he needed to remain or get the mage another ride first.
"And thank you..." Tyrhallan offered. It was short and heartfelt, but gave a some insight into who this Captain was.

@deia876lat

Nena caught the tattooed girl by the wrist just as she was beginning to lean over the railing of the ship and yanked her to safety, sending both of them falling back onto the deck with the momentum.

"Ouch!" Nena yelped as she landed hard on her backside, managing to catch the girl in her arms and cushion her fall. Though as she did so, she noticed how cold and limp the girl had gone, and immediately feared the worst. "Hey. Hey! Stay with me damn it!"

Picking herself up from the ground while gently laying the girl on her back, Nena pressed an ear to her chest and sighed with relief when she heard a heartbeat. Though it was faint, it was enough to know that the girl was still alive. However, looking around at the chaos all around of colliding frigates and dueling cannons as the Incorruptible joined the fray, the only question that remained was now what?

As though in answer to Nena's thoughts, Petra shrilled a cry while slowly descending towards the deck with the rest of the refugees reaching out their hands from her back.

"Give her to me!" one of them, a bespectacled middle aged man, called out as the great white roc landed on the deck of the barge. "I can help, I'm a doctor."

"Well that's convenient," Nena replied as she struggled to drag the girl over by the armpits. The smuggler and another refugee jumped down onto the barge to help and together they lifted her up onto Petra's back. Nena followed soon after as she sat in her usual spot and said to her feathered companion, "After this, I'm buying all your favourite treats. Now let's get outta here!"

With an exuberant cry, Petra flapped her wings once, twice and then took to the skies away from the battle.

---

@Omni5876

"Mage!" Leo continued calling out as he stood up, using the machinegun for support. "Arn! Come on, say something buddy!"

"He's alive," one of the mounted knights replied as he halted in the air, his griffin flapping its wings to stay aloft. "But you won't be for long if you stay here. Jump on if you want to live."

"How do you know he's still alive?"

The deck jolted as something below exploded and Leo would have been flung off once again had he not kept a vice like grip on the heavy machinegun.

"This ship's engines are about to go critical," the second rider said as he approached. "We cannot linger here any longer."

"You'll just have to trust me, Spider," the first added.

Cursing silently for not being able to confirm Arn's status himself, Leo bent down into a crouch and leapt up like a flea onto the back of the first rider's saddle. Without another word, the knights departed from the scene as the colliding frigates turned from steel to flame in a final deafening roar while the third turned to escape the Incorruptible's incessant bombardment.

Leo felt the hot wind of the blast wave before hearing the noise, but it was nothing compared to the rhythm of his own heart as it beat furiously within his chest and as soon as he became aware of it, he had already forgotten about the battlemage. As the rider hunched over from the force of the blast, he turned his head around and did a double take before saying, "Hey... Spider. Why the hell are you smiling right now?"

"Oh? I wasn't aware," Leo simply replied as he continued smiling. So this is war.

Arn did not have much to fall. The rush of the wind filled his ears. In truth, he was not sure if he would be able to make a safe landing even as he prepared to utilize the Aether again. His muscles felt worn beyond the normal strain of over use. He was actually near passing out. His eye sight became blurry as he rushed towards the deck of the barge below him. His red armor drenched in blood, his own and those who had opposed him.

If this was to be the end, he had no regrets. He had tried to live his life to the best he could. He knew that one day he would perhaps fall in battle. In truth, he had hoped that this was the case and not that he should die of old age or due to sickness. The mage was perhaps not fond of going down in a blaze of glory but he knew that in his profession death was more of a reality than survival.

It was a miracle that he had lived so long. He was not reckless by any stretch o the imagination but he never played it safe. He fancied himself a weapon and the only job or purpose of a weapon is to kill. So he had killed and killed efficiently. If any one was to analyze this existence it would actually be sad. There was not aim, no goal and no end. One day he would be here and one day he would not.

The darkness started to close around him and his body started to feel limp. There was a sudden jolt. He could not have smashed against the deck already could he? He heard a familiar voice but which sounded far away. The mage recognized it as belonging to Tyrhallan. He forced his eyes to remain open as he tried to focus on the Knight Captain.

He tried to speak to answer the questions posed to him but he was not able to. Instead, he merely pointed weakly towards the deck of the dying frigate and the mounted Knights evacuating the Spider.

Arn also managed a haphazardly nod to acknowledge the gratitude. He felt that it was unneeded but he was aware enough to know that to not accept it would be considered rude. The last thought before he lost all consciousness was the frigate going out in a blaze that lit the ever twilight skies.

Arn?

A soft voice called his name. Deep in his heart he felt he knew it.

Arn?

He was in darkness. He tried to locate the voice.

Arn?

He searched with all his might. Somehow desperation started to set in. why? Something in his soul told him that he needed to find the source of the voice.

Arn?

He saw a glow just before his eyes. A silhouette began to take shape into something resembling a humanoid. He was captivated by the light. It brought feelings of warmth and peace. He reached forward with his hand.

The Knight Captain would probably find it weird that the mage was extending his hand to the void skies. Arn was falling in the realm between consciousness. The light was probably the explosions happening nearby. He had lost much blood but his battle instincts wanted to stay in the fight even if his body was trying to shut down to prevent further damage.

Tyrhallan turned to look into the suggested direction, he watched to his relief that some of the Mounted Knights had taken the trouble to get them out of the fray. Eventhough he had not given the order it was good to know they were picked up all the same.
He noticed the strange behaviour of the Mage drawing his eyes back from Dalmer being picked up.
"HEY!" He said now alarmed recognising the signs of exhaustion and going beyond one's limits, the mage was slowly slipping from consciousness, combine that with the pale complexion and his battlewounds...well you didn't need to be a doctor to know the end result of that if left untreated.
"Come on sir Arn, I'm getting you to a doctor. I forbid you to die and that's an order if you like. I will personally come to collect your soul from the afterlife should you fail me in this." He threatened seriously.
"Live, Arn. Those that wait for you have to wait a little longer..." With that held the mage tightly, jumping off the barge and activating his boosters again. He streaked accross the sky, a red flash of lightning that flew from battle as the day was won.
But not without cost.
He simply wasn't going to allow Death to claim one more Bellisian soul if he could do something about it.
"Hold on Arn. Just a little longer."

Alarms and sirens blared as the Belisian frigate fired again, rocking the hull of the Vindicator with a fresh salvo of cannon shells. The Vindicator was a fearsome beast, fully armed and armoured like the rest of the Vaimese vanguard, but when the Aurelia and Gladius had collided into each other and became lost to the skies in a single catastrophic explosion, the Belisian airship wasted no time in seizing the advantage and disabling the Vindicator's most powerful weapons with their very first strike. Now a fighting retreat was all it could manage with a rapidly dwindling supply of air-to-air missiles, but the Belisian's point defence lasers were impenetrable.

"I don't care if they're not getting through, just keep firing!" the captain of the Vindicator shouted as he slammed his fist down on the console, ignoring the steadily growing number of damage reports piling up on its screen. "We're not going down without a fight!"

"Sir, they've got snipers on deck," a panicked voice came through the console. "They're aiming straight at m-"

A loud thud was heard before the transmission was cut off.

"Helmsman. Helmsman! Talk to me damn it, what is going on?!"

As soon as the captain spoke however, a metallic ping rang throughout the air in the combat information centre of the frigate and a crewmate dropped to the ground with a hole in his head. Yet another ping sounded and another body dropped, and the captain stared with horror as he saw two bullet holes punched through the wall. Nothing short of a railgun should have been capable of piercing the Vindicator's hull like that, unless...

"They have prana users," the captain muttered before he threw himself to the floor and shouted. "Everyone get down!"

As everyone in the room followed suit, a moment of silence filled the air until a new voice sounded from the console.

---

"Captain Marcellus, can you hear me?" Lucina asked as she stood at the helm, ignoring the ki reinforced bullets bouncing off her armour while the helmsman of the Vindicator lay dead at her feet. One of the rounds struck squarely against her jaw, but did little more than rattle her teeth as it fell to the ground, flattened from the impact. Was this the best the famed knights of Belisio had to offer?

"Yes," Marcellus responded through the console. "Is that you lady Lucina?"

"Naturally."

"Terra be praised, I thought we'd lost you to the explosion. What's the situation at the helm?"

In truth, it was the explosion that saved Lucina as it propelled her towards the Gladius, allowing her to use it as a springboard to leap onto the deck of the Vindicator. Were it not for such fortuitous timing, she would have fallen to the depths of the sky along with her namesake ship. Her helmet and battleaxe were also gone, but at the very least she still had her sword, armour and one remaining crewmate she managed to rescue from the collision.

"Unfortunately, I could not save your helmsman, but I've brought another," Lucina replied before turning towards the door of the wheelhouse. "Lad, come and take the controls. I will protect you from any harm."

"Yes, domina," the helmsman answered as he approached the console in a crouch, trying to keep his head low for fear of Belisian bullets.

"So what would you have us do now?" Marcellus asked.

Lucina closed her eyes for a moment as she considered pursuing her foe, Tyrhallan Venray. To the ends of Ith and beyond if need be. Someday, she thought before responding, "Full retreat. Divert all power to the engines and address any damages that can be immediately repaired. If your caster is still alive, tell them to let go of the storm and focus on defence. We are leaving this sky."

"Is there nothing we can do to fight back?"

The disappointment was palpable in the captain's voice, but Lucina remained firm as she replied, "You have your orders, Marcellus. Our duty is done here, now the rest is up to my grandfather. Let us quit the field while we still can."

"... Understood, it shall be so."

And with that, Lucina shot a final defiant glare at the Belisian frigate in the distance as the Vindicator turned about and flew away with a burst of jet propulsive force. As it departed, so too did the storm, revealing a dark shadow in the depths of the sky.

---

@deia876lat

The refugees cheered as they watched the last Vaimese frigate turn tail and run. Nena would have joined them, but the exhaustion from taking control of the storm earlier was now setting in and all she could do was utter a weak 'yay' before resting her head against Petra's neck.

She had thought of taking the refugees to Presper while the battle was going on, but now that it was over, she steered Petra towards the Incorruptible so that the tattooed girl might receive treatment in the medical station on board. The doctor had done all he could to slow the bleeding from her wounds, but without the right equipment there was simply nothing more he could do and the girl's life was still on the line.

Just as Nena was approaching the airship however, a knight armed with a rifle and mounted on a dragon flew from its deck to meet her.


"I am Senior Knight Firenze of the Vanguard battalion," he said as he arrived. "I was told to watch for your approach. I'm also here to escort the refugees to safety, but I can see you've already made a head start. I commend you for saving these people."

"Wasn't me who did the saving, chief," Nena replied as she jerked a thumb behind her. "Girl's your hero right there and she needs medical attention asap."

"Then let us make haste."

Without further ado, Nena landed her mount on the deck of the Incorruptible and helped the refugees lower the tattooed girl from the roc's back. Firenze followed a moment after as he dropped down from the sky and landed just beside them.

"Allow me," he said as he slung his rifle over his shoulder and reached up with both hands.

"Don't drop her," Nena said as she dismounted, watching as the smuggler and doctor gently lowered the tattooed girl into the knight's waiting arms. "She saved me too, y'know."

Without so much as a hint of effort, Firenze received the girl's limp and almost lifeless body in a bridal carry and turned towards Nena as he responded, "If her condition is stable enough, I will personally deliver her to the capital where she will receive the highest level of care. This I swear."

"I'll hold you to it."

As the knight led the refugees to the medical station to be treated, Nena made her way back to her post on the bridge where she walked in on an unexpectedly sombre atmosphere. Instead of celebrating their victory over the Vaimese invaders, the captain of the Incorruptible and everyone else in the room looked as though they had lost instead.

"What's going on, boss?" Nena asked as she entered.

"That," the captain replied as he pointed at the console, indicating a radar screen with dots in almost every available space. "Our sensors couldn't see them because of the storm. Gaia's mercy, they're practically right on top of us now."

"Not on top, sir," the female officer with the glasses replied as she tapped at a negative number in the thousands on the screen. "Below. They're travelling through the deep sky."

And with those words, Nena felt her stomach drop as she realized what she was looking at. What she had inadvertently helped to achieve by extending the storm towards the enemy vanguard. The main body of the Vaimese war fleet was now within the borders of Belisio and though the battle had been won, the war was only just beginning.

Tyrhallan aimed for the Incorruptable, the Belisian Frigate and it’s medical bay. Streaking through the sky keeping a close eye on the mage in his arms as he made his descend on the ship’s main deck.
Strained he handed the mage over to Firenze who ran up to meet him immediately with a look of concern approaching him with an open visor.
“Take the mage from the Knight Captain. Are you all right sir?” He asked as ordered the soldiers that had followed him to take Arn from him while he checked on his captain.
Tyr wove the well-meant worry aside as he released Arn into their care.
“I am fine Firenze…” He spoke out of breath, needing a moment to adjust his ki, which he had used to boost his jetpack engines with…he tried to steady his heartbeat as he looked up.
“Get ‘him’ to a doctor, he’s in need of one.” He ordered gesturing to Arn, though the soldiers at Firenze’s side didn’t need to be told twice.
“Update me please on the current situation.” Tyrhallan asked as he straightened his back.
He forced his body to listen to his control, his breathing now more normal, though the occasional deep breath was taken to compensate.
The look that settled on Firenze’s face and the silence he kept made Tyrhallan wary for the answers, answers he most definitely wouldn’t like to hear, but needed to know.
In a gentle almost brotherly tone he asked.
“Please tell me, Firenze.”
“Sir, as you’re well aware your ploy worked, we won this battle and reached our objectives. Two frigates were destroyed and the third turned around and fled the scene…” Firenze started off reporting normally before his tone changed, a frown etched on his face.
“However we lost regardless…”
“Lost?” Tyrhallan asked as he gestured to Firenze to continue.
But Firenze flinched in shame. “They broke through Captain.”
“But how?”
Then it dawned on Tyrhallan, his eyes widened at the realization in shock.
The Vaimese had outmanoeuvred them, they had split up their army and send in one part of their force, drawing their attention whilst the other slipped by.
Be where your enemy isn’t, make them believe you are where you want them to think you are.
Tyr swallowed his anger and frustration, closing his eyes, damning his short-sightedness.
How many had died for nothing but a lie? How many had he needlessly send to their own deaths? And for what? To have a hollow victory?
He opened his eyes and looked at Firenze, who was still wary of Tyrhallan’s reaction, expecting some form of anger from him.
“How bad is it?”
The question startled Firenze, but the man was well prepared.
“If the calculations are correct…The Vaimese main army is heading straight for the heart of the Belisian army, they are well within the border, they intended this all along. The Hearthguard will have to bear the brunt of their attack, since we failed to stop or notice them, before they passed. The reason we didn’t is due to them travelling through Deep Sky. With this battle as a diversion and the storm hiding them, we were blind to their approach.” Firenze said finishing his report.
He was a fool indeed.
Damnit it, Damn the skies! He wanted to shout, but he held it in. He would have no one to blame but himself. His own vanity and pride.
It was as if Fate herself laughed at him and their pathetic attempt at war, Tyrhallan thought.
He knew that the Hearthguard would be severely hit by all this and that if they fell, Belisio in all likelihood would fall. Years of peace and prosperity would be wiped away if that were to happen.
War will come and lay siege on our doorstep, scorch our earth and tear our kingdom to sunder and I am to blame for it. I alone. Me.
All because he didn’t look, because he kept no overview, but had been keen to end it quickly and look at the price his vanity and pride bought him.
“Thank you Firenze. Now how have we fared. What are our current numbers?”
“Well the men are still coming in. So we don’t have a conclusive number yet, but they gave us a good hammering… They felled some of our finest, Matteo, Dariun, Tyndale all fell…but not all knights are accounted for. Including some of Sarban’s men.”
“Have you seen Itzal? I owe him quite the debt. Abene may well have saved my life on board of the frigate.” Tyrhallan immediately asked concerned for his old friend.
Abene Itzal had been with him since his earliest days of knighthood. Both of them eager and holding onto the Knight’s Standards and Oaths. Often they had duelled and dined together, philosophizing on what it was that made one a good man and a good knight.
Whilst Tyrhallan had always claimed it had been Duty, his friend Abene had always laughed at him and stated it was Family. Or rather the presence of loved ones was what inspired one to pursue on how to truly become a good man and a good knight. And he had good reason for this argument.
Unlike Tyrhallan, Abene Itzal had found the other half of his soul, he had married her and started a family of his own, so it was only logical that the man held them as his ideal.
He had always jokingly suggested that Tyrhallan should marry his sister so that they could be brothers in the truest sense of the word. He had always hinted and teased him with it, knowing Tyr’s aversion for forced matches as a little joke only the two of them would understand.
The man had always been the epitome of loyalty and when Tyrhallan’s doubts clouded his reasoning Abene’s clear cut loyalty and devotion inspired him and cleared his skies.
Firenze’s face fell.
“His gryphon came in a little earlier.” There was something cold and factual to his tone of voice.
“He carried the remains of Abene…we…my men and I had them covered up.” His voice now trembled as an empty stare had crept into Firenze’s eyes.
“The beast has been guarding his remains ever since.”
Tyrhallan’s heart fell, his friend was gone. The blow he felt now would be nothing he knew to what Abene’s loved ones would feel when he had to inform them.
“Take me to him.” He demanded as Firenze lead the way abroad the vessel.
Leading him to the overhang, where cargo, vehicles and the beasts were stalled and kept that were too big for the hold.
There in a corner of the beast’s quarters an angry mourning gryphon lay, watching all that approached intently. Screeching and lashing out in anger when they got to close by invading the personal boundary the beast had set up.
When Tyr approached he managed to come within the trusted circle the gryphon had held. Still stepping over that invisible line earned him an eardeafening cry and a face full of anger as it stepped in between blocking his path. Two angry orange golden eyes glared at him as the strong beak was ready to snap at him.
"I know..." He whispered sadly as Tyrhallan continued, lifting his hand up to the beast’s beak. He offered it trust and reflecting the sadness in his eyes that the creature undoubtedly must have felt. If its intent was to harm him he would allow it to do so, but no attack came from the might gryphon.
Instead the strained and painful cry that now came out of the creature. Showing the torment and pain of loss it felt for its master as it stepped aside.
There upon a stretcher covered by a white sheet a bloodied bodybag lay waiting.
Passing by the creature Tyrhallan lifted the sheet off partially and took a deep breath before he opened the bag at the top to reveal Abene’s face and torso.
A ghastly sight indeed.
He observed his face and the wound that had condemned the man to die a cruel death he did not deserve, but one that he had received regardless.
Only one possible culprit immediately sprang to Tyr's mind, before he covered his friend up again.
Tyrhallan had tried to never fall prey to hate, but what he felt in that moment was nothing but pure abhorrence for what ‘that’ woman had done.
“Lucina….” His voice whispered with utter loathing and contempt.

The mage felt his body as lighter than air and it was not because he was being carried through the skies by the Knight Captain. He had strained himself past most regular person’s capacity. It had been only through sheer force of will that he had managed to still be able to be cognizant when others might have very well died. His own heart was weakly beating, pushing what little blood was left inside his body to maintain life.

His body ached and every fiber of his being called for deliverance from this existence and succumb to the sweet rest that death provided. Yet no matter how much easier it would be to give in to that promise of bliss and as much as he hoped he would meet his mother in the energy womb of Gia, Arn was not ready to leave the world of the living. He felt there was much to do. He felt there was still much he could help with. As a tool, there was still much service he could provide.

He heard the Tyrhallan’s far away voice, as if he had fallen into a very deep cave. His vision was limited to shades and shapes. The mage drifted between consciousness. But there was more keeping him awake. So close to death, his connection to the spirits of Gia was more pronounced. They whispered warnings. There was even times when he could hear his own mothers voice.

The voices spoke of danger. They wanted him to be prepared. He felt a great disturbance in the threads of the Aether. Stronger still than the storm cover that had been utilized by the enemy to cover the three frigates. He tried to call out to the silver haired knight but no sound came from his mouth.

As he was passed along to Firenze Arn mustered all he could and was able to push himself far enough to finally see the bloody and bruised face of the Knight Captain. His eyes met Tryhallan’s but that was all. Suddenly, the darkness took him. His body had been taxed beyond belief and all the mage heard before he was enveloped was

“get him to a doctor, he's in need of one”

Arn found himself in a sea of black. He felt his body floating as effortlessly as he did when swimming in the few lakes and bodies of water still left on the broken world. He had sailed through the skies as all members of the Shooting Stars do but the water had always been his refuge. He had spent hours floating in them with nothing but the twilight skies above. The muffled sounds as his ears lay just beneath the surface a sort of white noise that allowed him to rest.

The mage looked at his hands and a strange glow seemed to outline anywhere he looked. Was he dead? No, he had heard stories of the religious and read theories of great scientific minds. Though vastly different in their dogma, both agreed that upon death, the mortal body is discarded and the soul or life force remained to meld with either deity or the residual energy of the world.

Due to the vast amount of literature on either topic, the mage was certain that he was not part of the departed. Upon being pressed into service and sent to the academy, he had read many books and experimented in many ways. His expertise and subsequent testing is what allowed him to be able to wield such diverse magic. Indeed, despite his lowly birth he had been offered a spot on the Royal Academy where only nobles and mages of exceptional talent would study. He had accepted but only because his hunger for knowledge could not be satisfied by the basic arcane books housed in the crash course preparatory school that any magic adept orphan or delinquent was shoved into.

The Shooting Stars recruited heavily from the Cauldron, as the veterans of that place affectionately called the quasi prison that was the Magician Preparatory Institution. The Belisian military understood that it was better to utilize and guide those that had inherent magical aptitude rather than allow such power to wander slums and cause trouble or worse be seduced by the covert recruiters of the Viemese empire that operated in places were poverty and need thrived.

Indeed, Arn wondered how many of the mages he encountered in the frigate were of Belisian blood. The Viemese empire would not have been able to amass an army big enough to start their new machinations of conquest if they had not fresh blood from outside the empire. It was well known that in the Empire, those of magic ability were much more valued and led a better life than those without. It would not be a hard sell to an orphan living in the streets of Beliso that was very rigid in its heriachal structure.

So his question remained, how was he so aware if he was unconscious? By all rights he would be trapped in state of delirium caused by fever or the special medicines that mages required to heal from the ravages of over use of magic. The mortal body was not designed to withstand strong magics or prolonged use. It was mythical and truly awe inspiring that the Sorcerer King had managed the power enough to pull the moons. There was still debate whether he did it alone or utilizing a network of strong magic users. Whatever the case, the feat was still impressive.

Suddenly there was a tug at his very being. It was as if there was a thread within him that pulled him. He felt more than saw the motion. The darkness flowed around him like waters and he imagined if this is how fish felt when they were hooked. A glow started to appear before him. The light took shape and the shape morphed into a human appearance. It was hard to distinguish any true features as just like himself it was only the outline that shone.

As if to answer his question for better identification, patterns started to appear on the shape before him. The pattern seemed to be some sort of chains or bindings that covered the body of the shape before him. There was a sort of sadness, of pain, and of guilt. Despite himself, Arn wanted to reach out. Yet as he moved, or felt he did, the shape retreated. This caused the mage to reach further, trying to catch up to the shape that seemed to be just out of his reach.

The glow on the other shape began to fade. There was a sort of urgency on Arn’s part and he willed himself to reach the shape. A notion formed in his mind that perhaps the shape was his mother and this place was the in between the living and death. His hand extended forward and he cried out inside his mind

WAIT!

A he woke then, his arm weakly reaching forward. Instead of a shout his dry throat only produced a sort of choked croak. All the pain and exhaustion of the mortal condition came flooding back and his eyes closed with the sudden rush of bright light.

He heard a familiar voice as a hand was placed gently on his chest. “Whoa there boss, you aint 100 percent yet. Lay back down. Man, the Cap is gonna loose his shit. Not like he didn’t already when they brought you back looking like the dogs damn chew toy. It must have been a hell of fight if it left you looking like that boss.”

Arn opened one eye experimentally allowing it to get used to the light. His one eye verified the identity of the voice as a young mage named Tobi that seemed to follow him around like a puppy. This really annoyed Arn but just like a stary dog, it was hard to get rid of Tobi. The senior mage grunted. He was not stubburn enough to try and get up for he knew that the best thing to do in his condition was get better. He turned his to the right. In a bed next to him he saw a girl, dark blond hair and fair complexion, who seemed just as or worse off than him. The face was not one he recognized but somehow he felt the same pang he had felt as a shadow.

Eilis drifted, her body needing time and above all peace and rest to recuperate…her mind however had other plans. Ever since she was stable she had drifted back and forth in and out of nightmares.
She couldn’t really see the shapes in front of her, but the whining still was as clear as bells.
[b][i]"I won't do it." [/b]
She heard herself answer, before a dark shape grabbed her wrist, the bony fingers that had grabbed her burned with a freezing cold. One that felt like the stabbing of a thousand needles. A pair of cold and cruel eyes watched her as Eilis cried out in pain, trying to object all the same.
"Submit Child! You have no say in this matter! Do as you’re told!"
"NO! I won't."
She fired back with anger pulling herself free before seeing another figure block out her light. The large shape with hungry eyes eyed her carefully. Before she saw something glint, or reflect the little light of the room. A blade was offered to her, a cruel, darkly shaped dagger.
Large hands encompassed hers forcing the cold steel into her hands.
She heard the whining again, a flash of yellow, or was it brown, it mattered not, she could hear the heartbeat carried through the Aether.
“You can do this Eilis, we can do it together. Once you do you will be able to have everything your heart desires….” A soft seductive voice offered. “Simply do this one small thing…for me.”
Innocent eyes stared back at her.
“NO!” She heard herself scream in revulsion before casting the dagger aside.
Her mind worked more rapidly then, flitting through one moment after another.
"Then you leave us no choice."
She felt how cold magic thrust her against the wall, her hands forced above her head and how the Mardras ripped her clothes open.
"Mardras, I beg of you no! NO!NO!"
"Hush now Eilis, stop your insolence..."
Spellwoven fingers were set against her skin. She shivered reliving the sensation as the memories brought back a hint of the excruciating pain. Long dark pointy nails dipped in tainted blood drew the lines upon her.
“Please…” She breathed in pain.
She had fought so hard, but the magic straps had held. Her torture had continued as he had watched on.
His eyes. She would never forget his eyes. That lifeless look of utter hunger, drinking in her struggle with extreme pleasure.
He enjoyed this, he even came closer to inspect the Mardras’s handiwork.
She felt his large rough hands upon her bare skin, taking her face in his hand, raising her chin slightly.
“She will be exquisite when we’re done with her.” As the hand moved down over the lines drawn by the Mardras he ran it over her ribs, almost as if he was counting them.
She wanted to vomit, she wanted to pass out or wake up from this nightmare. She wanted to be far far away…
This wasn't real, this couldn't be real. They weren't really going to go through with this...were they?
Suddenly she felt the strong fingers set against her temples. Invading her mind and forcing her to listen. Forcing her to obey…
“Dear little Eilis,” A voice inside her mind spoke. His voice, but why did she suddenly stop struggling. Why did her body suddenly act without her willing to do so…
“Kill it Eilis. That is all you have to do. One deep plunge, one stab…that’s all it takes…” The voice edged on. She felt the straps loosen their grip on her, his hand putting the dagger back into hers.[/i]
"Rid yourself of your weakness."

In the hospital bed Eilis suddenly started turning and twisting. She started protesting and crying.
She cried out in despair, in pain and in agony. As she violently shook and twisted on her bed the bindings started flashing again.
First, short bursts, little a flickering light that was having energy issues.
The bursts of light lit her skin up shocking her again and again in the process, making her convulsions even harder.
The machines she was connected to beeped in alarm, sending out distress signals at Eilis's actions, but as suddenly as it had started it also would suddenly stop. With a final smothering cry, the convulsions ceased. The bindings dimmed and Eilis lays once more still in bed.
What followed was her weeping, sobbing loudly as tears streamed over her face as her eyes had opened but stared lifelessly ahead.
The horrors she had seen in her nightmares again haunted her. Tormented her. Even though she now was awake those eyes were etched into her mind.
And now she didn't know where she was, what exactly had happened or why she no longer could see anything.
An internal darkness greeted her, eventhough she was quite sure she had opened her eyes. Blinking desperately to get rid of the tears and to convince herself not to panic, she drew broken, unsteady breaths. Waiting for a sign. Waiting for either the darkness to finish her off completely or the light to ease her sorrows.

Tobi kept the wounded senior mage company. The young man always seemed to have a ready smile even though both of them had been through various dark situations. Arn slowly felt his strength returning. This was not his first time in an infirmary and his body seemed to heal quicker ever time he had endured Magicka Shock. This was the term for when a mage had strained his magic use past safe levels. The effect could range from exhaustion, to muscular pain and tear even loss of consciousness or death.

The more severe the shock the longer it took a person to recover. This recovery time was also based on how acclimated the body was to such prolonged exposures. Like training your body, the more you pushed your limits the longer your magic use could be and the faster the healing. Arn had been dangerously delved into how much he was able to endure and had found himself many a time waking up looking at the over head lights of the Academy’s medical room.

Normally, he would have passed the time reading a book regarding some obscure research or evangelical doctrine that could help him better practice his magic art. However, since Tobi joined the Shooting Stars, the young man had been closer to him than his shadow. Arn had tried to dissuade him by any means necessary but the young man seemed to either not care or not notice. Arn had finally sat the boy down and had a long talk with him regarding his desire to be alone. Tobi had merely replied that Arn was very much a legend not only in orphanages but also in the Cauldron. He had survived the longest and had achieved the most. Especially epic, had been Arn turning down a position in the capital as a Royal Mage and his refusal of being an officer in the Shooting Stars.

By all accounts, in the eyes of the destitute Arn was a hero. This had made the senior mage sick to his stomach. He had never wanted to be a role model. He had no goal and no aim. He had only turned down the position because he wanted to practice all his theories in combat. It was hard to do that in the confines of the court. He also hated the political aspect of rank. He wanted to be in the front lines. Yet, even he knew that the troops held him in higher esteem than their actual Captain who was a minor noble trying to climb through the military ranks.

Arn had figured that sooner or later this would come and bite him in the ass. He had too much influence on the troops and his most recent escapade had ruffled more than a few feathers in his mage hierarchal structure. Or so Tobi had been telling him.

“Man, boss, you should have seen the Cap’s reaction when I told him you had been hand picked by the Knight Captain to do a raid.” The young man shrugged his shoulders apologetically as Arn gave him a severe look.

“Yeah, I know you told him not to tell him but how could I pass up the opportunity” A mischievous smile spread across the young scarred face. “Man, he turned all shades of the rainbow and cursed better than any one I had met in the slums. He swore he would kill you himself if you returned alive.” A slight shadow crossed the boy’s face. “You almost did not make it. The docs had their hands full with you.” He chuckled, “Shit, the only one worse off than you was that young lady over there…”

The young man was cut off by her sudden outburst. Arn and he looked at each other concerned. Their concerned increased when they saw and felt magic. The senior mage’s eyes widened as he seemed to recognize the flashes of glowing marks on her.

Arn struggled to get up and told Tobi weakly. “Go get the doctor” Tobi seemed reluctant. He looked at his elder with concern and at the lady with worry.

“I don’t know boss, you should not be walking around”

“I said go get the doctor Tobi…Now!” Arn coughed at this point but he held of a hand stopping the aid from the young mage and then pointed a finger at the door. He was sure that the medics would eventually hear the chirping of the machines but he wanted them here faster.

Tobi hurried off, casting one last concerned look behind him but he knew how stubborn Arn was.

As the young mage exited, Arn struggled to get himself off his own bed and gritted his teeth against the pain and nausea as he transited the small distance to the side of the girls. He swallowed to regain his composure and place a hand on the shimmering hand of the girl. It felt warm to his touch.

He was not sure if I t was fever or the effects of the magical forces that were evidently working on her. He tried to sound reassuring but was not sure how to do that as he had never had to do it before. “Please calm yourself. You are alive.” He noticed the frantic look on her face and the fact that she was not able to focus her eyes. “You are probably experiencing Dark Sight. It’s a consequence of Magicka Shock. Your eyesight will return slowly.”

In an attempt to calm her he continued softly as best he could “I am Arn, a battle mage. What may I call you?” He had attended to many wounded in battle. Getting them to talk was the easies way to verify that they could still breath, that they were coherent and sometimes, find out from the victim where exactly the damage was.

He did not need medic training to see the effects of Magicka Shock. Her body looked drained, there was no evidence of physical wonds, her loss of eye sight and the fact that she was in the Magic Intensive Care Unit (MICU) all pointed to her experiencing his own ailment.

She did not look to be a mage in the military however. She her face looked too fresh, she seemed to be afraid of where she was. Not everyone was as calm as he but usually there was a sort of understanding. He continued his attempt to calm her.

“do not worry, the doctors will be here soon.”

Eilis suddenly felt a hand on hers. A tender touch, a warm touch.
Normally in her first reaction she would have pulled her hand away, in shock and surprise. As it happened it felt too nice and started looking around her, trying to hear where the person was, rather than to see.
She did not have to wait long.
“Please calm yourself. You are alive. You are probably experiencing Dark Sight. It’s a consequence of Magicka Shock. Your eyesight will return slowly.”
She trembled, her other hand came up to stop her arm from shaking.
"I...I see." Was all she could utter, listening intently as she tried to calm herself down.
As she touched the bandages nervously the voice continued, its tone soft, but strong and reassuring.
“I am Arn, a battle mage. What may I call you? Do not worry, the doctors will be here soon."
Eilis nodded in compliance, before she answered the man.
"Thank you...Arn. My...my name is Eilis." Her voice was soft and she had some difficulty with swallowing, her mouth was dry.
"Arn, where are we exactly?" She asked as she turned to where she believed Arn was, before a slither of a memory passed before her mind's eye.
"The others...immediately her other hand followed as she turned her body to him completely, her other hand reaching out until she touched what she believed was his robes.
"The other refugees, the woman...did they get away? Are they all right?" The panic in her voice clearly audible as her hazel eyes eerily seemed to look straight through him.
But it was not Arn who answered.
The doctor and his aide had stepped up, before they saw the two sitting together.
"Leave the patients alone for a moment and look at what happens." He ordered the aide to check the equipment before he himself checked Eilis over.
"It seems you didn't tear anything off, nor that you started bleeding again. The All Mother knows how much you've lost already with your antics." He scolded gently as he checked her eyes. Still it seems you did quite a number on yourself...I assume you cannot see?"
Eilis shook her head softly and timidly, holding onto Arn, even crawling closer to him, rather than this stranger.
He noticed and snorted.
"As for you, you shouldn't even be out of bed, just because you think you can handle the strain better than her doesn't mean you can! If I was a cruel man I would order you to go back to your bed, but seeing how the young lady seems to put some level of trust in you I'll let it slide for now. Make sure you don't overexert yourself, I'll be checking up on the two of you later." He threatened matter of factly.
The aide smiled warmly as he watched the doctor walk off, continuing with his rounds.
"He's a bit stressed lately, with all the wounded from the battlefield we've picked up you can tell he's in need of some R and R. Though I pity the poor Knight Captain, he suffered the brunt of it. I believe the words madman, poor excuse for a leader and brainless idiot were mentioned." The aide explained, before turning to Eilis answering her earlier question.
"You saved us all, if you hadn't used your powers we would all have been dead and gone. I..I don't have anything to give you except my thanks. Even with your strange condition, you risked your life for us."
Eilis closed her eyes as images flooded to her minds eye from her memories.
"Your wife was the pregnant lady, I was brought into the smuggler's office as you and your family left."
"That's right, she has already asked me how you were, I shall have to inform her of the good news when my shift ends. We owe a great deal to you and the Belisio army. We'll be all right, the Knight Captain informed us that they refugees would be taken in by Belisio, so we don't have to worry about being on the road again. We can finally settle and stay, for a while at least." He wore a tired smile, before he patted the bed as he got up.
"You just focus on getting healthy and strong again Miss." The aide ended before turning to Arn.
"Please keep an eye on her if you can good sir mage." And with those words the aide left the room aswell, leaving the both of them alone again.
"Well, that answers that question." She said in a light hearted manner, hoping Arn would talk a little more.
"Did you get wounded in this battle?" She asked curiously.

The battle mage was about to answer her question when he had to keep himself from falling while gently holding her back at her sudden outburst. He marveled at her concern. If he understood her sudden urgency correctly she was not looking for friends or family but other refugees, more likely strangers. It was rare to find people like her.

Thankfully, the medic and his aid entered. Probably having been summoned by Tobi. Arn shrugged as the doctor chastised him and the young lady. Just like Elise, the doctors cared for their patients. He could not remember his name but Arn was sure he had seen him before. After all, he had been bed bound many times. The more patients in danger the stricter they wanted to seem. Things must be really bad judging from the doctor’s demeanor.

He listened intently and interested as the refugee recounted the tale. He nodded to the request of the man. Based on what he heard the mage could figure out that the lady had indeed suffered an extreme case of Magicka Shock. However, that did not explain the glowing patterns on the young lady skin. He almost traced the locations where he had seen them but he stopped himself thinking such actions would cause concern and make him look like a creep.

Arn kept a calm hand upon the young lady’s own. For some reason, he was surprised that he was holding it that long. After all, he was not one for physical touch and definitely not one to try his chance with the ladies. He chased those thoughts away and instead convinced himself he would do the same for any one wounded in battle.

Once the physician left, Arn once again addressed the young lady in a calm voice. “Try to close your eyes. They are not very useful right now and they will dry if you leave them open too long. You need not worry, I will be here.” His voice was low but not only because he was trying to keep her calm but because standing by her bed side was taxing his already exhausted body. Yet he was determined to keep his promise and stay by her side.

Tobi came in next and Arn raised a hand stopping any incessant talking the young lad had in mind. The young mage took one look at the young lady understanding. Noticing that his senior was weakening Tobi offered him the seat he had been using. Arn gave him a thank you nod and then motioned he should leave. Before he left, he gave Arn a meaningful look and raised his eyebrows suggestively. This earned him a scowl from the senior mage and the young lad threw up his arms in defense as he backed away.

Arn sat down with some effort but siged as he managed to sit. “To answer your earlier question Miss Elise. We are aboard one of the hospital ships of the Belisian military” He looked around and he found the symbol of the ship on the bulk head. It sported two wings spread with a sun in the middle. “We are aboard the one named Auriel’s Mercy, or The Mercy as we call it.” The ship had been named after a very talented and beloved medic which lived during the time of the Sorceror King and who saved many from the ravages of the empire.

He leaned back and closed his own eyes. “I will tell you more but you must promise me that you will attempt to sleep. There is not much for us to do except rest and get better.” He shifted in his seat trying to get comfortable. “You had asked if I had gotten hurt in the battle. My simple answer is yes. I had the priviledge of assisting the Knight Captain Tyrhallan in a mission. I am glad that one of our objectives, which was to try and rescue the refugees running from the Viemesse, was accomplished.” He turned to look at her. “Though from what I hear it is you who we have to thank for that.” He continued. “But please don’t concern yourself with me. It is my duty to be placed in harms way. You on the other hand, showed true bravery. If you are also a refugee. I would not be amiss in predicting that the Academy might show interest in you.” He sighed a bit annoyed. “though I cannot say if you would appreciate such interest.”

At Arn's words a visible weight seemed to be lifted off of her. The strained, burdened hunching her body had been in straightened a bit as if relieved of its load. A shaking heavy exhale followed, followed by another long one as a couple of tears escaped her eyes. As a smile crossed her face she closed her eyes as she eased up on her grip on Arn. Her long fingers still shaking slightly, but more relaxed then she had been.
"I did it..." Her voice softly uttered barely believing her own words. "I've made it." She straightened her back looking up for a moment trying to contain herself.
The other hand that Arn still had been holding, now slipped free and took it in her own, lifting it to her cheek to make sure she wasn't dreaming. Another sigh of relief followed up another smile before she realized what she had been doing.
She let him go, softly apologizing for her behaviour.
"I..I'm sorry, I know it must have been quite a bother to you, to be forced to sit here and look after me especially when you need rest yourself." She said as she continued to listen to him.
"Forgive me, but I am no high born lady, my name is Eilis, not Elise." She gently corrected Arn. "But it's not a big deal really...if you want to call me Elise..." One could sense the nervousness in her voice before Arn's final words turned her face to horror.
"NO!" A short flare again as the bindings flashed up. Eilis's body reacting as if being struck by a whip. The outburst and the body's reaction was so strange coming from such a timid girl. It must have puzzled those that witnessed it and didn't know what it was.
Eilis seemed shaken or disturbed by something more then just physical pain, the expression that had been visible a more before was stripped from her face again, replaced by an expression of sad acceptance.
"I'm sorry, but I can't." Was all she said as she tucked her knees up, wrapping her arms around them. A long pause and silence followed, filled only by the occasional beeps of the monitors and screens displaying their vitals and the roaring of the engines.
Suddenly Eilis's soft voice piped up again, careful and yet straight to the point.
"Arn. Do you sometimes think life would be better if you simply weren't born?" Eilis asked.