Skythikon

The Coming Tide of War

<Snipped quote by Skythikon>

I do believe Seothrunn and Vala come from the same area approximately. I thought of the Northwestern part of Ecen, too.

@Pirouette

Yeah, same approximate area, but I have Seothrunn coming from the island chain further north. I guess it should not really matter unless the journey takes them back home, but thought I'd clear things up.

The Coming Tide of War

Did a quick post 'cause I didn't think I did too good a job the last time at getting Seothrunn involved.

The Coming Tide of War

As more and more people entered the hall and took their seats, Seothrunn felt more at ease. No one had accused him of any wrongdoing yet, and that was always good considering his people's reputation. Although that eased his mind somewhat, he still worried about how the king would take to his presence, especially considering that it was highly likely that his sister was still raiding the coast even as he sat in the dining hall. Seothrunn had politely asked, then reluctantly begged her to cease her activities before he left for the capitol, but she had just brushed him off by reasoning that the raids were no longer just out of tradition, but out of necessity. The closure of the northern seas also meant the closure of their main fishing grounds.

His stomach rumbled at the thought of fish, and for a split-second he considered taking some salted fish from his knapsack, but then quickly decided against it. He was a complete stranger to the customs of the southern court, but he knew enough of courtesy to know that eating your own food when the host has provided their own was considered to be very rude. Looking over at the vast selection offered on the table, he searched for something which he had not seen before on his home islands. He did not sail halfway across the known world to simply eat fish - he could have done that easily enough at home - but perhaps because of the way they were cooked or the elaborate preparation, everything looked alien to him.

Southerners are odd. He thought to himself. Even the nobles on the north-western isles had their foods prepared simply. No efforts were wasted on decoration or making them look neat. No one cared about how the food was presented, only that it was safe to eat. Shrugging mentally, Seothrunn reached out and picked up a some kind of bun. It looked plain enough, and was at least something he was pretty sure he could eat without making a fool of himself. He took a bite...

...And promptly burned his tongue when the sweet, but scalding hot filling burst into his mouth. He choked and let out a garbled sound of surprise, but forced himself to swallow anyway. He placed the bun on the table, then looked at the other guests, or those who had noticed his little incident. "Hvarsk." He said as an explanation, but then quickly translated, "I mean, hot. It was hot."

Never once had he been so thankful for the hood which prevented others from seeing the sheepish look on his face. It made him feel even more ashamed that he was actually fearful of what others thought of him. He was a warrior, the veteran of a hundred raids and a scourge on the north-western sea. Why did he fear what was on these southerners minds? He took a deep breath and calmed himself. It was normal to want to make a good first impression, especially if that impression had already been marred by a family member of his. You are being a fool, just be as you would, and all will be fine. He told himself.

A serving boy asked if anyone wanted wine, and Seothrunn lifted his cup to catch his attention. "Here, please." He said in a hesitant voice. Saying those two words already required plenty of mental power; he had only just learned the southern language during his journey south, and he found it to be incredibly complicated when compared to his native tongue. His eyes glanced to his sides to see if anyone had taken note of his accent, and for a moment wished that he had turned around when he had the chance, to be out on the open seas and listening to his oars churning the water and sail catching the salty, sea breeze.

Just then, the candles wavered as a gentle breeze wafted in from the windows high above.

The Coming Tide of War

I can't really do two without the quality of one character's post turning to absolute crap somewhere down the line. ><''

Code of the Burned [FULL]

Posted. If that doesn't cause any tension within the team, I don't know what will.

Code of the Burned [FULL]

Birdseed's niceties did little to soothe Kheshig. He had enough field experience to know psychological manipulation when he saw it, and knew how to act accordingly. In this case, he just ignored Birdseed's words and just pushed past her as he exited the camera room. "Not now. Later." He said tersely, not even bothering to look at her. Despite his anger, his voice was still very much calm and measured. He threw the burnt EMP charge into his duffel bag, zipped it up and slung it across his back. Their job was done here, but it was a poorly done job. It still irked Kheshig that were it not for Birdseed, or if either of the two had done their jobs, he would have only needed to knock out two people rather than three.

The first two - the enforcer and the woman - they were going to be casualties regardless of what happened, that much Kheshig could admit. The clerk who showed up afterwards? She had tried to run when she saw Kheshig standing over the two unconscious bodies, and he had had a half a mind to let her go, but then that would jeopardize the mission. He had almost felt sad and disgusted with himself as he caught her by the arm, pinned her against the wall and squeezed her neck till she passed out. He saw the fear and pleading in her eyes, but all he could do was just whisper words of assurance while she slowly slipped from consciousness.

Hurting someone who did not deserve it always left a bad taste in Kheshig's mouth, and he could not wait to leave the shop. "Follow me," He said and pushed past Birdseed without so much as a glance in her direction. The walk back to the car was made in complete silence, and only once everyone had entered the vehicle and Kheshig had it rolling down the main road back to their safehouse did he speak his mind. "Do you go changing prepared plans for every mission, Birdseed? Simply because you do not like your assigned role?" He began, speaking in a calm, monotonous voice. To lose his temper and start yelling would be losing control, and Kheshig hated not being in control.

"Well, I did not like knocking out that clerk either. I could have completed my end of the job without knocking out that lady the two of you talked to either, but evidently Condor," He paused and glanced at the other woman. There was no malice in his words, but Kheshig found Condor to be just at fault as Birdseed. She should have pulled Birdseed back the moment it became clear that she was going to act independently, and she should have stuck to her mission parameters to provide a distraction even if she could not do that. "and you decided to send an additional person my way."

"Do you like making my life difficult? Is that it?" Kheshig continued and turned into a slip road that would lead them out of the city. "If that were your reason, then I will drop the subject. Personal matters are hard to resolve and I would not care as long as we still can work together in a professional manner." He paused before continuing. "But if you decided to change the plan simply because you were unhappy with your role, then I can only say that I am both disappointed and irritated. I thought you were better than that. Not all of us are happy with our given roles; I doubt Angelo is happy being mission control while we are here doing actual work. I doubt a fighter like Condor liked being eye candy either and you can be sure that I was not happy being forced into a stealth-aligned role."

The more he spoke, the more Kheshig disliked the sound of his own voice and his words. He was not used to saying so much, but everything had to be said, even if it made him feel like he was disciplining a small child. "Well, what is done is done." He said with a shake of his head. "I hope this does not happen in future, otherwise you can be sure we are going to have problems. Very big problems."

The Coming Tide of War

The crew of the galley gave the longship hard, angry glares as they sailed past one another.

Seothrunn could hardly care about what the king's men on board the galley felt, he was just happy to have managed to sail into Highmont's harbour without having to kill anyone. His ship of forty oars was barely a threat to all but the smallest hamlets, but the city had sounded the alarm almost as soon as the tip of the longship's mast crested the horizon. Seothrunn had expected as much - the north-western coast was being raided by his own sister even as he intended to meet with the king - but he had hoped against hope that news of the raids had yet to filter down to Highmont. Were it not for the long, streaming white banner that flew from the top of his ship's mast, Seothrunn was quite sure that the king's fleet would have sunk him without a second thought.

"I do not like this, Fjallthrim." The old man standing next to Seothrunn said in a low voice as they passed the rear of the galley and approached the opening between the two large breakwaters that encircled the harbour.

"Nor I you, Maeryck." Seothrunn replied in a whisper.

Maeryck coughed into his fist and kept his eyes on the turrets that lined the tops of the breakwaters. Tall, barrel-chested and with a long, wispy beard that tickled his chest, Maeryck had been the captain of the first ship Seothrunn had set foot onto, and now that he was too old to captain his own vessel, served under the latter as the second-in-command. "They may very well trap us within the harbour and sink us there." He said even as the longship passed the two imposing towers that guarded the entrance to the harbour.

"We have the captain's word," Seothrunn said, more to reassure himself than anything else. The captain of the galley that had sallied forth to question the Bonemen's intentions had given Seothrunn his word that no harm would befall him, his crew or his ship as long as the white banner flew from the mast. Words made for weak shields, as the Bonemen often said, but in this instance, Seothrunn had little choice but to place his faith in the captain's sense of honour.

"The captain, not the king." Maeryck pointed out.

Seothrunn clenched his jaw and kept his eyes looking forward, towards the harbour. It was easily the largest he had ever seen, with close to two dozen ships moored at the various docks, piers and jetties. The ships ranged from small, single-masted fishing skiffs to massive war galleys of close to two hundred oars and boasting large, square sails hanging from three masts. A few galleys rowed past the longship, but otherwise they did nothing. "If he wanted us sunk, he would have done so by now." Seothrunn said.

Maeryck grimaced, but then nodded in agreement. "So what do you intend to find out with this meeting?"

"Answers," Seothrunn replied with a shrug. Just over a month ago, he had experienced a nightmare unlike any other. They usually involved drowning and the smashing of ships, but this particular nightmare showed him settlements in flames, fields covered in a carpet of corpses and once snow-capped peaks dyed red with blood. When he awoke, he had heard a loud, roaring sound. No one else had heard it, and for a while Seothrunn had tried to put the whole event out of his mind, but as more and more north-bound ships disappeared, he could not help but feel as if his vision had something to do with it. Thus, he had sailed southwards, asking questions wherever he stopped until he heard rumours of the king calling for a meeting of all those who had seen the visions and heard the roar.

"And if you do not get any?" Maeryck asked.

"Then I hope to find adventure."

Maeryck nodded, satisfied with the answer. "Kings and adventures always go hand-in-hand. You will find at least one of what you seek."

Did he really, however? Seothrunn was a capable warrior - the bone sword he wielded was testament to that, as well as the numerous scratches on his shield. However, he had no experience of the southern lands, and he could barely speak their tongue. His own father would call him a fool for venturing into strange lands while being so ill-prepared, and Seothrunn would be inclined to agree. However, what else could he do? A leader would risk everything for the safety of his people, and Seothrunn knew that he would not find rest until he found out what had happened to the vanished ships.

"I do hope so," Seothrunn said as the longship approached an empty pier. "Maeryck, you have my ship until I return. Do with it what you will, but try not to sink her."

"She will be safe in my hands, boy, have no worries about that."

Seothrunn turned his attention back to the approaching waterfront. He never liked spending long periods of time on land, but now he had no choice. This could be his one chance to get the answers he sought, and he was not about to let something as minor as an aversion of land to get in his way. He had come to far to just turn around because of a few butterflies in his stomach. The longship came to a stop, and with just a nod to Maeryck and his crew, Seothrunn jumped over the side of the ship and onto the pier.

He knew that it was rude to just leave as he did, but he knew that Maeryck would understand. Had he delayed anymore, his nerves would have overcome his determination. It pained him to leave the ship he had called home for so long, but Seothrunn pushed all thoughts of the past into a corner of his mind and walked deeper into the city, never once looking back.

---

The walk towards Dragonstead had been less troublesome than Seothrunn had expected. It appeared as if only the upper echelons of society and the military knew about the raids along the north-western coast. The common folk were friendly enough, even though their gazes upon his face and armour lingered beyond what was comfortable. For the latter, there was not much he could do - taking it off was troublesome, and he did not relish the idea of carrying the cuirass in his hands - but at the very least Seothrunn could cover most of his face by pulling up his hood. With just a few questions, he managed to find his way to Dragonstead castle, and when he reached it, he wondered just why he even needed directions.

It was massive, or at least it was massive to him. The people around him seemed more interested in the open gates than the actual size of the building. Castles on the north-western isles were usually built low to the ground and wide. Tall buildings were easy prey for the gale-force winds that occasionally ravaged the isles. Dragonstead Castle would not last a year on the isles, that much Seothrunn was certain of.

The queue moved at a snail's pace, but eventually he made it to the gate. An old man stood in the way, and Seothrunn was about to ask him to move when the old man suddenly jerked, as if he had just woken up from a bad dream. The two armed guards by his side reached for their swords, but thankfully the old man recovered and stopped them from escalating the situation. He gestured for Seothrunn to enter the castle and stepped aside. Still, as Seothrunn walked past, he noticed the old man looking at him with a look that was a combination of fear and hatred.

With a shrug, Seothrunn dismissed that as just an oddity and continued on his way. Servants guided him to the main dining hall, where he found several people already seated at the long table. Some of them were eating, others chatting but most sat in silence. Deciding to join the last group, Seothrunn quietly walked over to an empty seat away from the others and sat down. If the others wished to talk to him, they were free to do so, but until then, he was content with just sitting and listening.

Code of the Burned [FULL]

No biggie, I edited my post to reflect that.

Code of the Burned [FULL]

The plan had been for Condor and Birdseed to distract anyone that might get in the way of Kheshig's work, but now it seemed as if they were doing the complete opposite. He could not hear what Birdseed had said to the woman out front, but now she was heading towards the back of the shop - towards Kheshig. The only saving grace was that the man standing behind him seemed pretty distracted by Condor and Birdseed's attired and physique. He had let out a low, approving whistle when the two ladies appeared on screen, and his eyes barely left that one monitor ever since then, only flicking downwards occasionally to keep an eye on Kheshig.

If it were not for the fast-approaching woman, Kheshig would have tried his hand at getting the man to head out front. It would have been an easy task; Kheshig was no reader of people, but even he could tell that the man was torn between staying to keep watch over Kheshig and heading out front to get a better look at Birdseed and Condor, or to do whatever men who were not Kheshig did with pretty ladies. His mind raced even as he maintained a bored and expressionless look on his face. Perhaps he could still convince the man to leave even after the woman arrived. There was a slight chance that she was coming back to fetch him.

That was when he heard the man let out a shout of alarm. Kheshig's head snapped up to look at the monitor and saw the last thing he wanted to see. Birdseed had entered a door she was evidently not supposed to enter, judging by the man's reaction. The whole point of the distraction was to allow for Kheshig to take his time to do a proper job, but now that seemed to be completely out of the question. For the first time in a very long time, Kheshig felt anger bubbling within him. Changes to the plan, he could tolerate. But such a blatant disregard for operational security? He was going to have words with her once this was over, but for now it was time to get his hands dirty.

"Where the hell is she going?" The man asked, seeing the same things that Kheshig saw on screen. He stepped past Kheshig to get a better look at the monitor. "That door's s'posed to be-"

He never got a chance to complete his sentence as Kheshig chose that moment to act. He stood up, then drove the heel of his palm into the back of the man's neck, just above the base of the skull. He put all of his weight into the strike, intent on knocking out the man with the first strike, or at least temporarily blinding him by attacking the back of his brain. The man crumpled onto the control panel in a heap, apparently knocked out by the blow. Kheshig was not too surprised; the back of the brain was a particularly vulnerable spot, one which could even cause death had he used more force.

His victory was short-lived, as just then the woman appeared. She looked at the man's unconscious form, then to Kheshig, surprise written all over her face. Kheshig acted a split-second too late, and the woman pounced on him first, a switchblade in her hands. Unarmed and not at all prepared for the sudden attack, Kheshig could only defend himself, deftly avoiding or deflecting the woman's attacks. He brought up everything that he had learned during his time with the Chinese Special Forces and bode his time, waiting for an opening. He found it when she lunged forward, extending just ever-so-slightly too much. Kheshig stepped to the side, grabbed the woman's attacking wrist with his left hand and pulled her forward, at the same time driving his right elbow towards her face.

There was a sickening crunch as her nose was shattered by his elbow, and she reeled back in pain, a sharp cry of pain emanating from her lips. By then it became clear that stealth was out of the option, and speed was their last hope of completing the job without any more trouble. It amazed Kheshig that the woman still kept her grip on the knife, but he wasted no time in following up on his assault. He lashed out with a kick at the woman's torso, the flat of his foot connecting with her body and sending her sprawling to the ground. He rushed over to her and pinned her to the ground with a knee on her chest.

"You will not die," Kheshig said, grabbed the woman's head, then smashed the back hard against the ground. She let out a sharp breath, then her body relaxed. These people may be criminals, but Kheshig was not about to kill someone without first knowing their crimes. His days of running and gunning were over; a life was only to be taken when it balanced a debt. That had been his personal creed, and it still was. "Sleep, and dream of a better life."

He stood up and exhaled, wiping the sweat from his brow. The time for the soft approach was gone. Now his objective was to remove all traces of their presence. Let the police or their friends believe that this was just a robbery or a turf war between gangs. Kheshig went to his bag and pulled out an EMP charge. He activated it and placed it on the console. The charge, designed for attacking hardened systems, almost set the entire console afire when it went off, but it did the job. The monitors turned black, and an intermittent buzzing sound told Kheshig that all the electronics were well and truly fried. No one would be able to pull anything from these machines.

He took out his radio from the duffel bag. "Callsign Kheshig here. Target is blind, but stealth might be blown. Tell callsign Birdseed she owes me." He said tersely and threw the radio back into the bag, with a little bit more force than he had intended. Kheshig could understand her actions; if he had been in her shoes, he imagined that he would have felt just as indignant. She was a genius gadgeteer and a capable agent, but her role in this mission amounted to being little more than eye candy. Had Kheshig been the one who put the plan together, he would have found a way to exploit her skills better, but he had not.

Yes, he could understand why Birdseed did what she did, but he did not condone it. An operation was a play, with everyone playing their part to make sure things ran smoothly. Kheshig let out a frustrated sigh and shook his head as he looked around him. Birdseed had decided that she disliked her role and chose another for herself, and now the play was in danger of becoming a flop. Yes, he was going to have words with her when this was over. It was a long ride home, after all.