[Memory] Eye of the Storm

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For all of your traveling the open waters of Vita: Austan Ocean, Galkan Ocean, Quiet Sea, Cea di Vesta, and the Tincta Basta.

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Niccolette Ibutatu
Posts: 552
Joined: Thu Jul 11, 2019 11:41 pm
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Wed Aug 21, 2019 5:35 pm

Evening, 25th Vortas, 2713
The Eqe Aqawe, Over the Tincta Basta
Aremu dropped to the deck next to her. Niccolette inhaled, sharply, looking at him. She could feel her pulse jumping wildly in her neck; blood trickled from her nose, and she wiped it away.

“Niccolette – you are –” Aremu hesitated, eyes wide.

From behind them, the two heard the pirate howl – heard the wet thunk as Kirrah’s blades found their mark.

“Get her inside,” Niccolette said. “Strap in. I’ll push.” The Bastian stepped away from the door, glancing up at the ship overhead. She stepped back against the wall, reaching up, and tugged down the straps of a harness, securing herself to the wood. Her hands fumbled, and Aremu reached for her, pulling the straps tight.

The imbala stepped back, and glanced up at Kirrah as she stumbled towards them. “Ms. Grey,” he said, tension hard in his voice. “There is no time – come with me, please,” he would grab her arm if she needed the support, hustling the passive in through the door, then ten feet down the hallway, away from the deck outside.

“Hold tight,” Aremu said, jaw clenching. He glanced back out the door, as if he could see Niccolette through the solid wood.

She was not, Niccolette thought dizzily, much of a physical sorcerer. It had never been her specialty. Blood was dripping steadily from her nose now, the adrenaline spell already pushing her body beyond what it could handle. Uzoji or Chibugo might have been able to cast the spell from inside. She had heard Uzoji cast it often enough; Niccolette was sure she could do it. She did not see as that she had a choice.

Niccolette inhaled, deeply, and held tight to the last of her energy as she began to cast, eyes fixed on the ship above, her body tense. She could feel the Eqe Aqawe begin to move – could feel the nose point down, Chibugo trying to put distance between them and the other ship. The engine rumbled loud through the ship – the propellers whipped around, adding energy to it. Niccolette tempered her spell to account for the change, chanted again –

And a push spell from the galdor caught Eqe Aqawe, and shoved it through the air, hurling it in the direction Chibugo had pointed her in. Not hard - not nearly as hard as Uzoji or Chibugo could have done it - but hard enough. The snap of the movement lifted them all off the ground – Niccolette, strapped to the outside of the ship, the wind battering against her – Aremu and Kirrah inside, with Aremu reaching out again to catch hold of Kirrah, if she needed it – distant, in the cockpit, Chibguo was already strapped close to the wheel, but even he and Uzoji would feel the lift of it, the sudden sense of weightlessness.

The pirate Kirrah had killed flew backwards off the ship, dragged over the deck railing – spun off into the distant night. Niccolette watched him, dizzy; she had curled the spell, and that was good, because nausea was churning in her stomach. The Bastian vomited, and the wind swept it away. She sagged, held up only just by the straps, and felt the last vestiges of the adrenaline spell fade; her nose dripped blood, her hands were numb, and she threw up again, splattering vomit over the ship’s deck.

Chibugo caught the new current, and the wind swept them away from the aerial battle, set them on a new course.

The moment the ship leveled out, Aremu let go of Kirrah and ran for the door, leaving the hand holds behind. He fumbled it open, eyes locked on Niccolette. After a moment, seeing the fragile flutter of her pulse in her neck, the passive let out a soft sigh. He shoved his leg through one of the leather straps, holding himself in place, and unbuckled the Bastian, lifting her in his arms.

Niccolette groaned, softly, not even half conscious, head lolling back. Blood smeared her pale face, and vomit flecked her lips, the make-up that had been neat a few hours ago a smeared mess over her eyes and lips. “It worked,” she told Aremu, pride fierce in her voice with the last of her strength. Then, eyes fluttering closed, Niccolette surrendered (briefly) to the night.

Aremu chuckled, hefted the unconscious Bastian, and chose his moment carefully between the gusts of wind, carrying the galdor back inside. He shut the door behind him with his leg, and looked up at Kirrah.

“Could have been worse,” The imbala said, grinning, although he was shaking slightly. “Uzoji’s alive – Niccolette’s alive – I am alive – Chibugo must be alive, or the ship would not fly so smoothly. How is your arm?” He carried the Bastian past Kirrah, turning sideways to fit in the narrow hallway, and headed not for the bridge, but for once of the small rooms along the corridor.

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Rolls
Pushing the Eqe Aqawe: SidekickBOTToday at 2:15 PM
@moralhazard: 1d6 = (3) = 3

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Kirrah
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Joined: Sat Aug 03, 2019 5:23 pm
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Race: Passive
Location: France
: The viper
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Wed Aug 21, 2019 7:16 pm

Somewhere between the begining and the end of times
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Kirrah didn't refused Aremu help. At this point, she was lightheaded, partly from the loss of blood, and partly from the heavy exhaustion from her previous fight. She listened to his recommendation and stayed put, waiting for the ship to once again soar the air out of danger.

When Aremu darted out, Kirrah use the occasion to do some quick stitches on her arm. Since the cut was shallow, she didn’t need to do anything extensive, but she took care to clean the wound, and patch it a bit, just to forced it close while it healed naturally.

Her whole side was bruised, but nothing seemed broken, which was a relief.

When Aremu got back, she smiled and nodded at his comment, showing him the fresh stitches:

– I’ll live, shouldn’t even leave a scan if I keep it clean.

Kirrah grunted as she stood up from sitting, and asked Aremu:

– Even if alive is a good start, she doesn’t look too good though. I’d like to check on Uzoji, he got hit pretty hard, and I’d prefer our captain to be in shape to handle his ship.

As they walked into the corridor, she asked Aremu:

- Could you walk me through what put her in this state exactly? I won’t take the initiative to treat her as I don’t want Nicco to bite my hand of when she wakes up but being careful won’t hurt. I’d still prefer her to wake up pissed that not waking up at all.

She listened to the passive without committing to an answer herself.

We they reached the command center, Kirrah was please to see that Uzoji seemed a bit less out of sort. Not that he didn’t still looked like crap, but at least one conscious version of himself.

She picked the vial that had roll down:

– Aye aye captain. All personnel accounted for, none in good shape, but all limbs accounted for too.

She then offered him the vial:

– Might I interest you with some “backlash” medicine? Already tested and approved on my gollies guinea pig, all alive to tell the tale, and overall one of my best sales. It just some syrup laced with pain killer and stimulants, should ease your symptoms for the time being.


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Niccolette Ibutatu
Posts: 552
Joined: Thu Jul 11, 2019 11:41 pm
Topics: 38
Race: Galdor
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Plot Notes: Plot Notes
Writer: moralhazard
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Wed Aug 21, 2019 11:20 pm

Evening, 25th Vortas, 2713
The Eqe Aqawe, Over the Tincta Basta
Aremu held, politely, when Kirrah made to show him her stitches, shifting the weight of the galdor in his arms. He winced sympathetically, inhaling a little hiss of breath through his teeth, and raised an eyebrow in surprise when Kirrah said it wouldn’t scar. “I’ve never known one to need stitches that didn’t,” he said, appreciative. “You must be good at what you do,” he glanced down at her arm again.

The imbala carried Niccolette down the hall. He shifted her against his chest, and reached down to unlock a door, going not into the command center, but into a side room. There was a large bed which took up most of the space – a chest, as if for clothing, strapped to one wall – coats, for men and women both, against another. Aremu lay Niccolette gently on the bed, and stepped back, turning to look at Kirrah.

“She’ll wake up,” Aremu grinned, wickedly. “It takes more than that to keep Niccolette down,” The imbala rubbed his bare head with his hand, inhaling sharply at the pull of sore muscles. “I don’t know what does it – adrenaline spells take her this way. She should be fine when she wakes.”

Aremu led Kirrah to the command center – to Uzoji, as she’d requested.

Chibugo glanced back over his shoulder as they entered, just for a moment, before turning his attention back to the wheel. “I knew they were cracked in the water barrel,” he grinned, vicious, and adjusted their course slightly, the ship still soaring through the sky. He checked the chimes against the outer edge of the ship – adjusted a lever – and kept flying.

Uzoji was still looking clammy and very much like he’d been knocked halfway across the room into the wall, but he was sitting up considerably more. He jerked when Kirrah reached into the chair next to him, dark eyes flickering over the passive – tense, for a moment, before he recognized her and relaxed.

Uzoji licked his lips, weakly. He glanced down at Kirrah’s hand, brow furrowing in more than a little confusion as she lifted the vial from between the cushion and the air of the chair. He tried to twist in the chair, looking around, and grunted with pain as the movement tore through his ribs. He sat back again with a slight groan, breathing a little harder.

“Bhe,” Uzoji said, more than a little dizzily, not quite able to respond to Kirrah with actual words. He pulsed his field in the air around them, heavy once more with physical and static mona.

“Niccolette?” Uzoji called.

“She’s fine, poa’xa,” Aremu came forward, kneeling at the edge of the chair, raising an eyebrow. “Better than you, eh?” He grinned at the galdor.

Uzoji snorted. “I’m fine,” he cleared his throat. “Well – where is she then?” He was grumpy – sulky, almost.

“Sleeping off an adrenaline spell,” Aremu leaned in, undoing the buckles on Uzoji’s harness. “I’ll take you to her.”

“Domea,” Uzoji took a deep breath, and looked up at Kirrah. “Thank you for the offer,” the galdor said, pulling himself together. “But the worst of the backlash has passed, and I am not a fan of – stimulants,” he dropped his gaze to the vial.

Aremu pushed the last of the straps away, reaching for Uzoji.

Uzoji clasped his friend’s arm. “And you?” He asked, looking at Aremu.

“Fine,” Aremu promised. “As Ms. Grey said,” he glanced up at Kirrah. “All accounted for.”

Uzoji nodded. He grunted, painfully, and let Aremu half-lift him from the chair. He groaned again, the act of settling his arm around the imbala’s shoulders more than a little painful, but walked – slowly, determinedly – across the command center, towards the door back to the hallway.

He paused at the doorway, clinging to it, and turned, slowly and laboriously, to look back at Chibugo. “Chibugo, you have the – the helm?” Uzoji’s eyes were dimming again, his lids heavy and flickering.

“No problem, iora,” Chibugo promised.

Uzoji nodded, dizzily, and Aremu let out a soft grunt of his own, taking a little more of the galdor’s weight.

“Domea,” Uzoji said again.

“It is nothing, poa’xa,” Aremu promised.

The two men walked together down the hall. Aremu opened the door to the same room where he had left Niccolette, and half-carried Uzoji inside. The Mugrobi collapsed onto the bed next to his wife – pushed himself up, slowly, looking down at her.

“Aremu,” Uzoji said, fuzzily. “Help me – she shall not be – comfortable.” His hands fumbled at Niccolette’s jacket.

Aremu couldn’t help grinning. He crossed to the other side of the bed and – very, very carefully – helped Uzoji to remove Niccolette’s jacket. The Bastian hardly stirred, shifting only a little.

Uzoji scowled at the sight of the blood smeared beneath Niccolette's nose, and frowned accusingly at Aremu. “She was hit?” He stroked his wife’s nose, his touch delicate despite shaky hands, checking for breaks.

“No, poa’xa,” Aremu promised. “She will be fine with sleep. As will you.”

“Yes,” Uzoji exhaled, slowly. He stroked Niccolette’s hair with his hand, and lay down, slowly, drawing her close to him. Niccolette shifted a little – let out a noise somewhere between an exhale and a sigh. Uzoji smiled, eyes fluttering closed, and slept.

Aremu draped a blanket over the two galdori, and shut the door to their room behind himself. He made his way back to the bridge, tiredly rubbing his face with both hands. He nodded to Kirrah, Chibugo as well, and sank slowly into one of the chairs. “I’ll keep a watch,” The imbala said, quietly. “After – a few minutes rest.”

“Take your time, adame,” Chibugo said, cheerfully. “I am sure you bloodied them well. I do not think they will catch us again, not after that maneuver. But – then – Hulali floats… and he drowns.”

“Hulali floats… and he drowns,” Aremu agreed, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. “He floats,” The passive said again, slowly, exhaustion thick in the edges of his voice, “and he drowns.”

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