Sparse clouds traverse the skies, casting shadows over a calm sea. The dark patches dance upon the water, traveling gently on the weak wind blowing from west to east. For all the [Sailors] out on the open water, it has proven to be utterly serene.
On these open waters, two fleets face each other; one side outnumbers the other by a factor of three. Despite this, the smaller fleet will not flee. Like the sun setting beneath the waves, so shall one fleet be sunk. The outcome is inevitable.
But, in the grand scheme of things, do these fleets truly matter? This petty battle, all for the proliferation of coffee? What happens next will only be a footnote in the great and long history of Orbis. For now, observers should forget about the coming carnage and simply enjoy what little calm remains before the storm. Ignore that faint niggling anxiety as the beautiful day inexorably draws to a close. All good things come to an end.
So it ends now.
The first to use their skills is a [Swiftwaters Captain], lifting up a wave to push his small ship to the front of the smaller fleet. Then so follows another ship, and another, and another again until they’re all rushing forward into the cacophony. Wind and water respond to spell and Skill, and so churns the sea and sky. As the other ships rush forward into battle, one vessel stays behind. Upon this craft, a human [Admiral] with a tall, golden afro stands at the prowl, watching. He shows no signs of concern. Of course, he has no real reason to, with his fleet holding the numbers and levels.
Next to the afroed [Admiral], an aged man garbed in white hooded robes leans on his wood and bronze cane. The elderly man, slightly shorter than the [Admiral], observes the naval force at work with eyes peering out beneath sagging lids.
“You are averse to risks,” the old man states. His voice is smooth and deep despite his years.
“Risks should be taken in times most dire, and none other. So has said Odin,” Aegir recites. He knows every passage of the scriptures by heart.
The old man does not respond for a long moment, content to let the seconds pass as he considers this nugget of divine wisdom.
“That is not always true,” the old man finally replies, using words that should be considered sacrilegious. Aegir would confine and capture the speaker of this heresy if they had been a mere [Archpriest]. If they were a [Priest], there would be only execution.
But, the person next to him is not a [Priest]. Nay, the old man is above even [Archpriests].
“[Abbot] Nickolas, I must ask you to explain your wisdom, for this one does not comprehend.” Aegir touches his chest, specifically the mark of Odin hidden beneath his embroidered and enchanted clothes. Even at the age of eighty, and a level few in the world can match, Aegir still knows he has more to learn.
Nickolas once again lets the conversation lull. As the wind grows more heavy and begins to whip at his robe, he looks up at the sky. With all the skills activating, a storm should be arriving soon enough.
“To be welcomed into the church of our most wise god, there may always be some risk involved. Whether a [Sailor] leaves the safety of his family to join the church, or a man condemned to death accepts the mantle of [Priest], a moment of risk is all but required to start upon the path laid before us.”
Aegir moves his hands to a chest pocket and retrieves a golden metal comb. With deft movements, he moves the comb through his golden afro, making sure that every strand of hair is perfectly positioned. While he does so, his thoughts shift through his mentor's words of wisdom.
The divine god Odin takes many actions that could be considered risky by the unknowing or unlearned, but these cannot be considered true risks. With his eye he can glimpse pieces of the future, and with that, the unlikely can become inevitable should he adjust things just so… But for those without the sight to see, living carries with it risk unavoidable. With that in mind, balance must be kept between risk that is necessary and risk that is not.
Even so, the [Abbot] speaks of risk as though there are exceptions. Now that Aegir contemplates Nickolas’ words, he comprehends the meaning.
“The steps taken to accept and learn of Odin's guidance is a risk in and of itself.” Aegir speaks aloud. “Accepting that guidance and teachings is also a risk, but a necessary one so as to learn to avoid risks.” Aegir looks away from the oncoming battle to stare wide-eyed at the [Abbot]’s imparted wisdom. “So long as the risks taken are to better your understanding to avoid risks, then the risk is justified because then you are working to better your acceptance in the eye of Odin!”
The [Abbot] turns to Aegir and nods sagely. It’s a movement of acknowledgement that the elderly have mastered after decades of learning, all the better to impart wisdom to the next generation. A movement that elicits a smile on Aegir's face reminiscent of a child rewarded for a good deed.
That good feeling ends prematurely when his eyes return to the battlefield to find the enemy fleet splitting in two.
_______
From atop the Queen's Gambit, [Pirate ArchQueen] Teuta cackles loudly as her fleet of pirate ships comes together into a wedge with her in the center. Once the wedge is complete, Teuta’s aura condenses at the front of her ship. She spreads her arms and yells:
“[Pilfered Prowess]:[Flamewreathed Stampede]”
A chill runs down Testudo's back as Teuta activates her signature skill. At the front of the charge, the Queen’s Gambit bursts into flames, which quickly spread to the rest of her ships. The ships and [Sailors] are undamaged by the flames, even as the flame grows hotter and hotter, boiling the water at their passing and leaving a dense trail of rising steam in her wake.
Though Teuta is loud and bombastic, even arguably insane, no one would ever call her stupid. Behind her violent attitude and overbearing demeanor lies a mind perfectly attuned to the rigors of naval warfare. Even now, as the flaming fleet rushes at him, Testudo cannot find any direct counter. No number of defensive skills could withstand her charge, and any ranged cannonfire would melt before touching a ship's hull, rendering almost any spell or skill on the projectile null. The worst of it comes after the charge, when the cloud of steam behind her settles into fog and blinds her foes.
If he faced Teuta alone, his ship to her own, he doubts he would win. The woman has too many tricks and her [Pilfered Prowess] skill is far too versatile to counter . How cruel and unfair the system is when it offers its blessings. No, the only way to win is to go to the source of the problem.
With a slow breath, Testudo gives the order and his fleet splits in half. Sixty ships go to the left and another sixty go to the right. Only his ship stays in the center, directly in the path of Tueta’s wedge.
Now, Teuta could easily shift her charge to port or starboard to hit his forces, but that would be a poor move on her part. Continuing her charge on the enemy commander and killing him would end every contract he has with the [Mercenaries], giving them no more reason to fight.
As his fleet moves out of the way of Teuta’s charge, Testudo begins to count down the seconds before she reaches his position.
“Five.”
“Four.”
“Three.”
He grabs the rim of his balcony with both hands.
“Two.”
He takes a deep breath and signals his best friend.
‘One’
_______
Tueta’s mouth falls open in surprise. Her eyes narrow.
“Oh, you fu–”
_______
His turtle and best friend, Navis, accepts his mental command and quickly flaps its fins. Navis dives under and takes Testudo and his castle down with it.
With a breath of fresh air in his lungs and a firm grip on his balcony's bars, Testudo watches the Queen’s Gambit pass overhead. As the ship passes, the water heats up to a boil, but not so much as to overwhelm his castle's enchantments. Even Navis, covered in thick scales, finds the boiling water quite comfortable.
A few seconds after Teuta passes him by, he orders Navis to rise. The turtle flaps quickly and ascends. With a violent splash of water, his castle rises above the sea, straight into the fog in Teuta’s wake. Though the fog restricts his sight, it doesn't matter. He knows where he’s going
_______
When Teuta activated her skill and rushed forward, Aegir had ordered his own navy to slow and wait. Unlike Tueta, his navy doesn’t have [Fog Mages] aboard every ship so as to navigate this mess. No, it would be better to let her deal with Testudo on her own and have his own unit avoid taking damage.
He watches her shoot forward, creating a trail of fog. He notes the splitting enemy fleet, choosing to avoid Teuta’s charge. The only one who doesn't move out of the way is Testudo, who is the sole reason that Teuta doesn’t change direction.
He watches Teuta reach Testudo, but doesn’t see the outcome due to the fog. Regardless, very few could survive a direct hit from the Queen’s Gambit. With his victory assured, Aegir looks to the mercenary fleet and waits for them to retreat.
…
Are they getting faster? he begins to wonder.
Then, in the fog, he sees it emerge
“Imposible,” the words come out of his mouth as Testudo exits the fog, revealing his untouched and undamaged castle. “Did she miss on purpose?” he asks aloud, already knowing the answer that she didn't. Her child is on the line, after all. No, Testudo clearly did something or activated some skill.
“Is there a problem?” the [Abbot] asks beside him, and Aegir quickly relaxes. Panic is unnecessary. He still outnumbers them and Testudo is rushing towards his entire armada alone and without the support of his mercenary ships which are maneuvering for a pincer attack. He could defend against the pincer… or, he could cut off the head.
“All units, [Focus Fire] on the enemy flagship.”
Though he somehow avoided Teuta, he doubts the Navis will evade a bombardment from several dozen ships.
With his order sent, his armada turns their broadsides on the Navis and releases a stream of mundane and magical projectiles. Dwarf cannons, [Mage] fireballs, enchanted ballistas, and other manner of projectiles leave ships and strike the castle walls. For a moment, a barrier of mana comes to life on the stone walls, absorbing the onslaught for a few seconds before the mana runs out. He watches the explosions as every impact shatters the stone walls, ripping chunks off the castle's defenses…
Even so, the walls hold. Strike after strike, the stone does crumble, but the wall stays standing. Then does the veneer fall away to reveal Aegir’s folly.
The walls of Navis shine in a black light as the constant onslaught of projectiles now harmlessly ricochet and shatter off the thick adamantium metal that no normal ship could ever be built of.
The Navis pushes forward, ignoring the focus fire with unexpected ease.
“Damnit,” Aegir exclaims, realizing what Testudo intends to do as the Navis ignores all other ships.
“He’s coming for me!” Aegir shifts his head to someone who might be able to help. “Molucca, stop Testudo at all costs. He must not reach my position!” he orders.
The Dwarven Anvil moves to intercept, yet its slow speed cannot compare to the turtle powered castle. But speed is not the issue; distance is.
From the forecastle of Molucca’s ship, a large ballista emerges from beneath it. The ballista aims at the Navis and fires a bolt that spreads out into a finely woven metal net that falls over the castle. A fine idea to prevent a prey from escaping.
With its prey caught, the Dwarven Anvil reels in its net to stop the Navis, only for the line to tense for a fraction of a moment before the Dwarven Anvil is pulled after the castle. Molucca falls to the floor of his ship from the sudden burst of unexpected speed.
“Idiot,” Aegir hisses at Molucca, “the damn turtle pulls an island. You can't hope to stop it with a single ship.”
Molucca quickly gets back up. The Dwarf raises a universal extended finger towards Aegir and then shouts orders to the rest of his fleet.
From the top of the other ships that are part of Molucca’s fleet, the same weapon rises from the forecastles, shooting several more nets that smother the Navis. With the additional weight of twenty frigates latching on to the Navis, the ship finally slows to a stop.
With the ship halted, Aegir releases a nervous breath–a timely mistake as Testudo’s mercenary fleet reaches and engages his own ships with superior positioning.
“[Defensive Sails], [Resilient Hulls].” Aegir quickly activates two skills, though the timing was far too late as he can already see several of his ships on fire and several more taking the enemies onslaught.
“Is there a problem?” the [Abbot] asks again and Aegir forces a smile.
“Only a slight setback,” he answers through gritted teeth.
The [Abbot] glances at the ships fighting in the distance, and the clearly winning mercenary ships.
“A slight setback,” Aegir repeats, “once Teuta turns around, they will be quickly dealt with.”
In seemingly that same moment, the [Pirate ArchQueen] exits the fog with the rest of her fleet. She splits her forces in half, sending them to harass the mercenaries while her own ship heads directly for the immobile Navis.
“You think you can trick me, you piece of [Lord] shit!?” Teuta bellows from her ship.
“See,” Aegir extends his hand at the battle, “everything is still under control.”
But the [Abbot] is preoccupied with a different sight. Nickolas’ mouth is agape as he stares at something behind Aegir.
Confused, Aegir turns around and sees what he could only describe as a horizontal hurricane.
Sparse clouds traverse the skies, casting shadows over a calm sea. The dark patches dance upon the water, traveling gently on the weak wind blowing from west to east. For all the [Sailors] out on the open water, it has proven to be utterly serene.
On these open waters, two fleets face each other; one side outnumbers the other by a factor of three. Despite this, the smaller fleet will not flee. Like the sun setting beneath the waves, so shall one fleet be sunk. The outcome is inevitable.
But, in the grand scheme of things, do these fleets truly matter? This petty battle, all for the proliferation of coffee? What happens next will only be a footnote in the great and long history of Orbis. For now, observers should forget about the coming carnage and simply enjoy what little calm remains before the storm. Ignore that faint niggling anxiety as the beautiful day inexorably draws to a close. All good things come to an end.
So it ends now.
The first to use their skills is a [Swiftwaters Captain], lifting up a wave to push his small ship to the front of the smaller fleet. Then so follows another ship, and another, and another again until they’re all rushing forward into the cacophony. Wind and water respond to spell and Skill, and so churns the sea and sky. As the other ships rush forward into battle, one vessel stays behind. Upon this craft, a human [Admiral] with a tall, golden afro stands at the prowl, watching. He shows no signs of concern. Of course, he has no real reason to, with his fleet holding the numbers and levels.
Next to the afroed [Admiral], an aged man garbed in white hooded robes leans on his wood and bronze cane. The elderly man, slightly shorter than the [Admiral], observes the naval force at work with eyes peering out beneath sagging lids.
“You are averse to risks,” the old man states. His voice is smooth and deep despite his years.
“Risks should be taken in times most dire, and none other. So has said Odin,” Aegir recites. He knows every passage of the scriptures by heart.
The old man does not respond for a long moment, content to let the seconds pass as he considers this nugget of divine wisdom.
“That is not always true,” the old man finally replies, using words that should be considered sacrilegious. Aegir would confine and capture the speaker of this heresy if they had been a mere [Archpriest]. If they were a [Priest], there would be only execution.
But, the person next to him is not a [Priest]. Nay, the old man is above even [Archpriests].
“[Abbot] Nickolas, I must ask you to explain your wisdom, for this one does not comprehend.” Aegir touches his chest, specifically the mark of Odin hidden beneath his embroidered and enchanted clothes. Even at the age of eighty, and a level few in the world can match, Aegir still knows he has more to learn.
Nickolas once again lets the conversation lull. As the wind grows more heavy and begins to whip at his robe, he looks up at the sky. With all the skills activating, a storm should be arriving soon enough.
“To be welcomed into the church of our most wise god, there may always be some risk involved. Whether a [Sailor] leaves the safety of his family to join the church, or a man condemned to death accepts the mantle of [Priest], a moment of risk is all but required to start upon the path laid before us.”
Aegir moves his hands to a chest pocket and retrieves a golden metal comb. With deft movements, he moves the comb through his golden afro, making sure that every strand of hair is perfectly positioned. While he does so, his thoughts shift through his mentor's words of wisdom.
The divine god Odin takes many actions that could be considered risky by the unknowing or unlearned, but these cannot be considered true risks. With his eye he can glimpse pieces of the future, and with that, the unlikely can become inevitable should he adjust things just so… But for those without the sight to see, living carries with it risk unavoidable. With that in mind, balance must be kept between risk that is necessary and risk that is not.
Even so, the [Abbot] speaks of risk as though there are exceptions. Now that Aegir contemplates Nickolas’ words, he comprehends the meaning.
“The steps taken to accept and learn of Odin's guidance is a risk in and of itself.” Aegir speaks aloud. “Accepting that guidance and teachings is also a risk, but a necessary one so as to learn to avoid risks.” Aegir looks away from the oncoming battle to stare wide-eyed at the [Abbot]’s imparted wisdom. “So long as the risks taken are to better your understanding to avoid risks, then the risk is justified because then you are working to better your acceptance in the eye of Odin!”
The [Abbot] turns to Aegir and nods sagely. It’s a movement of acknowledgement that the elderly have mastered after decades of learning, all the better to impart wisdom to the next generation. A movement that elicits a smile on Aegir's face reminiscent of a child rewarded for a good deed.
That good feeling ends prematurely when his eyes return to the battlefield to find the enemy fleet splitting in two.
_______
From atop the Queen's Gambit, [Pirate ArchQueen] Teuta cackles loudly as her fleet of pirate ships comes together into a wedge with her in the center. Once the wedge is complete, Teuta’s aura condenses at the front of her ship. She spreads her arms and yells:
“[Pilfered Prowess]:[Flamewreathed Stampede]”
A chill runs down Testudo's back as Teuta activates her signature skill. At the front of the charge, the Queen’s Gambit bursts into flames, which quickly spread to the rest of her ships. The ships and [Sailors] are undamaged by the flames, even as the flame grows hotter and hotter, boiling the water at their passing and leaving a dense trail of rising steam in her wake.
Though Teuta is loud and bombastic, even arguably insane, no one would ever call her stupid. Behind her violent attitude and overbearing demeanor lies a mind perfectly attuned to the rigors of naval warfare. Even now, as the flaming fleet rushes at him, Testudo cannot find any direct counter. No number of defensive skills could withstand her charge, and any ranged cannonfire would melt before touching a ship's hull, rendering almost any spell or skill on the projectile null. The worst of it comes after the charge, when the cloud of steam behind her settles into fog and blinds her foes.
If he faced Teuta alone, his ship to her own, he doubts he would win. The woman has too many tricks and her [Pilfered Prowess] skill is far too versatile to counter . How cruel and unfair the system is when it offers its blessings. No, the only way to win is to go to the source of the problem.
With a slow breath, Testudo gives the order and his fleet splits in half. Sixty ships go to the left and another sixty go to the right. Only his ship stays in the center, directly in the path of Tueta’s wedge.
Now, Teuta could easily shift her charge to port or starboard to hit his forces, but that would be a poor move on her part. Continuing her charge on the enemy commander and killing him would end every contract he has with the [Mercenaries], giving them no more reason to fight.
As his fleet moves out of the way of Teuta’s charge, Testudo begins to count down the seconds before she reaches his position.
“Five.”
“Four.”
“Three.”
He grabs the rim of his balcony with both hands.
“Two.”
He takes a deep breath and signals his best friend.
‘One’
_______
Tueta’s mouth falls open in surprise. Her eyes narrow.
“Oh, you fu–”
_______
His turtle and best friend, Navis, accepts his mental command and quickly flaps its fins. Navis dives under and takes Testudo and his castle down with it.
With a breath of fresh air in his lungs and a firm grip on his balcony's bars, Testudo watches the Queen’s Gambit pass overhead. As the ship passes, the water heats up to a boil, but not so much as to overwhelm his castle's enchantments. Even Navis, covered in thick scales, finds the boiling water quite comfortable.
A few seconds after Teuta passes him by, he orders Navis to rise. The turtle flaps quickly and ascends. With a violent splash of water, his castle rises above the sea, straight into the fog in Teuta’s wake. Though the fog restricts his sight, it doesn't matter. He knows where he’s going
_______
When Teuta activated her skill and rushed forward, Aegir had ordered his own navy to slow and wait. Unlike Tueta, his navy doesn’t have [Fog Mages] aboard every ship so as to navigate this mess. No, it would be better to let her deal with Testudo on her own and have his own unit avoid taking damage.
He watches her shoot forward, creating a trail of fog. He notes the splitting enemy fleet, choosing to avoid Teuta’s charge. The only one who doesn't move out of the way is Testudo, who is the sole reason that Teuta doesn’t change direction.
He watches Teuta reach Testudo, but doesn’t see the outcome due to the fog. Regardless, very few could survive a direct hit from the Queen’s Gambit. With his victory assured, Aegir looks to the mercenary fleet and waits for them to retreat.
…
Are they getting faster? he begins to wonder.
Then, in the fog, he sees it emerge
“Imposible,” the words come out of his mouth as Testudo exits the fog, revealing his untouched and undamaged castle. “Did she miss on purpose?” he asks aloud, already knowing the answer that she didn't. Her child is on the line, after all. No, Testudo clearly did something or activated some skill.
“Is there a problem?” the [Abbot] asks beside him, and Aegir quickly relaxes. Panic is unnecessary. He still outnumbers them and Testudo is rushing towards his entire armada alone and without the support of his mercenary ships which are maneuvering for a pincer attack. He could defend against the pincer… or, he could cut off the head.
“All units, [Focus Fire] on the enemy flagship.”
Though he somehow avoided Teuta, he doubts the Navis will evade a bombardment from several dozen ships.
With his order sent, his armada turns their broadsides on the Navis and releases a stream of mundane and magical projectiles. Dwarf cannons, [Mage] fireballs, enchanted ballistas, and other manner of projectiles leave ships and strike the castle walls. For a moment, a barrier of mana comes to life on the stone walls, absorbing the onslaught for a few seconds before the mana runs out. He watches the explosions as every impact shatters the stone walls, ripping chunks off the castle's defenses…
Even so, the walls hold. Strike after strike, the stone does crumble, but the wall stays standing. Then does the veneer fall away to reveal Aegir’s folly.
The walls of Navis shine in a black light as the constant onslaught of projectiles now harmlessly ricochet and shatter off the thick adamantium metal that no normal ship could ever be built of.
The Navis pushes forward, ignoring the focus fire with unexpected ease.
“Damnit,” Aegir exclaims, realizing what Testudo intends to do as the Navis ignores all other ships.
“He’s coming for me!” Aegir shifts his head to someone who might be able to help. “Molucca, stop Testudo at all costs. He must not reach my position!” he orders.
The Dwarven Anvil moves to intercept, yet its slow speed cannot compare to the turtle powered castle. But speed is not the issue; distance is.
From the forecastle of Molucca’s ship, a large ballista emerges from beneath it. The ballista aims at the Navis and fires a bolt that spreads out into a finely woven metal net that falls over the castle. A fine idea to prevent a prey from escaping.
With its prey caught, the Dwarven Anvil reels in its net to stop the Navis, only for the line to tense for a fraction of a moment before the Dwarven Anvil is pulled after the castle. Molucca falls to the floor of his ship from the sudden burst of unexpected speed.
“Idiot,” Aegir hisses at Molucca, “the damn turtle pulls an island. You can't hope to stop it with a single ship.”
Molucca quickly gets back up. The Dwarf raises a universal extended finger towards Aegir and then shouts orders to the rest of his fleet.
From the top of the other ships that are part of Molucca’s fleet, the same weapon rises from the forecastles, shooting several more nets that smother the Navis. With the additional weight of twenty frigates latching on to the Navis, the ship finally slows to a stop.
With the ship halted, Aegir releases a nervous breath–a timely mistake as Testudo’s mercenary fleet reaches and engages his own ships with superior positioning.
“[Defensive Sails], [Resilient Hulls].” Aegir quickly activates two skills, though the timing was far too late as he can already see several of his ships on fire and several more taking the enemies onslaught.
“Is there a problem?” the [Abbot] asks again and Aegir forces a smile.
“Only a slight setback,” he answers through gritted teeth.
The [Abbot] glances at the ships fighting in the distance, and the clearly winning mercenary ships.
“A slight setback,” Aegir repeats, “once Teuta turns around, they will be quickly dealt with.”
In seemingly that same moment, the [Pirate ArchQueen] exits the fog with the rest of her fleet. She splits her forces in half, sending them to harass the mercenaries while her own ship heads directly for the immobile Navis.
“You think you can trick me, you piece of [Lord] shit!?” Teuta bellows from her ship.
“See,” Aegir extends his hand at the battle, “everything is still under control.”
But the [Abbot] is preoccupied with a different sight. Nickolas’ mouth is agape as he stares at something behind Aegir.
Confused, Aegir turns around and sees what he could only describe as a horizontal hurricane.
