Forgotten Freedom:73

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Lisa has just given the guests the hypercondensed version of Terra's history.

Malik: And you plan on marrying this woman?!

Lisa: Absolutely.

Diani: Honey, I'm not really sure I'm ok with this...

Dzarro: She's very dangerous, to say the least. How do you know she's sincere?

Lisa: Because I have seen her prove it. Since we started getting closer, she has always kept my feelings in mind.

Diani: But that doesn't mean she truly loves you. What makes you think she's just not saying these things for some reason?

Lisa: *her eyes become distant* I have been inside her mind. She opened her heart to me, making sure I knew what I was getting into before we went further. I probably know her better than anyone else by this point, even Volrath.

Malik: She could have been misleading you. It doesn't seem too improbable...

Lisa: I found no inconsistencies, no holes in what I saw. Besides, simulating feelings of that magnitude is just plain impossible. :blush:

• pause*

Diani: ...very well. I won't object any further.

Dzarro: *nods* I'll trust your judgement on this. If you're anywhere near as happy as you seem, this is a rare match indeed.

Malik: ...

Diani: What's wrong?

Malik: I just don't understand how this will work, or how it could have worked to this point.

Lisa: Love doesn't always make sense. You should know that.

Malik:  :blush:  :blush:  :blush:  :blush:

---

Jarlot: I don't see what Terra's problem is.

Ketler: Well DUH, this photo competition needs to be done right. All of these pictures are naughty!

Jarlot: Well its not like Terra isn't slutty or chibi most of the time anyway.

Ketler: Eh?

Jarlot: I'm sorry, booze induced haze makes all women that way.

Ketler: Even Aurala?

Jarlot: Even Aurala. Take for instance how Slip appears to me.[1]

Ketler: :blink: Uhhhh she's a lot more....developed than I remember.

Jarlot: Quite so.

Ketler: We need to get into your brain more often.

Jarlot: To alcohol! The cause and solution to all of life's problems!

---

13: They're right.

Crow: About the whole "she might be misleading you"? It's true.

Silver: Key word being might.

13: How so?

Silver: You'll need to know this if you want not to exist. Take notes.

Crow: Reality is all suspect. How can one know anything? Like when you were perfectly sane.

13: I don't remember all of that.

Silver: When you're perfectly sane your realize that the fact that your senses can be fooled means that it's impossible to know what is real and what is an illusion. Or ever whether or not real can exist.

Crow: We've all seen those movies.

They watch Keanu Jarlot walk by with a funny hat on.

13: So how does this relate to being an Entity of Non-existance?

Silver: Where we come from is impossible to conceptualize. What we do is not set. Our bodies and minds are not subject to any laws of reality. Therefore, having no known existance, we are non-existant.

Crow: To anticipate any questions, the fact that Terra could still be manipulating things is about as likely now as Lisa planning something. If you look at everything perfectly logically anything is possible.

13: No wonder Jarlot drinks.

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Caralot: It should be noted that the populous of Khovaire originally hails from Sarlona like all lifeforms but for multiple ethnic groups in fact also came. Most intriguingly, is the fact that Jarlot as a half-Seren is actually partially related to a racial grouping we'd term to be "Asian" in our world. Aerith as herself a half-elf has her human father being fully from Sarlona. Hence, the curiosity of their bloodline.

Aerith: So why is Jaela human?

Caralot: She's not. She's actually a full elf, she just had her ears clipped.

Aerith: GAH!

Caralot: Now to explain Michael. Michael is actually the product of a Solar Deva and a human and as such is fantastically good looking. His brooding, deep, animal magnetism overwhelms most women who come into contact with him.

Aerith: Michael?

Caralot: Yes, thankfully for the human gene pool there has been provided other factors that compensate in reverse to this.

Aerith: What are those?

Michael: *BELCCHHHHHHHH*

Aerith: I know a lot of women wouldn't be troubled by that.

Caralot: Also, Michael has a profound attraction to women with Auras of good and purity. They remind him of his mother.

Lisa: You mean the reason we sleep together is because I remind him of...

Aerith: Well I *AM* a redhead.

Lisa: AH!

Andrea: And necromancers can be sexy too! Hush!

---

Sa'vor vanishes below deck. There was time for introductions later. Better to not overwhelm them, also, Family time was precious. You had to enjoy it while you could. You never knew when it could be taken from you. Sa'vor dropped incorporeal through most of the ships decks, until he neared the lower decks. He became corporeal once more. The hunt began. Of late the Redshirts had been getting better, their hiding places harder to find, and their speed quickening. Some of them were even sporting minor items to make themselves harder to catch. Sa’vor smiled. It only made the hunt more exciting, and their blood that much sweeter for the realization that despite their efforts, it was futile to try and escape.

His feet touched the ground without a sound and he crouched low, staying to the shadows. Then he smelled it: Fear. There was a Redshirt nearby and he was dripping with fear, so much you could taste on the tip of your tongue like sweet sugar. I wonder… thought Sa’vor. He hadn’t been hunting in days, what with moving his plans along and the other intricacies of life on the Forgotten Freedom. Perhaps the Redshirts knew this, and feared that the time for another hunt had drawn close. Yes, that was it. They just knew that a hunt was drawing close and then one of their number would fall as always.

Sa’vor reached out to the nearby Redshirt’s mind, seeking to confirm his suspicions, but met only blind, irrational fear. Then he sensed it. There was another hunting here. Someone else was here, hunting HIS prey. He moved down the passage to investigate, drawing forth is black energy kamas to prepare for a battle should it arise.

He didn’t have to go far. This hall opened up to a small room with three other entrances to it, their dark portals obscured in shadows. All the torches here were extinguished and the only light shown from one the Redshirt held in hand, waving about frantically. panic engulfed his features, eyes wide and bloodshot, mouth moving in a silent prayer that he knew would not save him, hand clutching a dagger that he waved about with the torch, shaking as he did so.

Then the face appeared in the shadows. A human face, or seeming so. The eyes opened revealing black where the white should be and irises glowing red. Sa’vor watched as the thing smiled a vampire’s smile, white fangs glistening in the flimsy light of the torch.

Sa’vor saw through the illusion. He’d long ago enchanted his eyes to see through such simple things. The Redshirt however, didn’t and backed away in fear, hand finally dropping the dagger from his shaking grasp. Four obsidian chains sprang from the shadows behind him, short barbed blades on the ends finding purchase in each of the Redshirt’s limbs.

He shrieked in pain and terror as the chains lifted him and drew him toward the shadows. Still howling in pain, the Redshirt gripped his torch all the tighter and the same face came into view, this time with a body attached to it. A metallic claw sprang forth from the creature’s cloak, gripping the Redshirt’s head, forcing it to the side while the creature sank his teeth into the Redshirt’s neck.

The screaming stopped abruptly as the Redshirt’s life was bled from him. His body went limp on the chains that suspended him and his torch fell from his hands. The being drank for a second more before the chains hurled the drained corpse away into the shadows.

Sa’vor stood as the being turned to face him, wiping blood from his mouth with his metallic claws. The creature bowed low then spoke, “My apologies. If I had known that you would be hunting at this time, I would have waited.” He rose from his bow and looked Sa’vor in the eye. “My name is Terrek; I already know who you are.” He gestured toward Sa’vor’s kamas, “And you can put those things away, I’ve no intention of attacking you.”

Sa’vor straightened, but didn’t sheath is weapons. “What are you doing here?”

“I have my reasons for being onboard. Suffice it to say that they have much to do with the prophecy. However, I hadn’t intended to reveal myself to anyone just yet.”

Sa’vor stared at him, running his eyes over his potential enemy. Terreck stood over six feet tall and was muscularly built. Aside from his cloak, he wore only pants and boots, leaving his bare chest exposed. It seemed as though half of it was composed of a fluid-like metal that appeared as silver but seemed to draw all light into it. Other bits of the same metal shone through on his torso and arms, which ended in wicked metallic claws. Four obsidian chains wrapped around his waist and it appeared as though they were connected to his back. Rising from his shoulders were massive wings, like none he’d ever seen before. They appeared as the wings of an angel formed from mithral with blades instead of feathers. Each blade measured at least eight inches long and glistened faintly in the light of the dropped torch.

“I admit thought; I’m surprised you didn’t notice me earlier. I’ve been on the ship for about a week already. I thought it might be a good idea to wait till after the wedding to reveal myself though.”

Sa’vor looked up from studying him and met his gaze. “I thought I felt something down here last time I hunted, but assumed it was one of the other Ubers. That and it felt like a Redshirt, so I ignored it.”

“Yes, well, I’ve been eating them. That lets me mimic them for 24 hours. Contrary to what you just saw, I’m not actually a vampire. I’m a Soul Eater. The fangs are a graft. Anyways, I’ll let you get on with your hunt. If you wish to speak with me afterward, seek me out. I only ask that you don’t reveal my presence to the rest of the crew till a later date. They’ve enough to worry about with the wedding.”

With that he was gone; Sa’vor sensed him in another section of the ship. He felt the pangs of bloodlust and decided to wait to find out more about this new addition to the crew.

---

Sa'vor had lost himself in the hunt. That poor little redshirt ran with all the energy he could, but in wasn't enough. Sa'vor was getting closer. Sa'vor could almost taste the redshirt's young blood. Just as he was closing for the kill, Sa'vor sees the redshirt's torso explode in a shower of blood and gore. Streaking free from the blood is a single silver bolt. It then hits the wall beside Sa'vor with enough force to drive it in up to the fletchings. What's left of the redshirt falls to the floor. This reveals an slender man, holding a spike-spikard in his out-stretched arm. The man has a pair of black angelic wings. His hair is braided into a pony-tail, long enough to touch the floor. He levels the spikard at Sa'vor, and releases a volley of silver bolts. Sa'vor skillfully dodges each one. He the runs toward the man, kamas drawn. As he closes Sa'vor strikes with his kamas, but each time the winged man dodges the blows with unearthly grace. After several failed attempts Sa'vor feels his kamas dig into the man's stomach. Just as he looks up to see his opponent's wound, Sa'vor feels the man's spikard pressing on his forehead. man: In the name of God, impure souls of the living dead shall be banished into eternal damnation, Amen. With that a silver bolt shoots into Sa'vor forehead, and explodes out the back of his skull bringing with it bits of skull and brain. man: Urial, Terra, Volrath beware, because Dendril is here! I want her back! *brakes into a tearful laugh*

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Sa'vor slowly reformed over three whole hours. all the time, his mind wandered over his defeat. defeat. the shame, the humuliation. Sa'vor smiled, at last it was getting intresting. Sa'vor frowned, he hadnt seen the past few events coming. odd. usualy he saw anything that was indagering the flow of time. or anything extremly important to the prohecy's. for short bursts of time he was able to precognate an enemies actions moments before they happened. What gifts the gods gave they took away. oh and how they loved making people suffer, people born to be brilliant flute players. in countries where there are no flutes. Sa'vor savored the taste of defeat.

he focused his mind once more, he hadnt felt this kind of sharpness since he had been defeated when his mother was slain. from that day forward he had desired nothing more than to be undefeatable. the detremination returned once more. Sa'vor smiled evily. if he could not win in brute force. then subtlety would be his weapon, a plan began to form in his mind. and once more thoughts flashed through his mind.

                                       *** 

Tara saw Sa'vor's essence begin to reform. he would be extremly angry when he reformed. Tara shuddered, if somthing slew Sa'vor. then she wouldnt stand a chance. Tara smiled, Naz'roth wouldnt let the being touch her. and Naz'roth unlike Sa'vor Never played fair. but Naz'roth would only fight if she was threatned. so the crew where on their own. unless she could do somthing ...

                                       *** 

Feal-Thas notched his longbow. one of his own make, he drew the string back with ease. he let his mind flow along the arrow and plan its path. he compensated for wind and distance. then he fired. sending the arrow across the courtyard. it stuck the target. Feal-Thas removed his blind fold. the arrow had struck the target strait between the eyes. Feal-Thas smiled. showing his fangs. then he drew a throwing knife. he sent this towards the target as well. the knife lodged itself in the Targets throat.

The Target being a Suit of Fullplate over a dummy. Feal-Thas sighed. he longed once more for battle. currently he had no match with spell or weapon. other than perhaps the Ubers. but Feal-Thas was smart enough to know that the ubers didnt need their skill or strenght to kill or defeat him. they where smart or insane. Many a time had Naz'roth, Tara or Sa'vor commented that the most fearsome opponents where those whom had no care for themselves, those that faught with bloodthirsty soulless fury. Feal-Thas had seen a warrior like this before. he had accompenied Naz'roth on one of his "personal training sessions", the Daemon had used his bare hands most of the time. Feal-Thas, born as a warrior and infused with a bloodlust himself. had never seen such a psycopathic and sadistic display of violence in his life. Naz'roth had told him after that the greatest warriors are those that balance their lives and live two lives. one on the battle field. one away. Naz'roth mentioned that he spent his spare time composing poetry or Perfecting his primary career as a Mage Smith.

Feal-Thas sighed, and placed the blind fold over his eyes once more. action would come soon enough.

---

IC: 13: Yo, you with the wings!

Dendril: Huh? What?

13: You've got mail.

13 hands Denril several letters with various hearts and fancy writing on them.

Dendril: What is God's name are these?

13: Fan mail I expect. Starry-eyed emo goth chicks.

Dendril: They sound like the vilest form of undead.

13: You could put it like that. Anyway, there's one down in the hold. Just look for the black curtains.

Dendril bows politely to 13, and then set off determinedly.

Sa'vor: Was that really wise?

13: Sending into the den of the Queen of all Goth Chicks.  :devil: Yeah.

---

Terrek walks through the redshirt decks, not doing much.

Caralot: *squeal!* A completely new lifeform!

Terrek: Wha—

• glomp hug*

Caralot: Okay, you're coming with me. I need to collect those samples before you become part of the crew.

Terrek: But I'm not yet ready to reveal myself.

Caralot: Don't worry, I'll keep you in my cabin in the Pokédimension.

---

A pale elven woman dressed in black walks aboard the Forgotten Freedom. Her jet black hair covers one of her blood red eyes. Behind her walks a male half-orc dressed in warriors garb.

Elf: Looks like this is the place. Nice ship...

Half-Orc: Cool fire thingy. *touches Earl* OW! FIRE HOT!!

Elf: You really are an idiot, Garr. What do I keep telling you about touching cool things?

Garr: *sheepishly* Don't...

At this point, Volrath walks on deck. Seeing them, he runs over, grabbing them both with his recently added extremities.

Volrath: YAY!! You guys made it!

Elf: *gack* The hell?! You evolved?

Volrath:  :D Yep! How's it going, Urial?

Urial: Would've been better if you three hadn't left me with this idiot...

Next, Terra and Lisa arrive on deck. Terra goes over and gives them both a hug.

Terra: So glad you could make it! It's great to see you again.

Garr:  :D Garr happy too.

Urial: *looks at Lisa* You must be Lisa.

Lisa: Uh-huh. Terra's told me a bit about you. Welcome aboard.

Urial: You've certainly picked an oddball to fall in love with...

Lisa: Don't I know it. :)

Terra:  :D

Volrath: *cocking his head to the side* Uh-oh. Here it comes...

Then, from out of nowhere...

Muradin: [SIZE=5]MURADIN SMASH!!!!![/SIZE]

As Garr dodges, Muradin smashes the deck where he stood. The two go at each other, furiously pounding away with their warhammers.

Lisa:  :eek: What is going on?! Shouldn't we stop them or something?!

Urial: No. They're just saying hello.

The battle continues as Muradin knocks Garr off the side. Grabbing onto the railing, he flings himself back at Muradin, smashing him against the mast.

Terra: They love this kind of thing. Watch.

Garr walks over to Muradin and helps him get to his feet. They do a seemingly intricate handshake before butting heads and laughing heartilly.

Muradin: That fun! Let Muradin show you bar. Buy you drink.

Garr: Woo hoo!!

As the two disappear below decks, Lisa turns to Terra.

Lisa: You really know how to pick your friends. Crazy, the lot of you. :D

Urial: It was never dull, I can tell you that.

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