Stormwraith

Thunder cracked in the night, deafeningly loud over Ruathym's salt district. 

It's always loudest near the sea. One of its very few benefits.

Qen had always hated the sea. It was wild and unpredictable and uncontrollable. She couldn't will it into submission or outdance it in battle, and if it chose to drown her in its belly, she would be powerless. 

Storms, though, she liked. They made it easier to go unseen, unheard. Back in her hayday, they'd called her gosh andhi, the Stormwraith. And how long has it been since then? Ninehundred and ninety something years? More? Life certainly had its ways of playing pranks on her. Out of all people, it had chosen to give her a second chance, and a weird one at that. She clearly was still alive, if the birdfelota covered roofs of the city were any metric to judge by. Qen was sure there weren't any feces in the afterlife. 

But she had aged. Years ripped from her, so many years. But would they have even been worth living without Zoye? A quiet voice in the back of her head reminded her that in hundreds of years, she might have found another reason to live. But how? Another voice pointed out that she was spiralling. And that's not helpful, as the old man would say. Get back to Eidolon first, debilitating thought spirals can wait.

Scraps of a conversation in the alley ahead distracted her for a moment. "The marshal has dispatched scouts. We'll get the order to march soon, I'm sure."

"You said that yesterday and the day before, Peter. I'll retire before we find him! Besides, isn't the general's time spent better elsewhere? We had to pull out of the southern crusade for this!" An army? In this pile of dung? This ought to be interesting. Qen melted into the shadows. 

At some It had started raining. She hadn't noticed over her inner monologue and under different circumstances she might have scolded herself for it, but now she welcomed the thick deluge of rain splattering down onto the streets. This way, her silhouette scaling the nearby wall might as well have been a large cat of some sort. 

Granted, cats didn't wear spears on their backs, but they didn't move as quickly as her either. 

Exiting from an alley on the opposite side of the little square she'd been wandering across, five armor-clad figures stumbled through the rain. If her senses hadn't inexplicably been saved from deteriorating as much as her appearance, Qen wouldn't have been able to listen in to their chatter over the constant noise of raindrops on the cobblestone and the stakkato of their steel capped boots, but this was the hand she'd been dealt, so she listened.

"John, for light's sake, get your shit together. I'm sure he's been abducted, have you ever heard of someone this high up actually deserting? Laughable, really." The one called Peter snarked back at him. "But why would the prophet himself send such a contingent of troops otherwise? You know something like that couldn't be tolerated! By my mother's grave, light protect her, if Camael actually is a traitor.. did you hear we're supposed to call him Matthew again?" 

A few houses ahead, the front door of a run down tavern banged open. The bright but ephemeral light of the fireplace within projected the shadows of two maids onto the wall on the other side of the street, letting their drunken stagger look like a dance of sorts. Muttering ale-fueled flatteries to each other, the pair got to enjoy a moment of warmth before the door closed. 

Then, with a foreboding thud, they got cut off from the comfortable inside of the tavern by a solid inch of wood. And while the two women suddenly found themselves confronted with the reality of much damper and colder surroundings than they would have liked, Qen noticed something else. Illuminated by an abrupt flash of lightning from the skies, a worm like cloud of mist crawled around the corner adjacent to the two women. Sailors. Linen shirts and belts like that aren't worn by anyone else. 

But when the mist cloud sank down to the ground and thickened, reddened and formed a humanoid shape that quickly solidified into the form of a woman in red plate armor, a whole bunch of alarm bells went off in Qen's head. There isn't going to be enough water for these two lost koyo to sail away from this thing any time soon. Better get moving. 

Boots flew over slippery roof, but too slow. I'm getting rusty. She hoped that a thousand years of coma were a valid excuse, but that wouldn't mean anything to the sailors below if she didn't reach them first. The Vampire was already flashing a smile at them, not yet showing her fangs, but even without the magical charms of her kind her full black mane and marble-like skin probably would have been enough to charm the other women, even if they'd been sober. Which they very clearly aren't.

"Phalanx! Fall in behind me!"

Right. They're still here also. Because Qen had been trailing the soldiers from before from quite a distance, they had beaten her to it. With the characteristic Zing of blades being drawn, they quickly swarmed around the two maids and fell into perfect formation behind the one called Peter. Impressive. 

"Drop your belt and weapons! An abomination like you should not exist, lest be out at this hour!"

Less impressive was what came next. The vampire, only briefly surprised by their appearance, only gave them an arrogant look, followed by a half-hearted hiss, finally baring her fangs. Half dissolving into mist again, she'd drawn her Cutlass and slit Peter's throat open before he'd even gotten to react.

The gush of Peter's blood spraying from his severed neck mixed with the rain flowing down the streets, forming fleeting rivulets and little ponds between the cobblestone before being rinsed away. The remaining soldiers were now yelling in panic, their formation forgotten. "She's a monster! Bloodsucker! Vampire!" They didn't know that before? Then what was all the fuss about?

Qen sighed. Threw. Dropped. 

The twin tips of her spear drove a cut through the mist that must have been the vampire's arm, forcing a surprised scream from her. Utilising the momentum of her fall, Qen barrel rolled twice, then straightened one of her arms and flexed her wrist so the speed propelled her off the ground again. Acrobatically, she twisted mid air and extended her other arm to regain a hold of her spear. Throws like this allowed her greater mobility, but came at the risk of possibly losing her main weapon. Fortunately, that risk was near zero on a sneak attack. Don't think. Act.

The split second she'd taken to reminisce about her method of attack had allowed the vampire to reform. Blood was seeping from her left arm, but that didn't stop her from countering with her right. She's good. 

Blocking her blade with the hilt of her spear, Qen spun it around and herself countered with a low stab that effortlessly penetrated the vampire's abdomen through her armor. But I'm mogut, even now. Of course, the enchanted blade also helps. "Run!" She barked at the women behind her. They didn't need to be told twice, bolting down the alley without looking back. 

"Wraith!" Keting?

Qen only narrowly managed to dodge from the twin longswords thrust at her from behind by letting go of her spear and dropping to the ground. Water and blood splashed up around her body as she rolled sideways once again. Mid roll she plucked the dagger from one of her assailants' belt and slashed the other's tendons. A loud snap, followed by a pained cry reverberated in the alley as he went to his knees. The old man would be proud. The realization filled her with mixed feelings, as it always did.

Getting up and holding the dagger close to her body in a defensive stance, Qen assessed the situation. Two right in front of her, two further in the back, just now deciding to return to the fray. The vampire was gone. Mal. 

The two soldier's in front of her stood in between her and her spear. Momal, but manageable. She quickly glanced down to the shetexeting in her hand. It was in decent shape, had probably seen a few battles before. This will do. But maybe we can prevent further bloodshed.

In broken common, she spat "Why you call mi wraith? Why you attack red woman?" She was gambling valuable time here. Her attempt at diplomacy bought the other two soldiers an opportunity to close the distance to her comrades, thereby forming a solid wall between her and her weapon. She didn't have the element of surprise any more and her clothes were completely soaked, which hindered her mobility. 

A tactical blunder. She heard the old man's voice in the back of her head. She could almost feel the hunger of the week of isolation that she'd have gotten for it if he was still alive. But maybe it would be worth it.

The one called John tried holding her at a distance with the sword, like one would threaten a wild beast, while the others were helping the wounded one up. She wasn't sure if that one was Adam or Aaron. Either way, the hurt in his eyes reminded her once again of how alike they actually were, her and them. Confused warriors, in over their heads. She saw fear stare at her from all of their eyes, and her stance softened.

"Women aren't supposed to carry weapons! If one does...", he swallowed, eyeing her up, "if one does, it's a sign of evil. Especially around this hour, in a lightforsaken place like this." Well, he's not completely wrong on that. 

"You speak truth. Namang should be out this hour. Go home. Mi sorry for your loss." The moment she closed her mouth, she realized she'd made a mistake. This kind of men didn't take kindly to orders from women. "Who do you think you are ordering us around, heathen?" John retorted, the flames of zeal reigniting in his eyes. The others let Adam sink to the floor and raised their weapons, menacingly stalking towards her now. "You look weird, anyway. You from the Mosaic? The marshal will appreciate the intel you have." And then, towards his comrades, he proposed: "Let's take her in for questioning."

You wish, maliwala. The old man would have his way after all. Qen lunged, feinting a stab at John, but committing to the motion a lot more at the last second, throwing herself into a leap through their line. A sharp pain shot up her left calf, but then she hit the ground behind them and almost immediately got on her feet again. She tested her left leg, putting some weight on it. Her trained senses told her it was a flesh wound. Nothing life threatening, but dangerous nonetheless; This way, she couldn't strain both legs like she normally would. This required some improvisation. 

Without even looking at him, Qen knocked Adam out with the hilt of her dagger while sprinting past him. Then, in a single, fluid motion she rammed the dagger into the wooden wall next to her while hooking her toes under the hilt of her spear and kicking it up.

Next, she whirled around on her good leg while extending the reach of her spear as far as possible in a wide arc. That move was supposed to gain her space, but she'd once again underestimated the three soldiers. They'd already closed the distance, which proved to be disadvantageous to the one closest to her whose sword arm got severed at the elbow as it was already coming down to strike her, but advantageous to the others who could, thanks to the other's sacrifice, knock Qen's weapon out of her hand. 

Now unarmed, Qen retreated down the alley, forced back by the wide swings of the zealots' swords. I better not take this to the main road. But if I counted correctly.. She squinted in preparation.

Lightning sparked behind her, blinding her opponents for the shortest amount of time. Out of reflex, they blinked. When they had opened their eyes again, Qen was gone. Confused, they frantically turned.. just for one of them to die on the spot, Qen's stolen dagger buried to the hilt in in his left eye socket. 

John was the last one standing in her immediate vicinity now, lashing out at her with his weapon, but she caught his hand in both of hers and twisted it unnaturally. John's wrist cracked like tinder as multiple bones broke, and before he could let go of his sword, Qen had already grabbed and stabbed it upwards, through his chin and into his brain. She was breathing heavily now, standing face to face with John as the light went out in his eyes. His body fell to the ground, the sound drowned out by the crack of thunder that rolled over them. 

The third soldier whose arm Qen had taken off kneeled a few feet apart from her, seemingly catatonic. He didn't offer up resistance when she unsheated his own sword and decapitated him with a single powerful swing. His head bounced over the cobblestone a few times. Three down, one to go. 

Adam, who she had knocked out only a moment ago, wasn't where she left him. Kula. 

But it took her only a short look down the street to see he'd tried crawling away from her, using his arms to drag his useless legs behind. She hadn't heard it over her own heartbeat and the rain, but now that she closed in on him, the sound of his armor screeching over the floor was unpleasant at the least. 

When she dropped onto his back and forced him flat onto the ground with a knee between his shoulderblades, he started cursing her, silent tears flowing from his eyes. "Monster! Wraith! Light curse you, and may you never.." Whatever he meant to say, he got cut off by Qen forcefully turning his head to the left much further than it was made to turn, and then, equally far, back to the right. She repeated the process once more. She didn't want him to wake up paralyzed but still able to report. 

Soya, a wraith I still am. Just who the old man made me. 

Calmly, she dragged the bodies onto one pile and cleanly slit all remaining throats. The city guards will think it was the vampire. Speaking of which.. around the corner at the far end of the alley, she could see the shaky light of storm lanterns closing in. "Is there anyone there? Anyone?!"

But when the guards got there, soaked from the steady rain and terrified by the sight in front of their eyes, there was nobody else around. 

The Galleon Bloodline's Legacy would leave harbor the next morning, just after dawn. The city watch was agitated for a week, but eventually stopped being pestered by the envoys of the army encampment close to the city due to the troops boarding their ships and leaving the island, heading for the Mosaic.

And aboard a pirate caravel called the Devil's Grin, the stormwraith embarked homebound.