Eleven

Six Fathoms Deep ((Ask for invite))

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Cyllos sighs at Prattworth and his silly white coat. His attention turns to the others that show up one by one . "Eh? Reroma I haven't heard of you before. What brings you here ? " Cyllos asked.

Cyllos' attention then goes towards the arriving eve, "Oh, you again. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised you would show up. After all, your hatred towards the man were after is well known."

Then Long arrived and he responded to him as well. "The others are coming slowly but surely, one by one." After long was Cara, as usual, she was quiet and seemingly uninterested in conversation. "Well at least the seas won't stop us from destiny." He says with a sigh. As for the others, there little trust in the two Death Knights that have arrived. Especially eve, who would most likely get in the way of Cyllos' plan. He would need someone to keep an eye on her.

He whispers to Long, "make sure you keep an eye on Eve." He points discretely at her. "She is a bomb with a very short fuse. May cause some trouble." As he stops whispering he nods at long and walks towards the edge of the Dock.

Surely more will come, but nobody will go anywhere until the admiral gives the order. After all he is the one who initiated our attack. 'Well if you want to back out now, you better do it soon' he thought to himself.

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Long nods slightly and replies "I'll keep an eye on the Death Knight ..." obviously meaning the stranger of the two Death Knights. Glancing about at the group before him and shifting his pandaren girth as his comments to Cyllos "Battle is a numbers game, and I believe we are lacking the pieces to play." Long walks away from Cyllos to allow him to think about his words and heads towards Cara. "Glad you decided to come Sister Cara, we will most likely need that Runed Blade of yours." Long glances about the group once more as doubt slowly washes over him.

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If Tuuroto counted all the times he had been half an hour late to scheduled gatherings, his list would stretch from Stormwind to Goldshire. The Draenei arrived at the harbor on his elderly Pandarian riding goat whose rough hooves made echoing rickety noises on the wooden docks. Behind Tuuroto was a towering, two meter tall stack of gunny sacks, satchels, and wooden containers teeming with rations and magical reagents. It was a wonder how the tired looking goat (the riding goat, that is) was able to carry such a heavy load.

Tuuroto gently tugged on the rope reins, bringing his riding goat to halt. Swiftly dismounting, he quickly scanned the people present.

Wyatt. Cyllos. Cara. Long. Reroma.

… and Madam Stormguarde.

“Aiyee!” Tuuroto panicked to himself, concealing his concern with his usual grinning façade. At that instant, Tuuroto was no longer thinking about the battle in Northrend. Rather, his worry dwelled on whether or not the present Redblades would be able to stand being in the same ship without killing each other in bloody vengeance.

Tuuroto thought to himself, “Miiister Vyatt despises ze Undead, vhich vould be Miiis Cara and Eve. Cyllos diiistrusts Eve ever since previous unpleasant Redblade meetings. Reroma and Eve ‘ad been at each other’s throats ever since Altherion destroyed ze Stormrunner over a year ago. And, to top it off, Miiis Cara and Brother Long vill be caught in ze middle of all ze drama…”

Furthermore, he was concerned by the Redblades who weren’t present. Quartermaster Rosepha was injured, and so was Sniper Ark. Interrogator Valgeir and Anchoress Rhysta were nowhere to be seen, their guidance and insight sorely missed. Then there were the Gravensteins, Miss Tesia, Adrian McCharming, Professors Ustav and Snips, the Druids Amalil and Skystream, as well as the new recruits Karlyssa and Radergan. Even Miss Davies or the Lich weren't around, at least not to Tuuro's knowledge; although they had been inactive from the Redblades, Tuuroto figured that the news of Altherion would’ve enticed them to surface from their hiatus.

Tuuroto rubbed his forehead, easing an incoming migraine caused by the entangling web of drama and tension. However, now was not the time for arguments; a mission is at stake. Rather than pulling out his tarot deck, the Draenei uncharacteristically uttered a prayer to his Light, hoping that other Redblades and associates with either find their way to the harbor or coincidentally meet them at Icecrown.

Tuuroto took a deep breath and began to speak.

“Attention ev’ryvone!”

He tipped the edge of his Admiral’s hat, greeting all the Redblades present.

“From ze looks on your faces, I take it zhat some introductions are in order.”

Tuuroto knew that this needed to be the first step, else chaotic name calling and finger pointing would ensue.

Tuuroto started with Wyatt, “Let's start vith ze blond Paladin: Miiister Vyatt Prattvorth.”

“Doctor,” Wyatt corrected with a snooty inflection in his voice.

“Vhatever.” Tuuroto quickly retorted. He continued in his speech despite the offended look on Wyatt’s face. “Some of you may remember Miiister Prattvorth as judge from ze Flower of Azeroth competition. Besides zhat, he is trained medic and long time member of ze Redblades. Though he is ex-member of ze Scarlet Crusade, he has pledged 'is allegiance to myself and to all of you. He shall be in charge of ze gravely injured via an infirmary vard ve shall establish aboard our ship.”

Tuuroto then turned to the fellow Draenei, “Next ve ‘ave Miiister Cyllos A’duun: accomplished Paladin and ex-lieutenant of ze 73rd and vone ze reigning Blade Cap’tins of ze Order.” Tuuroto continued with a smirk, “Do not let ze cybernetic arm intimidate you. Miiister Cyllos vill be using his defensive expertise to head ze front lines of combat, zhat is, if combat should arise. I trust zhat all of you vill readily follow his orders if and vhen ze time should come during zhis mission.”

Tuuroto then turned the dwarf, “To zhose who don’t know, ze dwarf voman ‘ere is Miiis Carabeving. Despite her ‘appearance’ and relatively newness to our organization, she ‘as shown her loyalty through her mercenary vork for ze Order, particularly during ze Granett Blackvald Hydra fiasco ve ‘ad several months ago. Please treat her as you vould as any brother or sister Redblade, as she now is.” The Draenei knelt briefly to place a hand on the dwarf’s shoulder, “For zhis mission, I am entrusting you as taskmaster: to keep an eye on ze sailors who volunteered from Survich to man zhis vessel.”

Next was the Pandaren. “Here ve ‘ave Brother Longdang: also known as ze Iron Rod and Sea Volf number two. He is our resident expert of ze elements, with special emphasis in vater healing and destructive lightning. He shall serve as our Vindjammer, as well as our battle healer for vhen we hit Icecrown. I suggest you all getting to know ze Pandaren Shaman if you vant him to ‘ave your back during combat.”

Tuuroto paused, leaving the two most difficult to explain for last.

“Ze blood elf is Reroma vith her feline companion Loc. Yes, I know she is Sin’Dorei, but her presence is crucial to ze success of zhis mission.” Tuuroto slowed down his speech to emphasis the following, “Reroma is estranged wife of Miiister Altherion: both of whom ve vonce my clients in tarot card readin'. If memory serves me vell, zhey also have adopted foster so~ ah, but I digress." Tuuro paused once more, "Dah, if ve have any chance at avoiding conflict, it will be through Reroma’s negotiation with Altherion. Thus, I ask zhat ev’ryvone vithhold your prejudices for ze time being. If you do have any concerns, please speak vith me later during ze voyage.”

Dreading the final introduction he had to give, the Draenei Admiral reluctantly pointed at the human death knight that didn’t need explanation.

“Last, but not least, ve ‘ave Madam Evellin Raventy Stormguarde: ze original Sea Volf. If any of you do not know who zhis voman is, zhen you veren’t paying attention to ze speech I gave during your recruitment in ze Order.” Tuuroto used the ‘joke’ to ease the tension, for he knew that nearly ev’ryvone had their own personal thoughts about Eve, “Madam Stormguade is ze former Cap’tin and leader of ze Redblades, during our Corsair days. None of us vould be here today if it vasn’t for zhis voman.”

Tuuroto continued introducing Eve, his voice growing stern as if about to reprimand his fellow Order members, “I know zhat many of you ‘ave reason to not be fond of Madam Stormguarde, but now is not ze time to hold to zhose grudges…”

“… if ANY of you are unable to vork and die alongside Madam Stormguarde, zhen I ask zhat you leave now. Right now, dah.”

Silence filled the air. Wyatt used the silence as a first dibs opportunity to begin unloading his things aboard the vessel, occasionally glancing with curiosity at the other Redblades’ reaction to Tuuroto’s speech.

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Cyllos sighs at the end of Tuuroto's speech. 'So eve is coming, as expected.' he thought. The Draenei knows the Death Knight's hatred for the man they faced very well. She made sure anyone and everyone who was around knew that. If Cyllos was going to be able to do what he set out to do, he was going to need to keep her occupied in the fight ahead.

"Admiral?" Cyllos asked, "If I may speak with you before the battle, I have some suggestions on how to play this out. Perhaps during the ride to Northrend?" He looks around as people began to board the ship . Keeping a close eye on whoever was doing anything suspicious.

His attention gazes onto Reroma , she stood out the most. Somehow after the death of Nalta, altherion was able to date with another woman. Which leads the Draenei to believe that either there is some form of humanity in his old Friend, or Altherion is as crazy as he suspected. Of course if he does have a shred of humanity, the question begets an answer. Who or what made him this way?

He walks on over to the Blood elf with calculating eyes, the gaze may unnerve anyone who was able to see the draenei as he was in no mood to fail.

"Excuse miss? Reroma was it? Mind if we talk ?"

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Evellin growled back at Loc, and grunted an unintelligible reply to Reroma. She didn't dignify Cyllos with a response; instead, she took a look around at the small, ragtag bunch gathered, before turning her attention to Tuuroto as he began to speak. She arched a brow, but remained silent throughout.

I know zhat many of you ‘ave reason to not be fond of Madam Stormguarde...

The Death Knight inhaled quietly through her nose. She wanted to respond; to snap that she had every reason not to be fond of the whole lot of them. But she didn't. She wanted to snort, to openly reject following the orders of someone who belonged to a group of depraved and corrupt soldiers, but...

Evellin shrugged. If she felt any emotion at the speech, it certainly did not register in her face; she merely turned to board the ship. She hadn't brought much with her; weapons, armor, a bag and a cloak, though the weather would not be much of a bother to the dead. With a quiet sigh, she found herself positioned near the Scarlet Crusader. Of all the people here, Wyatt posed the least amount of threat.

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Rhysta, newly returned from special training at the Peak of Serenity, meets with the Redblades in Surwich. Upon finding Rosepha crippled, and her other comrades with various cuts and bruises, the Anchoress determines to find out what happened. Learning that the one known as Altherion, who has caused concerns and trouble in the past, has caused this new damage - Rhysta grows furious.

As she rushes out of the Surwich inn, she mutters to herself, "Shards! Why did he trust him? We all should have listened to Madam Stormguarde." Approaching the Surwich flight master, Rhysta shouts, "Back to Stormwind as fast as you can, sir."

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Reroma remained silent but attentive, and only when the draenei mentioned her did she feel safe enough to loosen her hold on her hood. She spared a passing glance at Evellin as she mulled over the situation in her head. As long as they didn't go near each other, they would be fine, the huntress thought. She only counted herself lucky that Meraline wasn't here, else the Gilnean likely would not have hesitated to try and rip her former captain apart for what she did to Ark.

At the mention of her name the elf's ear twitched, and she turned to face Cyllos. "Hi, and sure," she replied with a shrug. "What do you need?" Her tone gave nothing away--not her doubt, and certainly not her fears. Cyllos would also notice Loc looking him over, and though the beast was merely examining the draenei, those pure, glowing blue eyes could make him uncomfortable.

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"I understand you know Altherion on a deeper level. Or rather, you knew him." Cyllos glances at Loc making sure that his tone of voice wasn't threatening, but blunt enough for the Sin'dorei to understand the situation at hand. "You are not the first woman in his life, he had another wife few years back. " As he said these words he wondered to himself if he was being too blunt and not a bit sympathetic. He quickly changes his words to words of concern. "A few months ago, I met up with him to help find a friend. In the process of finding her, he told me what he did to her. "

He lets out a deep sigh looking down at the ground briefly, the guilt was starting to overwhelm him a bit. But he quickly recovers and clears his throat, "He killed them, his own wife and kid. Just because they were trying to stop him." Anger appeared in his eyes and seemed to seethe with rage and a bit of sorrow.

"I understand what you are trying to do, and If you must do what you are set out to do , I won't stand in your way. But learn from his past, and at least think over your plan with this new information I gave you. There had been too many hurt, and too many deaths. "

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Reroma only sighs when given the information from Cyllos. She pats Loc, the animal seeming calm at the moment as she replies, "He's told me all of this before. I know what I'm getting into, and I'm prepared for the worst," she shook her head as she tried to gather herself.

"Whatever happens... He won't take my son away from me. He won't know where he is," Her tired eyes seem to emit a brighter glow when she said that, her once exhausted gaze gaining new resolve--at least for the time, "and I'm ready to fight him if need be. But if there is still a shred of the man he once was left in him... then I need to try and coax him out first."

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Cyllos had seen that look before, there was no turning back for her now. He knew that she had made up her mind, just like he did. Now he has to decide for himself, does he let her try to talk some sense into Altherion? Or does he kill him before she gets hurt? "very well , miss Reroma. I will do my best to get you there safely. " He weakly smiles at the Sin'dorei and pats the side of her arm softly as he walks towards the Captain's Quarters to discuss battle plans with Tuuroto.

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Reroma only nodded at the draenei in response. Once he left, she let her stance relax once more. Figuring there wasn't much to do until they set sail, the blood elf wandered to the edgs of the ship and leaned over, finding an odd comfort watching the waves. Loc took this time to curl up by his mistress's feet and take a cat nap before the battle ahead.

The huntress, however, couldn't bring herself to relax like her friend did. Doubt had been clawing at her mind these past few months, regret threatening to follow in its footsteps. Can I even do it? He hasn't seen me in so long, and he left us without so much as a word... Her grip on the edge of the ship tightened as her frustration built, but besides that and another deep breath from her it would be hard for anyone to see through the calm mask she had on. Reroma was so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she wouldn't notice if anyone came up to her now.

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Long thought hard about The Admirals speech as he glanced about the ship. The members of the crew seemed worthy of battle, but the waves whispered to Longdang of danger. Long walked over to the wooden railing of the ship and stared out at the Sea. Slowly the Sea began to whisper again and Long sighed heavily. He turned from the waves and glanced around the ship looking for Tuuroto. Noticing Brother Cyllos walking towards The Admiral already, he heads that way as well. "Master Tuuroto, do we have a map of the currents for our course? If so, I could help get us there a lot faster." Long exclaims with a slightly wicked grin. The warnings of the Sea echoed in Long's head, but he decided it best not to mention that and just waited patiently for The Admiral to respond.

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Cara raised her head as she was introduced. The Draenei's comments about her seemed backhanded. "Despite her appearance." Then, she tilted her head at Tuuroto as he described her duties. Why? What was he thinking? This was probably some bullshit title to keep her busy. She dismounted and dismissed her deathcharger to begin her walk up the gangplank.

The ship lightly rocked in the magically calm waters of Stormwind. The rigging consisted of ratlines tied between and up the two tall masts on which red and black striped sails fluttered in the pleasant breeze. It was built as a merchant brig, probably stolen, armored, and converted to a pirate ship some time ago. It would have worked well as one, for its small size meant good speed to catch up to the larger enemy merchant ships.

Rosepha and Ark had led the team that stole this vessel from the Southsea Freebooters. Since then, it had been made more livable again. At first entry below the quarterdeck, one would find themselves in the mess hall; hammocks and bunk beds surrounded an array of tables. On the port side was an opening to the kitchen and a stairway to the upper deck, while starboard were the Captain's Quarters. Crudely painted on the door to the Captain's Quarters was a smiley face below the words "Ark's House."

Foreword, below the forecastle, was a ratline to the cargo bay. The main deck was lined with eight cannons on each side. The gangplank was port; starboard hung a single life raft. All the way up the main mast, the crow's nest had the best view of the bright blue sky of Stormwind.

Stenciled on the side of the hull in large text was the ship's name. "Nigel's Fury"

Cara watched Prattworth carry his things and even considered offering a hand, but his Scarlet Crusade tower shield gleamed back at her. She stared silently.

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Rhysta, out of breath, arrived at the Stormwind docks. As she approached the ships anchored there, she thought that she heard voices that she recognized, and at least one that she did not. Growing alarmed, she warily started to board one ship.

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As everyone goes about loading onto the ship, Amalil lands on the highest mast in the shape of a Stormcrow. He looks around the deck recognizing some of his fellow Redblades and noticing a few new faces. He studies the Blood Elf in particular before flying down to the deck, slightly behind the blood elf and her pet.

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Swiftly following orders, the present members of the Redblades settled into their roles aboard the newly acquired “Nigel’s Fury” sailing vessel. Within an hour’s time, the brig had set sail from Stormwind Harbor, its departure not made publically known to Stormwind Officials.

...

*Two weeks later*

Entering_Howling_Fjord_zpsaf8d8997.jpg

The voyage was swifter than expected thanks to a combination of experienced sailors who charted direct routes to Northrend, strong taskmasters who rallied the volunteer crew members, and elementalists who scouted for danger and manipulated the weather and sea for safe travel.

Conversation amongst the crew was kept to a minimum. Some, despite the Admiral’s speech, had good reason for not immediately trusting their supposed comrades in arms. Others, particularly the conspiracy theorists among the Redblades, were preparing battle tactics, negotiation terms, and other hidden agenda but were wary of having stray ears listen in on their plans. Finally, some others withheld their thoughts and speech simply out of fear and tension over being in Icecrown and engaging in deadly combat against the Undead.

Much to the dismay of his crew, Tuuroto kept himself locked up in his quarters for the majority of the trip, uncharacteristically tuning out from Lt. Cyllos’s battle plans and Longdang’s windjammer reports. He would ignore most every knock on his door, regardless of what the visiting person had to say. In fact, the Draenei Admiral would only come out of his quarters once a night in order to snatch two fistfuls of dried rations for a certain Cornish Rex Kitten, the rat guardian of the Stormrunner, and himself.

Loyal members of crew assumed that Tuuroto was using the alone time to meditate upon the Tarot for guidance, while a handful of more outspoken crew members began to openly mock the Draenei’s lack of leadership capability. One stray rumor that circulated within the Nigel’s Fury was that Tuuroto had discovered the identity of one of the victims in the Westguard Keep massacre: a goblin business woman named Lixxel Blingspark whom Tuuroto was good friends with. Another rumor was that Tuuroto had a sinister plan that, although would guarantee victory against Altherion and Eleven, would come at a grave, unfathomable cost.

In contrast to the Draenei Admiral’s sudden recluse behavior, Dr. Wyatt Prattworth kept an open door, both literally and figuratively, allowing sea sick crew members to lie down, be treated for their illnesses, or simply divulge in idle chit chat. While the Scarlet Paladin attempted to divert his patients’ attention with stories of Lordaeron and Alterac, he balked whenever the conversation switched to inquires of Tuuroto or Lixxel.

Several days after initially reaching the Howling Fjord and circumnavigating the shores of Northrend, the Redblades would begin to see the glaciers of Icecrown.

A gust of bone-chilling wind along with an eerily delicate flurry of snow greeted the Redblades even before they officially sailed into Icecrown territory.

...

It was the calm before the storm.

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As the Nigel’s Fury continued its unhindered passage through the northern straits, the intensity of the cold would continue to drag at the skin of the living Redblades. Harsh winds, blowing hard from the north, battered the coast of Icecrown Glacier and any ships foolish enough to dare these waters. Despite the wind, the water their boat sailed along was oddly calm, not a crested wave in sight. Visibility in the water itself was extremely high, allowing the sailors to see far down into the depths.

As they neared the true, darker skies of Icecrown, the winds began howling with both snow and hail. Occasionally, the everlasting darkness of the region was split by huge, magical explosions of lightning far above.

Another oddity of weather extended from near the base of the Argent Tournament, high atop the cliffs, to the Kvaldir held islands of Hrothgar’s landing to the north. The entire region was shrouded in a nearly unsailable fog.

Any Pandaren among them would notice the distinction from this mist and their homeland, as it carried the stench of death and a darker color, bringing forth the freezing chill of the place.

Now and then, the harsher winds would change course ever so slightly, allowing them to see into the Sea Reaver’s run. Dragon heads, gargoyles and spears seemed to jut out of the water itself, long decaying figureheads to half sunken ships. The amount of wreckage here was staggering, mixed in with pinnacles of ice and frost that raked at the sky, the only true islands around.

The mostly sunken merchant ships, faction warships, dead tuskarr turtles and even ships from the Kvaldir themselves had now become traps for any that passed through here. Looking beneath the waves, one would find the sandy bottom littered with relics of the past, from wood and iron to cloth and rusted cannons. Oddly enough, there was a lack of bodies on any of the boats or the sea floor.

Moving amongst the fog were creatures that didn’t seem entirely human, or even entirely corporeal. Both the Alliance and Horde had their legends about the Sea Raiders, and the War in the North had proven even the most grotesque legends true. The Kvaldir floated above the waves, and even on land they stood tall over the largest of humans. Now, their ghastly forms moved from ship to ship, leaving behind thick trails of mist that disguised their passage. Some moved beneath the waves, gathering supplies from the broken wreckage.

The Kvaldir would be hard to spot, and even harder to recognize, vanishing in and out of sight with each shift of the winds. They seemed like huge barbarians, their typical armor replaced by seaweed or nautical fauna. Their weapons were large axes, swords, or dark, ancient magics. Even with their menacing appearance, the Kvaldir hadn’t launched an assault on the Redblades from their Wolfships yet, and seemed more content to scavenge as they were.

As the deep chill continued to set upon the Redblades, they would realize just how off putting the nature of peace from the Kvaldir was. The true threat was still here, lurking somewhere in this graveyard of ships and men.

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Reroma had awoken long ago as the biting cold became too unbearable to sleep through, and instead took to pacing the deck. Her hood was finally down, letting her light brown hair attempt to travel in the direction of the wind. That it got in her face didn't seem to matter to her, as she was much too occupied with her thoughts at the current moment. The huntress visibly shivered, although it wasn't merely the cold that was rattling her.

She hadn't spoken much since they left Stormwind, and no distractions meant that she had allowed her doubts and fears to get to her. As always and ever-faithful Loc was nearby, sitting by some crates as he watched his mistress with a sigh. After a few more minutes of this, Reroma finally stopped at the left edge of the ship and gripped the railing with a groan. "I don't know if this is going to work, Loc." she started talking to the beast, who was indeed listening judging by how his ears perked up. "He's never hurt me before, I know, but all of this isn't a very good sign," she vented to Loc as she threw her head back to stare up at the sky, though through this fog she could barely see two feet in front of her. "But, there's a chance, right? There's always that chance... there has to be..."

She trailed off, stopping and getting pulled out of her thoughts as she felt something lightly pushing her side. With a long sigh of her own she gave Loc another pat and began twirling his right ear between her fingers, making the ferocious-looking cat purr. He stared up at Reroma with pleading eyes, and Reroma finally turned her gaze down to meet his. She couldn't help but smile a touch at how kitten-like he looked, despite the glowing eyes, nose, and saber teeth. "Yeah, you're right. I can't really dwell on that now, can I? Besides, if worst comes to worst, I'm still prepared," she explained to him, to which the spirit beast nodded. She turned her attention back to the foggy sea. "That is, if we can g-get out of this fog," she commented, her teeth now chattering from the freezing temperatures.

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Amalil had spent most of the journey up on deck, and now sat atop the mast in the shape of a storm crow. He had enjoyed flying off above the water when he had time to spare, but as they came closer to Northrend the cold began to wear at him. He had been cold before, but not like this. With every passing second bringing them closer to their destination he felt a growing darkness. He had heard story's and rumors of Northrend, but he had never actually been there himself.

After another gust of wind battered against him he let out a "Caw" and swooped down towards the front of the ship. His wings glowed green as he changed back into his normal green haired self. As he shook out his hair and adjusted to having normal legs again he glanced at the Sin'dorei. Amalil respected Tuuroto and was willing to follow his request and "withhold his prejudice", but his distrust of the blood elfs was not something he could over come easily. Wrapping himself up in his cloak, he moved towards the very front of the ship, looking out into the fog. As he did, he prayed to Elune for protection against what ever may come against them.

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Evellin leaned against the ship, peering out at the frozen wasteland that was Northrend. Two weeks was a brutal length of time for a trip like this, especially at a time when she had mostly been staying with family. Her radio had cut out a week ago, whether it was from distance or the noticeable increase of chill in the air... either way she felt disconnected, and alone. More than once she'd questioned her wisdom in coming here, though she did not voice her doubts. She didn't speak much at all, really; the Death Knight didn't care for the crew, their games, and what motivations spurred this on. How did Tuuroto get a group of sailors under his employ? A hefty sum of coin perhaps- nobody in their right mind would volunteer to reach Icecrown like this.

Everything was too quiet. Evellin preferred sailing the southern reaches of Azeroth, though the chill never bothered a corpse; she could practically taste the dread history of this place in the air. Northrend had once been more of a distant memory, but it all came rushing back.

Too. Quiet.

The Death Knight shifted her gaze to the shores, eyeing the supple mists. She expected more outcries, more sounds of combat... interest, alarm, anything. The lack of it almost unnerved her. Where would Altherion be waiting? What good would it be to sit in these chill waters like a plump duck awaiting the hunter's aim? Eve considered the shore, considered jumping off and forming a cold path to follow away from this ill-fated ship.

With a grunt, the former captain stayed put, her wrist pressed to the hilt of her sword.

Soon™.

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Long spent most of the journey to Icecrown turning the currents and wind in the Redblades favor, while attempting to make his reports to The Admiral. The ships arrival into the waters of Icecrown immediately disturbed Long. The seas lacked waves, and visibility was down to a bare minimum due to a most unnatural Fog. Long tried his hardest to see passed the fog, but only managed to trick himself into seeing beings moving in the fog. Long listened for the whisper of the Elementals, but they remained silent, which unnerved Long even more. Longdang quickly walked to the front of the ship and stood next to Amalil. He leaned close to him and spoke softly "I believe this strange weather, may not be weather at all .... ". Long didn't wait for Amalil to say anything as his eyes began glowing white and powerful air magic swirled around his hand. Throwing his magic covered hands toward the fog and wind magic began to tear through the fog. Long stopped as his magics faded away and as he stared out, he realized it did nothing. The fog still hindered all visibility, and Long sighed heavily "This is not fog ... but powerful magic. Someone should inform The Admiral that we may be sailing straight into a trap".

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Cyllos sighs at the admirals lack of social interaction, he knew full well what the Draenei was brooding over the battle situation he put himself in. He also understood he just wanted to be alone, however at some point he wants to speak with him. Rather, he needs to speak with him, his strategy plan needed to be discussed and he wasn't going to stop trying.

He sighs walking outside the crisp freezing air and fog that surrounds the deck of the ship. He immediately scouts the area of the ship to see who was outside. He saw longdang on deck looking out into the ocean trying to make out the fog. He also saw Amalil perched in bird form, and wondered if it was really that comfortable to be a bird all the time.

Then his attention was caught onto Long's words about the fog being powerful magic. He scanned around him for signs of trouble.

"Long, keep a sharp eye out. Rely on the waters , they are our ace in the hole around here." Its true, long has a unique ability to communicate with the waters. That itself will be an advantage out at sea.

"Amalil, try to fly over the fog and see if you can make out anything out of the ordinary. If its indeed a trap, I want us to be prepared ."

Using the sea and the sky as our asset will cover the terrain both under and above the ship. "Be sure to use the radios if anything happens."

Cyllos hastely enters back into the ship, he searches around for Cara or anyone else that could help, he decides to give up and just contact everyone by radio. "Attention all, Long and Amalil are keeping an eye out for any suspicious threats right now. I would like any available members on board to try and start loading the cannons or help defend the cannons . Do not attack anything till either Amalil or Long finds something strange. Remember everyone, expect the unexpected. "

Cyllos begins to fidget with his hands making sure that his Engineered Cyborg arm was maintained and ready for action. He begins to think about what would the worst case scenario would happen if it were to happen. That happened to be that Altherion managed to capture or kill everyone on board and then took the ship for his own fleet. Well hes not gonna let him have another ship. He heads down to the armory where the gunpowder and the cannon balls were and started searching for something that he brought aboard . After searching though many boxes of cannonballs he finally came across a box that read 'Cyllos engineering things, please don't touch!' Jackpot.

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Amalil nodded and took a step back, once again turning into a storm crow. He spread his wings and took flight, heading towards the fog. As he got closer he felt a chill over come his body. He had a feeling this was no random act of nature, and as he came closer to the fog he became more and more sure that Longdang was right. Amalil stopped just short of the dense fog, focusing hard. "This is useless, I cant see a thing up here." he thought to himself, frustrated. Even the keen eyesight granted to him in this form couldn't pierce the fog well enough to make out much of anything. Then he looked down into the clear water beneath him and had an idea.

From the ship the few on deck would see the storm crow change back into a Kaldo'rei, then fall straight into the water. As he broke the surface the immense cold of the water was a shock to his system, he struggled for a moment to regain his concentration and finally was able to change himself into an Orca. As his legs melded together and his arms shrunk into fins, his skin also thickened. Making the freezing water much more bearable. As he regained his focus, he began swimming forward underneath the fog. It wasn't long before he noticed that the sea floor under the fog was littered with wreckage of past ships.

And then he noticed the large, barbaric men walking under the waves. They looked almost unreal to Amalil, seeming to fade in and out of his sight as they moved from wreckage to wreckage gathering old relics and pieces of iron and wood. He had never seen anything like them, and didn't dare get a closer look. He turned and swam at full speed towards the surface to bring his report to Cyllos. As he broke the surface full speed into the air he concentrated hard, just barely shifting back into the storm crow. He looked back towards the Nigles Fury and made his return. He landed next to longdang and shifted back into his normal form, leaning on the railing as he did. He shivered from the cold water still left on his skin and took a moment to catch his breath. Shape shifting between this many forms this often wasnt easy, but after a moment he looked over at Longdang.

"There's something down there, I'm sure of it." He said as he regained his breath. Amalil looked back at the water. "Is the water saying anything to you, Longdang?"

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Rhysta peered out at the thick fog, blinking several times to try to clear her vision. Failing this, she sat down and closed her eyes. In meditation, the mind calms, it is easier to focus. “What is this energy that I sense?”, she asked no one in particular, before she edged into deep meditation.

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Cara sat at the edge of the upper deck, watching those below her through her dangling legs. One foot made circles in the air while the blue of her eyes followed the movement of the Redblades. This was the only apparent motion coming from Cara, as it was for the past few hours. Her runeblade laid across her lap.

Sometime in the past fortnight, she laid claim to this spot. While she attempted to do this "taskmaster" job, she was often found just sitting there for hours. The living on the boat took shifts throughout the day, with most of the Redblade members awake in the day and partially into the night. Cara watched fourteen sunrises and sunsets, slowly going mad on the inside from being trapped in this small space with people she had to refrain from killing, no matter how many times Cyllos threw that damned hammer.

The weather was familiar to her and the chill didn't phase her a bit. In fact, this was her preference. However, she observed now that the others seemed either paranoid or panicked about something.

She grunted. Finally moving from her spot, she kicked herself off the edge dropped down to the lower deck. The death knight just arrived to the bow of the ship where Longdang stood when Amalil returned from his scouting. Leaning toward the druid, she muttered, "Hm? Something in the water?"

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