Eleven

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Hearing the roar, Amalil turned from the group and limped towards the railing. He looked out into the water but his vision was foggy, he was still light headed and the pain was strong. But he just barely managed to notice the animal in the water. Looking around, he found a rope and quickly tied it to the railing. He then took a thick piece of wood that had splintered from the deck and tied to to the end for the animal to bite onto. Using all his strength, he hurled it towards the roar. It landed near Loc and Amalil and roared, imitating the noises the Nightsabers he had grown up around used around friends.

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Eleven flipped up its head and hissed at Cyllos. The dark circles under its eyes described a person that hadn't slept in two weeks. The smell of undeath surrounded the minion, but the lack of magic in its eyes and the way they stared right into Cyllos' showed the life in them. The dark and grime, fierce expression, and baring teeth made this person nearly unrecognizable for a second, but with a hard look Cyllos would know this person...

...the young Gilnean woman with the love of dogs.

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Stops searching for an answer to his question when he realizes who he was looking at. "Wait...Yo-." He groans and slaps his forehead. "It was you! It all makes sense now! " Looks upon the young...Dead? he was not sure if she was dead or not. But it was definately her. "What the hell happened to your Rose?"

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As he's pulling Loc towards the ship, he notices the woman reveal herself. Amalil is in shock and he stops pulling on the rope.

"Ca-Captain?" He says. Look towards the woman. Just barely making her out.

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The girl flailed at Cyllos in an attempt to escape, sputtering the same nonsense and calling for her master. Its neck was lined with very small holes, likely from constant prodding of needles, and there was a rune crudely etched into the back of its neck. If this were the Captain, it wasn't acting like her.

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Cyllos noticed the the rune in Rose's neck. "Anyone know what the fel that thing in her neck is?" Cyllos looks around in hopes of seeing anyone with a knowledge for magic.

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Rhysta turned and glanced around. She sent healing chi to any still in need, then started taking count of who among her comrades were left. She saw Lt. Cyllos near what appeared to be an undead minion, left from the dreadship. She squinted, and then stared. "If I didn't know that Rosepha was in Surwich recovering, I would almost swear..."

Rhysta continued to stare, as it became apparent that it was indeed Rosepha. She blinked a few times, to clear her eyes, and then approached. "Miss Rose...?"

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Eleven twisted its head, wide eyes fixing on Rhysta. It briefly jumped back into reality, its expression relaxed. It pushed its jaw forward, sounding out words in a surprisingly calm but condescending manner. "Rose is dead. I am Eleven now." It rolled its head once before eyeing Cyllos and raising its nose at him. "I said parlay."

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With tattered robes and a bleeding hoof, Tuuroto managed to teleport himself back to his private quarters aboard the Nigel's Fury. However, he remained there, with his ear against the wall of his chamber, such that he could just bearly overhear the exchange between Altherion's minion Eleven and the other Redblades. The Draenei Admiral could not believe what he was hearing.

"Eleven... is Miiiss Rosepha Anderson?!?!"

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Returning to the rope, and with the healing chi giving him a small burst of energy and pain relief, he began pulling again. Dragging Loc closer to the ship, focusing on saving the animal and letting the others deal with Eleven.. Or Rose as it now seemed.

Even tho this animal belonged to a race he held a deep distrust for, almost as deep as the Orcs, its master still died in an attempt to prevent bloodshed. She had given her life for them, the lest he could do was help her companion.

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As soon as he felt the wood of the deck, Loc scrambled on the ship as fast as he could, throwing the body on before using his now free claws to pull himself up. He let out a sigh of relief before looking up to face the druid who saved him and nodded in thanks.

Loc didn't allow himself to fully relax, though, as he spotted Eleven. The fur on his back bristled on end as he snarled at the woman with the warped mind. His tail flicked side to side while his claws scraped the wood of the deck, ready to attack if need be.

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Cyllos sighs at everyone's confused look and lack of ideas to help with the situation. He turns to rose not being able to look at her face, "Take her to the brig. " He said softly. When everyone exchanged glances as he said this he barked, "Now!" He went up to rose close to her face shaking his head. " We will decide what to do with you when we get to land. But as for this moment, till further notice, you are no longer captain. Take her away, and someone keep guard. Ill go check on the Admiral. "

He walks towards the cabin trying to get away from the scene as soon as possible. The fact that Altherion has ruined another life has deepened the wounds of guilt that held heavy within his heart. To think they were once friends. He even considered him a brother in arms, but it seems the Alth he knew was gone. He knocked on the captains door, "Admiral. We need to talk."

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After the animal crawled onto the deck, Amalil moved to the back of the ship. He wanted privacy and as soon as he had it he sank down into a sitting position. He was ashamed at how fast he had lost his mind inside the bear, and the fact that he had tried to kill a comrade shook him deeply. He was better than this and he knew it.

"First things first" He muttered to himself, holding his hand to dark burn on his arm. His hands glowed green and pulsed around his arm, soothing the burn. Any dark energy radiating off it would soon disappear, but the burn remained and would need to heal naturally. Next he gently touched the gash on his side, it still pulsed with pain and was soaked with blood. Sitting up, he removes his armor and shirt and lays them next to him. Very carefully he places his hand against the wound, attempting to heal it.

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"Oy wonder which lucky sucker gets t' keep me company fiiirst," Eleven sang as crew members moved to capture it. "But let's not be too hasty. I'll be speaking with the Admiral, remember? I don't answer t' you." It cackled and taunted the draenei as he walked away.

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Lixxel didn't see the rune until Eleven was being taken away. She followed behind, careful to keep distance from the minion that nearly took her life. She took note of the design then backed away and let them continue, glad that at least Eleven was going to get the justice she deserved.

The goblin returned to the group and greeted them officially, eyeing the ones that she was unfamiliar with. She removed her orange, feathered, cloth helm and held it to her side. The facial scars that Eleven previously made were mostly faded, minus one long one running from the side of her nose to down and across her cheek.

She spoke in fluent common, though her Kezan goblin accent poked through, and rather than her normal high and excited voice, she spoke to the group calmly and slowly.

"Ta those ah haven't met: Lixxel Blingspark, Arcane Extraordinaire and CEO of Acquisition Company. I'd like ta speak with who's in charge of youses finances, since the ship ah was owed was jus' kinda destroyed."

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Water splashed alongside the ship and froze along the hull, forming a winding array of swirled shapes that served as handholds for the Death Knight below. She climbed the ship, slowly and carefully; she didn't bother calling for a rope. After a few minutes of scaling the vessel at a snail's pace, Evellin stopped at the top, listening to the tail end of the conversation.

A sigh escaped her, followed by a budding sense of anger. This wouldn't have happened if those idiots had listened to her warnings.

Evellin gripped the edge and hoisted herself over, on deck.

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Loc calmed as he watched Eleven get taken away, though he barely seemed approachable to anyone, save for a few he recognized. He took the time to shake the water off of himself before finding a nice corner to curl up in. During this, Loc kept an eye on Reroma's body, emitting a low growl at anyone who would come near it. Only the Admiral would be able to try if he dared, and that was only out of a sense of familiarity that the leopard would trust the draenei to not desecrate his mistress further.

With his head on his paws, the old spirit beast let out a long breath as he at last allowed himself some rest. The trip back would also allow him time to silently mourn, as without a hunter to guide him, Loc's only choice was to take another boat back to Northrend and reclaim his old home in Sholazar Basin.

He would only see to that, though, once his friend was taken to hers safely.

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After being healed of the poison and the Elemental disintegrating, Long stood silently watching and waiting. At the sound of Cyllos' order Long grabs Rose hard by the neck and shoves her toward the brig as he growls loud and deep. Eyes glowing fiery red and growling the whole way to the brig Long shoves her into the cell and barks "Try anything and I shall melt you to bone." and slammed the door. Long sits down against the wall across from the cell and stares at the door ready to burn it down.

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Content with his healing for now, Amalil collects his things and moves below decks to sleep. He would spend the rest of the trip home meditating below decks or above decks on the mast in his crow form. While they had won, and he had fought hard and well, the swiftness of his decent into feral thoughts worried him. He had thought he was better, and the events worried him deeply. As soon as he could, he would need to speak with his Shan'do.

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It took some time, but Lixxel was soon able to cast spells again and after a friendly farewell, teleported back to her headquarters at Bilgewater Harbor. She would contact her executives to let them know she was alive, much to their surprise.

Dissatisfied that the captured minion was also the group's quartermaster, and her top collector Jitters was nowhere to be seen, she had to re-plan how to antagonize the Redblades for their debt payment.

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((Preface: Written with the express consent of Tuuroto, in order to further the Redblade plot. Feel free to react, though this is the end of the thread. The majority of roleplay will now be carried out in game, as this is now canon, for the Redblades*))

After everything was sorted out, including potential treasures from the defeated enemy, healing for those who needed it, and the jailing of the traitorous Quartermaster, the Nigel’s Fury would depart the unholy waters.

Even as the blighted sea was left behind, they would see odd flashes of a purple lightning. The aftereffects of Tuuroto’s wild spell casting would stain the area far worse than any unholy magic.

--One week later--

As opposed to the way they arrived, the trip “home” would be much faster. The ship traveled down and about the coast of the Howling Fjord, and rather than sail along the west coast of the Eastern Kingdoms, they headed down the east. Without the treacherous straits that the Maelstrom, Tol Barad and Vashj’ir caused, their ship would arrive near the Blasted Lands in just a weeks’ time.

For some, the silence would be a peaceful time to rest. For others, it was a time to point fingers and yell at their captured enemy. Still, for most, it was a time to reflect on the grim nature of their mission.

As they rounded the bend near the Dark Portal, the formerly Naga infested waters would prove oddly quiet. They might notice, in the direction of Surwich, wispy trails of a light, white smoke.

Finally, as their small town came into view, they would realize it was gone. The first vision that would greet them was a flag, a way of declaring victory. It was made of severed spines, bound together by flesh. The top was the skull of an infant, bore through with a spike that held a Scourge banner. The banner flapped in the ash-filled wind, oblivious to the death around it.

Embers lined the ground in the place of building infrastructure. The dock, once proud and jutting into a treacherous sea, was nothing more than half melted splinters, floating out to the ocean. The inn, the former Redblade base, had been reduced to rubble. Brick had collapsed into the old cellar, and the wooden boards were all but gone.

The houses around the area had been destroyed as well, whatever darkness had fallen upon the town had been swift and merciless. There was only one remaining structure, and that was the stables.

The light smoke indicated that the fire had been put out a few days ago, simply by running out of fuel. It was clear who had caused the attack, as several sets of Saronite armor now crowned piles of ash. Altherion’s minions had been destroyed by his final spell, but not before they enacted a terrible vengeance at his command.

Within the fenced in enclosure of the stable, the former residents of Surwich lingered. Their eyes had developed a thick film of yellow ooze, and their skin was a rotting, grey color. Their bodies, left to fade unhindered by the lack of a proper master, bumped against the wooden fence in an attempt to escape.

The majority of the corpses, wounded by the flames or the assailants, had been tossed loosely into a ditch where the mayor’s house once stood. These included women and children, as the town’s able-bodied men had been sent off to fight the Redblade’s war.

All of the corpses in the pile had been beheaded, and some had turned into their worgen form in a final attempt to fight. Since they weren’t able to be turned undead, they were butchered. The severed heads lined the spikes of the fence, and some of the worgen had been skinned alive. These thick furs, now charred by ash and smoke, also lined the edges of the undead corral.

Admiral Tuuroto, in his sudden urge for action, had left his own town defenseless. As the ship anchored and attempted to dock, the heroes would slay any remaining undead. The innocent civilians were slaughtered, only to be killed again and freed of their damnation.

Papers of Redblade documentation, including the majority of the papers Tuuroto hadn’t brought along, were torn to bits.

They would need to regroup with their members, find a new base, and find a way to save or execute their Quartermaster. A Quartmaster who, for all the good she had once done, was a massive part in this slaughter. As the group viewed the charred field that was once a bustling village, one they were sworn to protect, they would likely wonder if they had actually won their battle, or if they had simply fed into Altherion’s plan.

((*If there are any complaints lorewise...I doubt the town is gone forever. Merely attacked. The purpose was to point out that the Redblade base is gone. Any issues can be directed to me through the private message function of TNG. I'd just like to say, however, that it was all preapproved by the guild master.))

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