It all happened in an instant, dust rustled up across the vicinity, clouding much of her vision. In the rush of the sandship, her robe flapped against the winds and flailed against her body. In the blur of her sight, she watched as his figure moved relentlessly closer. In adrenaline-high situations such as these her senses were at their peak. She could smell the scent of sweat upon his brow and alcohol upon his breath. She could smell the stagnant stench of his clothing, hear his feet clashing against the sand that whirled from his feet and whisked across his body, hear his labored breathing as he went in for his next move. Then, breaking her concentration upon him entirely, pierced by the booming voice stating "RUN!"

It hit her all at once, the fumes of churning flame, vengeance brewing in the air. This entire area was becoming increasingly more dangerous, and she hadn't the time to duel her pseudo-cohort who now attempted at her very life. She hadn't another second to dabble, his cleaving blade swiped at her with malice, Instinctively she threw her curved counter-blade up to meet his, clashing in a sound of metal thrashing, sparks ignited from the met blades, hinting at the sheer force he descended upon her with. She grunted silently, feet planted upon the sand trying to keep her ground as he pressed against her. She wasn't one for strength and slowly he was overcoming her. Sweat glistened upon her forehead, her teeth grit as she half-stood half-knelt as they braced to one another. There was no time for this, she had to evacuate. Bent slightly backward as he leaned over her, his stagnant breath causing her to wince.

"We'll have to save this for another time.." She remarked calmly despite the apparent strain expressed upon her face. Her other hand was firmly sunk into the sandy ground, and had been this whole time, her fingers clenched into a fist and with a battle cry she threw a fist-full of the hot sand against his face whilst evasively pulling away from the encounter with a sideways roll. Their blades slid apart with a sound of grinding steel. "He should atleast be temporarily blinded." She thought to herself, before sprinting away, only catching a glance at the one who had shouted. She hadn't a sense of direction for it, she simply sped off, perhaps instinctively tailing the boy who too had ran upon the mans call.

Telemichus grabbed his eyes whilst yelling out from the stinging pain of the hot sand in his eyes. He almost had her at his mercy too.

"AAGH"

He was sure to teach that wench pain when he found her. It was not to be however.

Damocles raced far, rolling in an amusing fashion as he held up the protective buckler he held in his hand. The boy and whoever cared for their lives had taken shelter (shelter was relative as not much could escape the Mistress' wrath). The wall of flame from here thinned in to a ring, concentrated in such a manner that it would cut through anything flammable. Exploding outwards the ring cut through friends and foe alike.

Telemichus could only feel a searing heat as pain shot itself up from his lower body. It was a feeling equal in parts burn and cut. His eyes cleared for a moment and he looked down, seeing his legs still standing and himself on his back. What a strange feeling he thought until his rage erupted at the betrayal from the Mistress. She was as dangerous as he was told and he clearly did not listen or truly understand why until this moment. In less than an hour, he would either succumb to the pain from his wound or the toxic build up in his barely functioning body as a result of his destroyed kidneys. He could only add to the screams of the dead and dying now.

The Mistress did not stop there. Far from it, she was only warmed up as a pillar of flame erupted from her palm. It was a solid and controlled flame and she pointed at Damocles' direction. Elongating itself, the flamed stopped just short of Damocles and his melting shield. There was only one reason why.

Damocles threw his melted steel shield aside. Chataigne has escaped and he breathed slowly in relief. His duty as her knight was to end here. It would be a fitting death and sat on his knees with his eyes closed, steeling himself for the last blow. It would not come.

"GET UP!" the lady commanded him.

He only opened his eyes and she repeated her command.

"GET UP!" she yelled again and after a short pause added, "Get up, Knight-Commander of Gavaroche's Royal Guard, Lord Damocles Methusaleh. Or I swear, in the name of my mentor and your brother, Igneus Methusaleh, that I will leave not a single speck unburned when I find little Chataigne."

He did so, frowning as she approached him. Walking now with a wicked smile as the ground trembled around them, the Mistress' fire started to die down.

"I have a proposition for you," she now offered with the same smile that had taken the lives of men before him, "You will serve me until death and I shall ensure that your precious little princess will never come to harm."

"Like anyone would believe the words from some one who torches their own men with out a shred of remorse," he spat at her feet.

"I offer to sign in blood. A promise that no magic nor force of will could ever break. If you do not find these terms reasonable, then I will burn every town, Lexmadan or Gavaroche, until I find Chataigne. I will not kill you of course, I want you to be there as a helpless witness to the ultimate cruelty of fire inflicted on such a dainty darling of a girl."

Damocles gritted his teeth. Nothing favourable was forthcoming. There was no plan, nor stratagem that he could think off that did not end, ultimately, in his death. He would then have to bide his time.

"So be it," he agreed with no hesitation.

Slashing open his palm, he held it out so that the contract would be bound until one of them died. Sealed in such a manner, no magic known, nor force of will was able to overcome it. People believed this to be divine, the one single promise that could be broken only in death. When he signed it, he felt no difference in himself, but yet he was sure that if he tried to defy it something bad was to happen.

"Now, Lord Methusaleh, marshall as many weapon hands as you can find. We will need them for the pursuit."

As she commanded him a pale green monster with a red underside crashed in to the sand and came to a halt where the little white sand ship used to be. It was as tall as the citadel of the city. Its large paddles sticking out from under the green side skirts that shielded the upper halves of it. Clearly it was one of the motherships of the Khanate sand fleets, whose name, incidentally, when translated was Lady Bug.

Damocles was going to have to bide his time now, calling out to any survivors to himself, threatening them with death and abandonment if they did not.

((EDIT: Speaking of absences, where is Kiki? I wonder if she wants to be put on the same ship with Blue so that he doesn't become too bored and starts having Chataigne do something questionable in Damocles's absence.

Also, now is a good time to party up.))

OOC: As soon as I saw Thai's post I was going to make one of my own but I've been fairly busy. I suppose Abi will have gotten on the ship as you have suggested.

The glass sphere returned to the palm of her hand, spinning once more before coming to a full stop. Having felt accomplished after shattering the bones in the jaw of the vicious attacker with her magic ball, she retreated not wanting to gain the attention of the vile fire witch. It was then that the sandship came to life, a bellow of steam followed by a shrill whistle, alerting all of its departure.

"Typical nobles!" cursed Abi, as the elegant sandship began to pick up speed immediately. "Not even bothering to rescue those left behind" panted Abi as she ran to the docks. The ship had already left the docks, whipping up sand as it sped away. Abi desperately jumped, the gap continuing to expand between the ship and the dock, she knew she wouldn't make it.

"Djinns carry me!" she exclaimed while reaching out with her right hand towards the sandship. The sea of sand heaved itself up like an ancient beast. They raised so that she was standing on a wave of sand, gaining on the sandvessel as it chugged forward not worrying about those it had left behind in its peril. A common theme she constantly repeated in her mind. Her hand grasped onto the railing of the ship and the sand immediately fell out from beneath her. Struggling to hold on with one arm she grasped the other railing with her other arm, her legs flailing behind her as the ship chugged ahead.

She shimmied up the railing pulling herself up slowly to the point that her stomach was laying on the railing. Feeling rather uncomfortable she gagged and pulled herself over the railing. Abi rested on the deck with her eyes closed, and her chest heaving up and down. She felt exhausted though she mainly felt fear, for the feat she had accomplished was one that could have cost her life. Surprised that no one had noticed, or bothered to notice her arrival onto the ship. She opened her eyes and got up, the town no longer visible behind them. Perhaps no one would notice her throughout the entire journey. Though she was going to end up farther from home than she had ever been before. Her father was going to kill her when she returned to the palace.

OOC: Yeah, this'll do for now, can't find anything to use.

Rono looked out out of whatever place he was (a building, he thought, though he didn't think about it at the moment), and saw what the Mistress did. Anyone who didn't shield themselves were dead if they were luck, and the ones who weren't were writhing in pain.

He saw the Mistress walking towards the guard. He thought she was about to finish him off, but she yelled at him instead, and was apparently offering him something, although he couldn't hear what. Looking around he saw a woman, possibly going along with him. "Psst, can you hear what they're saying? My ears are going deaf on me now" he politely asked.

OOC: *blows dust off topic* Hint hint nudge nudge.

((Well yeah, I was going to PM blue and Nini today, the chances...

I dunno how blue intends to write Chataigne because I'm allowing him to write as he wishes. I will however endeavour to emulate him in order to nudge this along.))

The tiny vessel ploughed along and every crest sent the vessel airborne, such was the speed at which is was traveling. The little princess of Gavaroche had decided to step out, despite the protests of the guards on station. They were more concerned about her going overboard and in to the harsh desert sands than any assassin on board the vessel. Well, that was the typical mentality of the elite. Caring little for their boasts, Chataigne soon found herself at the stern, staring unusually so towards the column of smoke that was soon to disappear from the horizon. However, it was best to not show weakness, especially since she could be considered hostage on this vessel if the prince or Lexmadans decided so.

Rounding a corner of the railing, her eyes set upon a woman. This woman was a noble perhaps, but not royalty, as her attire would suggest, and Chataigne had to wonder, what was she doing here. Surely the prince knew of the please of the flesh, as old as he was, but to have a secret lover was something of a surprise for her. But soon enough she would have answers.

"Who are you?"

(i was waiting on more posters, i wasnt aware im holding things up, ill edit this post in a few with it)

Niniva
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She had stopped in her tracks as he stopped to ask her his question, sweat beading off of her brow from the prior intense heat of the flames and the dry atmosphere. She pulled her hood down entirely, allowing her forest green hair to pour out freely, al beit with sand caught in her bangs. Her sensitive ears, deceivingly 'normal' in appearance, twittered slightly, concentrating upon her surroundings. She her the crackling od dying flames and cries of death, but audibly could make out their conversation.

"The knight.. has been enlisted in her service" Niniva replied to the man, after a brief silence.

"He's begrudgingly forced to her aid it seems.." She continued, peering on over towards them from the relatively safe distance herself and the man stood from. "He's sig-" The sudden landing of the enormously large ship broke her concentration. Between the whirring of its mighty engines, the crash of the hull against the heated sand, and the sounds of whistling steam, it was impossible to make out any more details.

In fact, the crash's tremor-like impact almost knocked her off her feet, stumbling forward on bent knee's, hardly keeping her balance. "The hell?!" she exclaimed, pulling herself back upright and wiping down on her thighs, shoving off sandy grime. "It seems they're about to depart."

Casually, Niniva shut her eyes as she dusted herself off. "I don't suppose you have a ride out of this hellhole?.. if not, might i suggest sneaking onto the ship?"

((We really need to be more clear about these things then I guess. Oh and Kiki, that last post was Chataigne talking to your character just so we're on the same page.))

There were survivors. He knew that and could definitely tell. The young lad that had helped him escaped early bore with him some salt, one of the most common anti-magicks. Surely that should have spared him. The behemoth of a ship had come to a rest and the Mistress had already signalled for him to continue looking for survivors as she boarded the lowered gangplank. The deck was cleared for combat and it would be foolish to simply walk on board. A short while later, the cannon ports opened, baring with it at least 21-lbers. At least that's what Damocles estimated. The especially heavy solid shots could have easily punch holes in the gaudy but now ruined city. Even if they intended to give chase, they had to depart quickly and the column of steam emanating from the top of the smoke stack indicated that it was ready for the full steam ahead.

Climbing over some of the wreckage, he found the lad from earlier who seemed relatively unscathed. Adjacent to him was a woman. Her distinct trait was that of her green hair. Not that hair hue such as that was uncommon, it was just negatively associated with professions of questionable repute. He'd be wary around her, especially if his assumption of her strong will to survive and prosper like many of the lower elements was correct.

He addressed himself to the boy first,

"You there, boy! I have come to repay the debt I owe you."

Lost in the depths of her thoughts, with her hands over the railing of the ship as it fled from danger. She felt the need to be alone in a sense of mourning for the people lost and for the twang of homesickness that had already struck her as she got farther and farther from the kingdom.Abi turned around with an expression of contempt for the person who had decided to interrupt her, her fiery temperament causing her to quickly forget, that she hadn't been invited onto the vessel, and that she was practically a stowaway. she didn't doubt that these people would willingly without an afterthought, throw her over into the desolate desert, leaving her to starve to death, or be eaten.

Her eyes widened with surprise as she saw it was the princess who stood before her. She was taller than a princess, something she felt proud of for a reason unknown to even herself, despite the fact that she was only slightly taller, for she definitely could not see over her head. She stared blankly at the princess then quickly remembering what she had asked.

"I am Lady Abilasha, of the Gavaroche courts, daughter to Lord and Lady Jasraj." she said with a polite curtsy. It was a phrase she had said many times and it had now become robotic to her as she said it once again in the presence of the princess. She seemed innocent enough, though you could never tell with nobility, from childhood she was raised to withhold all unpleasantness and keep a mask of, innocence, happiness or some other expression on one's face, oh how she hated those lessons. "You can call me Abi though" she added with a smile, she knew that they would need each other, well at least Abi would need the princess, they were the sole Gavaroche citizens on a ship full of Lexmadians, she was bound to be lonely.

"We'll have to do the latter sadly, my ship's in a different town." Rono said, holding on to some wreckage from the ship's landing. The Guile (Or what was painted on the side, he didn't bother to change it) was still in repair, and he had taken a transport instead. Before he could make any other actions, the Guard found the two.


"You there, boy! I have come to repay the debt I owe you." he said. "Does it involve not going into a possible deathtrap?" Rono asked, still slightly wary from the what the woman said. Glancing at the ship, he saw it was battle-ready, and was ready to leave them in the sands. "What were you about to say?" Rono whispered to the woman, as low as he could go.

Niniva
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"He signed a contract with her in blood, an oath to her that he cannot break." She whispered back, eyes glancing towards the large guard with an undeniable suspicion. Finding it ironic, she should be suspicious of another. The criminal wary of the pious knight, but so it was. "He may be bound to her will" She whispered, continuing. She otherwise remained silent, complacent where she stood, unaddressed by the large man; though in his eyes, as they panned across her, she found suspicion dwelled with him as well. In any natural circumstance, they were polar opposites, always at odds. Though there was no way he could know for sure her line of work, nothing definitive quite yet. Despite this, she subconsciously became unsettled around him.

This wasn't any natural circumstance however, where rogues and cutt-throats such as herself scour through peaceful nights with wicked intentions, pursued by the powers of justice, such as he. No, they had all been thrown into the jagged maw of the beast of war. No matter where they may have previously stood on the grey-scale of right and wrong, it mattered little now. She knew not his intentions or wishes, she knew not the large guardsmen at all. What she knew for sure however, was the situation was indeed changed. Survival was now a priority, atleast for her herself.

Chataigne tilted her head ever so slightly. "So you're from my court? Forgive me if I don't recognize you, I never paid too much attention whilst mother and father dealt with the nobles." She curtsied and presented herself. "Princess Chataigne de Gavaroche, puppet of thy parents and kingdom." She giggled, figuring she hadn't any need of formality. Her home had been nearly obliterated, anyway. "Tell me... this is the Lexmadan prince's private vessel, so why did they allow you passage to their capital in such a manner? I believed I was the only one he truly cared for. Is he hiding anything from me?" She wasn't particularly jealous, but her curiosity masked this fact and made her out to be a prying princess. It certainly would be odd for him not to confide in her if he desired more than one woman. It was a husband's duty to see to his love's emotional state, after all. Besides, competition had always been such a bother, to her.

"Does it involve not going into a possible deathtrap?" the lad asked allowed.

"There are risks," Damocles admitted, "But I will personally see to it so that such risks are small. I can't promise much but if we can see this through, my land and my title will go to you."

He said the last part almost in resignation. Yes, if they could see it through, he would name them inheritors to his assets, and he would be dead. Though brief as it was, a glance of suspicion was directed at him from the woman. Ah yes, he should also ease their minds as to who is addressing them.

"Both of you, I only require your services and your willingness to fight to survive as I do not care who you are, or what you have been. I am not a Knight nor am I a Justicar any more, this is war, and there is no place for such meaningless titles. I have forsaken my free will to live and fight another day. If you'd rather take your chances in this ruined city, then that is your choice."

Damocles had seen it before. In the aftermath of disaster, the lower elements, like roaches, would easily take the opportunity to better themselves and their condition. It was not a pretty sight. Especially since these pests were very voracious and murderously competitive. For if the city was to be occupied anew, the sovereign would have to purge the city clean and build it anew with his own, lest he fall victim to those he took power from. If they saw reason, they would accompany him.

OOC: It is HARD to put this on a freaking phone.

"I'll go, the city is hell, or will be later on" which was most likely to happen, though he had luckily only heard of such things. He wondered there was some way to break the oath, though the only time he saw something like that was only something madmen would do (and it was done by a madman). "All this talk, and we haven't even introduced to each other." He laughed as he noticed, despite what has happened. "Name's Rono." he said.

Niniva
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She stood silently to herself, contemplating giving her real name. I shouldn't be known in these parts anyway.. she thought to herself, raising her head. "And my name's Niniva, it is pleasant making your acquaintances" she stated firmly, body easing. Her eyes gazing across the large man, and towards the enormous vessel theyd be getting upon. She had only ever rode or driven in single passenger sandships, on infrequent occasion at that. A part of her was almost excited to be venturing upon such a behemoth of a ship. Her eyes then peered away from it, towards the large man, remaining astute, alert, and polite.