Following the happenings of his last job, Ezekiel decided to return to Hargeon Town, this time renting out a small schooner and traveling quite a ways away from the shore. He left a tip for the man at the dock and boarded the small sailboat, and unfurled the canvas sails to depart. It didn’t take long for the bustling market noises and gull calls to be drowned out by the ocean breeze. Ezekiel marvelled at how much fresher the air smelled now that he was away from the fishy market. It was salty, but not as overpowering as on the docks, and cooler too. Around the docks and the streets, the air was soupy and humid, the sun crashing down from every angle possible. But from atop the water, Ezekiel hid in the shade of the sail, stretching in the cool breeze.
Though, he was not here to lounge. In actuality, he was here to train; he wanted to practice and hone his magic. He picked up several books regarding magical theory on the way here, and although the young knight was not so fond of reading, he had to at least try. There was another reason he chose Hargeon, too. The last thing he remembers from his previous visit, something...called out to him in the water, calling him to use his magic in ways he didn’t like. Ezekiel knew it must have been related to the Language of the Abyss. The voice had a sensation, almost like a vibration similar to that of the magic itself, but malevolent in ways he could not explain. He cracked open the tome, and immediately heard the choir of siren-like voices rush from within. And as soon as he opened it, he shut it hard, then proceeded to throw up over the deck. The voices within the tome often whispered demented things, telling him of death and rot, war and destruction, placing images in his head of gruesome scenes.
“Good god,” he swore, and tightly shut his eyes to try to mask the voices. The heat suddenly began to swell and became unbearable. Quickly, Ezekiel shed his armor and splashed seawater onto his face, but peered into his reflection and reached out to touch it. Within his watery self, his eyes were no longer green but a bright red, and behind him stood a shadowy, winged figure. It lacked a face and sat in a thoughtful position atop the mast, but with a blink reappeared on the deck. The figure was humanoid in shape, but more than double Ezekiel’s height. A smoky black aura emanated from it, spilling out onto the deck and dissipating like steam. It crouched down to face Ezekiel and lifted its talons to examine the young mage. The boy backed away and searched for his magic within. He sang loudly all the sea shanties he knew, but the water did not obey him.
“It will not work,” it muttered in an old language, but Ezekiel somehow understood. “I see now...you are the one who opened the book. You do not possess the power to summon me...yet. However,” the creature spoke, sounding androgynous in tone. It poked a talon at Ezekiel’s sternum, causing a green glow from within; his soul. “If you would like to make a deal. I haven’t gambled in millenia.”
Though, another voice pierced the winds and silenced them, “You are out of your depth, deamhan.” Ezekiel turned around saw a feminine shaped, blue spirit rise from the water. The spirit was a majestic sight to behold, with broken gold shackles on her wrists and ankles, and a mane of dark, ocean colored hair. Ezekiel was speechless and powerless. The tide within him was unbalanced, and he had no control over anything. “Leave the poor boy alone,” she murmured, forming feet and standing between the two.
“You are not strong enough to defeat me in any realm, sea witch.”
“I may not be able to put you away, but the boy can,” the blue spirit said, making the waters around tremble. There was a sheer difference in power between both spirits, but the one called ‘sea witch’ seemed to hold her own fairly well. Ezekiel had no clue what they talked about, and frankly was frightened beyond belief. The sheer intensity and magical pressure given off by both spirits pressed on his body like the weight of the sea, preventing him from speaking. The sea witch drifted behind the boy and placed her hands on his shoulders. Her touch was more refreshing than a spring breeze over the Azure sea, and her whisper silenced all the malevolence in his head. She muttered the black spirit’s name in his ear and filled his eyes with a blue glow, and pictures of peace and control coursed his veins.
“Let him first choose,” muttered Naomh Fas...Saint Nothing...Abaddon, the angel of the abyss. He reached out and touched Ezekiel with his bladed pinky finger, filling him with a deep purple glow. Visions of power and unstoppable strength infiltrated his thoughts. The sea opened up beneath his feet and swallowed him whole, and the spirits followed him on his descent. He felt his soul gradually leaving his body, and realized he must choose soon, or cease to exist.
“Naomh Fas!” he incanted.
He awoke atop the deck of his ship, soaked through his clothes and staring up at the blue sky. Abaddon had disappeared from his deck, but he turned around and saw the sea witch sitting atop the railing. “You chose wisely, young mage,” she said. “I am the sea spirit--
“Ondine,” Ezekiel interrupted.
“Correct. You’ve grown quite strong, as I’ve observed,” she explained. “Strong enough. Simply mutter my name, and I will be at your command with the strength of a thousand seas.”
A wave crashed against the ship, battering it with foamy water, and in an instant, Ondine was gone. Ezekiel coughed and stabilized the sails, then looked over the deck into his reflection. His eyes were once again normal, but in the depth of the ocean, he could see a figure with wings at the bottom, pointing a shiny talon up at him, waiting.
[1031/1000]
Though, he was not here to lounge. In actuality, he was here to train; he wanted to practice and hone his magic. He picked up several books regarding magical theory on the way here, and although the young knight was not so fond of reading, he had to at least try. There was another reason he chose Hargeon, too. The last thing he remembers from his previous visit, something...called out to him in the water, calling him to use his magic in ways he didn’t like. Ezekiel knew it must have been related to the Language of the Abyss. The voice had a sensation, almost like a vibration similar to that of the magic itself, but malevolent in ways he could not explain. He cracked open the tome, and immediately heard the choir of siren-like voices rush from within. And as soon as he opened it, he shut it hard, then proceeded to throw up over the deck. The voices within the tome often whispered demented things, telling him of death and rot, war and destruction, placing images in his head of gruesome scenes.
“Good god,” he swore, and tightly shut his eyes to try to mask the voices. The heat suddenly began to swell and became unbearable. Quickly, Ezekiel shed his armor and splashed seawater onto his face, but peered into his reflection and reached out to touch it. Within his watery self, his eyes were no longer green but a bright red, and behind him stood a shadowy, winged figure. It lacked a face and sat in a thoughtful position atop the mast, but with a blink reappeared on the deck. The figure was humanoid in shape, but more than double Ezekiel’s height. A smoky black aura emanated from it, spilling out onto the deck and dissipating like steam. It crouched down to face Ezekiel and lifted its talons to examine the young mage. The boy backed away and searched for his magic within. He sang loudly all the sea shanties he knew, but the water did not obey him.
- Abaddon:
“It will not work,” it muttered in an old language, but Ezekiel somehow understood. “I see now...you are the one who opened the book. You do not possess the power to summon me...yet. However,” the creature spoke, sounding androgynous in tone. It poked a talon at Ezekiel’s sternum, causing a green glow from within; his soul. “If you would like to make a deal. I haven’t gambled in millenia.”
Though, another voice pierced the winds and silenced them, “You are out of your depth, deamhan.” Ezekiel turned around saw a feminine shaped, blue spirit rise from the water. The spirit was a majestic sight to behold, with broken gold shackles on her wrists and ankles, and a mane of dark, ocean colored hair. Ezekiel was speechless and powerless. The tide within him was unbalanced, and he had no control over anything. “Leave the poor boy alone,” she murmured, forming feet and standing between the two.
- Ondine:
“You are not strong enough to defeat me in any realm, sea witch.”
“I may not be able to put you away, but the boy can,” the blue spirit said, making the waters around tremble. There was a sheer difference in power between both spirits, but the one called ‘sea witch’ seemed to hold her own fairly well. Ezekiel had no clue what they talked about, and frankly was frightened beyond belief. The sheer intensity and magical pressure given off by both spirits pressed on his body like the weight of the sea, preventing him from speaking. The sea witch drifted behind the boy and placed her hands on his shoulders. Her touch was more refreshing than a spring breeze over the Azure sea, and her whisper silenced all the malevolence in his head. She muttered the black spirit’s name in his ear and filled his eyes with a blue glow, and pictures of peace and control coursed his veins.
“Let him first choose,” muttered Naomh Fas...Saint Nothing...Abaddon, the angel of the abyss. He reached out and touched Ezekiel with his bladed pinky finger, filling him with a deep purple glow. Visions of power and unstoppable strength infiltrated his thoughts. The sea opened up beneath his feet and swallowed him whole, and the spirits followed him on his descent. He felt his soul gradually leaving his body, and realized he must choose soon, or cease to exist.
“Naomh Fas!” he incanted.
He awoke atop the deck of his ship, soaked through his clothes and staring up at the blue sky. Abaddon had disappeared from his deck, but he turned around and saw the sea witch sitting atop the railing. “You chose wisely, young mage,” she said. “I am the sea spirit--
“Ondine,” Ezekiel interrupted.
“Correct. You’ve grown quite strong, as I’ve observed,” she explained. “Strong enough. Simply mutter my name, and I will be at your command with the strength of a thousand seas.”
A wave crashed against the ship, battering it with foamy water, and in an instant, Ondine was gone. Ezekiel coughed and stabilized the sails, then looked over the deck into his reflection. His eyes were once again normal, but in the depth of the ocean, he could see a figure with wings at the bottom, pointing a shiny talon up at him, waiting.
[1031/1000]
