Wind brushed lightly across the face of the Ace of Creation, the ship sailing at its casual pace as it neared closer and closer to the destination. Odhran looked up towards the sky, holding a paintbrush in hand. His mission was, at this present moment, by no means a horrid task. Janet and Trinity had spoken of a collection of islands some six days’ travel south of their city of Elysium, deep in the recesses of Sin. Some upstart, wannabe hero had laid claim to the land as “King of the Islands,” a bloke by the name of Cormag mac Niall. Odhran, at the behest of Arnaluuk, had actually done some research on this location prior to his leaving. The islands, known previously as the “Taluth Archipelago” but now known as the “Empire of Bright Sun,” were awash with corruption and warring islands for millennia until Cormag conquered the land, riding atop his dragon, though if there was only the one or if there were multiple, the sources conflicted. What mattered is that Cormag had christened himself as Bright Sun Emperor, as well as a king of dragons. Some sort of affront of that matter was impossible to fathom for Odhran. After all, he knew that Janet was the one true Queen of Dragons, and Cormag certainly had not wed himself to her! Odhran would have officiated, if that were the case!
Nonetheless, Odhran sighed. They had been at sea for five days at this point, and the toils of being confined to a vessel as this began to take their toll. His knees wobbled slightly, and he yearned for the taste of a lavish meal of things other than fish. Since Elysium had been founded, the formerly dying town within the recesses of Sin found itself progressively populating with folks from all over the world, not just denizens of Earthland. The Legion of the Pentagonal Bench were a welcome influx of new blood into the dying city, but they were just the beginning of a mass exodus. Soon enough, immigrants from Iceberg and Bosco, Pergrande and Bellum, Fiore and Midi all began to feed their way into the home of Elysium. The town slowly began to expand, with the hall of the dark guild at its epicenter. As strange as it was, Odhran found himself assisting in the construction efforts immensely. He was Ace of Creation, after all. Janet had other work to take care of, and the bundle of fun that was Trinity had their own work as Ace of Destruction. Odhran knew that such a thing had to be left to him, and his powers as both a God of Celestial Spirits and a vessel for the Ark of Embodiment aided the construction of the town. Of course, the looming power of the Hallow’s Phantom that resided in his being provided a great help to this matter as well, its bony frame able to serve as another massive pair of hands, though Noel was certainly a fantastic help to that end as well. While it was not the kind of notoriety he desired, any sort of recognition from the foolish, feeble masses was something that he enjoyed. They thanked him for his work, they graciously praised his and his Spirit’s efforts, and they respected him. Of course, much of this was in too light an aspect for Odhran to desire. He wanted infamy, not fame! Fear, not respect!
It was no matter. He accepted this as a starting point, dipping the tip of his brush into a light mahogany shade before lightly applying it to the easel. The feel of this light sea breeze, the faintest hint of salt in the air sticking to his tongue, the all too familiar scent of fish at his nostrils, the squawking of seagulls in the distance, the sight of endless blue, as far as the eye could see… every sense was besieged in a swath of mixing and melting flavors, all molding into a delicious elixir of familiarity and calm. Odhran was never the crafty type, not often. So long spent trying to make the most notoriety for himself in the contexts of assailing innocent people with his misdeeds left him unattuned to the creative arts, and as someone who thrived upon the power of imagination through his Ark of Embodiment, such a waste of talents and such an ignorance towards these outlets was truly a mistake! Since Elysium was founded, Odhran had to spend much of his time honing his craft. He worked towards this bright future for himself, one where he could forge a world in his image, wbut what sort of image would that be? Would it be some bleak, cliche, grey landscape assailed with the misery of those who were so much more inferior to his greatness that all they could do was to simply bow at statues of him? To be fair, it was an appealing thought. He liked seeing statues of himself, and those that were weak having only to bow to him. Yet there was something missing. There was no excitement! It was monotonous, and they would only pray to him out of a lack of desire for anything else to do! They would find themselves remiss, haunted by boredom and finding no solace in anything but the statue of his glorious visage! That was simply unacceptable, but how could Odhran make it more interesting? Perhaps a beautiful landscape, he thought. He could stretch out his glorious brain, feeling his way through the pain and imagining what sort of world he would desire before putting it to the brush and to the page. Music was something to work on eventually, as would the religious texts of his godhood, but those could wait. Janet’s goal was important first, and once Elysium had the strength to stand upon its own two feet, then Odhran could pursue his own greatness. It would not take long, he figured. The world simply was not ready for him, and so he continued his preparations for when he made his own world.
The brush danced across the paper, light strokes petting the side of the grand ship to portray his current position, the extent of its bow and stern a goliath amongst this sea of endless blue. Certainly his new world would not be something like the current situation, where he found himself upon a boat sailing to a distant land, yet he needed to start somewhere. Three days of reading and studying on the Empire of the Bright Sun, and now he had spent the entirety of the fourth day upon the deck of the ship, by his lonesome, painting. Crew members would bustle by upon occasion, calling out orders and barking at their fellow men. All of these were residents of Elysium’s city, and they had gladly agreed to take Odhran upon this journey alongside some trade goods.
“Glad you could bring me along for the ride, Aegisbane,” a familiar voice chirped.
Odhran turned to see the key piece of this entire mission, Muiris mac Ceallach. A certified “pretty boy,” as many of the poor inhabitants would state, but more importantly now rightful King of one of the many island kingdoms the Empire of the Bright Sun had claimed as their own. Muiris brushed aside his long, swooping, wine red hair, revealing the guild mark of Elysium sitting above his left brow. Beneath the thin brows, completing their flank, was the thin, yet piercingly powerful eyes in a vibrant sapphire blue shade, filled with power and yet holding an underlying sense of gentleness to them. A thin, hooked nose was itself flanked by those same eyes, sitting above a thin, pursed lip that seemed perpetually curved into a snake like smile, pushing his already high cheekbones higher, their protrusions evident but not overbearingly so, giving his entire head a sharp feel when combined with his thin jaw and chin. He had somewhat of an elvish feel to his look, with this permeating sense of thinness and, as many of the denizens of Elysium stated, shrew like quality to him. His lanky arms led to shoulders covered in the bright, shiny gold of his armor, each little scale of golden patchwork seemingly to individually glimmer. Clasped upon his back sat a crimson red cape, tied to him through a slightly darker golden flower emblazon beneath each collarbone, holding firm to the red threads that spilled down to his back. Each scale of his armor glinted and glimmered, from those thin shoulderguards to the edge of his cuirass at the middle of his thigh before petering out into a pair of simple black leggings covering him to keep his body maneuverable even in spite of the thin armor he wore. At present, his feet were uncovered, but Odhran still saw in his mind’s eye the golden boots that were specked with those same scales on them. Sitting at his hip was the hilt of another piece of gold, his rapier made from some sort of metal found only in Sin. In honesty, Odhran honestly did not pay attention when Muiris was describing it before the mission. What mattered is that the man bore a gaudy amount of gold, and Odhran respected how gaudy it was. The man himself was certainly strange, but respectably so.
“Ah, you’ve finally risen from your quarters, Muiris,” Odhran dully responded, acknowledging his presence before returning to the work upon his painting, using his magic to exchange his current brush for a finer tipped one.
“I could say the same for you, I haven’t seen you all day, Ace!”
Odhran raised an eyebrow, uncaring that his quizzicality could not be seen by his fellow guildmate. “I’ve been here the entire day, painting. I suppose you’ve been making messages to your hopeful supporters?”
“Not hopeful, Odhran. They WILL support me. I swear it upon my late father’s name!”
Odhran rolled his eyes at the certainty. “Whatever you say, Muiris. I’m not all too concerned with whatever shenanigans you have desired, I merely want to crush all those that you put in my way underfoot, and if it means a greater return for Elysium, I will be even happier for it.”
Muiris took the initiative, Odhran seeing from the corner of his eyes as the taller man stepped higher up towards the bow of the ship. “Well you needn’t worry about that, Odhran. I’ll make sure that, once you help me take over the Empire, I will designate them to deliver to Elysium as a first priority. After all, it’s because of you and the rest of the guild that I’m as powerful as I am, and I’m certain that, without your help, I won’t be able to defeat Cormag. From what I remember of the man, even without dragons, he’s powerful, so watch out for him.”
“When you say dragons, is that truly multiple dragons, or is it just the one?”
“I believe Cormag himself only has the one, but his family is renowned for dragon riders. Their island is the Dragon Roost Island, and there are, expectedly, many dragons upon it, with his family being, as the records of the past tell, ridiculed for thinking of settling upon the island, until lo and behold, they’ve conquered the dragons and are riding them into battle! Don’t worry, I know how powerful dragons are. Janet has shown me that all too well. Scary woman, that. Cute, sure, but scary. I see why she’s a Warlord.”
“Well, I’ll be a Warlord soon enough, just you wait.”
Muiris laughed. “Of course. Warlord of Petty Crimes, Odhran Aegisbane! Feared the world over for such horrible things as loitering and tax evasion!”
Odhran shifted his focus away from his painting, glaring at the tenor voiced man, who was simply smirking with a smug look upon his face. “Tax evasion is a serious issue, Muiris.”
“Of course! As is loitering, soliciting, and trespassing!”
“I’ve done more than that, and you know it!”
Muiris laughed once more, returning himself to the bow of the ship and briefly stepping onto the bowsprit and looking upon the endless sea of blue below. “Of course. You’re a Coming Storm. You’re Ace of Elysium. You’ve killed members of the Council. You’ve slaughtered dozens in cold blood, at a wedding no less! Why, I’m in awe of you!” Muiris spun on his heel, a crazed look within his eyes. “And now, you’re letting me rule my own Empire! I will expand my Empire of the Bright Sun, and we will incinerate all who oppose us! We’ll claim their futures as our own, and we’ll let everyone know just how strong we are! We’re Elysium, Odhran! Our new world, in our own image! Why, it’s more than I’ve ever asked for! And when I tear that bastard Cormag limb from limb, and I broadcast it to the entirety of the Empire, they will know! They’ll know that we are to be feared! I will hold you over their heads as someone to be feared, I will let them know that the legend that is Odhran Aegisbane will come and crush them sevenfold more than what I can to, or that the Warlord Janet herself shall ride them down like the dogs that they are, and will burn them, their livelihoods, their everything!” He burst into a fit of manic laughter. “We will stomp out all those who dare oppose our vision, right? RIGHT?!”
Odhran smirked. While he had been training Seika and Faustein in the recent times, he had also been working on training others. His role as an Ace left many in awe of him, and Muiris was no exception. Muiris was one of the first disciples Odhran had, yet rarely did the two go on missions together. Now was the chance, and Muiris learned well. “You’re definitely right about me being a legend.”
Muiris smiled, hopping off of the bowsprit. “Might I ask what you’re painting?”
“The ship, upon this ocean. It’s painfully dull, though. I haven’t seen any land since we left Sin!”
“Hard ta say that, eh?” a gruff voice joked. “That ya miss Sin. Place is a certified hell hole, yet we miss it all tha same!”
The owner of the voice soon came into view, the bearer of its loud, boisterous attitude matching the sound to a T. A large, curly black beard tumbled down the front of his body, rolling off an unseen chin all the way to the top of his navel. A braid traced itself along the left side of the magnificent beard, contrasting the similar mirrored style of the right side of his flowing black locks that reached to his hips. Broad shoulders let the hair tumble and fall, the surprising fullness of his hair evident. Looking up past his broad shoulders and beard bore witness to small, dark brown eyes that brimmed with enthusiasm, resting around a fat, ugly nose sat in the middle of his face. Little of his face was visible past the thick forestation of his facial hair, his curled handlebar mustache claiming the eye as much as his powerful beard and continuous flow into his hair. His body was as broad as his shoulders, ballooning into a barrel gut that still held an air of strength behind it, Odhran having the “misfortune” of seeing the toning on his thicker body. His suit was as impressive as his bulk, the maroon buccaneer’s coat speckled with medals of golden sheen, glimmering off the eyes about his royal blue undercoat. Of course, the man always boasted that he “never spent a penny in me life!” For being stolen, his clothes were in impeccable condition, the only exception being the tears upon the knees of his beige pants and the light scruffs upon his grey boots. He was a certifiable rainbow, a cacophony of colors beaming to the eye, all calling attention to his impressive upper body.
“I’m impressed your fat belly was able to get past the railings, Mudgard,” Muiris teased.
The captain laughed. “I ain’t fat quite yet, boy. Sure, I’m a bit hefty, but such is the life of a Stonebody Magic user. Oh, and it’s CAP’N Mudgard, princeling.”
Muiris gave a smirk. “Apologies, Cap’n. Woe is me to have disrespected such a legendary pirate who can’t even swim.”
“Wha- I too can swim!”
“You sure about that? Pretty sure you just float with all that thickness.”
“Aye, and I bet ya just can slip through tha floorboards of me ship without a thought yer so thin.”
“Please, please, calm yourselves,” Odhran chimed in, flicking his paintbrush dramatically. “We don’t need to argue, and I in fact implore you NOT to argue because that is honestly just too much paperwork for me to deal with. Captain Mudgard is my transport back to Elysium, and if Muiris dies before we get there well this whole journey was kind of a waste, don’t you think? I mean, I got to work on my painting, which is always good, but there’s a significant lack of murder going on here, don’t you think? After all, what is an Ace of Creation without a little bit of murder? A Coming Storm without the benefit of a few bits and pieces of slaughter from time to time? A God of the Celestial Spirit Realm without souls and Spirits to bring to his own domain for… well, whatever the lot of the Spirits do. I do wonder from time to time. Apparently the King of the Celestial Spirit Realm made a deal with some of the gods of the various underworlds so some souls go to my Spirits, and I wonder what happens to them. Probably good things. Or not, I don’t really know. What do you think, Muiris?”
“H-Huh? Me? Well, I bet Lupa plays with them all day, Arnaluuk probably teaches dance lessons, Atsuai has her weird love shack thing, Ami-”
“Right, very interesting, thank you. Point is, I would be a horrid Keybearer if I did not grant these things to my Spirits! I should be doing all in my power to be granting them the best of what I can give them, and if I’m not that’s honestly a bit sad and I’d be on the ashamed side of myself, you know. So, it’s our duty as members of Elysium to make sure that whatever efforts we can provide are for the best of our goal! For the best for our new world! So, even if you’re a little bit of a weirdo, Muiris, I, Odhran Aegisbane, shall assist you in claiming the throne that’s honestly not fully rightfully yours but it’s whatever as long as we get our goals pushed along further. The more power, the better, right? Plus I can offer this place as a tribute to Janet or Trinity or… well they’re really the only ones that matter, aren’t they? Point is if I wanted to I can just donate this and have you swear fealty to us, though I suppose that would be a bit suspicious, wouldn’t it be? Huh. Never really thought of that. Oh well, you win some, you lose some. Now, I’d like to continue my painting, if you wouldn’t mind.”
Muiris and Mudgard saluted and returned to their stations, leaving the Ace alone to his painting. A dabble of pinks now manifested upon his pallet, dotting it across the sky in specks, matching the setting sunset aesthetic he was aiming for. The ship continued piercing its way through the sea, waves waking upon each side of the boat, which was the next target of his painting works. Whites and light blues danced upon the edges of the ship now, marking its movement evident upon the dark blues of the sea. What would Odhran paint next, he wondered. Perhaps a mood piece upon Sin and Elysium. What sorts of colors would be used upon that? Browns? Greys? Red? Well, that was a thought for another day. His mind wandered as he put brush to paper, letting him be completely free of his inner musings and just relaxing. A charmed smile came upon his face as serenity continued to wash over him. The strange Ace of Creation often had his moments of eccentricity, as Arnaluuk was oh so wont to tell him, yet there was certainly times that he enjoyed merely relaxing with a brush and paint, taking in the flavors and sights and smells of the sea or whatever personal paradise he either created or found himself stumbling into.
Of course, as is the case with all sunsets, eventually the oranges and reds and pinks that lit the sky ablaze settle into a deep black, stars speckling the landscape upon the sky. A crescent of silver lit the sky, washing the seas in a white light. Maybe this could be Odhran’s next piece? Well, that would be for another day. Tiredness began to set upon Odhran’s eyes, bidding him to sleep within the admittedly meager quarters of the ship. With a wave of his hand, a tarp set itself upon the painting, covering it in a protective shell for the overnight as he stepped towards the back of the ship, ready to get his much needed rest.
WC: 3545
WIP
Nonetheless, Odhran sighed. They had been at sea for five days at this point, and the toils of being confined to a vessel as this began to take their toll. His knees wobbled slightly, and he yearned for the taste of a lavish meal of things other than fish. Since Elysium had been founded, the formerly dying town within the recesses of Sin found itself progressively populating with folks from all over the world, not just denizens of Earthland. The Legion of the Pentagonal Bench were a welcome influx of new blood into the dying city, but they were just the beginning of a mass exodus. Soon enough, immigrants from Iceberg and Bosco, Pergrande and Bellum, Fiore and Midi all began to feed their way into the home of Elysium. The town slowly began to expand, with the hall of the dark guild at its epicenter. As strange as it was, Odhran found himself assisting in the construction efforts immensely. He was Ace of Creation, after all. Janet had other work to take care of, and the bundle of fun that was Trinity had their own work as Ace of Destruction. Odhran knew that such a thing had to be left to him, and his powers as both a God of Celestial Spirits and a vessel for the Ark of Embodiment aided the construction of the town. Of course, the looming power of the Hallow’s Phantom that resided in his being provided a great help to this matter as well, its bony frame able to serve as another massive pair of hands, though Noel was certainly a fantastic help to that end as well. While it was not the kind of notoriety he desired, any sort of recognition from the foolish, feeble masses was something that he enjoyed. They thanked him for his work, they graciously praised his and his Spirit’s efforts, and they respected him. Of course, much of this was in too light an aspect for Odhran to desire. He wanted infamy, not fame! Fear, not respect!
It was no matter. He accepted this as a starting point, dipping the tip of his brush into a light mahogany shade before lightly applying it to the easel. The feel of this light sea breeze, the faintest hint of salt in the air sticking to his tongue, the all too familiar scent of fish at his nostrils, the squawking of seagulls in the distance, the sight of endless blue, as far as the eye could see… every sense was besieged in a swath of mixing and melting flavors, all molding into a delicious elixir of familiarity and calm. Odhran was never the crafty type, not often. So long spent trying to make the most notoriety for himself in the contexts of assailing innocent people with his misdeeds left him unattuned to the creative arts, and as someone who thrived upon the power of imagination through his Ark of Embodiment, such a waste of talents and such an ignorance towards these outlets was truly a mistake! Since Elysium was founded, Odhran had to spend much of his time honing his craft. He worked towards this bright future for himself, one where he could forge a world in his image, wbut what sort of image would that be? Would it be some bleak, cliche, grey landscape assailed with the misery of those who were so much more inferior to his greatness that all they could do was to simply bow at statues of him? To be fair, it was an appealing thought. He liked seeing statues of himself, and those that were weak having only to bow to him. Yet there was something missing. There was no excitement! It was monotonous, and they would only pray to him out of a lack of desire for anything else to do! They would find themselves remiss, haunted by boredom and finding no solace in anything but the statue of his glorious visage! That was simply unacceptable, but how could Odhran make it more interesting? Perhaps a beautiful landscape, he thought. He could stretch out his glorious brain, feeling his way through the pain and imagining what sort of world he would desire before putting it to the brush and to the page. Music was something to work on eventually, as would the religious texts of his godhood, but those could wait. Janet’s goal was important first, and once Elysium had the strength to stand upon its own two feet, then Odhran could pursue his own greatness. It would not take long, he figured. The world simply was not ready for him, and so he continued his preparations for when he made his own world.
The brush danced across the paper, light strokes petting the side of the grand ship to portray his current position, the extent of its bow and stern a goliath amongst this sea of endless blue. Certainly his new world would not be something like the current situation, where he found himself upon a boat sailing to a distant land, yet he needed to start somewhere. Three days of reading and studying on the Empire of the Bright Sun, and now he had spent the entirety of the fourth day upon the deck of the ship, by his lonesome, painting. Crew members would bustle by upon occasion, calling out orders and barking at their fellow men. All of these were residents of Elysium’s city, and they had gladly agreed to take Odhran upon this journey alongside some trade goods.
“Glad you could bring me along for the ride, Aegisbane,” a familiar voice chirped.
Odhran turned to see the key piece of this entire mission, Muiris mac Ceallach. A certified “pretty boy,” as many of the poor inhabitants would state, but more importantly now rightful King of one of the many island kingdoms the Empire of the Bright Sun had claimed as their own. Muiris brushed aside his long, swooping, wine red hair, revealing the guild mark of Elysium sitting above his left brow. Beneath the thin brows, completing their flank, was the thin, yet piercingly powerful eyes in a vibrant sapphire blue shade, filled with power and yet holding an underlying sense of gentleness to them. A thin, hooked nose was itself flanked by those same eyes, sitting above a thin, pursed lip that seemed perpetually curved into a snake like smile, pushing his already high cheekbones higher, their protrusions evident but not overbearingly so, giving his entire head a sharp feel when combined with his thin jaw and chin. He had somewhat of an elvish feel to his look, with this permeating sense of thinness and, as many of the denizens of Elysium stated, shrew like quality to him. His lanky arms led to shoulders covered in the bright, shiny gold of his armor, each little scale of golden patchwork seemingly to individually glimmer. Clasped upon his back sat a crimson red cape, tied to him through a slightly darker golden flower emblazon beneath each collarbone, holding firm to the red threads that spilled down to his back. Each scale of his armor glinted and glimmered, from those thin shoulderguards to the edge of his cuirass at the middle of his thigh before petering out into a pair of simple black leggings covering him to keep his body maneuverable even in spite of the thin armor he wore. At present, his feet were uncovered, but Odhran still saw in his mind’s eye the golden boots that were specked with those same scales on them. Sitting at his hip was the hilt of another piece of gold, his rapier made from some sort of metal found only in Sin. In honesty, Odhran honestly did not pay attention when Muiris was describing it before the mission. What mattered is that the man bore a gaudy amount of gold, and Odhran respected how gaudy it was. The man himself was certainly strange, but respectably so.
“Ah, you’ve finally risen from your quarters, Muiris,” Odhran dully responded, acknowledging his presence before returning to the work upon his painting, using his magic to exchange his current brush for a finer tipped one.
“I could say the same for you, I haven’t seen you all day, Ace!”
Odhran raised an eyebrow, uncaring that his quizzicality could not be seen by his fellow guildmate. “I’ve been here the entire day, painting. I suppose you’ve been making messages to your hopeful supporters?”
“Not hopeful, Odhran. They WILL support me. I swear it upon my late father’s name!”
Odhran rolled his eyes at the certainty. “Whatever you say, Muiris. I’m not all too concerned with whatever shenanigans you have desired, I merely want to crush all those that you put in my way underfoot, and if it means a greater return for Elysium, I will be even happier for it.”
Muiris took the initiative, Odhran seeing from the corner of his eyes as the taller man stepped higher up towards the bow of the ship. “Well you needn’t worry about that, Odhran. I’ll make sure that, once you help me take over the Empire, I will designate them to deliver to Elysium as a first priority. After all, it’s because of you and the rest of the guild that I’m as powerful as I am, and I’m certain that, without your help, I won’t be able to defeat Cormag. From what I remember of the man, even without dragons, he’s powerful, so watch out for him.”
“When you say dragons, is that truly multiple dragons, or is it just the one?”
“I believe Cormag himself only has the one, but his family is renowned for dragon riders. Their island is the Dragon Roost Island, and there are, expectedly, many dragons upon it, with his family being, as the records of the past tell, ridiculed for thinking of settling upon the island, until lo and behold, they’ve conquered the dragons and are riding them into battle! Don’t worry, I know how powerful dragons are. Janet has shown me that all too well. Scary woman, that. Cute, sure, but scary. I see why she’s a Warlord.”
“Well, I’ll be a Warlord soon enough, just you wait.”
Muiris laughed. “Of course. Warlord of Petty Crimes, Odhran Aegisbane! Feared the world over for such horrible things as loitering and tax evasion!”
Odhran shifted his focus away from his painting, glaring at the tenor voiced man, who was simply smirking with a smug look upon his face. “Tax evasion is a serious issue, Muiris.”
“Of course! As is loitering, soliciting, and trespassing!”
“I’ve done more than that, and you know it!”
Muiris laughed once more, returning himself to the bow of the ship and briefly stepping onto the bowsprit and looking upon the endless sea of blue below. “Of course. You’re a Coming Storm. You’re Ace of Elysium. You’ve killed members of the Council. You’ve slaughtered dozens in cold blood, at a wedding no less! Why, I’m in awe of you!” Muiris spun on his heel, a crazed look within his eyes. “And now, you’re letting me rule my own Empire! I will expand my Empire of the Bright Sun, and we will incinerate all who oppose us! We’ll claim their futures as our own, and we’ll let everyone know just how strong we are! We’re Elysium, Odhran! Our new world, in our own image! Why, it’s more than I’ve ever asked for! And when I tear that bastard Cormag limb from limb, and I broadcast it to the entirety of the Empire, they will know! They’ll know that we are to be feared! I will hold you over their heads as someone to be feared, I will let them know that the legend that is Odhran Aegisbane will come and crush them sevenfold more than what I can to, or that the Warlord Janet herself shall ride them down like the dogs that they are, and will burn them, their livelihoods, their everything!” He burst into a fit of manic laughter. “We will stomp out all those who dare oppose our vision, right? RIGHT?!”
Odhran smirked. While he had been training Seika and Faustein in the recent times, he had also been working on training others. His role as an Ace left many in awe of him, and Muiris was no exception. Muiris was one of the first disciples Odhran had, yet rarely did the two go on missions together. Now was the chance, and Muiris learned well. “You’re definitely right about me being a legend.”
Muiris smiled, hopping off of the bowsprit. “Might I ask what you’re painting?”
“The ship, upon this ocean. It’s painfully dull, though. I haven’t seen any land since we left Sin!”
“Hard ta say that, eh?” a gruff voice joked. “That ya miss Sin. Place is a certified hell hole, yet we miss it all tha same!”
The owner of the voice soon came into view, the bearer of its loud, boisterous attitude matching the sound to a T. A large, curly black beard tumbled down the front of his body, rolling off an unseen chin all the way to the top of his navel. A braid traced itself along the left side of the magnificent beard, contrasting the similar mirrored style of the right side of his flowing black locks that reached to his hips. Broad shoulders let the hair tumble and fall, the surprising fullness of his hair evident. Looking up past his broad shoulders and beard bore witness to small, dark brown eyes that brimmed with enthusiasm, resting around a fat, ugly nose sat in the middle of his face. Little of his face was visible past the thick forestation of his facial hair, his curled handlebar mustache claiming the eye as much as his powerful beard and continuous flow into his hair. His body was as broad as his shoulders, ballooning into a barrel gut that still held an air of strength behind it, Odhran having the “misfortune” of seeing the toning on his thicker body. His suit was as impressive as his bulk, the maroon buccaneer’s coat speckled with medals of golden sheen, glimmering off the eyes about his royal blue undercoat. Of course, the man always boasted that he “never spent a penny in me life!” For being stolen, his clothes were in impeccable condition, the only exception being the tears upon the knees of his beige pants and the light scruffs upon his grey boots. He was a certifiable rainbow, a cacophony of colors beaming to the eye, all calling attention to his impressive upper body.
“I’m impressed your fat belly was able to get past the railings, Mudgard,” Muiris teased.
The captain laughed. “I ain’t fat quite yet, boy. Sure, I’m a bit hefty, but such is the life of a Stonebody Magic user. Oh, and it’s CAP’N Mudgard, princeling.”
Muiris gave a smirk. “Apologies, Cap’n. Woe is me to have disrespected such a legendary pirate who can’t even swim.”
“Wha- I too can swim!”
“You sure about that? Pretty sure you just float with all that thickness.”
“Aye, and I bet ya just can slip through tha floorboards of me ship without a thought yer so thin.”
“Please, please, calm yourselves,” Odhran chimed in, flicking his paintbrush dramatically. “We don’t need to argue, and I in fact implore you NOT to argue because that is honestly just too much paperwork for me to deal with. Captain Mudgard is my transport back to Elysium, and if Muiris dies before we get there well this whole journey was kind of a waste, don’t you think? I mean, I got to work on my painting, which is always good, but there’s a significant lack of murder going on here, don’t you think? After all, what is an Ace of Creation without a little bit of murder? A Coming Storm without the benefit of a few bits and pieces of slaughter from time to time? A God of the Celestial Spirit Realm without souls and Spirits to bring to his own domain for… well, whatever the lot of the Spirits do. I do wonder from time to time. Apparently the King of the Celestial Spirit Realm made a deal with some of the gods of the various underworlds so some souls go to my Spirits, and I wonder what happens to them. Probably good things. Or not, I don’t really know. What do you think, Muiris?”
“H-Huh? Me? Well, I bet Lupa plays with them all day, Arnaluuk probably teaches dance lessons, Atsuai has her weird love shack thing, Ami-”
“Right, very interesting, thank you. Point is, I would be a horrid Keybearer if I did not grant these things to my Spirits! I should be doing all in my power to be granting them the best of what I can give them, and if I’m not that’s honestly a bit sad and I’d be on the ashamed side of myself, you know. So, it’s our duty as members of Elysium to make sure that whatever efforts we can provide are for the best of our goal! For the best for our new world! So, even if you’re a little bit of a weirdo, Muiris, I, Odhran Aegisbane, shall assist you in claiming the throne that’s honestly not fully rightfully yours but it’s whatever as long as we get our goals pushed along further. The more power, the better, right? Plus I can offer this place as a tribute to Janet or Trinity or… well they’re really the only ones that matter, aren’t they? Point is if I wanted to I can just donate this and have you swear fealty to us, though I suppose that would be a bit suspicious, wouldn’t it be? Huh. Never really thought of that. Oh well, you win some, you lose some. Now, I’d like to continue my painting, if you wouldn’t mind.”
Muiris and Mudgard saluted and returned to their stations, leaving the Ace alone to his painting. A dabble of pinks now manifested upon his pallet, dotting it across the sky in specks, matching the setting sunset aesthetic he was aiming for. The ship continued piercing its way through the sea, waves waking upon each side of the boat, which was the next target of his painting works. Whites and light blues danced upon the edges of the ship now, marking its movement evident upon the dark blues of the sea. What would Odhran paint next, he wondered. Perhaps a mood piece upon Sin and Elysium. What sorts of colors would be used upon that? Browns? Greys? Red? Well, that was a thought for another day. His mind wandered as he put brush to paper, letting him be completely free of his inner musings and just relaxing. A charmed smile came upon his face as serenity continued to wash over him. The strange Ace of Creation often had his moments of eccentricity, as Arnaluuk was oh so wont to tell him, yet there was certainly times that he enjoyed merely relaxing with a brush and paint, taking in the flavors and sights and smells of the sea or whatever personal paradise he either created or found himself stumbling into.
Of course, as is the case with all sunsets, eventually the oranges and reds and pinks that lit the sky ablaze settle into a deep black, stars speckling the landscape upon the sky. A crescent of silver lit the sky, washing the seas in a white light. Maybe this could be Odhran’s next piece? Well, that would be for another day. Tiredness began to set upon Odhran’s eyes, bidding him to sleep within the admittedly meager quarters of the ship. With a wave of his hand, a tarp set itself upon the painting, covering it in a protective shell for the overnight as he stepped towards the back of the ship, ready to get his much needed rest.
WC: 3545
WIP
