Martia's boots clicked on the cobblestone as she strode down the chaotic docks, her determined steps punctuated by the distant sounds of angry voices and shattering crates.
The air was thick with smoke, and the flickering flames cast eerie shadows on the twisted faces of the rioters.
Amidst the turmoil, Martia's presence radiated like a beacon of order amidst the tempest of chaos.
She didn't simply tell them to stop; she showed her resolve through the unwavering set of her jaw and the unyielding grip on the hilt of her sword.
With a commanding sweep of her arm, she signalled to the governor's guard at her side.
The man was clad in gleaming segmented armour, a set that Finn had meticulously distributed earlier in the day.
The rioters, a seething mass of discontent, gathered in a tumultuous crowd before her.
Their faces were etched with anger and desperation, their hands clutching makeshift weapons and pilfered goods.
Smoke from the burning ships hung heavy in the air, stinging their eyes and fueling their fury.
Martia's mission had been clear: to convey the governor's words to the ship awaiting ashore.
However as she surveyed the scene, she realized that most of the boats had either been commandeered or reduced to smouldering wreckage.
There was no choice but to confront the rioters and prevent further destruction.
The easiest way to discourage violence was often through a display of greater force. Martia knew this well.
She didn't scream or tell the rioters to disperse; she showed them the gleaming blades of the Gorvernor's guard and the ranks of heavily armed soldiers who stood ready behind her.
It was a silent, but unmistakable message.
As Martia and the governor's guards advanced, the rioters hesitated.
Fear and uncertainty danced in their eyes, and their determination wavered.
The once-chaotic mob began to disperse, their weapons lowered, and their angry shouts turned into uneasy murmurs.
In the face of Martia's unwavering resolve and the visible might of the governor's authority, the tide of unruliness began to ebb.
The dockside, once a battleground of chaos, slowly returned to a semblance of order.
With measured steps, she advanced toward the chapel, the epicentre of the riots.
Her footsteps echoed on the cobbled path, and as she moved forward, a palpable transformation took place.
Everywhere she walked, people began to slowly calm, their frenzied actions giving way to a subdued hush.
This was fear... This was reputation...
*********
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***
The tactical meeting at the governor's house had long since disbanded, its participants scattering to their respective duties.
It was in this aftermath that a breathless member of the laity from the Church of Storms came rushing in, his face wrought with urgency, bearing news of the chapel consumed by flames.
As panic swept through, most of the people present hurriedly departed, their thoughts consumed by the need to secure the safety of their loved ones.
Some of the knights, however, remained steadfast, their duty to protect the governor paramount in their minds.
Priest Corwin, too, felt the call of urgency, and he swiftly made his way towards the chapel, knowing his presence there might be sorely needed.
Amidst the chaos and turmoil, Edwin sat alone in the room, positioned by an aperture that provided him with a clear view of the burning city beyond.
His gaze was fixated on the raging flames with an unsettling sense of anticipation as if he harboured secrets and motives known only to himself.
By the time Priest Corwin crossed the lake by the governor's house, he hopped out of the boat and started racing through Mythralis.
Priest Corwin quickly sped through the streets like a falcon, his robes billowing behind him as he navigated the maze-like alleys and thoroughfares of Mythralis.
The city's alleys and thoroughfares blurred by as he raced toward the chapel.
The urgency of the situation pressed upon him like a heavyweight, and each leap propelled him closer to his destination. He left the struggling laity members of the church far behind, his focus solely on reaching the chapel and offering his assistance.
The city itself was a tumultuous sea of turmoil, with the distant flames serving as a stark reminder of the chaos that had consumed Mythralis. The sounds of shouts and the clash of weapons reverberated through the air as Corwin pressed onward.
As he ran, Corwin's keen eyes caught a blur of motion nearby.
It was a human silhouette struggling to keep pace with him.
This was the result of one of the core abilities possessed by Sailors – night vision!
While Ralf, a Sequence 9 Sailor, also had this ability, it wasn't as pronounced as that of a Sequence 7 Dread pirate like Corwin.
The difference in experience and mastery of their abilities was clear.
Frowning, Corwin chose to disregard the presence beside him, directing his focus to the more immediate concerns. Fortunately, the shadow that had paralleled him came to a halt, disappearing from his view.
Perhaps, he wasn't fast enough Corwin thought.
However, in the next minute, multiple fiery ravens descended from the sky. Corwin was caught off guard, and he didn't even notice the flames until they were upon him.
The ravens illuminated the night with their blazing presence, and Corwin had to react swiftly to avoid their fiery onslaught.
As Corwin desperately moved to the left, the fiery ravens followed his every step. When he tried to evade to the right, the flames continued to pursue him relentlessly. With a pale face, he came to a grim realization – there was no dodging these relentless flames.
The fiery ravens illuminated the night, their flames dancing in a chaotic ballet.
Corwin had little time to react, and he instinctively veered to the side, narrowly avoiding one of the blazing avians as it crashed into the stone street behind him.
The heat from the impact washed over him, and he could feel the scorching intensity even from this close distance.
In less than a second, he executed a fast shuffle, dodging to the left and then to the right, narrowly avoiding two more fiery ravens.
The rest of the fiery ravens struck him with violent force, sending him careening and rolling across the unforgiving streets of Mythralis.
If he had any hair, it would have been singed, and the top of his blue garment bore the scorching marks of the fiery assault.
Under the setting moon in the west and the bright stars above, Corwin lay flat on his face. His garments had been burnt off, revealing illusory scales that reflected twinkling lights across his entire body.
Phantom Scales - scale armour; this was a core ability of a Sailor. These illusory scales made them slippery and hard to grab while acting as their natural armour to reduce the damage taken.
This was how Corwin defended against the fire ravens.
Clop Clop Clop
Corwin was disoriented, the intense speed at which he had been running, even faster than a horse, had subjected him to immense forces. While his scale armour absorbed some of the fiery damage, the sheer speed had left him battered and hurt.
Clop Clop Clop
As Corwin slowly staggered to his feet, his sense of danger still tingling, he realized he wasn't out of the woods yet.
The sound of boots hitting the floor reminded him of the presence of another person, and as he looked up, he saw a woman before him.
She was a striking figure, with fiery red hair cascading down her shoulders like a waterfall of flames. Her emerald-green eyes held a fierce determination, and her lithe frame exuded an air of confidence and grace.
Dressed in attire that seemed both practical and elegant, she carried an air of authority that demanded attention.
In her hand, she held a staff adorned with intricate runes, It was clear that she was no pushover, and Corwin inhaled sharply to steady his breathing.
She smiled kindly wickedly and purred, "Now, where do you think you're scurrying off to?"
Even in the dim light, Corwin could still see her pleasant smile. Her emerald-green eyes held a strange glint, a glimmer that seemed almost otherworldly, and her smile carried an air of innocence that felt eerie in this chaotic setting.
Ignoring her, he inquired, "You are with the Baron then, Baron Oswulf?"
"I'm here because of you. You are the reason I'm here."
"Me? I have never met you," Corwin frowned, "Did you start the fire?"
"You mean to ask if I burnt your chapel? Well... I didn't. I merely helped them release their frustration," she replied casually.
Corwin's voice deepened, "You incited the people?"
She continued with her answers, seemingly unfazed by the killing intent priest Corwin was radiating. "Oh, no no dear priest. People have a way of finding their reasons to rebel when pushed to the brink. This is merely the filth they are."
Corwin's frustration grew, his anger simmering beneath the surface. "You are responsible for this chaos, this destruction."
She tilted her head slightly, the eerie smile never leaving her lips. "Chaos and destruction, they have their beauty, don't you think, priest? It's like watching a city burn to the ground, like hearing your little brother was murdered by a slimy backwater priest of Storms"
Corwin's hand clenched into a fist, his knuckles turning white.
He couldn't understand her motives or her apparent pleasure in the suffering she had caused. "What do you want?"
Her laughter echoed in the night, a haunting sound that sent shivers down Corwin's spine. "What I desire, dear priest is to witness how Mythralis dances to the tune of flames. And I must say, it's quite the spectacle.
You murdered my brother, my only sibling! You see when I first heard he was missing, I believed he must have provoked someone powerful, but I never expected him to be killed without a fair trial.
I've been lenient in my response. If my family learns of this, Mythralis will cease to exist."
A flash of recognition flickered in Corwin's eyes.
He remembered the Pyric cultist, the one he had killed alongside the sleeper Caeso, both of whom had assaulted Marcellus in his sleep.
Corwin realized who this woman was, and the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. She was the sister of the Hunter he had slain, seeking revenge for her brother's death.
"You seek vengeance for your brother," Corwin stated, his voice carrying a mixture of resignation and understanding.
The woman nodded, her smile now devoid of any pretence. "Yes, vengeance, justice, call it what you will. But know this, priest, I will see Mythralis burn for what you and your companions did to little brother... This is a matter of reputation."
Corwin knew that reasoning with her was futile, and his heart ached for the path of destruction she had chosen, the Lord of Storms would not be happy that another soul had gone astray.
Yet, he also understood that he needed to protect Marcellus and the others from her wrath.
With a deep breath, Corwin braced himself. "I see"
"Don't be afraid," she said as eight fireballs formed around her, encircling her silhouette like a blazing circle.
"I know you Stormseekers are crazy, I'll try not to kill you."