Make a path. Three simple words. When spoken, the Sharlayan crew had no idea what kind of consequences and implementations those three words would be the beginning to. Yes, it was finally time. After eight days at sea waiting and anticipating, the worst fears of theirs were confirmed. It was written on their faces: Ryanti with a blank look and open eyes, Eighty-five with twisted glare and lips contorted in an image of mild fright, Forty-three with his stomach in his throat and Jonathan without a moment’s notice confirming their fears with a nod. “So it’s time.†Ryanti murmured to him. “Yes.†Jonathan responded back. “The black ones. They came here first.â€
All of them immediately sprang up in action as soon as Jada started making her way downstairs like a madwoman. The Sharlayans, secretive as their equipment were, decided to claim the sides and the walls of the room they were in as their own little armory. Immediately they began stripping down. It was still something that Eighty-five wasn’t nearly used to, but she didn’t let it show as her fair skin became exposed to the sunlight beaming down from the windowsill. The sunlight was perhaps the only thing that never changed, even as the day brought tides of war.
“Put on your suits.†They had heard Jonathan say. Similar to how the crew of the Roehmerl suited up by calling names, Jonathan did the same. Except Jonathan called out numbers. “Forty-three!†He had shouted, tossing the shortest suit of them all to the Lalafell. “Eighty-five! Seventy-seven!†One by one they had caught their suits and stripped to their undergarments, slinking themselves inside of the highly technological outfits. Many moderate clicks and stretching noises were heard as they blackened their form and transformed out of their sailor’s clothing to something entirely else, their true faces beginning to emerge.
It was then that the Sharlayans began to reach for their weapons. “No, no!†Jonathan shouted out, causing them to glance up to him as Forty-three grabbed his staff. “Nothing but his staff for now! Those weapons are last resort ONLY! You know the rules if we use them! Besides we are needed to feed the others ammo! Take your lenses with you but hide them unless you absolutely need them! Leave the rifles here and only take your pistols!â€
Right after his statement, they heard the pirate lord’s cry for war, and immediately after the echo from the crew that boomed the audio past their ears and bounced off of the walls. Even hearing it from a distance riled them up. “Yes sir!†They shouted to Jonathan during the ordeal. When Jada had issued her order for Ryanti to stay sealed up in the mess hall, the young man’s aquamarine eyes could have lit up the day with boiling fire despite their cool and calm color.
This was not what he wanted to hear. Despite his very normal initial fears and hesitations about emerging onto the deck and engaging the Garleans in battle, it was what he was destined to do. His father’s legacy bled him on for decades, serving as a Bloodsworn of the Sultan before he retired. He had took dangerous risks all of his life, and emerged from every countless battle he was in alive. That same blood boiled in fury to the idea of staying put. Even though part of him understood because he was the Keeper of the Artifact. That part of him kept his mouth shut, but it was a defiant silence. He did not speak up, nor question her. But he also did not confirm her orders with a yes ma’am either. When Jada had left him there in the mess hall and gave him the key, Ryanti’s eyes followed her until she threw down the latch behind her. Grudgingly, Ryanti used the key to seal himself shut. With a sigh, he tossed the keys upon the bartop and slowly sat himself upon one of the stools, resting his elbows on the table. “Are you kidding me… “
The other three Sharlayans began running up the decks with the utmost haste. Their pace and footing was almost completely matched up with one another, already displaying their intense training that despite being only ajoined for a mere week they have already learned to work as a unit. “Do you think we will need our fourth?†Eighty-five questioned the leader as she followed alongside him. “We’ll see. For now just follow the orders of the Levy.†He shot back. Forty-three was silent, a bit unlike him. But it was only because he was saying a prayer to Nyemia, as he had done a total of three times in the past where he had found himself in similar circumstances. He was also preparing for what he about to see, for he knew that extreme violence and the hells of war were ahead.
Eighty-five was damn nearly the star of the show when it came to the crew by the time they had reached topside. She raised her voice to a level no one had heard from her before, even during the times in which she was rowdy. But her voice was deadbeat serious as she crash-coursed the other two members of the Sharlayan crew. She could perhaps even double as an Artillerist herself, and it was no question that she had studied the way the cannons loaded and prepped immensely when she was alone, and it was all showing here.
She had become the leader. That was how the unit worked at times. Whatever skill or trade or knowledge that someone possessed the most on would take the lead without a word of command being said. It was a testament to their natural ability to improvise. Eighty-five was constantly communicating with both Jonathan and Forty-three, whom the former Ala Mhigan drill instructor found ironic that he was the one being drilled. But the hardened soldier was no stranger to loading munitions. The rugged man found no problem in learning quickly.
The hands of Eighty-five and Jonathan were all over the place, whether it be firesanding the barrels or loading the rounds inside. Forty-three quickly found out that using his ability in conjury to lift the rounds and sand all by themselves for the other two to easily grab proved invaluable. The Limsan crew did not have to worry about a single cannon not being loaded fast enough. They kept idle chatter out of their dialogue, their words only solely focused on communicating their tasks. “Starboard chase-canon! Reload reload!†Jonathan found his way to the forward chases and gave an order of his own. “Split up! Split up! Grab onto th-â€
His order was interrupted by the sound of them ramming the point of the vessel straight into the Easterner ship. They all lurched onto the cannons as the force nearly made Eighty-five hurl. While the Sharlayan group were putting up a hell of an effort, they were not used to such open combat. They had been trained for withstanding small skirmished in covert locations while trying to emphasize stealth and quiet. The exact opposite of their training was engaging in open warfare like this. Their main skillsets on the physical end were sharply learned upon this vessel during the eight days of travel, but the mental challenge of the loud noises of artillery, shrapnel flying everywhere, everyone knowing where you were on open ocean… this was not what they were used to.
So as the Captain found herself sucking wind and being effected by her emotion, so was the Sharlayan crew. The shrapnel that flew overhead had them buckling to the floor. Eighty-five, bleeding from the lip, was the first one up, her eyes a bit empty and her trajectory dizzy. Without a word she had grabbed the ball and chain, and Forty-three literally shot the ball and chain from out of Eighty-five’s grasp and shoved it into the barrel using his own awesome demonstration of the wind element, having also recovered from the incident. The ball and chain were shot out nearly the moment it had been shoved in. They were lucky the cannon didn’t explode.
When Eighty-five’s moral began to weaken, Jonathan took over. “Come on girl!†He shouted in his rugged voice over to her. “Just don’t look! Don’t look at the ship!†He shouted out to her as Eighty-five winced at the sound of dying screams and body parts being ripped away from one another. She gritted her teeth, remembering what she told Ryanti.
Then the shot came.
-----
“Sir, the Easterners have taken the brunt of their ability to stay afloat!†The Garlean Artillerist informed Terminus through a comm unit.
The intimating man had been at work carefully conveying the layout of the skirmish with the Eorzean ship. He had immediately become suspicious when an entire Lominsian fleet did not bother to show up, and instead it was merely one meager vessel. If somehow the Lominsans figured out the location of this derelict star ship, then why did they not send more? If the Empire was not so spread thin, they would have an entire fleet themselves. But perhaps he had underestimated the resolve of these fighters. Perhaps it was not the case that they sent a fleet, but perhaps instead they had sent the best.
This was interesting, he surmised. He could care less for the Easterling vessels. They were relatively cheap to acquire and the crews could be replaced rather easily. It was the Garlean vessel that did not skimp, however. The munitions department had paid a pretty penny for the largest weapon in their arsenal, and now that Terminus had tested the crew and realized just exactly what he was dealing with, it was no longer time to play around. “Prepare the Magitek cannon.†He had told the Artillerist. “The Easterling vessels are not our concern. Aim to blow the Eorzean ship into fragments of dust as soon as they clear the rubble.â€
He smiled a little underneath his mask. They had used an ambitious and ruthless tactic of clearing through the second Easterling vessel. It was clear, judging by their actions, that they valued their mission over lives. It was a shame, he admitted. They would have made fantastic Garleans. Oh well. There would always be more.
----
Why was he sitting here twiddling his thumbs, why? Why was he standing here in this silent room where friendly conversation and rowdy moments of livelihood were once lived? Now the room seemed so much darker, so much emptier. The echoes of the voices crying out from above deck rang past his ears. The young was pacing back and forth in the mess hall, occasionally holding onto the bar top when he could, getting tossed about the room when he couldn’t.
The stools up against the bar were knocked over, and Ryanti glanced at them. In his mind, they could easily be interpreted for comrades of his, dropping onto their sides in defeat because he wasn’t there. Why? Why did he have to stay here? It wasn’t right… he didn’t want to be the helpless lamb locked up in his cage while the wolves protected it from slaughter. Was his father, and his father’s father, and his great grandmother ever that way? No. “Damn it… “He cursed silently. It stung. It hurt. To be here.
It reminded him of his youth, before he had matured into the man he was now. He was a soft child, a nurtured one and a sheltered one at home. He was never one to back down and always threw his own punches, but ended up with a bloody nose in defeat most of the time. He had been taken advantage of; bullied, estranged, and provoked into feeling absolutely worthless as the half-blooded child of a noble family. No one ever had faith in him that he would amount to anything. â€Your blood is too dirty to carry that name.†They would tell him. â€You will never become the man you could have been had your father been the wiser.â€
He saw the brief bright light that accompanied the incredibly powerful magitek cannon round that had fired from the Garlean vessel. It lit the whole entire lower deck up, despite how many places were latched and sealed up. He felt it hit the water even harder than those above deck. It knocked him right off of his feet, his body tangled in the fallen bar stools as the waves shook, roared and splashed up. If that round would have hit, then from eight hundred and fifty yalms away the Roehmerl would have been completely obliterated. Just like that.
His mind wrapped around the potency of such a weapon as he untangled his aching body from the stools, among other things in the mess that had fell. This was bad. Very very bad. Once again, the Garleans completely and utterly outmatched them in technology. It was a fable to believe that Eorzeans could ever match that kind of power. A power that deep down, he wanted. The power to change the world. The power Allag.
Allag… he mused in his mind what would have happened if this Garlean vessel had faced an Allagan one. Even imagination was a limit when it came to them. So much of their technology was still so mind boggling, so out of reach of the perceptions of what was possible in the present that was once possible five thousand years prior. They would not have even stood a chance. The Garlean ship would be effortlessly destroyed, its remnants scattered into the wind. There was a comfort in that. An urge to identify with something strong to forget about your dirty blood and the sorry opinions of others. That was when the artifact spoke to him. Come to me, it said, and I will guide you. Words that were in his thoughts, but not of them.
He unlocked and opened the door to the mess hall, closing it and locking it behind him as he walked through the halls of the lower deck, keeping his balance by placing a hand up to the wall, trying to find the cargo bay…
Jonathan knew what Sounsyy’s order was going to be before she had even said it. Not wanting to risk being blown to pieces by the prized armory of the Garlean vessel, she had decided to charge the thing head on and engage in a battle of boarding. He carried a grave look on his face as he peered over the rail to glance at the Garlean vessel that outsized the Roehmerl by almost five counts. Needless to say that without the Sharlayans being on board with their weapons, this would be paramount to suicide.
Even WITH their weapons, this was a hell of an order. The men that Jonathan could count upon the deck of that Garlean ship… was in the hundreds. There had to be some two hundred men on board there, compared to their... twenty something? A heavy, tense sigh escaped him. “Captain, need I warn you.†He said to Sounsyy before she came to stand upon the poop deck. “That if we are to pull our weapons out, we cannot allow a single Garlean to live. Not their soldiers, not any civilians if aboard, not anyone young or old. They all must die. No one can afford to divulge.â€
He was silient for a moment. Of course the Sharlayans would not have chosen a crew to do this with that didn’t… that didn’t have the mind to survive, no matter what they had to do. But Jonathan knew it was their only choice. It was them, or the Garleans. “Very well, Captain. But if we are to use our weapons, then –I- will lead the hold.â€
He immediately rushed to Eighty-five, giving her the salute of not Sounsyy’s unit, but his. “Get him out. We will need him. Code four.â€
Eighty-five looked at him a bit startled before eyeing the group of sailors and realizing that they were actually going to try to engage the ship in a battle of boards. She knew what code four meant. Code four was used in their unit as a manner of informing them during desperate that they were allowed to use their classified technology in open warfare. It had rarely been used before. It also meant they had to kill… everyone.
“Y-yes sir.†She said with a quiet, solemn voice. “Bring the rifles. All three of us, move.†He said to the girl before she took off. He waved Forty-three over to his side. “I need you to create a diversion. Blind them.†Forty-three nodded darkly, and then placed his hood over his head that was woven into his gear per custom by him. Immediately the Lalafell ran to the fellow Lalafell pirate lord, shouting instructions. “Distract them with your cries! I need to cast a spell!†He immediately turned around and addressed P’welro. “Hold off all firing until we are ready! Play defensively!â€
Cynthia was on the front deck of the Garlean vessel, eyeing the approaching Lominsan foe with her own pair of binoculars. Her face remained still and cold, but she was particularly in an emotional storm. Half of her was disturbingly angry at what she was seeing. The other half of her was… renewed with a bit of childish, diabolical excitement. This was rich. This was just too rich.
It was her. That little girl from her old life during the war. The Resistance, yeah… she remembered. Before she had seen the light and joined the winning side. It was that clumsy bitch, she recalled. The one that she liked to poke fun of and mess with by demonstrating her obviously superior skill in just about everything. What a delight it would be for her to kill that now brooding Captain personally. She scoffed at that thought. She had thought her dead long ago. It was not a good thing for people that knew her before her betrayal staying alive.
“Look at you… think you can just prod yourself all in here and wave your hands in the air… “ Cynthia said in a hushed voice. "Such passion you still have from waving off the arms of the Empire…†She murmured, eyeing the tool next to her. It was a magitek rifle that was outfitted and modded with a long barrel, and an equally efficient scope that hugged the top of the gun. She did not bother having to load it with a round, for she always kept the sniper rifle loaded on the front railing of the Commander’s porch.
She giggled a little bit to herself as she picked up the long rifle, and placed it atop of the railing that she was standing in front of where it angled around. Taking off her glasses, her concentrated eyes focused into the scope, adjusting the crosshairs until they were clear to her imperfect vision. She zoomed in on the Captain of the ship, the girl-now-turned-woman with the pretty little face paint who had exposed herself in a brave gesture with her pistol in the air. Yes… that was the little worm… her attempt to embolden her crew would be her downfall…
Her finger lightly rested on the trigger… and began to pull it.
-----
The door quietly opened to the cargo hold, and the silhouette of Ryanti’s body was in the doorway. Even now he was wondering. Wondering if it was wise to do it again. He could feel the pull now. The nerves on the tips of his hair felt warm, and the hair stood upon the back of his neck. He had been in this situation before. A desperate hour which had required him to take the residual aether that hovered around an artifact and allowed it to use his body as a vessel to dispose its wrath and power upon his foes. It was a kind of unity that he only used once in the past.
He remembered it, the orb that he held that destroys the minds of men that were out to kill him. He remembered the power, the unbelievable power that had saved his life that day and injected his body with aether that wasn’t his and memories that were not his own. It was the very act that caused him to take a month’s hiatus from the job. Despite the impact it had on his body by infecting him with memories and overloading himself with aether, it felt… good when he was using it. It was a danger, but he had faith that what he was doing was right.
He removed the boxes lying about, along with the panel that covered their most valuable piece of cargo. There it was… the object about the size of a sword’s hilt and the shape of it as well. The object made out of an unknown near-perfect composite of metal and synthetic carbon fiber. The object that pulsated with glowing blue lines that coursed the objects like veins in a body. The center was especially blue from illumination. It was not glowing like this the last time he saw it. It was active. The Allagans… they were here.
He felt his mood change a little bit. He had an idea in his head to use it. His imagination pictured the Garlean vessel contorting violently under an insanely-powerful aetherial force. The ship would bend and break like a simple twig that was rotting from the inside. Then bent again, and again, until the ship was completely warped into a ball of tangled flesh and metal, before drowning into the sea. Yes… that was what those people deserved. Those… those pretenders. They knew not the fury. They were but bumbling children with tinker toys compared to them.
But then he remembered. He recalled other memories. Memories of him kicking that orb as hard as he could off of a mountain top in the Dravanian Forelands. Memories of it falling into an impossible. The device was meant for no man to wield, ever, he had told himself that day. He shut his eyes tightly for a moment, softly opening them in the warm glow of the artifact that laid before him. “That is not how I will choose to use you…†He murmured to the object. “I will not destroy myself to rush for results. The quick and easy path has a price too steep to pay.â€
With that, the tempting thoughts and feelings of harnessing a power beyond what the world could now comprehend faded away, replaced by the sensation of feeling safe, a wide protective arc that the benevolent energy inside of the artifact promoted. In choosing to reject the sinister residual energy inside, it allowed the benevolent energy to dominate the Allagan presence aboard the ship.
At the moment Ryanti had looked away from the artifact, Eighty-five had shot open the door, immediately eyeing him with a certain kind of look. “Ryanti, you can’t use it. You’ve just been cleared!â€
Ryanti shook his softly. “I’m not going to use it.†He skipped his feet up to her quickly. “What do you need?â€
“Your keys.†She barked. “We need to grab our weapons and grab them now! Code four!â€
“Let’s go then, let’s go!†Ryanti shouted back, and the two young adults sprinted towards the area in which they had rested their crate for the time being. Ryanti franticly unlocked the door, but as he was doing so, he felt something hit him. It wasn’t anything physical, but a memory. A memory that played out in his head as Eighty-five ran past him to shove the top off of the crate and grab the rifles.
He gasped lightly, and grasped the side of the door with a hand of his, closing his eyes violently. He felt… blood. The warmth of blood and the scarring of his eyes. He felt a body in his arms, his voice shouting out into the air as he’s pulled off of her to continue the fight. Pulled off… a body… what was he seeing with his eyes? Who was it? It was horrifying... so horrifying that for a mere moment was all that he could take before his body reacted by rejecting the memory, causing it to fade away instantly.
Which told him the memory did not come from him. It was being injected to him. All he could recall else from what he saw and felt, was the sound of a hat falling to the floor. He had remembered the sound of that hat falling to the floor before. It was made out of a certain material. The Captain’s… the Captain’s hat… and then it clicked. In rejecting the dark path, Ryanti was gifted with a memory that had not happened yet. A memory he could change.
“Seventy-seven! I need help!†Eighty-five called out, holding two of the rifles behind her back by using the straps. “Seventy-seven! Seventy-seven what’s wrong!â€
“They’re gonna kill her!†He suddenly shouted back. “They’re gonna kill her!†He screamed out again before bolting. His. Ass. Off. To the deck. “RYANTI!†He heard Eighty-five scream back awkwardly. She swore awkwardly and somehow found a way to carry all three rifles with her.
We value the concept of fate. Not only because we wish to believe that it is our fate to bring about a positive change to the world, our fate to live, or our fate to prosper, but also because we have the power to change fate if it isn’t to our liking.
Ryanti remembered this phrase from the man that had brought him into the force in the first place. The thought was omnipresent in his mind as he suddenly emerged himself out onto the battlefield at a sprint that could only be matched by someone running for his life. Or for someone else’s. No one could stop him at the pace he was setting.
“Captain! Sounsyy!†He tried to cry out, but the last veined attempt at the Garlean vessel to hit the Roehmerl before their ships side-wined together drowned out his voice with the sound of a cannonball hitting the water. Close, but no cigar. There she was, and the memory came back. This was where she fell. This was where she would die instantly.
Only she didn’t. Perhaps ironically because of Ryanti’s dirty blood, it gave him the leg strength he needed to make it just in time.
The only sound that made it to her ears was a deep, primal cry from Ryanti’s mouth that made his muscles stress to the limit. At an impossibly short moment later, he tackled her from the side, knocking both of them over at such a rough pace that it knocked the wind out of each. In the moment that he had knocked her over, a booming shot was heard whizzing from the top of the Garlean deck. The round aimed for her head instead grazed past Ryanti’s shoulder, straight through one of the masts, leaving a hole but not crippling the mast enough for it to fall, through the Captain’s door, through one of, if not the, last wine bottle on her shelf, causing it to shatter and the liquid to spill, ricocheting off the wall, and settling into a depression right on top of the Captain’s chair.
Cynthia glanced away from her scope with a face that betrayed her immense, hellfiring rage. “WHAT?!?â€
In one single action, he changed fate, and the light from the artifact faded. “Sounsyy. I’m sorry. I couldn’t stay.†Ryanti said to her in a painful whisper.
“Holy crap!†Eighty-five cried out from the stairs as she made her way up with the ingenius weapons Jada craved to disassemble so much.
“Seventy-seven!†Jonathan called out to Ryanti, holding a hand up to anyone that would protest. “He is my responsibility now!†He said while eyeing the Hyqo’te, whom was rocking a little back and forth, groaning deeply in pain. “Seventy-seven, are you alright?â€
“Yeah-hhmnn!†Ryanti managed to growl out, his right shoulder grimacing a little. The round had cut open the threading to his armor, leaving a decent red gash across it. Green chemicals woven in the suit, designed to instantly medicate and clean the wound, was leaking all over again. “It’s! It got my skin but nothing else. Just burns a little!†He said before letting out an agitated scream, sitting straight and pulling out his Sharlayan pistol, aiming it at the deck and letting off a few rounds. The loud noise and recoil betrayed the high caliber of the refined weapon, which was much more accurate and powerful than any musket.
The small figure that had not been noticed by anyone prior retreated back into the ship once fired upon.
“You can get up, yeah?†Eighty-five notioned Ryanti as she offered him a hand. “Yeah, I can.†He murmured and circled his moderately injured arm before taking her hand with it. “I don’t need a bandage.†He found himself saying, and Eighty-five nodded a little with her signature smile. “Those suits kind of work, yeah?â€
Ryanti replied with a nod, swallowing his dry mouth and taking a rifle from her. “Code four?†He asked Jonathan, and the older man nodded. “Code four. Line up. Due side!â€
“Forty-four!†He shouted to the Lalafell, who had hidden himself behind the mast pole the entire time, even as the shot rang through the pole above his head. Even that did not distract him from chanting his spell. “Thirty seconds!†Jonathan heard back from him in-between his chanting, his staff’s aether crystal becoming bright, seemingly absorbing the solar light from around him, and creating a darker aura in retrospect. “You heard him! Thirty seconds!†Jonathan motioned as the boat finally bunched itself up against the Garlean vessel.
There were immediately one hundred men, half of the Manipuli, waiting for them. Their shields had formed a phalanx manner of defense from the front, intending to charge and overwhelm with the massive difference of numbers. “Twenty seconds!†Jonathan shouted out. “Prepare for open fire!†He ordered his men.
All three of them reached into their side belt, and pulled out a magazine, bashing it against the rifle before loading it into the input slot on the side, and closing the magazines with a click, cocking back the firing hammer with swift motions. “Ten seconds!†Jonathan shouted out, and the three individuals held up the rifle stocks against their shoulders, aiming straight for what had become a charging Garlean mob.
“From the tendrils of the sun’s might, may the holy rays of Azeyma’s warmth bake the eyes of my foes! FLASH!†Forty-three commanded, and the peak of the solar energy gathered in the crystal turned into a ball of light. “Close your eyes! Close them now!†Jonathan ordered everyone, as the three members of the Sharlayan crew placed the lenses upon their eyes and activated them to block out what was to come.
Just then, the Lalafell smacked the ball of light with his staff, and it was thrown over to the Garlean side of the bridge, which exploded in a blinding fury of light. “OPEN FIRE!†the sound of Jonathan’s voice was heard. Then the three Sharlayans operated pulled their triggers.
It sounded as if hundreds of musketmen had descended upon the Garlean line. Three weapons firing four rounds per second ripped into the line. The sound of mangled flesh and the flashes of the muzzle barrels illuminated the less bright area around the Sharlayan crew as the blinding light began to slowly, but surely, weaken. The rounds tore through the Garlean’s shields, armor, and flesh as if they were paper. The sound of rounds mangling the soldiers, and their screams of pain and anguish, were heard at a fever pitch. Blood splattered from one soldier’s body upon another’s face whom was already dead before the liquid even graced it. Hands were blown off. Shields were decimated. It had ceased to be a fight between two forces almost instantly, and had turned into a massacre. The light faded, but the shooting didn’t.
Those that survived the bullet hell found their eyes bleeding from being exposed to the blinding light, screaming in pain before inevitably getting one of the Sharlayan rounds ripped through their body. Some tried to run back in retreat. Some ran in random directions. Some stumbled off the ship and were shot in the water. Everyone in that initial group was shot. It was a massacre.
When the blinding light cleared, one hundred men laid dead at the hands of the three Sharlayans. The entire front portion of the Garlean ship was covered in bodies, and the coppery smell of blood mixed with the salty air of the sea. One would imagine that such a clear triumphant message would provoke a cry of war with a victorious accent, but… not for something like that. “Out.†Ryanti managed to croak, his brows bending in the act that he had done. “Out.†Eighty-five also stated, as her arms began to shake her rifle in her hands uncontrollably. Jonathan looked to her briefly and wrapped an arm around her shoulders as she tried to steel herself. “I got you. It’s alright.â€
“We share the burdens together, Eighty-five.†Ryanti also said to her, but his eyes were red and teared up. It was a cold, cold act. Necessary sometimes in their line of work. But none of them enjoyed it. Not in the least. When Ryanti had placed an arm around Eighty-five as well, all three of them ducked. “Muskets!†They called out all in unison, and the last volley of rounds was shot out, which killed another nine Garleans in the second line that stood near the back of the ship. But as it were, the second line did not retreat, instead beginning to march forward to replace the first.
Jonathan pulled out his longsword from his holder, its silver hilt gleaming in the sun’s rays as the Garlean line split down the middle to expose the aether-bidden, staunching Tribunus and Sounsyy’s… old… ‘friend’.
“Sounsyy Mirke!†She heard her voice cry over the little microphone near her lips, wired to the loudspeakers on the Garlean vessel. She could make out the woman from the other side of the deck rather easily now, though she had never seen her in Garlean uniform before, nor did Cynthia believe she could imagine it. Or could she? “Ahhh Sounsyy, the incompetent little pipsqueak from the Resistance. How are you doing, darling? I see you’re still allowing others to clean up your own messes and take bullets for you. Or cannons. Or something. What was it, again? Ah it doesn’t matter.â€
The light from the sun’s rays illuminated her glasses as she flicked her hair aside. “Maybe even allowing others to do your hair for you too? I do my own just fine. But I was always able to do everything just fine and you… weren’t. I admit, you managed to get this far by relying on unconventional tactics and your little friends, which by the way have just exposed themselves as well as your mission. But unlike you, I have always decided to walk the high road, which has always lied with this Empire. Silly girl… it has been so long since Ala Mhigo has become part of the Empire that the citizens who now grace the very roads you hold so dear know nothing of their meager, shameful past. How can you ‘save’ a populace whom simply don’t wish to be saved? Once a savage, always a savage I suppose.â€
She glanced over and shut her microphone off, and issued a few order by word of mouth while Terminus crossed his arms and appeared to laugh a little. Even Jonathan was shocked at the appearance of that man. “I’ll tell you what, Captain. I propose that we settle this like civilized individuals and whoever comes out on top claims the prize. I’ll let you fight me one on one IF you can get past these special men here. Yes, very special men...â€
Within moments, the unit of one hundred men broke off, and around thirty two of those men formed their own small square-like formation, pounding their shields into the floor and extended their swords forward. “I have just ordered every single Ala Mhigan soldier to confront you upon our battlefield and slay you and implore you a question of morality, Sounsyy dear. Would you cut down your own people in order to ‘save’ them and have a crack at lil’ old me? Make your decision now.â€
With a wave of her hand, the unit composed of entirely Ala Mhigans began to march forward. "We used our equipment." Jonathan managed to say to the Captain. "Everyone has to die."
All of them immediately sprang up in action as soon as Jada started making her way downstairs like a madwoman. The Sharlayans, secretive as their equipment were, decided to claim the sides and the walls of the room they were in as their own little armory. Immediately they began stripping down. It was still something that Eighty-five wasn’t nearly used to, but she didn’t let it show as her fair skin became exposed to the sunlight beaming down from the windowsill. The sunlight was perhaps the only thing that never changed, even as the day brought tides of war.
“Put on your suits.†They had heard Jonathan say. Similar to how the crew of the Roehmerl suited up by calling names, Jonathan did the same. Except Jonathan called out numbers. “Forty-three!†He had shouted, tossing the shortest suit of them all to the Lalafell. “Eighty-five! Seventy-seven!†One by one they had caught their suits and stripped to their undergarments, slinking themselves inside of the highly technological outfits. Many moderate clicks and stretching noises were heard as they blackened their form and transformed out of their sailor’s clothing to something entirely else, their true faces beginning to emerge.
It was then that the Sharlayans began to reach for their weapons. “No, no!†Jonathan shouted out, causing them to glance up to him as Forty-three grabbed his staff. “Nothing but his staff for now! Those weapons are last resort ONLY! You know the rules if we use them! Besides we are needed to feed the others ammo! Take your lenses with you but hide them unless you absolutely need them! Leave the rifles here and only take your pistols!â€
Right after his statement, they heard the pirate lord’s cry for war, and immediately after the echo from the crew that boomed the audio past their ears and bounced off of the walls. Even hearing it from a distance riled them up. “Yes sir!†They shouted to Jonathan during the ordeal. When Jada had issued her order for Ryanti to stay sealed up in the mess hall, the young man’s aquamarine eyes could have lit up the day with boiling fire despite their cool and calm color.
This was not what he wanted to hear. Despite his very normal initial fears and hesitations about emerging onto the deck and engaging the Garleans in battle, it was what he was destined to do. His father’s legacy bled him on for decades, serving as a Bloodsworn of the Sultan before he retired. He had took dangerous risks all of his life, and emerged from every countless battle he was in alive. That same blood boiled in fury to the idea of staying put. Even though part of him understood because he was the Keeper of the Artifact. That part of him kept his mouth shut, but it was a defiant silence. He did not speak up, nor question her. But he also did not confirm her orders with a yes ma’am either. When Jada had left him there in the mess hall and gave him the key, Ryanti’s eyes followed her until she threw down the latch behind her. Grudgingly, Ryanti used the key to seal himself shut. With a sigh, he tossed the keys upon the bartop and slowly sat himself upon one of the stools, resting his elbows on the table. “Are you kidding me… “
The other three Sharlayans began running up the decks with the utmost haste. Their pace and footing was almost completely matched up with one another, already displaying their intense training that despite being only ajoined for a mere week they have already learned to work as a unit. “Do you think we will need our fourth?†Eighty-five questioned the leader as she followed alongside him. “We’ll see. For now just follow the orders of the Levy.†He shot back. Forty-three was silent, a bit unlike him. But it was only because he was saying a prayer to Nyemia, as he had done a total of three times in the past where he had found himself in similar circumstances. He was also preparing for what he about to see, for he knew that extreme violence and the hells of war were ahead.
Eighty-five was damn nearly the star of the show when it came to the crew by the time they had reached topside. She raised her voice to a level no one had heard from her before, even during the times in which she was rowdy. But her voice was deadbeat serious as she crash-coursed the other two members of the Sharlayan crew. She could perhaps even double as an Artillerist herself, and it was no question that she had studied the way the cannons loaded and prepped immensely when she was alone, and it was all showing here.
She had become the leader. That was how the unit worked at times. Whatever skill or trade or knowledge that someone possessed the most on would take the lead without a word of command being said. It was a testament to their natural ability to improvise. Eighty-five was constantly communicating with both Jonathan and Forty-three, whom the former Ala Mhigan drill instructor found ironic that he was the one being drilled. But the hardened soldier was no stranger to loading munitions. The rugged man found no problem in learning quickly.
The hands of Eighty-five and Jonathan were all over the place, whether it be firesanding the barrels or loading the rounds inside. Forty-three quickly found out that using his ability in conjury to lift the rounds and sand all by themselves for the other two to easily grab proved invaluable. The Limsan crew did not have to worry about a single cannon not being loaded fast enough. They kept idle chatter out of their dialogue, their words only solely focused on communicating their tasks. “Starboard chase-canon! Reload reload!†Jonathan found his way to the forward chases and gave an order of his own. “Split up! Split up! Grab onto th-â€
His order was interrupted by the sound of them ramming the point of the vessel straight into the Easterner ship. They all lurched onto the cannons as the force nearly made Eighty-five hurl. While the Sharlayan group were putting up a hell of an effort, they were not used to such open combat. They had been trained for withstanding small skirmished in covert locations while trying to emphasize stealth and quiet. The exact opposite of their training was engaging in open warfare like this. Their main skillsets on the physical end were sharply learned upon this vessel during the eight days of travel, but the mental challenge of the loud noises of artillery, shrapnel flying everywhere, everyone knowing where you were on open ocean… this was not what they were used to.
So as the Captain found herself sucking wind and being effected by her emotion, so was the Sharlayan crew. The shrapnel that flew overhead had them buckling to the floor. Eighty-five, bleeding from the lip, was the first one up, her eyes a bit empty and her trajectory dizzy. Without a word she had grabbed the ball and chain, and Forty-three literally shot the ball and chain from out of Eighty-five’s grasp and shoved it into the barrel using his own awesome demonstration of the wind element, having also recovered from the incident. The ball and chain were shot out nearly the moment it had been shoved in. They were lucky the cannon didn’t explode.
When Eighty-five’s moral began to weaken, Jonathan took over. “Come on girl!†He shouted in his rugged voice over to her. “Just don’t look! Don’t look at the ship!†He shouted out to her as Eighty-five winced at the sound of dying screams and body parts being ripped away from one another. She gritted her teeth, remembering what she told Ryanti.
Then the shot came.
-----
“Sir, the Easterners have taken the brunt of their ability to stay afloat!†The Garlean Artillerist informed Terminus through a comm unit.
The intimating man had been at work carefully conveying the layout of the skirmish with the Eorzean ship. He had immediately become suspicious when an entire Lominsian fleet did not bother to show up, and instead it was merely one meager vessel. If somehow the Lominsans figured out the location of this derelict star ship, then why did they not send more? If the Empire was not so spread thin, they would have an entire fleet themselves. But perhaps he had underestimated the resolve of these fighters. Perhaps it was not the case that they sent a fleet, but perhaps instead they had sent the best.
This was interesting, he surmised. He could care less for the Easterling vessels. They were relatively cheap to acquire and the crews could be replaced rather easily. It was the Garlean vessel that did not skimp, however. The munitions department had paid a pretty penny for the largest weapon in their arsenal, and now that Terminus had tested the crew and realized just exactly what he was dealing with, it was no longer time to play around. “Prepare the Magitek cannon.†He had told the Artillerist. “The Easterling vessels are not our concern. Aim to blow the Eorzean ship into fragments of dust as soon as they clear the rubble.â€
He smiled a little underneath his mask. They had used an ambitious and ruthless tactic of clearing through the second Easterling vessel. It was clear, judging by their actions, that they valued their mission over lives. It was a shame, he admitted. They would have made fantastic Garleans. Oh well. There would always be more.
----
Why was he sitting here twiddling his thumbs, why? Why was he standing here in this silent room where friendly conversation and rowdy moments of livelihood were once lived? Now the room seemed so much darker, so much emptier. The echoes of the voices crying out from above deck rang past his ears. The young was pacing back and forth in the mess hall, occasionally holding onto the bar top when he could, getting tossed about the room when he couldn’t.
The stools up against the bar were knocked over, and Ryanti glanced at them. In his mind, they could easily be interpreted for comrades of his, dropping onto their sides in defeat because he wasn’t there. Why? Why did he have to stay here? It wasn’t right… he didn’t want to be the helpless lamb locked up in his cage while the wolves protected it from slaughter. Was his father, and his father’s father, and his great grandmother ever that way? No. “Damn it… “He cursed silently. It stung. It hurt. To be here.
It reminded him of his youth, before he had matured into the man he was now. He was a soft child, a nurtured one and a sheltered one at home. He was never one to back down and always threw his own punches, but ended up with a bloody nose in defeat most of the time. He had been taken advantage of; bullied, estranged, and provoked into feeling absolutely worthless as the half-blooded child of a noble family. No one ever had faith in him that he would amount to anything. â€Your blood is too dirty to carry that name.†They would tell him. â€You will never become the man you could have been had your father been the wiser.â€
He saw the brief bright light that accompanied the incredibly powerful magitek cannon round that had fired from the Garlean vessel. It lit the whole entire lower deck up, despite how many places were latched and sealed up. He felt it hit the water even harder than those above deck. It knocked him right off of his feet, his body tangled in the fallen bar stools as the waves shook, roared and splashed up. If that round would have hit, then from eight hundred and fifty yalms away the Roehmerl would have been completely obliterated. Just like that.
His mind wrapped around the potency of such a weapon as he untangled his aching body from the stools, among other things in the mess that had fell. This was bad. Very very bad. Once again, the Garleans completely and utterly outmatched them in technology. It was a fable to believe that Eorzeans could ever match that kind of power. A power that deep down, he wanted. The power to change the world. The power Allag.
Allag… he mused in his mind what would have happened if this Garlean vessel had faced an Allagan one. Even imagination was a limit when it came to them. So much of their technology was still so mind boggling, so out of reach of the perceptions of what was possible in the present that was once possible five thousand years prior. They would not have even stood a chance. The Garlean ship would be effortlessly destroyed, its remnants scattered into the wind. There was a comfort in that. An urge to identify with something strong to forget about your dirty blood and the sorry opinions of others. That was when the artifact spoke to him. Come to me, it said, and I will guide you. Words that were in his thoughts, but not of them.
He unlocked and opened the door to the mess hall, closing it and locking it behind him as he walked through the halls of the lower deck, keeping his balance by placing a hand up to the wall, trying to find the cargo bay…
Jonathan knew what Sounsyy’s order was going to be before she had even said it. Not wanting to risk being blown to pieces by the prized armory of the Garlean vessel, she had decided to charge the thing head on and engage in a battle of boarding. He carried a grave look on his face as he peered over the rail to glance at the Garlean vessel that outsized the Roehmerl by almost five counts. Needless to say that without the Sharlayans being on board with their weapons, this would be paramount to suicide.
Even WITH their weapons, this was a hell of an order. The men that Jonathan could count upon the deck of that Garlean ship… was in the hundreds. There had to be some two hundred men on board there, compared to their... twenty something? A heavy, tense sigh escaped him. “Captain, need I warn you.†He said to Sounsyy before she came to stand upon the poop deck. “That if we are to pull our weapons out, we cannot allow a single Garlean to live. Not their soldiers, not any civilians if aboard, not anyone young or old. They all must die. No one can afford to divulge.â€
He was silient for a moment. Of course the Sharlayans would not have chosen a crew to do this with that didn’t… that didn’t have the mind to survive, no matter what they had to do. But Jonathan knew it was their only choice. It was them, or the Garleans. “Very well, Captain. But if we are to use our weapons, then –I- will lead the hold.â€
He immediately rushed to Eighty-five, giving her the salute of not Sounsyy’s unit, but his. “Get him out. We will need him. Code four.â€
Eighty-five looked at him a bit startled before eyeing the group of sailors and realizing that they were actually going to try to engage the ship in a battle of boards. She knew what code four meant. Code four was used in their unit as a manner of informing them during desperate that they were allowed to use their classified technology in open warfare. It had rarely been used before. It also meant they had to kill… everyone.
“Y-yes sir.†She said with a quiet, solemn voice. “Bring the rifles. All three of us, move.†He said to the girl before she took off. He waved Forty-three over to his side. “I need you to create a diversion. Blind them.†Forty-three nodded darkly, and then placed his hood over his head that was woven into his gear per custom by him. Immediately the Lalafell ran to the fellow Lalafell pirate lord, shouting instructions. “Distract them with your cries! I need to cast a spell!†He immediately turned around and addressed P’welro. “Hold off all firing until we are ready! Play defensively!â€
Cynthia was on the front deck of the Garlean vessel, eyeing the approaching Lominsan foe with her own pair of binoculars. Her face remained still and cold, but she was particularly in an emotional storm. Half of her was disturbingly angry at what she was seeing. The other half of her was… renewed with a bit of childish, diabolical excitement. This was rich. This was just too rich.
It was her. That little girl from her old life during the war. The Resistance, yeah… she remembered. Before she had seen the light and joined the winning side. It was that clumsy bitch, she recalled. The one that she liked to poke fun of and mess with by demonstrating her obviously superior skill in just about everything. What a delight it would be for her to kill that now brooding Captain personally. She scoffed at that thought. She had thought her dead long ago. It was not a good thing for people that knew her before her betrayal staying alive.
“Look at you… think you can just prod yourself all in here and wave your hands in the air… “ Cynthia said in a hushed voice. "Such passion you still have from waving off the arms of the Empire…†She murmured, eyeing the tool next to her. It was a magitek rifle that was outfitted and modded with a long barrel, and an equally efficient scope that hugged the top of the gun. She did not bother having to load it with a round, for she always kept the sniper rifle loaded on the front railing of the Commander’s porch.
She giggled a little bit to herself as she picked up the long rifle, and placed it atop of the railing that she was standing in front of where it angled around. Taking off her glasses, her concentrated eyes focused into the scope, adjusting the crosshairs until they were clear to her imperfect vision. She zoomed in on the Captain of the ship, the girl-now-turned-woman with the pretty little face paint who had exposed herself in a brave gesture with her pistol in the air. Yes… that was the little worm… her attempt to embolden her crew would be her downfall…
Her finger lightly rested on the trigger… and began to pull it.
-----
The door quietly opened to the cargo hold, and the silhouette of Ryanti’s body was in the doorway. Even now he was wondering. Wondering if it was wise to do it again. He could feel the pull now. The nerves on the tips of his hair felt warm, and the hair stood upon the back of his neck. He had been in this situation before. A desperate hour which had required him to take the residual aether that hovered around an artifact and allowed it to use his body as a vessel to dispose its wrath and power upon his foes. It was a kind of unity that he only used once in the past.
He remembered it, the orb that he held that destroys the minds of men that were out to kill him. He remembered the power, the unbelievable power that had saved his life that day and injected his body with aether that wasn’t his and memories that were not his own. It was the very act that caused him to take a month’s hiatus from the job. Despite the impact it had on his body by infecting him with memories and overloading himself with aether, it felt… good when he was using it. It was a danger, but he had faith that what he was doing was right.
He removed the boxes lying about, along with the panel that covered their most valuable piece of cargo. There it was… the object about the size of a sword’s hilt and the shape of it as well. The object made out of an unknown near-perfect composite of metal and synthetic carbon fiber. The object that pulsated with glowing blue lines that coursed the objects like veins in a body. The center was especially blue from illumination. It was not glowing like this the last time he saw it. It was active. The Allagans… they were here.
He felt his mood change a little bit. He had an idea in his head to use it. His imagination pictured the Garlean vessel contorting violently under an insanely-powerful aetherial force. The ship would bend and break like a simple twig that was rotting from the inside. Then bent again, and again, until the ship was completely warped into a ball of tangled flesh and metal, before drowning into the sea. Yes… that was what those people deserved. Those… those pretenders. They knew not the fury. They were but bumbling children with tinker toys compared to them.
But then he remembered. He recalled other memories. Memories of him kicking that orb as hard as he could off of a mountain top in the Dravanian Forelands. Memories of it falling into an impossible. The device was meant for no man to wield, ever, he had told himself that day. He shut his eyes tightly for a moment, softly opening them in the warm glow of the artifact that laid before him. “That is not how I will choose to use you…†He murmured to the object. “I will not destroy myself to rush for results. The quick and easy path has a price too steep to pay.â€
With that, the tempting thoughts and feelings of harnessing a power beyond what the world could now comprehend faded away, replaced by the sensation of feeling safe, a wide protective arc that the benevolent energy inside of the artifact promoted. In choosing to reject the sinister residual energy inside, it allowed the benevolent energy to dominate the Allagan presence aboard the ship.
At the moment Ryanti had looked away from the artifact, Eighty-five had shot open the door, immediately eyeing him with a certain kind of look. “Ryanti, you can’t use it. You’ve just been cleared!â€
Ryanti shook his softly. “I’m not going to use it.†He skipped his feet up to her quickly. “What do you need?â€
“Your keys.†She barked. “We need to grab our weapons and grab them now! Code four!â€
“Let’s go then, let’s go!†Ryanti shouted back, and the two young adults sprinted towards the area in which they had rested their crate for the time being. Ryanti franticly unlocked the door, but as he was doing so, he felt something hit him. It wasn’t anything physical, but a memory. A memory that played out in his head as Eighty-five ran past him to shove the top off of the crate and grab the rifles.
He gasped lightly, and grasped the side of the door with a hand of his, closing his eyes violently. He felt… blood. The warmth of blood and the scarring of his eyes. He felt a body in his arms, his voice shouting out into the air as he’s pulled off of her to continue the fight. Pulled off… a body… what was he seeing with his eyes? Who was it? It was horrifying... so horrifying that for a mere moment was all that he could take before his body reacted by rejecting the memory, causing it to fade away instantly.
Which told him the memory did not come from him. It was being injected to him. All he could recall else from what he saw and felt, was the sound of a hat falling to the floor. He had remembered the sound of that hat falling to the floor before. It was made out of a certain material. The Captain’s… the Captain’s hat… and then it clicked. In rejecting the dark path, Ryanti was gifted with a memory that had not happened yet. A memory he could change.
“Seventy-seven! I need help!†Eighty-five called out, holding two of the rifles behind her back by using the straps. “Seventy-seven! Seventy-seven what’s wrong!â€
“They’re gonna kill her!†He suddenly shouted back. “They’re gonna kill her!†He screamed out again before bolting. His. Ass. Off. To the deck. “RYANTI!†He heard Eighty-five scream back awkwardly. She swore awkwardly and somehow found a way to carry all three rifles with her.
We value the concept of fate. Not only because we wish to believe that it is our fate to bring about a positive change to the world, our fate to live, or our fate to prosper, but also because we have the power to change fate if it isn’t to our liking.
Ryanti remembered this phrase from the man that had brought him into the force in the first place. The thought was omnipresent in his mind as he suddenly emerged himself out onto the battlefield at a sprint that could only be matched by someone running for his life. Or for someone else’s. No one could stop him at the pace he was setting.
“Captain! Sounsyy!†He tried to cry out, but the last veined attempt at the Garlean vessel to hit the Roehmerl before their ships side-wined together drowned out his voice with the sound of a cannonball hitting the water. Close, but no cigar. There she was, and the memory came back. This was where she fell. This was where she would die instantly.
Only she didn’t. Perhaps ironically because of Ryanti’s dirty blood, it gave him the leg strength he needed to make it just in time.
The only sound that made it to her ears was a deep, primal cry from Ryanti’s mouth that made his muscles stress to the limit. At an impossibly short moment later, he tackled her from the side, knocking both of them over at such a rough pace that it knocked the wind out of each. In the moment that he had knocked her over, a booming shot was heard whizzing from the top of the Garlean deck. The round aimed for her head instead grazed past Ryanti’s shoulder, straight through one of the masts, leaving a hole but not crippling the mast enough for it to fall, through the Captain’s door, through one of, if not the, last wine bottle on her shelf, causing it to shatter and the liquid to spill, ricocheting off the wall, and settling into a depression right on top of the Captain’s chair.
Cynthia glanced away from her scope with a face that betrayed her immense, hellfiring rage. “WHAT?!?â€
In one single action, he changed fate, and the light from the artifact faded. “Sounsyy. I’m sorry. I couldn’t stay.†Ryanti said to her in a painful whisper.
“Holy crap!†Eighty-five cried out from the stairs as she made her way up with the ingenius weapons Jada craved to disassemble so much.
“Seventy-seven!†Jonathan called out to Ryanti, holding a hand up to anyone that would protest. “He is my responsibility now!†He said while eyeing the Hyqo’te, whom was rocking a little back and forth, groaning deeply in pain. “Seventy-seven, are you alright?â€
“Yeah-hhmnn!†Ryanti managed to growl out, his right shoulder grimacing a little. The round had cut open the threading to his armor, leaving a decent red gash across it. Green chemicals woven in the suit, designed to instantly medicate and clean the wound, was leaking all over again. “It’s! It got my skin but nothing else. Just burns a little!†He said before letting out an agitated scream, sitting straight and pulling out his Sharlayan pistol, aiming it at the deck and letting off a few rounds. The loud noise and recoil betrayed the high caliber of the refined weapon, which was much more accurate and powerful than any musket.
The small figure that had not been noticed by anyone prior retreated back into the ship once fired upon.
“You can get up, yeah?†Eighty-five notioned Ryanti as she offered him a hand. “Yeah, I can.†He murmured and circled his moderately injured arm before taking her hand with it. “I don’t need a bandage.†He found himself saying, and Eighty-five nodded a little with her signature smile. “Those suits kind of work, yeah?â€
Ryanti replied with a nod, swallowing his dry mouth and taking a rifle from her. “Code four?†He asked Jonathan, and the older man nodded. “Code four. Line up. Due side!â€
“Forty-four!†He shouted to the Lalafell, who had hidden himself behind the mast pole the entire time, even as the shot rang through the pole above his head. Even that did not distract him from chanting his spell. “Thirty seconds!†Jonathan heard back from him in-between his chanting, his staff’s aether crystal becoming bright, seemingly absorbing the solar light from around him, and creating a darker aura in retrospect. “You heard him! Thirty seconds!†Jonathan motioned as the boat finally bunched itself up against the Garlean vessel.
There were immediately one hundred men, half of the Manipuli, waiting for them. Their shields had formed a phalanx manner of defense from the front, intending to charge and overwhelm with the massive difference of numbers. “Twenty seconds!†Jonathan shouted out. “Prepare for open fire!†He ordered his men.
All three of them reached into their side belt, and pulled out a magazine, bashing it against the rifle before loading it into the input slot on the side, and closing the magazines with a click, cocking back the firing hammer with swift motions. “Ten seconds!†Jonathan shouted out, and the three individuals held up the rifle stocks against their shoulders, aiming straight for what had become a charging Garlean mob.
“From the tendrils of the sun’s might, may the holy rays of Azeyma’s warmth bake the eyes of my foes! FLASH!†Forty-three commanded, and the peak of the solar energy gathered in the crystal turned into a ball of light. “Close your eyes! Close them now!†Jonathan ordered everyone, as the three members of the Sharlayan crew placed the lenses upon their eyes and activated them to block out what was to come.
Just then, the Lalafell smacked the ball of light with his staff, and it was thrown over to the Garlean side of the bridge, which exploded in a blinding fury of light. “OPEN FIRE!†the sound of Jonathan’s voice was heard. Then the three Sharlayans operated pulled their triggers.
It sounded as if hundreds of musketmen had descended upon the Garlean line. Three weapons firing four rounds per second ripped into the line. The sound of mangled flesh and the flashes of the muzzle barrels illuminated the less bright area around the Sharlayan crew as the blinding light began to slowly, but surely, weaken. The rounds tore through the Garlean’s shields, armor, and flesh as if they were paper. The sound of rounds mangling the soldiers, and their screams of pain and anguish, were heard at a fever pitch. Blood splattered from one soldier’s body upon another’s face whom was already dead before the liquid even graced it. Hands were blown off. Shields were decimated. It had ceased to be a fight between two forces almost instantly, and had turned into a massacre. The light faded, but the shooting didn’t.
Those that survived the bullet hell found their eyes bleeding from being exposed to the blinding light, screaming in pain before inevitably getting one of the Sharlayan rounds ripped through their body. Some tried to run back in retreat. Some ran in random directions. Some stumbled off the ship and were shot in the water. Everyone in that initial group was shot. It was a massacre.
When the blinding light cleared, one hundred men laid dead at the hands of the three Sharlayans. The entire front portion of the Garlean ship was covered in bodies, and the coppery smell of blood mixed with the salty air of the sea. One would imagine that such a clear triumphant message would provoke a cry of war with a victorious accent, but… not for something like that. “Out.†Ryanti managed to croak, his brows bending in the act that he had done. “Out.†Eighty-five also stated, as her arms began to shake her rifle in her hands uncontrollably. Jonathan looked to her briefly and wrapped an arm around her shoulders as she tried to steel herself. “I got you. It’s alright.â€
“We share the burdens together, Eighty-five.†Ryanti also said to her, but his eyes were red and teared up. It was a cold, cold act. Necessary sometimes in their line of work. But none of them enjoyed it. Not in the least. When Ryanti had placed an arm around Eighty-five as well, all three of them ducked. “Muskets!†They called out all in unison, and the last volley of rounds was shot out, which killed another nine Garleans in the second line that stood near the back of the ship. But as it were, the second line did not retreat, instead beginning to march forward to replace the first.
Jonathan pulled out his longsword from his holder, its silver hilt gleaming in the sun’s rays as the Garlean line split down the middle to expose the aether-bidden, staunching Tribunus and Sounsyy’s… old… ‘friend’.
“Sounsyy Mirke!†She heard her voice cry over the little microphone near her lips, wired to the loudspeakers on the Garlean vessel. She could make out the woman from the other side of the deck rather easily now, though she had never seen her in Garlean uniform before, nor did Cynthia believe she could imagine it. Or could she? “Ahhh Sounsyy, the incompetent little pipsqueak from the Resistance. How are you doing, darling? I see you’re still allowing others to clean up your own messes and take bullets for you. Or cannons. Or something. What was it, again? Ah it doesn’t matter.â€
The light from the sun’s rays illuminated her glasses as she flicked her hair aside. “Maybe even allowing others to do your hair for you too? I do my own just fine. But I was always able to do everything just fine and you… weren’t. I admit, you managed to get this far by relying on unconventional tactics and your little friends, which by the way have just exposed themselves as well as your mission. But unlike you, I have always decided to walk the high road, which has always lied with this Empire. Silly girl… it has been so long since Ala Mhigo has become part of the Empire that the citizens who now grace the very roads you hold so dear know nothing of their meager, shameful past. How can you ‘save’ a populace whom simply don’t wish to be saved? Once a savage, always a savage I suppose.â€
She glanced over and shut her microphone off, and issued a few order by word of mouth while Terminus crossed his arms and appeared to laugh a little. Even Jonathan was shocked at the appearance of that man. “I’ll tell you what, Captain. I propose that we settle this like civilized individuals and whoever comes out on top claims the prize. I’ll let you fight me one on one IF you can get past these special men here. Yes, very special men...â€
Within moments, the unit of one hundred men broke off, and around thirty two of those men formed their own small square-like formation, pounding their shields into the floor and extended their swords forward. “I have just ordered every single Ala Mhigan soldier to confront you upon our battlefield and slay you and implore you a question of morality, Sounsyy dear. Would you cut down your own people in order to ‘save’ them and have a crack at lil’ old me? Make your decision now.â€
With a wave of her hand, the unit composed of entirely Ala Mhigans began to march forward. "We used our equipment." Jonathan managed to say to the Captain. "Everyone has to die."