Island-Hopping in Paradise

Well! I must say, even if we are simply retracing our missteps back to Del'Orta, we made fruitful progress today, and our misadventures very well may have unified our sense of purpose a bit. At the very least... I feel as if I understand these strange bedfellows of mine a bit more, now.
 
After yesterday's carnage, we made a break for the trees on the northern shore, hoping to find concealment from the pirates. Before we could slip into the woods, though, Nobler spotted his lady-love stuck in a tree, harried by pirates. We had vermin swarming us from all sides, and no time to waste, but... despite our peril and my warning, he dove in, a feral passion driving him towards his goal. For a moment, I was tempted to leave him to his brazen toil, but in that same moment, I saw reflected in his struggle echoes of the Great Romance of the Spirits, the love of Cinder Firesoul for Adeline the Heavenly Archer. I knew then that I would not let him toil alone. He scaled the canopy and dealt the pirates severe blows while I gave them their last rights. The fall the acrobat-woman took was less than some ideal spirit of love, but the look they shared afterwards was not. We continued our movement north, gunfire scathing the trees as we ran. Ignoble tools.
 
Avoiding the brazen gunfire, we made a long swim to the northernmost island of the Sidein Coast. I was glad for the relatively short distance it was demanded we swim--the wider and more daring my travels, the greater the toll on my beautiful armor. It has protected me well these years, especially these days, and warded off many a fell-handed blow, but I must wonder if there is a way I might spare it the toll of my misadventures. It was my father's accoutrements when he was a youth, and I fear I sully its spirit by drenching it in brine so often. As I do inevitably Bastet. My poor companion! I'll be sure to treat my feline companion to proper respects as soon as the opportunity arises.
 
Once again, Orlando took me by surprise with his feats of athleticism. He is nearly as strong a swimmer as he is a talker.
 
Arriving on the northern island and hauling our sodden bodies up the small escarpment, we made our way to the high ground, seemingly free of pirates. A large rock marked the cover for our campsite.
 
All accounted for, we began to set up camp and get our first moment of rest for what felt like ages. Shortly after moving at ease, Nobler pulled me aside.
 
"You have gained my trust." What an odd thing it struck me for him to say at first! Our efforts had been for the sake of mutual survival, almost shared pity--and yet! And yet those mutual efforts had brought us through the sundering of ships and the shedding of blood, of wind and waves.
 
I knew not how I felt of Nobler at this juncture. A beast of a man, with a wild fury within him. A man chained in mind and body to a horror show, loathe to lose his prison even as we freed him. A man who would put the reckless desire to save a circus woman before our own escape. I realized something, though. Nobler is not one driven to escape. Escape is not a desire native to his heart. And as I bound his wounds, his grievous scars of the past and present, I realized escape was not native to his body, either. His form writhes at the thought, turns bestial. And here Orlando had been, here had I been--fleeing from one point to the next in the hopes that our--that my--prospects would improve at each new opportunity. Attempting to pursue my mission by fleeing from its present toils. "Nobler" is just that--perhaps much more so than I. I perceive the echoes of many Great Spirits within him: the passion of Cinder, the blades of Haretal, the unbroken dignity of Fraxiros. I wasn't certain what I could say; I hardly even know how much I understood of these things in that moment of quiet dusk.
 
As it turned out, I was not one who would have to carry the weight of that exchange. Orlando strode through, cocksure as ever, and set about interrogating our new companion, an interrogation which only confirmed my suspicions. A pious boy--something I understand--Imperium-born, abused by their malign perversion of the faith. Turned bestial by a man he trusted. I knew something else in that moment, as well: that I would make it my mission to wreak havoc against all those false demagogues who would taint the word of the Great Spirits.
 
Orlando, too, revealed a depth I previously would not have grasped--the bastard child of an elven maiden and a father of great fame, each who wanted nothing of him. His flamboyance was not borne of privilege or wealth, but of a profound sorrow. And a gift with fire... a power held by each of the Great Three in their own right. A gift which gives name to empires. Curiouser and curiouser. For now, he used his aptitude to light our campfire.
 
That, of course, is when all hell broke loose. The rock, as we discovered, was not a rock but an anthill, its residents an evil sort, surging forward like a dark tide. I grabbed Bastet and ran. I saw the ants fall upon Nobler, biting his tail raw. It seemed inevitable they would overtake us, drag us back to their hole. They sacrificed their own numbers in droves to quench the campfire I scattered in our wake. We would need a bigger blaze to deter them. What would Hikari do...
 
Using the forest as kindling on the run, I used my Gods-given breath to interpose a pyre between us and the flesh-eaters, an action which cost me the scourging bites of the swarm as they seeped beneath my armor. I hope I don't need to clean too many bug carcasses from my family scales.
 
I saw the swarm burn behind us, but my ploy worked too well--the blaze began to consume the whole island behind us, heavily-wooded as it was, until it became our pursuer in lieu of the insects. I spent the few moments we had upon the cliffs to tend my companions' wounds again before we dove once more into the waters. I fear I will never be dry again! My scales yet chafe with seawater.
 
Desperation filled our friend Orlando at this juncture. He began to swim madly back toward the Red Devils encamped on the shore, certain as he was that he could reason with them. I suspect the abuse he has suffered at the scoundrels' hands has wounded him deeper than he knows, helpless as he appeared in this desperate moment. Nobler and I managed to struggle with him in the water for a moment without drowning before convincing him against his haste. The den of the Red Devils would be glad for my prowess, but I've no desire to offer it so freely to them. I communicated in that moment the possibility of us secreting a dingy from the Red Devils' ship in the night, but my friends did not have the strength to undertake such a heist, and Orlando remained frail from his gunshot wound. We elected to return to the central island, but keep moving under the cover of darkness to avoid the vermin which swarmed the place. We went south, chancing upon the camp of the Maycomb crew as we went. It was no time to risk an encounter with them, battered as we were, and we pressed onward.
 
A smuggler's cache caught our eyes as we proceeded, a little grave for some scoundrel's petty dealings, poorly-concealed and filled with sugar and rum and other junk--but, filled even still with opportunity: these crates would float. Fashioning oars other such things, my companions pocketing as many riches as they could, we cast off, ready to float and kick and paddle the long way back to Del'Orta.
 
Or we would've, had some dark beast not chased us from the water. Indeed, the pale light of the moon revealed a lithe, powerful shape slipping into the water from the southernmost island, headed straight towards us. Great SPIRITS, could we gain no solace this long night?
 
As it turned out, my weary wishes were answered.
 
Two pirates stood guard outside a solitary temple they had no right to, pissing into the starry flowers outside. Their talk was of weapons and coin, naught but typical pirate drivel. In this moment, I learned Nobler could kill as quietly with his claws as he could spectacularly. A bizarre distraction from Orlando provided us the moment we needed to put down the guards, a Windpiercer killing my mark. Nobler was cruel in his execution. I was overcome by revulsion for but a moment... but then I remembered my own hasty wrath of the days before, and the vile deeds of the scoundrels. My judgement faded.
 
The curs carried the ninesilver and arlings upon them, as well as the firearms my companions took. I care not for pirate coin, no matter its subtlety, but they were worth their value in silver and gold.
 
The temple was a single point of absolute peace and beauty upon the island, perhaps a temple to the Great Spirits. A statue in the center depicted a noble bird with a bell, reminiscent of that which I carried with me from the Hu Zhuang Wu shrine. I was reminded of the Phoenix of Zephyros the Stormcaller. I ought to have taken more time attempting to decipher the meaning of the place, and its purpose; frankly, though, I found myself much too overwhelmed with relief and reverence. Devoting the opportunity to prayer, I felt the Great Spirits hum within my pilgrim's body, and felt my strength renewed. I sketched an offering to the sanctuary, and slept happily.
 
A sense of renewed purpose came with the morning, and we set out towards the diminished encampment of the Red Devils. Four remained to guard the dugout--and the boats--as the rest stalked the forest for their enemies. Nobler and I stole like ghosts towards them, the familiar charms of Orlando masking us from their eyes. I was careful to step softly across the sand--another distraction from Orlando diverted their eyes from our footsteps.
 
We tore out their throats so their companions would not be privy to their screams, and the veil upon us vanished--just as the Maycomb pirates burst from the treeline.
 
The beach erupted into gunfire, bullets buzzing through the air like angry wasps. Our escape was tantalizingly close as Orlando and I charged for the boats on the shore, guarded by the remaining two Red Devils. Not zealously guarded, mind you--I convinced the remaining villains to join our escape after swatting away one's guard. Orlando dove onto the boat, arms bound by the now-dead pirates, as the Red Devils pushed it free into the water. We were moments from freedom.
 
And then I heard Nobler's shout and saw Nema beset by the Maycomb crew.
 
The pirates' numbers were overwhelming, too many for even two competent warriors to chance--the blazing firearms, coward's weapons as they are, sullied our chances. There exists yet no Art of the Sun nor Moon nor any other tradition that I know of to turn aside bullets. Perhaps such a feat may be attained only through the graces of the Great Spirits.
 
They did not grace Nobler in that moment. A shot guided by cruel misfortune dealt a vicious blow upon him, and I saw his blood spatter the sand. I was torn between two ideals. I cannot die while my mission for my country remains incomplete. And yet I could not fully abandon this hero upon the coarse sand. Horrid fate demanded I choose, and I chose my people first, heaving myself aboard the boat at gunpoint while I threw a line to Nobler.
 
I saw my grapple sail through the air as a Maycomb leveled his rifle at the man.
 
The line thumped the sand, on target, as the rifle cracked.
 
I heard the bullet hiss as Nobler, by mere millimeters, twisted from the path of the shot, and ran towards the boat to freedom. I hauled him aboard with his Nema, relieved beyond my own expectations, to see this daring fighter shake the water from his fur. as he joined us, triumphant. The Maycomb bastards' shots were naught but nuisances as we rowed away, protests to the sky.
 
A sly gleam in Orlando's eye caught my attention, and this time I provided the distraction as my friends slew the wretched fools who thought they held us captive.
 
And with that, I bound our wounds as we rowed to freedom--to Del'Orta.
 
May the Great Spirits watch me through the gleam of my sword, guard me in the plates of my armor, guide me in the words of the strangers I've yet to make familiar, and bless me in the light of sun and moon. May they walk in the stride of those I walk amongst, and touch the world through the hands of my companions. May their deeds echo in my actions and their will echo in my wishes. I am but a transient pilgrim walking the tracks of this past and future world, my blood the blood of my lord and my father and my people.