Blood and Lightning

“When the sword is broken, the fangs emerge.”
 
It is a favorite proverb of dragonborn soldiers, and particularly beloved by House Senhotep—by Amiri. When Amiri was completing his final Trial of the Blades—the spiritual and martial ceremony in which a Blade challenges the one above them for their position—he found himself in particularly dire straits. The alloted time for their duel had passed, and it had been agreed upon that they would settle the duel the next day, or else Kohaku the Third Blade would retain his position. The duel had left Amiri with a shattered kesh’tam, raised in desperate defense of Kohaku’s unconventional tetsubo. In this instance, the proverb was rendered quite literal for him—the duel was to commence at sunrise the next day, and Amiri was not allowed outside assistance in any form, even in obtaining a new sword. As he strode forth the next day, rash’tam and broken kesh’tam in his sash, I asked him what he would do, and he simply told me that.
 
He won the duel in the first five minutes using the twinned blades style I used to defeat Akl-Go, taking the seat of Third Blade of House Senhotep with a sword in each hand. When the sword is broken, the fangs emerge. When the sun sets, the moon rises. When the body is broken, the spirit will blaze.
 
I miss my friend.
 
With Nar’Shen defeated, a one loose end remained. Orlando’s illusion began to dissolve, and Akl-Go appeared before me. Eager and emboldened by my recent victory, I challenged him directly—I thought I might lure him onto the bridge and take the advantage with my grapples, but he was not as dim-witted as first impressions would have it. He took me head on, and I dealt him a devastating blow with immediacy; he fights like his brother. Retreating inside to the safety of his men, he was wary to commit to a fight against me after that, bloodied and winded as he was. And he accused me of cowardice. Once this mission is complete, I never wish to lay eyes on a pirate again.
 
I disengaged and gave them the slip. Having a grapple readily available on my wrist allows for a freedom of movement I could only imagine before. I made my way around and up the side of the carth.
 
Outside, a storm was gathering, a storm of thunder and fury heralded by a murder of crows. I cannot imagine what such an omen entails—I seem to have been followed by these dark birds throughout my journey in Del’Orta, and it has all come to a head with my curse and… well, and with what happened next.
 
Thick smoke rose from the adjacent carst—perhaps the adept handiwork of Orlando and Nobler. I wasted no time in scaling this carst and slipping inside again through the top, a feat made practically easy with the aid of the magitech frame. Pirates buzzed about within, Akl-Go barking for them to abandon their stations as a lackey began to bandage his wounds. That would not do.
 
As I approached the thug again to deal the final blow, again he spotted me, his shotgun erupting in a blaze of fire and thunder the likes of which rivalled the storm outside. Our blades clashed. I had an old duty to see through.
 
Akl-Go fought ferociously, aided by errant shots from his attendant. I saw in his form the keen edge of Draconian basic swordsmanship worn perilously jagged by his years spent as a brigand—just like his sword. I had no desire to be rent by such a blade.
 
We presented our draconic heritage to each other, his crony sent reeling but neither of us shaken too terribly. The little pirate fled, leaving Akl-Go and I alone.
 
The Codex of Sun stresses that the truest victory is one which sets the greatest example. The Codex of the Moon asserts that the truest victory is simply the most decisive one. I realized as the furious brother weathered my assault that this fight could no longer be won by Morikage’s tenets, and steeled myself for the drawn-out duel.
 
Certainly the traitor must have sensed this, too, as he began to resort to all manner of deceptive tactics to gain the upper hand. I recognized an attempt to batter my sword from my hand moments before he could disarm me, but a sly reversal of one of my overcommitted strikes saw me reeling on the ground, desperately ducking around his furious blows. I found myself scrambling to win the initiative, struggling to bat aside each blow at the last moment. I barely got to my feet again before his jagged sword was hurtling towards my unguarded flank…
 
But this—this I was ready for.
 
Claw presents such a tempting target for a brash warrior—many assume breaking its defense is a simple matter of coming down hard enough on top of it to crush the guard, or attacking horizontally towards the undefended side. Akl-Go, apparently, turned traitor before he had the opportunity to learn better. I checked his blow with a Winding Tail, Broken Wing, and brought him to the ground, bringing my blade down upon him. It was in this moment he abandoned swordplay and set his shotgun against me, and I was forced to abandon my advantage to evade the blast. Before I could rally myself, he fired again—this time the pellets buried themselves in my hide. It felt as if a thousand angry wasps were scourging my shoulder, my chest, my arm. He barely evaded my next few wild swipes as he shoved more shells into his gun.
 
I’ve never felt so close to my own death before as I have in that room, with nothing but a brute and his gun. My mind raced. If I were to flee now, there would be no finding him alone again. Akl-Gowould escape, and my work would be unfinished—I would have failed. A traitor to the Imperial Republic who I neglected to kill before would walk free to continue his barbarism. And if I stayed, broken and bloodied, my scales sundered and my arm burning with every movement… I could very well die.
 
I greeted Death. I watched the Unpredictability Gap narrow to certainty. And I drew my rash’tam, blade in each hand like my friend Amiri had shown me.
 
When the sword is broken, the fangs emerge.
 
Akl-Go’s gun roared again, but I was beyond his shot, already upon him. my blades whirled and danced with more desperate fury than calculated skill, and he withered before my shining sun. He fled. The fool dared turn his back to me, desperate to call his lackeys. And I struck him down. As I had his brother. As I had Nar’Shen. As I will every other scum who bars my path on my way to do right by the Draconian Imperial Republic. Death had weighed us in the balance and found Akl-Go wanting.
 
There was no time to waste searching the corpse. I flung myself from the carst just as the sky erupted, the talons of a great crow sweeping the battlement from the great rock—and my grapple with it.
 
I fell. Above me the sky was wreathed in brilliant lightning, and I saw the grandeur of my own breath setting the clouds ablaze. The wind roared past me as that great and terrible bird opened its wings, and the foam of the waves sizzled as I plunged downward.
 
I offered a prayer to the spirits. I heard the chime of my bell and a murmur in my ear.
 
And then I hit the water.
 
The impact drove the breath from my lungs, and for a moment, I saw stars… but they were not stars. The messengers of the Protectors Spirit lifted me from the water, dazzling points of light in the dark sea. As I burst from the quiet abyss, back into the world of noise and shadow, I saw the crow poised above me, ready to deliver its final blow to my battered body.
 
But this was not the night I would die. The Great Catfish erupted about me, dealing a blow to the fell bird which scattered its essence to the gale. I had done right by the spirits. I had seen my promise through, upheld my bargain. And the spirits echoed their assent. I carried myself in a slow, agonizing swim, towards the shore, my withered armor creaking in protest.
 
Meeting me in the reeds were Orlando and Nobler and Baltos, with a strange dwarven woman in tow. A captive? It didn’t seem possible. Nobler was unharmed, a testament to his prowess—Orlando was scorched and bleeding. His wounds were difficult to tend. As were mine. The weeks have taken their toll on my body. The wounds dealt upon me have been filled with exhaustion, and my bandages grow ragged. If we are to stay alive in our perilous travels, we will need an opportunity to rest very soon, for a while.
 
That rest certainly was not to come now. As long as there was a pirate vessel in the harbor, I felt neither relief nor comfort in returning to the inn in town. Too easily compromised. Pirates are a crafty, vengeful sort, and it was clear from the initial attack on us by Gaku that they already knew where we were staying. We made our way to the woods beyond, strange dwarven woman in tow. It didn’t occur to me to question that—I certainly must, at the next opportunity I get.
 
Having rendezvoused a safe distance from town, we sent Baltos—at the cost of a small bribe—to fetch Nema and Bastet. The news he delivered in turn was not good news. In fact, the only good thing Baltos returned with was Bastet, tucked away in his maw. I swear, the way he treats my cat… but I can only be grateful. He got her out alive. Not a given, considering what he saw back at the inn.
 
Gaku was apparently returned to life, after having been very thoroughly killed by me. Only this time, he had sprouted crow’s feathers, bulging veins coursing with some facsimile of life. And he was waiting for us, with a captive Nema.
 
I considered simply leaving. There was hardly anything we could do for a girl we had made miserable through our actions. If she was being held captive in anticipation for our return, I thought, we might then be able to slip away now, while the pirates were still disoriented. We had more important matters to attend to.
 
The counsel of my brave companions urged otherwise. Dangerous as Gaku’s uncanny new form may be, they said, we simply could not abandon a person we had taken into our care and failed to protect. Gaku’s apparent connection to a man known as the Miser, the horrible man we’d learned of at the circus, also proved to be a compelling thread, one we cannot ignore. So. We are to steal towards the inn, execute Gaku all at once, and retrieve Nema. Done. Over. Resolved. And then—perhaps—we’ll have an opportunity to catch our breath before returning to the fray.
 
Several questions remain in my mind. Who is this dwarf woman? Where does she come from? Who is this crow, and why are both my ankle and Gaku apparently marked with their emblem? And when, Great Spirits, when will I be able to contact Mai Lin and get what I need? So many knots to untangle, so many threads to chase to their terminus. So many miles from home.
 
Onward.
 
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.