Hunt My Shadow, open

[Quinn Pappas]

Just when he thought it couldn't get any weirder. Just when he thought it was over, a man stepped out of the fucking air. That's it, Quinn thought. I'm never drinking again. He was hungover, high, and climbed aboard an unfriendly fishing boat. When people asked, that was what he would tell them had happened. But in his heart of hearts, he knew it wasn't that simple. The truth of what had happened would haunt him, for the rest of his life. Quinn slid from the deck a few moments after Toby, landing in the hard waters with a graceless thud. The waves sliced at his skin, but thankfully he didn't feel the cold anymore. Which probably meant that he was in some stage of hypothermia, but that seemed like the least of his problems at the moment. Quinn swam straight for the unimpressive dinghy, though it took him a few tries to get both his legs inside. One by one, he helped pull his classmates into the lifeboat, until all four of them were safe and sound.

Sort of.

Quinn glanced back at the looming ship. Now that he was away from it, he felt like he was in control of his own body again. He was pretty sure that he had bear hugged Mason at some point, and such outward displays of concern weren't his style at all. His body had been acting on its own, fueled by an instinct that Quinn didn't know he had. But he did know, as terrible as the experience had been, he was hooked on the feeling. He leaned forward, weaving his fingers through his hair. "Do we head back to the beach, or wait for Batman and Robin?" The voice that came out of his mouth wasn't his own. It wasn't cocky, irreverent, and carefree; it was small and scared. Quinn cursed himself silently for the weakness. Freeing his hair, he frowned down into his hands. They were both stained brown.

Oh god, what is in my - Quinn gave his palms a whiff, picking up on that sickly sweet odor that came with all professional hair dyes. But how? That was permanent, A-grade stuff, supposed to go to the grave with him. He was blond as the day he was born, his whole identity washed out in the ocean, but he didn't give a shit. Maybe it was time for a new beginning.

[Player NPC]

Death was all around him. He could feel the exact moment when the soul of a man was no longer attached to his body, separated, but only adrift for a mere fraction of a moment before being swallowed in a receptacle of the soul orb. It was so warm, so full of anguish and despair; the rush of it joining the storm of misery inside the primary orb was like a sweet candy pulsing on his tongue. It was also like a thousand knives cutting at his very essence. The dance of death; nothing was more intoxicating or revolting to him. Every soul fed the empty ache inside of him just as much as it made it grow and consume his own being. It had been this way for so many years he had lost track of them; every time he surfaced with his crew it was another place, another time. This time though, they had been called by magic that held sway over even him, even his curse. It was disgusting to be at anyone's beck and call - it was why he had led the life of a vagabond and criminal in his mortal years. He would be beholden to no one; yet, here he was, likely playing the puppet to someone's machinations. The irony was not lost on him.

Staring at the youth in front of them, full of fear and despair. Still, they defied him, defended, protected each other. It was all for naught, of course, but the action stirred something inside of him he hadn't felt beneath the waves of the waters since he had been tied to his fate of commanding a ship of the dead. Humans were both horrible, cowardly creatures and yet noble and selfless. Faced with death or worse, they still tried to remain resolute. "Admirable," he mumbled, not missing how little the dragon had done to young Pappas at the same time. Perhaps their courage and words were fueled by more than resolve. He wasn't allowed to test them or consider further when he was interrupted by two interlopers.

For his part, the captain lowered his sword and allowed the scene in front of to play out. He took no action as his men was jostled and tossed about, as Robert armed himself, as the four remaining living souls began to jump ship and flee. His emerald eyes, flickering like flame, just observed as arm came to rest at his side, holding his sword lightly. "A challenge? A man with skill and power - it has been some time." He could feel the command of magic that brought them there weakening; the puppeteers strings snapping and fraying. It seemed to be affecting the orb and ship as well. He didn't show it if affected him however. "Very well."

The man went from calm refrain to a blur of motion in a single heartbeat. His sword became as flame and gushed forth several simultaneous volleys of firebolts directly at Newbury without even looking in his direction, clearly aware what he was up to before launching himself at Robert. His blade was slicing, parrying, and thrusting in a series of maneuvers designed to give his opponent little time to react if his skill could even match. He saw the mages for what they were and didn't intend to give Ryker the time to bring any spells to bear against him. All the while the fire of his blade flowed along, leaving trails of scorching flame in its wake, bearing heat upon his foe but dissipating quickly as existed apart from the blade in his strikes for only a second.

[Robert Ryker]

"It will be hard to take back an orb after I destroy the primary receptacle; the others are likely not to survive the feedback."

"Good deal." Rob answered almost stoic in his decision to take Newbury at his word. Even now, after all this time, it was easy to want to trust him and accept a word from his brother's lips as the gospel truth. In his business such a thing was rare and Rob felt a pang of something he hadn't felt in a long time constrict within his chest. He couldn't focus on that now. There was too much else that needed doing. There might only be four young men left alive here beyond he and Alex but they deserved his full attentions until they were safe.

Ryker used the water and the wind at his disposal to toss their bodies into the small boat he'd conjured for them. He was unceremonious in his handling of them unfortunately and he was fairly sure that one of the boys had ended up with his face in another boy's crotch in the process, if not worse. He could only hope that once all of this was said and done that he'd be able to find them and erase the memory of what he was doing from their minds. Simply being here was dangerous and he needn't add sloppiness to the report. He could already see it being written in regard to his appearance and return to Hart, California.

With his mind on both the boys and the pirates he almost missed the attack. He dodged, not bothering to parry. The flame sword was an intimidation tactic, more show than anything he needed to worry about just yet. Besides he was just the distraction here, Newbury had the real job in putting down the orb. Rob was certain that once that happened, this would all resolve itself. The water seasoned wood at his feet creaked as he shifted his weight and used his new position to his advantage. Hand extended toward the boys in the boat, he muttered a word of power and the boar shot off toward the shower, slicing through the water and the fog as if it was powered by a motor's gas engine. Only once the boat was onshore did he turn his full attention back to the captain, "Is that all you've got for me?"

He could sense the power and strength of the magic surrounding him shifting again, weakening. At first he assumed it was Alex and then he felt it again. He focused on the feeling and he heard women's voices, distant, calling to the power he felt and he let it go as suddenly as he felt it latch onto him too, or try to. He attacked the Captain, using his fists and flat palms, striking at the ghostly flesh as if the man were human. A thought was all that was needed, whispered as if on the wind itself, Constrict. The flame of the sword died, leaving the Captain without a weapon. Fire and flame needed oxygen, or in the case of magical flame access to aether. Rob controlled both. Grinning, he sent a foot into the gut of his opponent.

Feeling the boat shift and creak, the fog around nearly gone now, Rob could see the Country Club now. Signs of the fight dying out there as Austin and Ryson cleaned house. Just seeing the magical flares was enough to warm him and keep the chill at bay. It brought back memories of their childhoods shared as one, of the games they'd played that were now nothing short of magical training for what they now found themselves doing for the Cabal. He women at the ship's helm cried out, their song changing as the green orb began to die down to a fraction of it's former level of illumination. Rob turned to Alex and asked, "That you?" He'd seen Newbury work fast before but this was not like that. Eyes narrowed, Rob could see that the shapes of the ghosts were becoming less visible, almost as if they were fading into the light fog bank that remained.

And then he noticed that the shore too was becoming a vague outline. Same for the country club, Hart itself. And there was the heady scent of the sea and the Captain's throaty laughter. Rob shook off the feeling of mental shackles that fell upon him as suddenly as the scent of death. He reached for Alex, grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him with him as he ran for the side of the ship. He jumped, taking Alex with him. He dove, angling down toward the water and using his magic to call lightning to force the ghostly tentacle that wrapped around his leg to let go. He swam then, toward the light, water having encased him and swallowed him. He swam until his face and chest burst through the surface of the ocean. He gasped for air and tread water there for a moment.

The night was quiet. The northern California shoreline lay ahead, not seeming so far as before. He half expected the net to drop, pull him in now and reclaim him. But the ship was gone. He reached out with his magic, trying to sense it and the power of the orb, "Nothing?" He turned to Alex, asking, "Did you do that?" He already knew the answer. Something or someone else had called upon the ancient magic, sending it back to where it had come. The question remained...Who?