Arns Old Voyage: A History

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      The winds blew hard this day upon the ships deck. High up in the crowsnest rested Arn the archer, keeping an eye out for enemy ships, pirates and any creature or ship that may be hostile. As the day wore on, Arn was thinking of other things, like his home, the lands, the Zorcan way of life, the constant war with the Rumerians, and so forth. The ship was moving nicely, since one member had a magic compass that caused a constant wind to fill the sails. Then, Arn saw a sail in the distance, ahead and let out a call; the signal for the crew to be alert and take up arms, just in case it may be a hostile thing.

      The captain had his spyglass out, watching the horizon, trying to discern just what type of ship it was that had been spotted. The flag it flew was in tatters, defiant to the wind that filled its sails, bringing it flying over the waters towards the ship that Arn was aboard. Its' colours were a blue and red, but not much else could be detailed out amidst the scraps of cloth fluttering in that gust. The captain called out "To Arms, to Arms! Unknown craft approaching! Looks weatherbattered and comin fast".

      The crew, of course, were gathering for a fight on deck. Various weapons were held, most being plain steel, a few of blueice, and one man even had a mithral greatsword in his large hands. But then, from the enemy ship came flying, in an arc, a ball of flames. The flaming pitch hurled downwards, towards the ship, as most of the crew stood transfixed, just watching. But some were getting pails and casks of water, ready to extinguish the fire when it hit, while others sought shelter from the incoming flaming missile.

      With a shriek in the air as it fell, the flaming pitch was a terrifying weapon at sea. It struck the aft of the craft, flames leaping all about when it hit and exploded, as many ran to put the flames out, while a few cowered from the fire. The other vessel was moving at a spectacular speed, coming in closer and closer, clearly intending to ram. The captain took the wheel, as Arn fired a flaming arrow at the sails, while some were using bows to target the sails, as well. Holes in a sail were a great way to slow any normal craft. The ship crashed into the side of the other one, since the captain had deftly turned his craft enough to be nearly parallel to it. From below the side rose up what looked like ordinary goblins. With weapons in hand, they had the audacity to actually attempt a boarding. The crew rushed forward, blades swinging blood flying, goblin fingers, limbs and blood being tossed into the air. the crew were destroying the goblin invaders, when their ship began to pull away, leaving just three behind, still living. Arn continued shooting arrows into the sails, damaging the enemy ship, as the captain was now laughing.

      One goblin was cleaved in twain by that greatsword. Another dropped to deck, still struggling. The third fell to his knees, sniveling and wailing, "We surrender We surrender! Mercy!". The captain felt generous this day, and ordered the goblins to drop their weapons. After asking how the goblins ship moved so quickly, he had them locked in chains, in the brig. With the battle over, the ship sailed on, going blissfully into the setting sunset, on to it's next adventure.

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(Aura Of Strength Post)
     Arn was up that day, early. He wandered on down the stairs of the inn, into the main area. He glanced about at the few bodies present and strolled out the door. He headed straight for the Arena, smiling as he went, his mind lost in thoughts on numerous things. The war between Rumeria and his homeland was still on going. The brother of the noble woman he adventured with was still missing. Runik was growing in power. The Syndicate was a possible future threat. He had things he wanted to buy, things to put in that gnomes machine, gear to try to acquire and trade.

     He went into the arena, set up a few targets, then took a position. He tried fast shoots, repeated shots, multiple arrows at once, one target then the next, skipping every other target and firing all around him in a circle, and other such things. He tried prone shots, hanging a rope up, climbing it, hanging upside down and shooting, without the arrows falling from his quiver. He tried swinging on the rope and shooting, upside down and swinging and even dropping from the rope and firing before he hit the ground. He had been spending hours practicing when he started to feel hungry, but heard a loud scream. Then, another woman yelled "It's a giant rock! It will crush Navahla just like Longbottom! Look up!". Well, he did indeed look up. He saw something small and black in the sky, hurtling downwards, with a long stream of white and fire behind it. The fire was lessening as it fell. But, the small black object did not seem to be getting bigger. Just how far away was it?

     Arn was watching this speeding projectile getting closer. It had to be getting closer, because the stream was straight up, of white. It looked like it would strike the arena. He thought again about the size of it. It was still not growing larger in his view. How far away was it? The one woman had screamed it was a giant rock, but he had not seen it start to enlarge yet as it had to be coming closer. Then it struck its final destination.

     The rock was more like a pebble. A falling satellite that had burned up in the atmosphere. It struck Arn directly in the forehead, but left no mark. Was it too small to do any harm? Was it extra-planar in nature? Or was there another explanation? Arn shook his head and headed back to the inn for his breakfast, even though it was now mid afternoon. When he returned to the arena, each arrow he fired seemed to mave faster, and penetrate the targets deeper. Was it all the practice? Was it the food he ate? Was it the falling pebble? Who could say for certain. But the fact was, Arn was now more powerful!