Ebouma

As if on cue a woman dressed in what amounted as rags and a cowl over her head appeared, she appeared wary as if she had been through a great deal, her eyes measured but judgemental. As she approached the figure she looked them over, her eyes travelling all over the female's body before finally drawing closer, the mistrust plain in her features, "I don't see a ship or any boat, so how the hell did you get here? Be quick, we ain't got time to gossip about time of day." as if speaking to herself she turned away, "It's been almost two years and no boats come here, not a little off from the beach you will find what was left of our ship." heading further up to the beach a lot of rusted metal cladding and littered the white sands, while she appeared malnourished with her bones being seen, nonetheless she could walk, "Not many of us survived or if we did then they ended up elsewhere, this island perfectly suitable, but without means to get away we salvaged what little from the crashed ship and built up some sort of an enclave. Of course I am not taking you there, although the Island is huge almost continent size, but nothing been found in our journies, we can't stray too far."

Pausing she looked at her, "The name is Krisanda, at least that was how it used to be, names don't really matter anymore. Well anyway, we're far enough up the beach." she had speaking as she had headed further up, they were now at what appeared to be a rusted hull of some old ship, she sat down on some panelling sticking up inside the sand and stared at the woman, "Welcome to Ebouma, in butt-fuck nowhere."

A stranger in tattered robes seemed to appear like some sort of previously hidden sentry. The Scholar gazed back at the woman, seemingly emotionless, as her head was entirely covered in the detailed, pitch-black helmet.

This continent on Terra was called… Ebouma. This individual, Krisandra. The Scholar commited these tidbits, as well as the observations she had gleaned, to her perfect, encyclopedic memory- a gift and a curse from the Ancient Tomes.

Names don’t really matter, eh?

“That makes two of us,” she replied as politely as she could. Frankly, she didn’t even remember her own name. She followed the stranger, seeing no reason to not trust this individual. She looked hardened. Though the Scholar was quite powerful, she imagined this stranger would be a keen warrior if provoked.

“Butt-fuck nowhere,” was immediately deemed an unnecessary observation- though would be suitable as an example in her studies in comedy. It was a funny thing to hear, especially juxtaposed to the gloomy, rusting monument the two robed figures approached.

“I would not say this is nowhere,” the Scholar quipped almost computer-like, as was another side-effect to her blessing and curse. “The soil here is incredibly valuable for agricultural purposes.”

Blinking at her half in annoyance and pure apathy she rolled her eyes, "Perhaps, but this is no life for a former pirate, well to be fair was not one for long. See I used to be far more well contending, passionate, but years rolling on just completely destroyed what I had. Perhaps if I could sail those waves again I would find the spirit that was stolen by this exile. Whatever the case, you seem educated and with so few here, someone like you whether a hullucination brought on by starvation and heat or real, don't really matter, I not had much time to speak... so I will..."

With that still sat down she began, "I am what you may call a Water Mage, I can tame the elements and cause great horrific storms with no problem whatsoever. When in the water on a boat if I did not remain calm, the water would match my moods. I could make it a weapon, a dangerous force or use it in ways unimaginable. This caught the attention early on in life, I was deemed a hazard too dangerous to exist. They locked me up in some facility called The RIP and until I was freed by some like-minded folk, I never saw anything but those walls. In fact my powers I could have escaped, but it was not until I met those folks, I found passion, I found joy. Am I going too fast, or should I keep going, not much to say. I guess I could go further back." she shrugged, in truth she had no idea how she had gotten these powers, she just always assumed she had them, end of.

“I read a book, and it made me strong,” The Scholar simply replied, in a fashion that contrasted sharply with the relatively longer life story the Water Mage delivered. Returning to the previous subject, she added, “Still, water is a central ingredient for agriculture. I’m sure with the seeds of some edible plants, we can produce a suitable source of sustenance for daily living on this island. I wonder why the Terran government had neglected to utilize this area’s resources. Seems like a waste…”

The Reader of the Ancient Tomes pondered silently as she stared seemingly into blank space. Her gaze shifted back to the washed-up dilapidated ship. “I’m sure this vessel can float once again, but it would require more suitable construction conditions and lots of replacement parts.” Her mind raced with possible uses for the ship. Reclaiming lost treasures at the bottom of the ocean, using the boat as a mobile command centre was the main idea she had. Frankly, she had no idea what this Krisandra person did before.

In order to get such a workshop built, and materials gathered, the Scholar knew she would need more hands than just the two ladies loitering outside the husk. “Are there more people around here?” the Scholar queried.

"I'd know tha' whingin' anywhere lemme see here," Linus muttered to himself as he came over a beachey berth. It had been what, years? Still, he'd know it anywhere he heard it. Especially near water.

Farther down the landscape two figures stood. Linus, up on a hill silhouetted by the back-lit sun, watched whatever conversation it was they were having. Not like he could hear words. Just that familiar voice.

"THE HELL'NRYA DOIN', YA?" Linus shouted down the beach, waving both arms in abandon.

It was akin to a sudden horrific vision, when Krisandra heard the voice, she first assumed it was not real, that she was imagining it, but nonetheless curiosity overrode her common sense and she swung around. For brief few seconds a pin could have dropped and made louder sound than anything in front. Anger, sadness, depression, fury, hatred, relief so many bubbling unseen emotions just daring to breach and overcome her. Completely lost to the strange woman voice, she instead felt the torrent threatening to crush her, losing control. Losing control, horrors occurring, must remain emotionless, in control, in control... Begging silently, seemed to do nothing, so all at once the waters around the island grew hazardous and choppy, crashing over the sands with livid rage.

Krisandra meanwhile stared at Linus her eyes filled untold anger, "I THOUGHT YOU DEAD, I THOUGHT YOU GONE..." as she spoke the waters around the beach continued to worsen and grow even more tulmoutous, "TWO YEARS, TWO YEARS LINUS... TWO YEARS... AND THEN YOU COME AS IF NOTHING HAS CHANGED." a great wave twenty foot tall crashed down on the sands with the same hatred seemingly from the woman, of course such a huge wave sent everyone flying including Krisandra, knocking her out and thus the sea calmed again.

The scholar swung both arms around, and summoned a small orb that encased her body. The orb took the impact of the wave, though the orb and the scholar were both flung off the shoreline.

She bounced around the orb, but was otherwise unharmed by the impact of the wave. The same couldn’t be said of the other two. Just as suddenly as it had appeared, the wave crashed down and washed back out to the ocean.

The orb flickered and split into deep purple flares. She shook her head and attempted to stand up. She was rather dizzy.

“Friend of yours?” She asked with a wobbly voice.

Located within a wooded area of Ebouma, an encampment of demons had set up human-skin tents within a wooded area. Their blades made of hellish obsidian were being maintained and taken care of as the red lumbering hulks stomped among their camp ground. Within the tents the demons held prisoners, citizens from Wing City who had been kidnapped and were being prepared for rituals, torture, and potential ransoms.

The surliest and largest of the demons, their boss, patrolled the camp with his lower ranked grunts, watching out for intruders...

Einar Robidine has arrived, coming from Astral Sea.

Einar Robidine vanishes into nothingness, but you get the feeling they are heading somewhere else.