[Paradise Island] Mahaia Village (Destroyed)

Though a crashing wave emerges the glorious visage of none other than Empress Naoki , a daring look on her face and a trident in her hand. Wings outstretched, she crashes through wave after wave, approaching Paradise Island. The rest of The Depravity follows just behind the figurehead, carving its way through the choppy waters like a plow through untilled land.

The Depravity is the largest ship in The Imperial Navy, and, as far as anyone is aware, the world. The Empress commissioned it from master shipwright Antonio Stark , and it was one of the first finished at Port Silverion’s naval yard. Along with its size, its design is, perhaps, gratuitous. With the same resources, The Navy could likely field four or five ‘regular’ warships. And that might be more efficient, technically speaking, but, as she put it at the time, “It’s about sending a message.” The details of the message are left to interpretation, but one thing is clear: Naoki’s boat is bigger than yours.



The flag of The Empire flies high from the mainsail, boldly declaring who rules these waters. Burnished red metal plating coats the sides of the vessel, again bearing The Imperial Insignia prominently in spotless paint. Ballistae of varying sub-descriptions line the straight sides of the ship, though they are unattended as of present. The ship is sailing without its full complement of 700 crew.

Another notable feature: the magic circles, one toward the bow and the other up upon the castle at the rear. These two areas are open and prepared for magic use, featuring a few simple but widely applicable magics to supply power for and augment spellcasting. They are placed in these positions as to give the mages using them good angles and ample space from which to launch projectiles, but that is not how they are being used at present.

Circles of robed Enclave Magi stand in both circles, working cooperatively to maintain two powerful spells. At the front, they project a protective barrier, intended to shield the ship from incoming danger but not interfere otherwise. It’s far from a foolproof spell, but it functions well in keeping the worst of the weather at bay. At the rear of the ship, Magi put wind in The Depravity’s sails, allowing her to move quickly in whichever direction she chooses, as the wind will always be at her back. Other methods are available for sailing swiftly, but this one is simple, effective, and unlikely to backfire.

Command of the ship is currently in the hands of one Captain Grimhildr, an experienced warship captain substituting for Gothmog. The captain is under orders to sail to Paradise Island, and — ideally, dock, bring passengers aboard, and follow the commands of the High Marshal as best he can, pending further orders. And again, ideally, to not wreck the ship. In keeping with these orders, Captain Grimhildr orders the helmsman to bring them to the most dock-worthy position available and yells for the anchor crew to ready.

The words were a powerful declaration for a small, human man. The challenge riveted the eyes in the dark, prompting the shadow to stand at full length all at once, towering over the trees it had crouched within.

Standing before them was, perhaps, the most horrid beast they would lay eyes on that day. Though vaguely human in shape, the insectoid legs that breached themselves from the creature's back were monstrous in number, varying in shape, each obeying its own agenda. Upon the rotting cow skull that was its head were hundreds and hundreds of eyes fidgeting endlessly in all directions- until all at once they froze, then, with the suddenness of an arrow, pinned themselves on Alden Marshal. Its toothy jaw hung agape, releasing a spindly tongue as it spoke, rancid breath sweeping over the cornered survivors like a plague.

"So bold, your speech," came the voice, haunting as a dying animal's cries in the night, or perhaps more like a falling dream, or the feeling that something was lurking right out of one's vision. "But it is your time now, Marshal."

The cowhead's jaw swung wide, unleashing a torrent of insects at the group of survivors. People screamed, fought, panicked as their skin was picked apart by the deadly cloud.

As it spotted Alden's approach, the goliath raised one of its crooked arms, and springing forth from its spindly hands grew its blackened fingernails, shooting towards the Marshal.

Behind him, the villagers did what they could. The gem-skinned individuals put their powers to work, slamming swaths of insects against surfaces to squash them. Bora zipped through the crowd, the electricity around him zapping hundreds to the ground. Those who could breathe fire set the sky ablaze, while those near the water drowned the insects. Silken threads flew through the air and caught much more in a sticky trap. The villagers weren't victims. Far from it, in fact. They had survived this long, and they would not die here.

As Alden cut down the tower of nails, the monstrosity slammed the palm of its hand in Alden's direction. Though it was a giant, the speed that the goliath moved was impressive and much faster than one would expect.

Expecting the Marshal to evade with ease, the ground beneath the man's feet began to crumble ever so slightly in Alden's path.

The dead cowheaded goliath did not flinch as Alden attempted to make meal out of its bones with his swords. The bone of its hand was much thicker, not nearly as easy to slice through, so the goliath was able to push back, with some force.

It wasn't just the goliath's strength that was pushing Alden back. No, most of the effort came from the soil that was at first slowly, and then more rapidly swallowing Alden into it.

As the sword swiped at the goliath's snout, it slashed deep into the swarm of eyes on its face, though it didn't seem to sever the bone for which they attached themselves to.

The creature was not going to let Alden get away with this for free. As the man advanced its other arm swung around to try and grab Alden as he made the strike.

The goliath's head lashed back in a roar when Alden flicked his sword out of its skull, but it was not a sound of anguish. It was of anger. The voice that echoed around them thundered with his own fury.

I see, it growled, what needs to be done now.

As the ground had done beneath Alden's feat, so did it beneath the monster, swallowing him beneath the soil as a great tremor ran through the village. The docks began to fall apart, houses collapsed, and waves swept across the barricades the villagers had built. The fissure in the soil threatened to swallow Alden with the goliath.

The goliath attempted to sink as fast as it could into the toiling earth, though Alden's fury was ripping through its body faster than it could expect. It did not fear, did not despair, but its own rage was fuel for its impending defeat. Not if it could be submerged, however. There was still a chance...

While they fought, a light formed in the distance, growing within the few brief seconds that Alden advanced onto the goliath. Soon it became much brighter than a star, than the moon hidden above, and it only continued to grow.

Too swiftly, it was apparent that it was coming toward them at a rapid, amazing pace. Lightning struck and powered the light as it moved. Its shape defined as it moved toward Alden and the goliath, a tremendous white-hot arrow aimed for the middle of the slowing vortex, propelled by one word:

"Enough."

Once hit, the arrow would explode, not with a force attempting to kill Alden, but with one powerful enough to threaten his position and throw him back.

She was hidden among the trees at first, but as she weaved through them, one could catch glimpses of a graceful deer-legged creature. In many ways, she was human, if barely so. Face, torso, arms, all relatable, but the horns atop her head, the blackness of her eyes, her purple skin, the way she moved, almost gliding across the ground from one step to another, they set her apart from what was normal. She certainly wasn't as large as Alden's last three opponents, but her presence brought on a sense of discomfort, almost panic, to those who looked at her.

In her hands, she held a bow made of twisted oak, with a string made of light. She did not have it armed, but looking at the powerful figure, it may have made sense that she wouldn't need to until the last moment.

A voice echoed around them, not in their minds, but loud enough they could feel it in their bones.

"Leave," it said. "Do not return."