Wonderful 11.

Two Weeks Ago. The Great Western Ocean...

The deacon Polisa puts his right hand on the hilt of the large sword sticking up out of the floodboards of the damaged cabin. Mira Reinholt the mage watches as first nothing happens as the member of the church of Galavin tries to pull lord Farque's sword free. Then the once powerful mage as he sits upon the bunk sees the exact moment when something does happen.
Deacon Polisa opens his mouth in surprise and he goes to scream in pain as a look of horror crosses his face. He does scream but it's a silent scream as nothing comes out as all of a sudden he starts to change colour.
The churchman changes hue, turning pale, which quickly turns to shades of blue, progressively turning lighter blue until he's finally a white blue colour.
Cracks suddenly appear where his skin shows, he tries to move, but he's unable to let go of the hilt of the sword he's holding, then he goes completely still as he's frozen solid.
From where he sits on the bunk, the mage Reinholt can feel the cold in the close confines of the cabin in the tropical night emanating from the deacon Polisa.
There's ice like tendrils of steam coming from the frozen figure of the churchman, who then all of sudden shatters into untold many tiny pieces and scatters across the floor of the cabin.
Better you than me, Mira Reinholt the mage thinks to himself as he looks at the remains of the dead traveling deacon, the exiled Vexilian mage then lies on his side on the bunk, glances at lord Farque's sword, then promptly falls to sleep.
The mage Reinholt wakes early in the morning to find one of the crew in the cabin looking at the small ice like pieces on the floodboards, wondering what they are. The spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster watches as the crewman shrugs, then makes his way to the wood boards that are stacked in one corner of the damaged cabin.
The sailor stops next to the large  sword sticking up out of the floodboards, he glances at the open door, then at the Vexilian mage in exile on the bunk, who just lies there watching him, then the crewman takes a hold of the sword's hilt to pull it out of the floor.
The mage Reinholt watches as the sailor dies in the same manner as the deacon Polisa did during the night, the once powerful mage as he lies there just shakes his head as the sailor shatters apart into many pieces and scatters across the floor.
The exiled Vexilian mage watches two more of the crew die in the same way. First the assistant to the ships carpenter, who comes in and sees all the ice like pieces on the floor, and after wondering what they are for a little while, he goes off in search of a broom.
He returns a short time later, and after sweeping multitude of the tiny ice like pieces to one side of the cabin, he too goes to pull the large sword up out of the floodboards, and ends up dead just like those who he just swept to one side of the cabin.
Mira Reinholt is sitting up on the bunk when the next crew member is killed by lord Farque's sword. The once powerful mage who is waiting for his breakfast, as he's usually feed about now. Hears a pair of sailors out in the corridor, they enter the cabin, one is the ships carpenter, and the other is a member of the crew carrying a trencher with the mage Reinholt's breakfast on it.
And as that sailor walks over to the bunk where the once powerful mage sits, stopping at the large sword that's sticking up out of the floodboards, and the ships carpenter mentions the tiny ice like pieces scattered across the floor, the crew member with Mira's breakfast grabs the hilt of lord Farque's sword.
As the ships carpenter runs from the cabin screaming and shouting about what he's just seen, the Vexilian swordmaster sourly smiles as he looks at his breakfast that's spilled across the floor. Having something to eat is about the only thing that helps deal with the toxins in his body from the potion that he's been forced to drink. That and time are the only things that gives him any relief from it.
Of course his meals are strictly controlled, and he's forced to have more of the potion after a certain about of time, usually every two and half to three days.
This is what the once powerful mage is thinking about when a number of others make their way into the damaged cabin that is effectively his cell due to the effects of the potion he's been forced to have.
"So what exactly happened?" asks Kaldeàlil Haldéilv the elven magic user to the frightened ships carpenter, who won't even enter the cabin, and is standing out in the corridor looking in.
The attractive elven maid and the abbott Halarn share a look as the scared crewman tells them what he saw happened. The captain already worried when he heard the ships carpenter screaming and shouting, had one of his officers do a count of the cutter's crew and passengers. He's informed by the officer assigned to this task, that one of the bowmen and the deacon Polisa are both missing.
The two spellcasters look at the tiny ice like pieces on the cabin floor, and after the head of the church of Galavin winces, and Kaldeàlil Haldéilv orders everyone apart from her fellow spellcaster, the captain and the prisoner out. She and the abbott in the church of Galavin look at the mage Reinholt who is their prisoner.
"The carpenter told the truth" says Kaldeàlil Haldéilv as she looks at the Vexilian mage in exile, she gestures at the large sword sticking up out of the floodboards and asks the swordmaster from the city-state of Vexil in the Southlands "Is that magical?" as both she and the head of the church of Galavin can't detect anything magical about the weapon.
"No" replies Mira Reinholt the mage, who is a little annoyed he's able to speak clearly, the once powerful mage who doesn't bother to lie as he figures the elven magic user is casting a spell to determine if he's lying or not, continues with "It isn't magical" which is indeed true, though he must admit to himself that the large sword is highly unique to say the least.
"He's telling the truth" quietly says Kaldeàlil Haldéilv to the most powerful spellcaster in the church of Galavin, who nods his head in agreement as he too was casting a spell to see if the prisoner was lying or not.
"Care to explain that mage" says abbott Halarn who nods at the large sword, then at the tiny ice like pieces scattered across the floor of the cabin as he looks at the mage Reinholt.
"What's to explain?" says the Vexilian mage in exile who continues with "You know exactly the same as me if you were to touch it" the once powerful mage is telling the truth, though he won't elaborate and will only answer questions directly as he sees fit.
The swordmaster Reinholt watches the two spellcasters who share a look, and he figures they're talking to one another via mindspeech. While the captain of the twin masted sailing ship from the port of Renoa stands to one side, feeling a little left out, though glad to be as he isn't too keen to get caught up in the affairs of the practitioners of magic.
The attractive elven maid slightly nods her head at a suggestion from abbott Halarn as they speak by way of a mindspeech spell, then Kaldeàlil Haldéilv looks at the prisoner and tells him "Pull the sword out of the floor".
"Fuck off" says Mira Reinholt who winces as he said the first that came to his mind, which he didn't want to do "What?" says the elven magic user who grins then adds "Feeling a little scared of something mage?" then she casts a spell upon the prisoner.
The mage Reinholt grimaces as he finds himself standing up from the bunk he's sitting on, and he takes a step forward, all out of his control.
Please sword, the once powerful mage thinks to himself as he walks under the power of the spell cast by Kaldeàlil Haldéilv towards the large sword sticking up out of the floorboards of the cabin.
The Vexilian mage in exile silently repeats that over and over as he approaches the large weapon. Please sword. It becomes a silent litany, as he hopes that lord Farque's sword is listening, but having no idea if it is or not.
The once powerful mage sourly smiles as he just walked for the first time without stumbling since becoming a prisoner. Then he grimaces as he stops infront of the large sword, which even though some of it is down through the floorboards, is as tall as he is, and he's basically six feet tall.
Mira Reinholt watches as his right arm lifts up as the elven magic user controls his movements, the exiled Vexilian mage is breathing in short, shallow breaths as he panics but is unable to do anything about it. Then he closes his eyes and silently repeats, please sword, as his hand reaches out to take a hold of the hilt of the large sword.
"Fuck" mutters the mage Reinholt as he feels his hand wrap around the hilt of the weapon, then the swordmaster from the city-state of Vexil opens his eyes a few moments later as he finds, much to his surprise, that  he's still alive.
Thank you sword, Mira Reinholt thinks to himself as he breathes deeply in relief, then he looks at Kaldeàlil Haldéilv, who tells him "Pull it out then" the once powerful mage grabs the hilt with his other hand and tries to pull the large weapon out of the floorboards.
It won't move, and after sometime, the swordmaster Reinholt says "It's bloody heavy, if you want to move it do it yourself" in reply to the elven magic user saying to him "Don't mess about mage" as he struggles to even budge the large sword.
The attractive elven maid gestures to the bunk, and the mage Reinholt heads back to it after he's unable to move lord Farque's sword at all. Once he sits down he finds that he is back in control of his body. Though a moment later he finds he's no longer in control of his own mind.
Mira Reinholt finds himself shoved to one side of his mind, in a tiny corner as if he's a passenger in his own body, as he starts talking without him having in any say in what's coming out of his mouth.
"If you want to move it so much" says the mage Reinholt who then nods at the head of church of Galavin, and continues with "You do it" the once powerful mage then adds "Since you can protect yourself from arcane weapons which belong to, you know, the walking dead".
The two spellcasters share a look and start conversing with one another by way of a mindspeech spell. While in a tiny corner of his mind, Mira Reinholt wonders what the hell just happened.
The exiled Vexilian mage tries to glance at lord Farque's sword, but he's unable to and it remains in the periphery of his vision as he finds he can only look straight at his two captors.
"I don't know, but it'll have to be pretty powerful whatever it is" says Mira Reinholt in response to a question from the head of the church of Galavin, the spellcaster who was once the most powerful mage of his generation to be found in the Southlands, then dryly adds "I'm not exactly an expert on spells cast by clerics".
In the corner of his mind that he finds himself in, the swordmaster from the city-state of Vexil is slightly surprised at how he actually sounds. This is first time he's heard himself speak as if he was someone else, and it sounds a little odd to say the least.
The elven magic user and the abbott in the church of Galavin silently confer, for the prisoner is telling the truth, they've also read his mind to be doubly sure, then the most powerful cleric in the church of Galavin nods and quietly says "He's right" followed by "Don't know how long for, but at least i can move it, and get it out of our way".
Abbott Halarn casts his most powerful protection spell, specifically against the arcane items of the undead, he knows it's successful as he wouldn't of been able to cast the spell, as he gets his powers indirectly from the god he worships, Galavin. The head of the church of Galavin moves over to the large sword sticking up out of the floorboards of the cabin floor and though he hesitates for a brief moment, he grabs the hilt of the weapon.
Fucking sucker, Mira Reinholt thinks to himself as he suddenly finds himself in control of his own mind again while he watches the abbott Halarn change colour. The once powerful mage grins as the powerful cleric dies, Kaldeàlil Haldéilv spins around as the head of the church of Galavin shatters into tiny ice like pieces.
The mage Reinholt finds himself slammed backwards into the bulkhead behind him, and he blacks out while still grinning as a furious looking elven magic user glares at him.
Meanwhile, over three hundred and fifty miles away to the west and south. At the bottom of the ocean, thousands of feet deep below the surface, in a trench in the ocean floor. Lord Farque opens his eyes as the white energy bands of holding that are around him disappear . . . . . .