At the "come on", Methuseld figured she'd gotten to him. Figured he'd be driving a sword through the shadow man before he threatened everyone and everything either of them had ever known. She followed him without delay, hoping they weren't out of time yet. The ship was huge, but the two desperate warriors reached the man battling with literal inner demons faster than anyone could have expected. Something to do with adrenaline, most likely. Then Donovan started talking about a catalyst, and Methuseld sensed something was going wrong. He wasn't behaving like someone who was about to solve a problem with a sword - he was behaving like someone looking for a way out with another solution. She dreaded what that solution might be, or just how long he figured it would take to arrive at this alternate solution. "What are you talking about?! What catalyst!? Just<em>KILL THE DAMN F--</em>mmmph!?"<br/><br/>In a swift movement, Donovan turned on her and grabbed her by the back of the head. The blonde went rigid as her warrior's body prepared to defend itself from the new threat... except that the threat was directed at her lips! As anyone who has ever been surprise-kissed by an unexpected person will attest, doing anything about it for the first couple of seconds is simply impossible. The mind is known to shut off during certain events - shock, orgasm, trauma,... surprise kisses. Especially passionate surprise kisses. Her body softened for just a few seconds. Just for a little while, it was hard to think, hard to be anything really. Even repulsed. Slowly coming to her senses, she started to tense up, and would have pushed him right off had he not broken the kiss himself. Wiping her mouth, Methuseld's lips parted to ask why in the hell he'd just done that given they were about to die, and whether he was thinking with anything besides his cock at the moment.<br/><br/>And then things happened fast. Really fast. A blue field of energy burst out of him, knocking Methuseld away and, after a clumsy staggering attempt to forestall the inevitable, onto her rear. The fall also whipped-lashed her head a little, such that for a moment she had to close her eyes to compose herself. When she opened them, though... Dean was falling down to the deck. Something had happened - she'd goddamn missed it, but something serious had happened in her brief moment of confusion. She vaguely recalled hearing Dean say something - the sound of him speaking was clear in her mind, but not the words themselves. And then he'd fallen to the ground, just as Donovan had. Dead? Grunting, the general got up to check both their pulses. No. Not dead, neither one of them.... What to do? Tie them up? Try and escape?<br/><br/>A brief ray of moonlight caressed the deck. It happened in Methuseld's peripheral vision. Still on edge, her head snapped to the side to check for the source of what she'd barely-almost-kind-of seen. Nothing. Then another ray right next to it, that widened. That all-consuming darkness, that solid tangible curtain of blackness that had enveloped the ship in its maelstrom of rain, lightning, and shadow... It was somehow fading. Growing thinner, more ethereal, as it released the night it had latched on to and revealed the world as Methuseld was used to seeing it - stars, a moon, clouds... The sound of waves lapping at the pristine bow of the now massive sailship, the likes of which the plain little lake had never seen before. "Well well... looks like whatever it is you two did worked... So what if it took an unwanted advance on a woman to do it, right?" She asked, giving Donovan a casual medium-strength kick in the hip. Straightening now, Methuseld felt the stress drain out of her just as the blackness had drained out of the world, leaving it filled with the darkness everyone knew and felt at ease with. She stared out across the ship towards the shore - it was approaching, ever so slowly yet inevitably. In the meantime, she'd have to come up with a plan.<br/><br/>Aza was who knows where, but the fox did not concern her at the moment. First, she was going to take matters, and power, into her hands - snatch it out of her captors'. Disarming the two of them (hands roving in places they probably would have appreciated a little too much), she made a neat pile of all of their more dangerous belongings (the ones her thorough search had revealed, anyways). Then, one by one, she dragged them down to the hold where she'd been kept, and found some ropes to tie them up just as she'd been tied up. She was never one to waste an opportunity for some irony, and never one to let a potential advantage go to waste. It had been what had once made her such a great general. Such a great tactician. Whether she still had those abilities, after so long spent bowing to a greedy old despot, remained to be seen. But nonetheless, things would be done on her terms now.<br/><br/>With the two unconscious men tied up in the much more spacious confines of the "new" ship, Methuseld glanced at her armor. It didn't look any different, she thought with relief, and went to go put it on. After about half an hour, that matter was attended to as she secured the remaining straps and... collapsed on the floor in excruciating pain! Instantly reminded of just hours earlier, when she'd been rid of part of the curse by Aza's powers, the writhing general could do nothing but wait for the pain to end, begging her gods to be kind to her and make it quick. After what seemed like an eternity, the pain subsided again, leaving behind an exhausted, sweat-drained husk of a woman who, at least for the moment, could do nothing but lay on the ground in the fetal position she'd somehow put herself in despite her armor.<br/><br/>For ten minutes, she lay like that. Afraid to stand, afraid to take a full breath of air instead of her shallow ones, afraid to make any movement whatsoever. The pain might return, after all... When the terror had subsided (and when she was sure she had a few gray hairs from the ordeal), slowly the general gave a quiet defeated groan and sat up gingerly. The cool night air flowed down into the ship, caressing wet skin and wicking away the sweat. "Ugh... it's worth it, but the pain..." she muttered, getting up as she noted the feeling of complete normalcy dawn upon her body. Something she hadn't felt in decades. True, utter, uncursed human-ness. Free forever. Because the armor had saved her. How had it done that? It had to do something with the ship, with what had been happening here. But why her armor, and why this seemingly beneficial effect? She'd ask the shadow man when he woke.<br/><br/>But first...<br/><br/>Regaining some of her strength (or pushing herself despite the lack of it), the general walked briskly up the stairs. This ship had to be steered before she ran aground. Methuseld knew little of the intricacies involved, but she'd grown up in a merchant kingdom. She knew the basics, and those would be enough to stop a massive ship from running aground in a lake on a (now) relatively calm night. She took the wheel in her hands and steered towards the city on the other side of the large lake - she knew that the Vizier of that city would pay handsomely for this ship, ever the rival of Vizier Zazim. Her identity she'd try to keep secret, but if pressed to, she would defend herself with a blade and with the argument that without his general Zazim was still quite weak.<br/><br/>-<br/><br/>On the rigging now, Methuseld balanced quite gingerly. She had quite a few cuts on her otherwise flawless ivory skin where even the armor didn't cover her. This ship business wasn't exactly second nature to her, but she wasn't an idiot. It was time to fold up the mast as she neared the docks. Hopefully they could get some boats to tow the ship safely to a dock. As she did, though, she caught a glimpse of a rope that wasn't supposed to be there. It was hanging off the side, tied to the wooden railing of the ship. Why? What was it's purpose. Scanning the rest of the railings, Methuseld observed no other rope like it. It wasn't an anchor or anything like that. Then, suddenly, it dawned on her. She'd searched every bit of the ship's interior. Prior to its transformation, at least. If her sword wasn't inside anywhere, and if it was still somewhere on the ship, then it must have been outside. Finishing with the mast, Methuseld tried to temper her excitement with caution as the heavily-armored woman scaled down the ropes. Running over to the mystery-rope, she peered over the side, and-YES! There it was! Excitedly the woman pulled up handfuls of rope until finally her armored hands gripped the familiar hilt of her favorite sword. A big smile on her face, she swung it a few times, trying to remind her body of the familiar motions after the ordeals it had been through recently, and secured it to her person.<br/><br/>The docks were approaching now, as was the dawn. The ship was slowing down as the water sapped away its momentum. Time to pay a visit to her two captives. But first... there was a room in the ship she hadn't been in before. The captain's quarters. She did not truly know what she expected to find, just that she expected to find<em>something</em>. Perhaps somewhere deep in the back of her mind was the thought that throughout this whole ordeal, she hadn't seen the Sorceress's pet fox at all. But because of that very reason, she hadn't really thought about her since before the craziness. Unsheathing the sword again, she walked around the main deck towards the large and impressive doors that signaled the captain's quarters. Opening one, she peered inside, sword-point first.<br/><br/>It was dark out, so her eyes did not need much time to adjust to the room; inside she saw a surprisingly large area, adorned by exotic furs, large silk banners, silver and gold candelabras with unlit candles, other shining metallic accouterments, and furniture of the finest wood and craftsmanship she'd seen in years. And a bed the size of four normal ones, with...<em>something</em>chained to it. Steel armor's soft dings progressed across the room towards the bed until steely-gray eyes at last identified their target. Asleep?! Throughout this???<br/><br/>"Aza!" Came the stern commander's voice, like an angry father's rebuke.