Enjoy, I do not own anything except my own ideas and writing. Andrew Hussie owns Homestuck and its characters.
Though they wished to spread the word of equality and justice throughout the land, there was one problem. See, Alternia consisted of two landmasses separated by a large amount of water. To get to the other landmass they would have to buy a ship, or steal one. The quartet had captured the attention of the masses, and they were constantly on the run from Her Imperious Condescension's close assassins, and her other personal guilds. The followers of The Signless were more than eager to help them, although some were still afraid of the consequences, which was entirely reasonable and excusable. They provided food, and sometimes shelter. They had no symbol by which to bear as a follower of this man, but they showed their faithfulness through small and large acts of his teachings, whether it be standing up for a troll of a different blood caste than themselves, or going against the buying and selling of the lower castes. So, when it came to the smuggling of the leader onboard an empty ship, they were more than eager to help.
It was a fine summer's night, and the city of Avrakall was bustling with activity. Avrakall, pronounced just as it is spelled, was a city built upon fishing and it's trade. The city was known for it's fine craftsmanship in ships, as well as the low number of crimes in the city. It was on this night that our esteemed bandwagon arrived in this city. That's a bit of an overstatement. They just stumbled into the city covered in dust and grit with their truck hidden somewhere in the outskirts of it.
"Haha, Signless, you've got dirt all over your face," exclaimed The Disciple as she leaned over to clean his cheek with her thumb.
"Disciple, would you please not do that in public," The Signless whispered under a strained breath.
"Yea, it's bad enough you guys are all over each other when we're at camp, now I have to see you two do that all the time? Give me a break,"The Psiionic whined with his usual lisp. He walked lazily with his back bent backwards and his face looking towards the sky. He shuffled forward, tripped on a rock, and with a short yelp and a frantic waving of his arms he landed on his face in the middle of the road with a sound "THUMPH". When he had picked himself up and his glasses, which had been thrown across the ground, he had his first look at Avrakall, and his jaw dropped open.
It was a beautiful city, free of the filth and litter that most others had accumulated. The ground was spotless, and the harbors were scrubbed down daily. The city had many visitors, and was the second biggest city next to the Capital, and the biggest trade center in the world. People of high standards and low ones all came through here at one point in their lives, either on business, or execution. This was also the execution city. It was where people were sent to die in front of thousands-sometimes millions if you were famous enough-and in front of Her Imperious Condescension herself. It was policy, and if you rebelled, well, you received the greatest punishment. To be hung in shackles and slowly bled to death, and given the last blow of an arrow by the one and only Darkleer. You were lucky enough to even get last words.
Anyway, the quartet began preparations for the big shebang the next night. They had connections-followers-who had arranged for a merchant ship of theirs to be given to the group along with a crew. "Anything for our savior," the young captain of the ship had said with a smile. They also had some of their followers spread word about them. You know, you whisper the right things in the right place and word travels like wildfire. This was exactly their plan-to leave a last message on this side of the planet. Oh, and to show off, of course.
News traveled faster than expected, and before they knew it they were the talk of the town. No one knew what they looked like though, except for those who had seen them before. It just so happens that one of those people was staying in the city for a bit, hunting for justice. She heard of them in a bar while she was having a drink and demanded their leader's whereabouts, pointing her cane at anyone who made a peep. She looked them square in the eyes with her own deep red ones, much to her name-Redglare. No, she was not a mutant blood. She was born with another deficiency, which was blindness, and her lusus taught her to cope with it. She grew up with a mind for catching the unjust and became a Legislator, though an amateur one according to her neophyte title. As she stared down the bridge of her glasses, the troll beneath her finally broke and gave her their location. She thanked him and took her leave, walking out the door with an air of royalty.
Meanwhile, The Signless was going over his plans with the captain, a young springy seafarer who knew everything about a ship. Believe it or not, it was a very elaborate plan. Posters were hung and people were standing at posts all across the center of the city. They were to sound the alarm if any suspicious activity or any sign of the royal assassins, guards, or cults. Yes, cults. There was a web system running from person to person to send messages all across the web. There was about a dozen escorts waiting for the cue to cover up the getaway. This was THE performance; the big bang; the in-your-face-Condescension. This time all four of them would perform. Needless to say, someone was a bit nervous.
"You will be fine, Psii. I know it. Just stick with the script and everything will be alright," the Signless said, trying to convince the Psiionic to go along with this plan.
"What script? This is what you call a script? This is a brainstorm! It is nothing close to a script."
Psii was on full freak-out mode. Red and blue crackled in the air around his eyes like it did when he lost control of his powers, which was usually when he became flustered or very nervous. Signless, being the good friend (dare I say moirail?) he was, shoosh-papped the hysterical troll into a state of some sort of calm-holy, who kicked open the door.
Standing in the unsettled doorway was Redglare, in all her fiery red glory. The captain was stunned, and everyone had frozen on the spot at the sight of her, or the initial shock of hearing the door bang open. She tilted her head up to take a sniff. Upon locating the direction in which the Signless was in, she swiveled her head towards him. "Good luck," was all she said. Then she turned on her right foot and left in her signature manner.
"Who was that," asked the Psiionic after a long silence, one eyebrow cocked in amusement.
"A very old...friend," replied the Signless. "One of my most faithful followers."