Age of Ice and Blood: A Pathfinder System Heroic Fantasy Quest

Twenty Fourth Day of Elnu-eza (Elnu Ascendant), 1349 A. L. (After Landfall)

The days grow longer, the nights shorter, and on the way ocean twice storms had wracked the ship with no shore to reach for, leaving Antonio unable to continue his training for all his other duties and the rest of restless thought and limb. Zaia has his books still, all carefully packed from Wayfarer's Respite and Esha... she dreams and ponders the nature of the ship, blood spilled on the living wood and flesh pierced with the nails pulled from the Marcella's hull... a sacrifice of more than goats.

"I think I am starting to understand... though I am not sure I should," Esha seems paler than you had seen her in the moonlight, her eyes darker. Her voice is dreamlike as one who as drunk too much or slept too little. "Why it's so hard for it to speak even to those who converse not with words but thoughts. The ship is not alive, not really as you or I are counted among the living. If it should perish under me I would have no spark of power to gather up..." she cuts herself off. "I never told you I can do that to the newly dead, did I? I'm more my father's daughter than I care to admit aloud most days. This isn't most days..."

You are not sure what to say to that, what to think. A part of you is troubled, yes, and more than troubled, but you cannot help but feel that you are seeing a glimpse into her mind that she would not have otherwise revealed.

"This isn't a ship with a soul the same way the sword at your side is bronze with a soul's fire bound within, it's like a puppet-master and its puppet, like a jester throwing shadows on the wall and making shapes. That which dwells Beyond is more real than the real and it would break the warp and weft of our existence should it be." The last is said with mounting urgency, almost with fear, though still her eyes do not properly focus.

Having less understanding of the arcane than your horse you do the only thing you can think of, grab her shoulder and shake her a little. It breaks the spell, the reverie. "Thank you... I have not been doing anything too odd, have I?"

"I am uncertain how to answer that..." you say at last. Is it even safe for you do be doing this? You think but do not say. Somehow you doubt it would be taken well.

"Ah, not that strange then," she laughs. "Writing in blood on the walls or thereabouts I mean. Signs have power, but I only have so much blood to spare, and if I tried to get everything in my head down or up in that medium it would take a good bit of healing, more than I can really accept in this state."

"Accept?" you question as Esha struggles to her feet, leaning her staff, her fingers white-knuckled.

"Power and magic flow together in the air and in the flesh. If Inge uttered one of her spells here it would cast the whole thing apart, and if I unstopped a potion vial... well let me show you."

So she does, the substance inside changes from clear to blue-green in an instant then starts to glow, or perhaps the room is darkening around it as it drinks in the light. A moment later it shatters, leaving behind a lump of pinking flesh that squirms like a mouthless, eyeless worm... and then it is still. "Take liquid life and add the stuff that dwells beyond the Pale and you get shapes, meaning gasping to be born and yet unable to breathe."

You swallow, mouth dry. "Yet you are untroubled?" The unspoken question is louder than words could be. How?

"If the Marcella had wanted to kill me it could have done so already, even if she just did not do her utmost to keep be safe I would have been rather troubled. I think..." she lays a hand on the wood just as it groans, once, twice than thrice. It's almost like a melody.


View: https://soundcloud.com/liam-thompson-905190516/cetacea

"It's lonely and likes the company, that is why it's so hard to get across that we want some humans and not others on the ship, but she had no trouble with the notion of eating the rat or the watcher in the shape of a fish. If we want the ship to help in battle we either need to mark everyone as belonging to the crew and the Fellowship or we need to very explicitly draw it's attention that the next people who are not on the ship, but will try to board, are to be counted foes."

"Signs have power," you repeat her words from earlier. "What would this mark do?"

"I am not sure. It would be less abstracted, more real, it would be power upon the flesh." Both of you very carefully do not look at the dead worm thing. "I am sure the ship does not mean to harm us and it seeks to keep us safe, but it might slip and how I cannot guess."

"What of the call then?" The song sounds sadder, almost like it can hear your fear and it sorrows for it. How can it understand that and not mark the difference between one mortal and another?

"An hour at least to mark the moment firmly, an hour and a goat, and then another hour at the end of it to mark that the peril is past and it need not try to harm any 'new' humans on its decks ," the sorceress replies. "We would not be able to invoke it in an ambush nor take on prisoners immediately after battle."

Which manner of communication with the Marcella do you want to try?

[] The mark that she might know her own (The ship will know to aid those who are marked)
-[] Offer to lead by example
-[] Do not offer to lead by example

[] The call that she might know when battle is close (The ship will know when to harm an to hinder all new humans on her deck after an hour long ritual)

[] Neither, they are both too risky

OOC: I am not going to reveal the rolls on this one since Roland does not have the skills that would grant a more than surface level understanding. Still, hope you like the singing ship.