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

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

The whispers cross the ship from stern to bow, from the very tip of the mast to the depths of the hold in what seems to be an instant. Something new was bubbling in the scholar's cauldron, something born of strange bargains. That the ship was alive all knew, some took it with pride and some with wariness, but that it would wish to grant them some boon beyond wind in its sails to ease the backs of rowers was... not well taken to say the least. Only eleven of the crew accepted to be marked even when their captain had said that he would take what aid he could in these dangerous waters.


"Rather break your neck than take the help and stay alive only because you do not see the hand that does it..." One of the Genoans, Marco you think his name, is argues to any who would listen with an intensity that likely does more harm than good.

"Ships oughtn't have eyes 't, ain't natural," says one fellow with only one eye of his own, a scar no one had questioned him on when he had been taken on in Apuku.

"Wait and see, that's my lot. Hope you don't mind, captain..." Zuan sounds apologetic, but not enough to change his mind. Perhaps to be expected from the man whose job it is to bleed goats into the ever hungering boards.


What surprises you most of all is how many of your own men agree to it, eight in all: Tom of course, but also Pete and Jean and Peter the Bastard, Nico, and Luc, bold as ever, though no longer with the ignorance of youth about them, Mark, jesting that perhaps one mark will count against another and last, come forth much to your surprise, young Henri Glaser. You are not sure if this is the lesson you had expected him to learn from your talk... but seeing as you had stepped forth yourself you can hardly call it unwise. Headlong perhaps you might name it, but prudent men do not set off to battle horrors on foreign shores for scant reward.

And so the days pass, a light drizzle upon the seas and clouds ever lower in the western sky, day by day closer to battle. Then as the black line of the westernmost of the Sunset Islands shows itself upon the horizon Zaia finally exits his laboratory. Deep shadows lie beneath his eyes and his hands tremble a little as he holds up a small clay jar filled with viscous black ink.


"It's done, it's safe."

That he had chosen those words first of all to speak of the matter does not put your heart at ease, but neither would you call Zaia a liar. For a moment you wonder if a prayer would be in order, for you can think of none to fit the hour, then you shake your head. If God can hear you in this place and watch over you and yours than surely it is for Him to judge what is and is not fit for his aid. So you offer a brief unspoken prayer to the leaden sky as all those who had agreed to take a mark for the ship gather in a rough circle on the deck.

It is quiet on the deck with the solemnity that only fear can breed, then unplanned you and Antonio step forth in the same moment, meeting in the middle with Inge and Zaia between you. Inge giggles, a quick nervous laugh, but still a laugh just the same... and a few smiles twitch across the faces of those watching.

"Toss a coin?" Antonio asks. At your nod he pulls out a a heavy Florentine Ducat, one of the last coins of the old world perhaps.

"Heads," you call... and on your head it be.

Esha takes the brush from Zaia and with quick steady hands marks your upper arms with swirling lines that tangle close than swing apart.


You do not so much hear the words as feel them humming in your soul a thread of power blindly reaching, foremost in its mind the simplest of all questions: Why? Unfolding like a flower one becomes many: Why do you do the things you dp? Why accept if you are afraid? Why sail to war and risk death's passing when you can otherwise endure? Why are you human? What does that mean?

"Too many questions, too long answers," you reply only by the skill than your long talks with Esha had brought forth.

"A trade?" the strange voice asks, reluctantly, shyly. "Knowing for Knowing, yes?"

Do you take the deal?

[] Accept, memories grow dim, and skills fade, but all around you whispers grow.... a glimpse of understanding (Exchange one feat of your choosing for Wild Talent; Unlocks Psionics)
-[] Write in

[] Refuse, as gently as you may, that is not a gift you wish, nor would you lose anything of what your life has made you

OOC: I cannot show you the rolls at this point since I did them for everyone and in batches so there would be spoilers, but I have to say this was pretty unexpected.