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

First Day of Elnu-Hamba (Elnu Descendent), 1349 A. L. (After Landfall)

"Of course I would make such a vow!" you call out, anger hot on the tip of your tongue, though not against Ohun, but his master. A vow is not a thing lightly taken and not at the whim of another, king though he may be. You will not be treated like some armed brigand by an unblooded boy. You round on him and speak boldly and without veil for once: "Do not mistake my counsel for a lack of resolve or hidden ambition, for I do not shy away from the shedding of blood when necessary, as many of you have seen with your own eyes, and my home cannot be found among your islands. Heed my counsel or do not, that is your right as king of your people, but..."

"But... but, that is not a word I would hear when you give counsel, not from you who did not bleed beside by fathers, no send your bones down into the waters beside them!" King Ansefu snaps. "I shall take counsel with my lords as to this matter and though I shall not cast out a man whom the captain of the ship had invited neither to I have to listen to more of your steering as though I am a billygoat in rut that needs handling so as not to smash his head against the posts!"

"If you do not wish my company, than it would hardly be of any use," you reply stiffly as you turn to leave without another glance at any of those present. You trust Antonio to keep you advised as to what will be spoken, but you do not trust yourself in the company of a royal brat one moment longer.

The brisk air upon the deck of the ship is a welcome chance from the stuffy cabin, but you do not miss the uneasy looks the sailors give you. A ship's timbers timbers are not walls of stone and neither you nor the king had been speaking softly.

Perhaps you can get the advice to Ohun later, you sigh, wondering if there is something you might have said or done to no lose the confidence of the king. Turning your head towards the stern of the galley you are surprised to find Moru sitting cross-legged on a stool preciously balanced, eves on the eastern horizon.

"Have you given much advice to kings gracious one?" you ask more bitterly than you had meant to.

"More than I might have wished less than they might have needed in the end," his eyes of flame all the more eerie for their calm. "Why?" On hearing your tale he shakes his head in annoyance, though not you think with any surprise. "Ask a lord new come to manhood to think about the troubles of his children as soon as ask a butterfly than lived a ten-day to worry for the winter."

"How long do those butterflies live?" you ask, lowering your voice a little. It is only when the words are out of your mouth that you realize that that might sound like.

"Perhaps a ten-day more," Moru replies, though he swiftly adds. "It is to the great good fortune of man that we bring forth our young in a somewhat more sensible manner. If this Negu is as cruel as he is said to be, cruel by the measure of folk whose bread is robbery and drink is murder then I think the king will sicken of him before the war is out."

Another time you might have corrected his words, for you had meet many of the Anwa who were honorable and even gentle in manner, but for now you ask: "And if he does not?"

"A man fighting the powers of the Anjo-oru with no ward or blessing is not long for the world... they say this Negu is bold as he is godless, let us then see how his wager pays out."

Alas it seems that you must count upon that promise, ill as it sits with you, for a bird comes with the setting of the sun with an answer from Orinyiya, for the prize he has been promised he will turn his cloak.

"Lord have mercy on the heads of fools," Tom mutters when you take him into his confidence, yet it seems that his prayers are not heard. That night it seems as if all the weather luck of your journey from Orinilu had turned against you, for clouds boil think and black on the horizon, tall as the towers of a dreadful fortress and the wind breathes a breath of black rain. Beneath your feet the Marcalla shifts and groans, preparing herself to meet the storm even as her crew scramble to their own posts. The lords had all returned to their own ships, as lightning rips across the sky with claws of fire all you can do is hope the longships will hold.

What does the Marcella and her crew focus on during the storm?

[] Providing a beacon for the ships of the fleet and rescuing sailors cast overboard

[] Protecting her ship and her crew

OOC: Your rolls did not get any better alas.