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

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

"I shall do my best to learn more of shaman things the better to deal with spirits and their ilk." You reply after a moment. A pledge costs you little in the moment, the headache of many hours spent in esoteric study only a phantasm of the future... and if such phantasms more often involve Esha than Zaia you do your best not top linger on that overmuch.

For his part Wanderer seems content with your word, even a touch apologetic. "Good, is good, you fair chief, not wish to lose you to doing work under sun and wok under moon."

Chief, the thought sits oddly in your mind, more the name for the captain of a warband than a lord who holds lord and hall in the tongue of the Anwari you are speaking, yet does that not fit you better? Rootless you are on the wind and to the far horizon alone on the sea, the rest of the fleet if far and of the lords and princes of the Anwa none have come to meet with you again.

That is not to say you have gotten no thanks. Ohun had sent a message my a black feathered bird with news that you were to be called a Friend to Lirman, you and all the company with you, that you would be welcome into the hall of the king, whoever that may be. Alas that is akin to being told you are welcome to sup honey from the beehive when all the bees are swarming mad. Zaia and Antonio agree that it would be best not to linger in port overlong once you have taken on water and supplies.

"The market isn't likely to have much that would tempt the ship lords of Orinilu, not when the most skilled reavers were with us at war and not seeking plunder," the captain adds and so the long days pass for once without much urgency, keeping company with the men.


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

About the most interesting thing that happens that week is having to judge if Luc's new scar across the temple, from a blow that had healed almost instantly is a 'proper battle scar' or no. Of course you judge it so and not just for the sake of the boy's peace of mind. The blow might have killed him before the bottle touched his lips if it had been just a little lower, or at least taken his eye, which you know from Inge that she cannot heal.

The weather also remains free of storm and peril, tattered clouds driven by a fickle wind spilling on your heads 'only so much water as not to stink up the ship' as many of the sailors put it, though at Zaia's request bathing is far more common than is the norm at sea, be it for Anwa warrior, Genoan sailor or English man at arms. He insists that cleanliness of body as much as of mind leads one to a healthy life and between the water all around you and Zaia's eternal cauldron you never lack for for the means to put that into practice.

Thus you are in the midst of bathing when the call goes up on the even of the seventh day: "Land Ho! Land Ho!" You pay it no mind until the second call joins it: "Smoke and flame, there's smoke and flame to port!"

Apuku is burning, you rush on deck to find, a black pal that might have been mistaken for a cloud in the distance, but was in truth a blaze in the city. Alas it is too far to tell if it was mischance or strife that struck the city, though you would know soon. Ohun flies for home on eagle's wings. Soon he will bring news. Soon enough? you ask yourself as the smoke only grows thicker and with it the questions that rise from among the crew and men at arms alike. Marcella is swifter than any of he other ships of the fleet you know, but dare you dive headlong into an unknown peril now at journey's end?

[] Rush into the city to help

[] Wait for Ohun with the news

[] Write in

OOC: I hope this flowed right, not much happened until the end, but it gave a bit of a snapshot of how life goes onboard when you are not fighting for your lives.

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

The ship's keel foams, the oars cut the water and on the deck the cry goes out from a dozen throats and more: "Ready buckets! Water! Water!" Others call to ready arms and others still are shouting for Esha and Zaia, for wisdom or for counsel. Long passed is the time when men turned their faces from them and muttered prayers of warding under their breath.

"The smoke isn't natural, not this thick and moving this fast," Zaia says as soon as he sees the sky. "Not this thick and going this fast."

"Plenty of thatch and wood to burn," Antonio offers, but the scholar shakes hid head. "Can't you taste it? Bitter like iron on the tongue. Someone is trying to make smoke, more smoke than flame I'd say, though for what purpose I cannot guess..."

You have more than guesswork to do, as the Marcella comes near the same pier alongside which she was docked that first day in Apuku you see men rushing about in a panic, some armed and many not, shouting one to another, to hurry or to stay. It does not seem like battle, but neither does it seem far from it. Chaos and old night... even by the light of day.

"It's to cause panic," you guess, though something about the words feel solid in the mind and on the tongue also. "Someone is trying to grasp power before the ships are all in port. Listen to what they are saying...."

"The king is dead!" many call, seeing that the royal ship is not among the fleet and others take it further. One old man, who must have been a great warrior in his youth, though his once wide shoulders were now stooped with the weight of years shouts: "Craven Dogs coming back here with their tails between their legs and a curse on ship and seed!"

Alas he seems to be the leader for what passes for a guard at the docks, or at least men with weapons and some will to use them so that even when others call out for help they bar the way.

"The High Hall is burning and yo lot are guarding the water!" A woman's voice this time, speaking with authority. "Go now, go and face the flames if you would have a foe!"

And that is when three things happen almost in the span of the same breath. As the Marcella comes within a few feet of the dock someone shoves the woman into the water, perhaps with malice, though it might have also been the sheer press of people. As she falls the fellow behind her raises a weapon, one of the heavy hooked blades as useful for clambering onto the side of walls and ships as it is for battle. Luc must have taken that for an attack, because bow already strung, he makes his shot... and a skillful one it is at that, striking the man through the neck. He is as good as dead before he hits the water.

What do you do?

[] Try to talk the crowd down
-[] Write in

[] Clear the way with sword and spell
-[] Write in plan

[] Write in

OOC: Not the best time to crit a archery roll.