Blades without a Banner

[X] Heln evacuates Morian to the surface, so Kolo can try to prevent permanent damage before it's too late. The rest of you start poking the other gates while he's away.
-[X] The most militant one. The gate is barred with steel, and the decor brings to mind the banners trusted hearthguard are tasked to defend.
[X] Veteran

Bearing Morian between the two of you, you and Solyn briskly march towards the river while the other two move on ahead. For a while, there's only quiet, everyone involved focused on either moving or breathing, and then you hear the ugly scrape of warped steel against steel. For a moment, you almost drop the shield and reach for your seax, before you realise what the issue is.

'I- don't stand up, why even…'

The apparently masochistic woman in question shivers, from pain or effort, but does at least relent from her efforts. Whether she plans to reply or not, you pick up the pace just slightly.

'How', softly remark your non-mauled counterpart, as the sound of flowing water touches your ears, 'are we going to get her out of the armour?'

You shrug as you approach. That's an issue they've figured already, you hope.
—————————-

'I was hoping you two figured out a better way, because.. well.'

You and Heln are currently holding her, partially submerged, in running water while she shivers from the cold and relief. Heln and Talyn have laid out everything they'd have that could possibly be relevant for second and third degree burns, one of which is her suddenly rather ominous knife.

'We're just going to pry it off her?'

'Well I'd rather we didn't, but….'

'Alright… Heln! Geln! Bring her here, and make her drink this!'

Mildly out of it as she currently is, Morian still has the presence of mind to eye the small vial of painkiller with sudden alarm.
————————-

'If two of us are going to have to carry her back up, then we should all go. This place was almost too dangerous for the five of us already.'

'I thought that was the last of the daemons.', you note. The five of you are seated (or lying down) in a rough circle, Morian- freshly divested of her armour and most of her clothes, and instead wrapped up in bandages real anod makeshift- nods emphatically from the floor.

'We don't know that, though.'

'It should be.'

Talyn gives Morian an askance look, her thoughts rather easy to guess, before continuing.

'Even if that is the case, I doubt the Elven wards are perfectly safe either. A party of two would be crippled if someone were to suffer sudden injury, and would be hard-pressed to retreat.'

'Three?'

'I… Morian, is there a particular reason why you want us to explore?'

'Can still walk.'

As if to prove the point, to your amazement, she does just that- reaching over to pull herself up off Heln's shoulder, and propping herself with her other hand with her sword, she stands, somewhat wobbly, on her own feet.

'….place is important.'

'Important how?', Solyn insists.

'I don't know. It is.'

'I'm curious at what the other gates hold myself', you note. 'It's not as if you'd kill someone you just fed.'

The regular frown on Talyn's face returns, but she still yields to the way the wind is blowing.

'…fine. As long as you're sure you're alright to walk faster than we could carry you.'

She pauses, considering, then nods. 'Blessed Kolo will see me well.'

'…that still means someone needs to take her, though.'

You all turn to look at Heln, who slowly realises, Morian still leaning on his shoulder, that he's been volunteered.
——————

You hiss in sharp pain as Solyn applies, of all things, rubbing alcohol across your upper back and shoulder. A colourful bruise sprawls across your pale skin, already angry shades of red and purple that forms an interesting pattern against the ink of your tattoos.

'If it helps you take your mind off things… any clue which gate you'd want to poke first?'

'That seems- mmph!- seems like something we should include Talyn in.'

He glances up the tunnel, where the northern woman had secluded herself out of some custom of privacy, before shrugging.

'If it's a really good idea, I'm sure we can talk her around.'

'Well… the small gate looks quite strange, but I think we should go for the safer one first, while we're under crewed.'

'And that is?'

'The banner gate.'

He pauses, then suddenly laughs, although at least his hands remain steady.

'What?'

'You'd rather walk into a fight than tackle sorcery.'

'Wouldn't- nmph!- you?'

'Whatever you say, brother. Whatever you say.'
————————

When the three of you (quite cautiously) enter the central area again, ready for some sudden spell to manifest, what you find instead is…

…nothing really.

The place is unchanged. The grass is still green, the 'sky' still glittering, the enormous monolith in the centre just as ominous. If not for your own memory, you'd swear nothing is askance at all.

A brief walk over to the militant gate sees everything remain comfortably unchanged, and before your streak of apparent uneventfulness ends, you're standing in front of it.

After a long moment, you start to realise that maybe there's not going to be any unpleasant surprises at all.

Bracing against the door, you and Solyn push- and almost fall over, as it promptly swings open before you. The three of you immediately prepare to fight, bracing for something to come charging out of the dark, to face head on whatever trials the Elves saw fit to create.

The door opens to instead reveal a rather comfortable looking waiting room.

You stride in and glance around, admiring the tiled floor, the simple furnishings, what seems like a padded bench against the wall. In a row around the room are what seem to be more mostly inert runes, only a smattering of which are glowing to provide gentle lighting, and on the far end are a set of stairs leading upwards. More boldly, Solyn even sits, comfortably sprawling across a seat.

When he remains distinctly unharmed, the other two of you follow.

It is a pretty nice seat.
…..

'…this can't be all, can it?'

'Probably not, no. We're going to have to go up those stairs.'

Talyn groans from the other side of him, popping her neck.

'We're really going to keep pushing our luck?'

'Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained. You think we could steal the furnishings?'

You run a hand over the padding beneath you, at the table literally bolted to the floor, at the distinct lack of cutlery- or refreshments, not that you'd eat any. Then you stand up.

'Let's just keep going.'
————————

The next floor makes far more sense.

Across you are a quartet of ghostly fencers, each of which greet you with synchronised duelist's salutes. This area is larger, square like, and the stairs once more are directly across. It seems similarly furnished to the floor below, complete with glowing runes and spartan adorning. Outnumbered as you may be, if this floor has as many surprises as the one beneath, you're more than confident of your chances.

'What are you doing?'

You pause at Talyn's query, eyes still on the foe.

'You can't see them?'

Then, before your own eyes, they disappear.

You blink in disbelief, before realising exactly what occurred. Their forms twitch madly, shivering and blinking as if an errant illusion, and every time they do they warp another few steps. Moving erratically, slipping the eye, they fan out and move around you, lunging towards your party from several angles.

You almost charge, but stop short as you realise- not one is moving towards you.


They swarm in around the other two, thin blades darting back and forth, and you leap to stop them. They're lesser armed and lesser armoured, but they outnumber you severely- and your charges cannot see them. Even as two dart away from the arc of your strikes, another darts under and past, lunging towards a bewildered Talyn. She shifts at the sound of a strike, but without sight cannot parry- the rim of her shield deflects the blow, up and sidewards, to open up her face near exactly the place it had been cut before.

'They're invisible!', comes the belated warning. What seemed a simple fight suddenly seems impossible- what do they expect you to do?

'Then how can you see them?'


Even as Talyn half-blindly strikes back, her target flickers away- the quartet erratically circling, leaping in and out to strike as they please. They surge and withdraw at random intervals, for some reason refraining from swarming you at once, and it's for that reason alone you suspect you're all still alive. When she again wheezes in pain, a blade nearly taking out her eye and reddening her lips and chin with blood, you and Solyn close in around her. Between the two of you, you form a web of steel that they seem ill equipped to risk- but you are mortals, and will tire, while you suspect they literally cannot.

'I don't know! I thought you could?'

''Any ideas, then?'

'Retreat! I'll hold them- they seem more wary than aggressive!'

Solyn glances at his partner's face, clealry dubious at your assertions about the invisible blades, but doesn't gainsay you.


Just after they withdraw from another assault, you twist and lunge towards the edge of the circle. As before, they shift aside, their lightly armoured frames evading your blows, and in the gap Solyn and Talyn rush through and back. You follow, forming a rearguard as the four blades look on impassively.

Then, as you pass some hidden threshold towards the way you came in, they suddenly surge.

If not for the blessing of them nearly ignoring you, you may have died there and then. They do not, however, insistently trying to evade you, circle you and break through- and this, you prevent. Even as they warp and flicker, you retreat in turn, slowing and blocking them to buy precious seconds.

At the final steps, one teleports not only around and through you, thin blade leaping to score across Solyn's back, if thankfully not through his armour. He stumbles and swears, and you punish the apparition's boldness- axe punching through their back in turn, carving them from collar to waist. They fall bloodlessly, dissolving into mist, and with the room claimed by your victory your friends- oddly enough- disappear downstairs, no one else to bar their way.

You turn around, and see the other three remain.

Without anyone to cover your back, you don't even try to retreat. Instead, you burst forward, an inexorable tide of flesh and steel, and two pliantly give way before you- the slowest one having to parry your strike, and barely flexing aside as their sword buckles under pressure.

They scatter before you like fish before a ray, but even as your target discards their ruined blade and fades into and through your strikes, flickering past, you realise it cannot last. You face enemies who exist when they choose too, three at once, devilishly swift and controlled by some obtuse laws, and it leaves you with little choice.

With the threat now directly behind you, you rush up the opposite stairs and don't look back. You hear footsteps behind you, oddly hesitant, confused, but don't question it as you stride upwards-

-and fall.

You wheeze in shock as you suddenly drop to some unseen floor. All around you is dark, as if void, but for a strip of light ahead of you- an every path that ruins your sense of distance the more you observe it. There is no shadow, no wall, no entry way or clue to how you're here- only a straight corridor of seemingly tangible light that ends in a glowing doorway far ahead, and a black, formless void around you.

You tentatively pat around the sides, and upon feeling nothing, around or behind you, start to move forward.

A dozen steps, and your first foe manifests. The darkness coalesces ahead of you, blocking the path, but before you have time to even ponder this the shadows recede once more. In their place is a giant of a man, armoured head to toe in steel. In his hands is a brutal-seeming poleaxe, and at the sight of you he slams the shaft of it against the ground.

There is no way around him.


You lunge towards each other simultaneously, blades flashing, and tear into each other. An axe strike crushes his knee, a hammer blow twists steel and breaks bone, pain shoots across your torso, and the pair of you do not and cannot stop. Evenly matched in strength and reach, you savagely maul each other, testing precision against raw resilience in a desperate race of blood and pain.

You step in, closer, wounds searing your torso and hips in pain, nod look your enemy eye to expressionless eye, and even as a part of you fights for every breath, another frantically searches for any advantage in the blunt brutality, a small part revels in the savagery and swings.


You step in close, inside easy reach, and for a long moment you lock hafts, savaged strength matched to ceaseless endurance. For a moment, you are at an impasse, your foe shifting and twisting to gain leverage.

Taking the smarter option, you stomp on his knee and throw.

No matter how much absurd strength coiled in his frame, he can't pull himself up on nothing. Briefly staggered, he's shoved back onto nothingness- and just like that, falls out of sight without a word. No shout, no plea, just death in eery silence.

You take another step, preparing for the shooting pains of hideous blunt trauma, and almost fall forwards when it does. Oddly, though… it's not as much as you thought. Even as your waist and ribs seem to fracture burn, you breathe mostly unhindered, barely bleeding.

You don't question your luck, and continue onwards.

Your next enemy is a slim women, dressed in a chain shirt and cloth robe. She manifests facing away from you, another thin blade in one hand and a dagger in the other, and the moment she starts to flicker you feel your heart drop.


You spin around as she disappears from sight, shunted back and directly behind you. Even as she tries to step in to lever her shorter blades to the best of their ability, you slam the head of your axe into and through her chest, pushing the blade into mail and ring. Without even a breath of exertion or pain, she crumples almost double at the waist as you knock her off her feet, before you pin her into the ground like a butterfly. With your full weight and strength behind your axe, her mail gives way, becoming fragments that puncture into her torso in a surely mortal wound.

She lies there twitching for a moment, ankles kicking at the ground, expression still completely blank, before fading into nothingness.

You keep walking. Your pains fade, your breath comes easier, and now you can nearly smell the magic in the air.

You approach the door, and your last foe is…
you.

You stand across from yourself as they offer an easy smile, eerily copying the same expression you would use to greet a stranger. They share your axe, your bow, the rents in your armour and tattoos across your face, and you pause in disbelief to marvel at this perfect copy, so unlike the constructs you have slain.

'Perhaps we don't have to fight?', you propose. 'We might find we share a few things.'

(In truth… you don't particularly want to split open your own skull.)

They shrug, seemingly voiceless, and point the head of their- your- axe towards you in a universal challenge.


You both charge.

You both strike, near simultaneously.

You do not both commit.

Their eyes widen in disbelief as you strike at their axe with your own midair, instead of committing to the offensive. You twist and pull, but the momentum of such a crushing strike cannot be diverted so easily. Leverage demands that, even though you altered the arc of their swing, you've simply changed the destination to end at the other end of the haft.

You let go of the axe and step inside, letting the wood bounce off your hip, and drive your seax up through their jaw and skull.

They collapse against you bonelessly, and you shove them away even as their body dissolves to mist, grabbing your blade before it precariously tips over the edge. Even as you do so, you feel yourself breath lighter, easier, as if your wounds are closing and bones reknitting themselves of their own accord.

Making a note to thank Solyn for demonstrating that trick, as well as whoever enchanted this place to heal, you approach the door, but find one last obstacle in your path.

On a suddenly apparent plinth is a rune stone. It is between you and the passageway of blinding light, but there is not so little space that you cannot walk around. It lays there, inert and loose, but this place has clearly seen fit to suddenly manifest it before you leave.

Perhaps a reward for your efforts?
DC 4
-1 (Islefolk)
+2 (Prophecy Is A Lie)
DC 5
4, 2, 5, 7
You sheath your seax and reach towards it, but pause just before you touch the stone.

Whoever built this place clearly had an agenda, for better or ill.

Did you trust them?
————————-

[] Take the runestone.
[] Walk away.

You almost died at several points. I might have overtuned this place.
But I did give you some XP in return.
Questions welcome.

You have two days to vote.

On Monday, university begins. First day, first year!

But my writing output will correspondingly decrease, so I hope you're turning up for the quality, not the quantity.

[X] Take the runestone.

You peer at the stone, likely more suspiciously than it deserves. It's not large- about half the size of your fist- and you have little context for the angular symbol carved upon it. It's perfectly round, clearly manufactured, and nor can you place the stone it is made of.
What must, will be.
Perhaps it will do nothing, you think, or perhaps hope.

You poke it with your axe, and nothing happens.

Feeling somewhat foolish, you lean forwards and pick it up. As soon as you hold it within your grasp, however, it bursts apart in a flash of rainbow light! You curse in shock and slight pain, a searing burn running through your hand, and when you instinctively jolt your hand away, there is nothing in your grasp.

Before your eyes, the plinth fades away, as if nothing more than mist. With nothing else to do or see, and many questions left unanswered, you walk through the gleaming doorway.

You take one last glance back at where the corpse of the final construct lay- although nothing remains- and note to buy a heavier helmet from the Laughing Gale before you go.
—————-

'-ld just bail?'

You wake up gently sprawled across the same padded seat of the first floor, feeling surprisingly little like you were just duelled, sliced, healed and bewildered by a stone smaller than your hand. Solyn and Talyn have secluded themselves on the other end of the room, hushed in conversation, but pause to goggle at you as sit up.

'Geln! You alright, brother?'

You shift and wince as a familiar soreness alights in your shoulder. Seems it was too much to hope the magic lasted, then.

'Yeah.. just confused. What happened?'

'Came down here, stopped my bleeding, and were trying to figure out how to find you when you dropped from the roof onto the table, completely out of it.'

You glance up at the roof, which looked distinctly tangible to your untrained eye.

'We tried to wake you for a bit, but.. well, we couldn't. Half a minute or so after we started discussing what's next, you got up.'

'What happened on your end, anyways?'. Solyn leans forward slightly, curious and clearly expecting a story.

'After you left, I had to flee the ghosts up the other set of stairs. It got…. strange, after that.

Instead of going up, I was dropped down into some kind of corridor? There was only one way to go, a straight path, and while walking through it, I was duelled by several constructs, each of who followed a different blade-path, and magically healed after each victory. After three, I was given some kind of stone and let go, but…'

You pause to examine yourself, finding nothing on you has changed since you rushed up the stairs, and still without any sort of runestone.

'I don't think any of that was real.'

The three of you sit in silence for a long moment, contemplating the apparently inscrutable desire of the Elves, before Solyn breaks the silence.

'Well, do we feel like we're delving more today? We haven't been long at all; I doubt the other two have even reached the surface yet.'

'I'd rather not. This gate was apparently nothing but risk, and for what reward?'

You shrug noncommittally, open the door, and pause in awe and disbelief.

The silver spoke leading from the gate you were just leaving had lit up, now gleaming with verdant and unnatural energy. Power flows from outwards in, bleeding into the obsidian monolith dominating the centre of the room. Hidden veins and channels along the stony surface come to burning, radiant life, forming what seems to you like an enormous chart of the Far Continent, sprawled out across the circular surface all the way around and dotted with nine glowing pin points, scattered near various waterways. Above and below the pale blue outline are twin lines of inscrutable text, but only on the side of the monolith sidefacing you.

You cautiously approach the display of unbelievably potent artificery, but it doesn't seem to respond to your presence as you walk all the way around. Deciding it wise not to touch, you stand back to admire and memorise what you see, before realising that Talyn had produced a leaf of parchment and some chalk.

With nothing else to do, you join Solyn in keeping watch while she works.

—————————————

Many minutes later, Talyn is folding the parchment away, when she deigns to break the silence, having changed her mind about whether to stay or go.

'Do you want to check out the smallest gate?'

'Sure. May I've a copy of that?'

'You can draw it yourself when we get back. Solyn?'

'You mean the one that smells of ink?'

'Mm.'

'Well.. if you two really want to. I just doubt I'll be doing much.'

As one, you approach the smallest gate, soon reaching a familiar bookish scent that does little to soothe a sudden sense of forbeboding in your heart. Leaning forwards, you press against the gate, and it doesn't move.
Perception Made Real DC 6
-1 (Islefolk)
DC 5, 10, 9, 6, 6
Pushing, pulling, all three of you, trying to outright pry it open, even setting it alight- all of it slides off the gate, which seems absurdly resolute in its efforts to resist you. Despite being seemingly mundane, it rebukes every effort to force it, destroy it, and, tragically, even to bargain with it. Wood seems to weigh as much steel, and be tougher yet, while crowbars feel like they're pressing more on bedrock than any mortal hinges. After nearly half an hour of effort, you're forced to admit grudging defeat to the bizarrely invulnerable door.

When you try the other one, you have just as little luck, and Heln returns at last to the sight of two of you brainstorming how and why these two doors specifically seem to defy all known laws of cause and effect, no matter your efforts to at least scratch them. At the very least, the wealth of time spent in one place has given you time to make a copy of the monolith yourself.

You ascend soon after, disappointed and bewildered. Anticlimactic as it is… it seems that whoever fully realises the mysteries of this place, it won't be you and yours.
—————————

Half an hour later, you breach the surface, and nearly three dozen people break into raucous cheering as you do so. It's a warm feeling, strangers although many still are, to have so many invested in your well being, but you note that not one asks for the story of what occurred.

Your suspicions are confirmed when Blessed Kolo pulls the three of you aside. You dutifully debrief him of everything you've seen and slain, and although his expression remains impassively inscrutable, he hangs onto every word.

When you finish, he confiscates the charts from you, handling them as delicately as scripture, before nodding at the three of you in respect.

'You've vanquished a potent evil, all five of you, and with courage and cleverness that does us proud. Fantastical as your adventure has been, though.. I must ask that you speak nothing of this to any but another of my order. Knowledge of those that gnaw at the roots of the world is too dangerous to spread, and it's our responsibility to cull their efforts.'


'We, however, will not forget you, and I'll ensure that you are all honoured and recalled. If we deem it right, you may have futures far beyond the open sea- if you're able.'

Blessed Kolo is neither a handsome nor commanding man. Near the entirety of his face is veiled, as is the custom of those sworn to the Crown- when on task, they must purge themselves of mortal failings to embody the divine. Only out of necessity do his eyes show, as steadfastly calm as you have only ever seen in those Blessed, no matter the pain or hardship.

But at he talks, every word seems to resonate with reality in a way that you have never heard elsewhere. Just by speaking, it's as if he makes it true, and you feel yourself stiffen with pride. It's a rare honour to be personally noted for a cause far grander than any one soul, but it's one that feels somehow out of place on yourself. You shift and blink, discomforted, and it suddenly it occurs to you to speak.

'…did you know?'

'No.'

You're not sure if you're more or less surprised by that admission, as the other two stare at you in open shock for interjecting.

As if plucking the words from your mouth, he continues- not seeming remotely offended. If anything.. perhaps pleasantly surprised.

'I am not here to minister Her children, but to handle an altogether separate responsibility, which the Laughing Gale will aid me in. This place was unexpected… but it was a welcome surprise, with what you uncovered.'

You nod, as suddenly several things make sense- the extraordinary armament, the last storage deck you're not allowed to, the neverending vigilance of the Templars even on the open sea.

'If you plan to fight those monsters, though, how will you stop word from spreading? There's almost seventy crew, many younger than… me.'

You're certain he's smiling now behind the cloth, and force yourself not to flush in embarrassment as you realise how profoundly the obvious the answer is.

'I have my Blessings, and so I have my ways. Do not worry.'

You nod, mildly mortified, as Blessed Kolo indicates the ship with his stave. Sensing the conversation was ending, both of his guard immediately swarm to his side, and Solyn and Talyn shake themselves as if suddenly awakening.

Blessed Kolo pauses once, as if considering, before briskly marching downwards. The rest of you follow swiftly, any disappointment in the lack of glory crushed beneath honourable piety.

———————-
Captain Halna's Log


For lack of any clue on the what, how or why this thing is meant to be, I have sent over half the crew, along with our guests and my staff. Together, they form a force surely able to overwhelm whatever they encounter, or, barring that, retreat in good order.

All other crew are to stick far closer to the ship, with all ship weapons ready. You can never be too careful with these mysterious islands, at least.

At least these frequent stops are well enough for our supply of fish.


They return! Unharmed! It's a fascinating tale, as Etarly tells it, but he only truly has a fraction of the details… Blessed Kolo has struck the true story from discussion. Elven runes, a magical door- some kind of monstrous horror, capable of fighting an entire squad on even ground?

I almost regret not delving myself!
Although… spelunking might not be for me, I suppose. Just thinking of climbing makes my tail burn.

Ah well. Let the youth have glory.

Summer III, Week IV, Day III
Solyn and Heln seem well enough, honoured or no, but Geln and Talyn seem… troubled. I don't think they're sleeping properly, but they adamantly refuse to speak of any ills.

I've placed them on lighter shifts and slipped them some sleeping draughts, if they wish. They have their whole lives ahead of them; I hope they don't catch bloodied heart at this stage. It doesn't seem right for the young to be struck down like this.

The Templars remain inscrutable as ever, but I'm sure ones such as they won't be allowed to suffer alone, if she does.

Summer III, Week IV, Day V
We finally let the Kua Toa go. Apparently, they wished to be dropped off much closer to the shore than further.

Although we couldn't understand a word, they were good enough guests. May whatever pelagic spirit they hold to keep them close, and their dead closer.

On happier news, we're going to arrive a week early! It seems the Daughter of the Sea smiles on our efforts.

……perhaps actually writing that was less than wise.
——————————

Geln ends up paying 25 Silvers to repair his bow and trade helmets, at a significantly lower price than expected.
The quartermaster seems bewildered and displeased, so it's likely for the best you're leaving soon.. even if you don't really want to.

[X] Aid Halna as her scribe.
[]
[]
[]
[]

You know the drill. Back to pan voting, for the second half of your voyage.
You have 4 more actions.

Social
[] Carouse with the crew! Drink, smoke, share stories, get into brawls, and figure out who has rings riding on your misfortune. There's always room in life for petty things; it's in the name.
[] Halna has invited you to the officer's dinner. It's a tradition before landfall on this vessel, apparently, and although guests are rare, you have four willing to vouch for you- including the Captain herself, and Blessed Kolo, the other guest. You've never been in charge of any amount of people in your life, but a private celebration before you leave for good doesn't sound bad.
[] The first mate, Etarly, is a very reclusive and diligent man normally found at the helm. However, when not working, spoiling Pebbles or quietly reading, his one consistent vice is gambling, and gambling very well. Play a few hands with him.
[] You have a comfortable rapport now with Talyn and Solyn, and the pair, stuck at the hip as they often are, don't mind you joining them in their work or outside of it. It's a strange feeling to make new friends like when you first joined the Hearthguard, but any joy in it sours when you remember that it cannot last…
[] Pebbles is the ship's rat catching dog, an extremely hearty Haven hound nearly the size of you. She's also the undisputed wrestling champion of the Gale. Learn her secrets, and/ or spoil a friendly dog.
[] You have questions. About a lot of things; about daemons, your dreams, what the clergy could possibly want with you. There's not many who can answer that on this ship, yet despite your sins, Blessed Kolo doesn't seem poorly inclined to you.

Research
You're apparently going to a friendly 'Hoklin Lodge', the Hoklin being the name of a peoples well adapted to the cold north, and a lodge being the very broad name for their many varyingly large societies. There are some short texts about the Far Continent the captain doesn't mind loaning.

[] Try to lean more about the Far Continent.
[] Try to learn more about Hoklin people and society.
[] Start learning the tonal language of the Hoklin.
[] Continue learning the staccato trade tongue of the Far Continent, originating from river side city states more to the south.

Other
Put your name down for the informal….
[] Archery competition.
[] Wrestling competition.
[] Poetry competition.
(Solyn is not allowed to compete in any of them, for varying reasons.)

Take up a hobby, like….
[] Fishing
[] Sketching
[] Fletching
[] Sailing


Additionally…. When you dream, you dream of strange things, places you don't understand and faces you can't recall. You're not unrested, far from it, yet your mind feels strained, like something is pressing on it- shifting it.

Then, one day you awake, and everything seems clear, and nothing is explained.

Pick one of each from the two sets below. This is a separate vote from the plan vote above.

[] Resist
[] Defiance
[] Vigor

[] Fold
[] Bound
[] Knock

Questions always welcome.

This was largely prewritten on the train. First day was anticlimactic.
You have…. Hm…
This is a pretty complex vote.

You have about two days to vote, but if you make an original plan, you must provide written reasoning on your thought process, so people can discuss it. I don't know what I'll do if you don't, but I won't be pleased!