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

[DragonParadox]

Eye of the Storm ​

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

You would pray, but you do not know the right words for this not whom to ask for nimble tongue when faced with half mad spirits in their domain. "If I might b so bold perhaps there is another way to find yourself again in the company of your daughter my lady?" you finally hazard. Strange words to speak those last two when you are measuring her up for the sword should she choose to fight, but any notion that a magician is less deadly by reason of womanhood is long since gone from your mind. So you press on while you still have the chance. "Although considered an adult by her adopted people, Lina remains a young woman, sheltered for all of her life and raised with the sense of unearned entitlement common among Human nobility. She chafes under the authority of others, be they Ohun who acted as regent for much of her life, her brother after he became king, and potentially even you, my lady, her own mother. The prospect of others making decisions for her lead to a desperate and ill-advised alliance with the Formless."

At this the spirit laughs, and it is not a pleasant sound, a tinkle though more like breaking glass than silver chines. "A child, you would call her a child when they had thought to wed her thrice over... strange is the way of your lands Man of False Iron."

"To be young and foolish is not the domain of children alone, for all the hopes of the wise and aged," you answer, thinking back to all the ill advised things you had done as a squire or a knight new to his spurs. You had spent more time in penance that first year than in the previous three and the next three together. It is likely different for a woman, for on them weighs a burden more lasting, but still one can hardly weigh the duties of court and king, those that are expected since childhood against the threat that one would be sent into another world. Just being down here in the dark makes you long for the sight of the sun and the touch of the wind... to live here you cannot even contemplate. And yet here, or somewhere like here is where Lina had chosen to live, among those who were the rivals of her kin...

With a shake of your head to dismiss the questions you cannot answer you continue instead to plead the case in the name of a woman you barely know "We know she no longer wishes to live among the Formless, but has no easy means of leaving them as she did Ansefu's court, at least not one she deems acceptable from her limited experience and perspective."

"Well of course she doesn't, foolish girl, does she think that they will let her leave their company the same as they found her, that would be positively boring."

The last word makes you start, not knowing that it means, not sure you want to know. What in the Devil had you gotten yourself into?

"Lina believes she can return to Lirman and take what she feels is her rightful place on the throne, but she is naïve, and according to Ohun, who despite what offenses he has given you remains wise in the ways of the Anwari, the people of the island would never accept her now given her past actions."

"As far as they know anything of her actions she was taken and did not seek the company of the sons of madness of her own will," the spirit interrupts again. "With the Drowned King passed to his just reward there is none to gainsay it save Ohun... and you." Balefire sparks in her eye as you feel Esha's eyes on your, the weight of her hardening resolve.

"I can give her what she wants, to be queen and once she grows tired of it she can be with me at last... but not she cannot be queen if her treason is known.... treason.. treachery yes..."

"That takes time." Quite how you manage to keep your calm in that moment you do not know, but it is as if ice water flows though your veins, fear, anger and the rush that comes before battle all faded away. "Would it not be better if Ohun agrees to help Lina return to Lirman anyway, with your secret assistance to insure both his continued cooperation and your daughter's safety? She will quickly learn there is no place among the Anwari left for her, and she will have burned her bridges with the Formless, unable to return after forsaking them."

Silence reigns for far too long after these words are said. One... two... three... four... Each heartbeat seems an age. "You are plotting against her..." the spirit is sullen, dropping her head, hair as a dark halo around her pale face.

"He is trying to give you an answer that is not a pledge to do the impossible or allow the impermissible," Esha's words are stark, offering for once no flourish... and no apology.

"She won't like me if I try to take away her crown, her father didn't like it either."

Wonderful, What are you supposed to say to that? Yes of course she won't now release the prisoner. Somehow you do not see that as going well. "Do you want her to be with you, or do you want her to be happy?"

"I... I don't know... I don't know what that is for a mortal. You burn so bright so quick. If she is not with me how would I even learn?"

What do you reply?

[] Ask her, it is the best any of us can do, even a mortal to a mortal speaking

[] If she wants to be free you should let her

[] Write in

OOC: Well that was a close one, you avoided her exploding into a fight by the +1 from Inge and then you only made the last re-roll via the fortune hex.

 

[DragonParadox]

Pearls of Wisdom ​

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

"If you wish to understand her, I would speak with her. But if you are to do so, you must be careful not to betray your desires for her to come with you. To care for a child, and wish her well, that is fair and good and as my God is said to wish of all living things." It feels a touch absurd to be giving such advice, you are no father and no brother, but needs must when the devil drives and better your voice of dubious wisdom than only the voice in her own mind telling her what she wishes to hear.

"But He said also that children should honor their father and their mother, did he no?" the words are soft and probing, and they leave you floundering. How would she know...

"She is spirit and you are flesh, if you should wonder whence she knows the things she knows you would go mad," Esha speaks then in your mind, as an anchor in the storm. "Were I to guess I would say that she heard some prayer on the wind not meant for her, dreams and hopes float high in the sky like smoke from the flame of men's souls and like smoke they can be seen in far off places by eyes unknown."

It is with more conviction then, if a newfound resolve to do all your praying behind closed doors, or else behind locked lips that you answer. "Honor yes, I honor many people, a skilled comrade at arms, a craftsman at his trade, a lord in his realm and in his own hall even the master of the meanest hovel, but that does not mean that I would obey all of them blindly."

"You speak with silvered tongue..." As she trails off you wonder if the words are meant as praise of needling. Anwari does not hold in high esteem those who live more by the tip of their tongue than of the spear as they say

"I speak with true tongue, or so at least I strive," you say as your hand loosens a touch on the hilt of Durendal, to its disappointment. You can almost feel the fire's will to test itself against the sea. Not today, you send even as you turn other words to the spirit, ones you hope will call her own will to better purpose. "Ask what she wishes for, what she desires, and when it is hard to understand, say so. Your daughter is a woman grown by mortal standing, no matter that she will be your child. If you wish to understand her, that is the most important thing to recognize."

Instead of answering she points at something at the bottom, long pale fingers pointng into the dark. "What is that? Can you see?"

"A rock," you reply bemused only to see the 'rock' open two wide staring eyes and then unfurl into a many armed sea beast. Almost too fast for the eye to follow it snatched up an unwary fish to devour and then again it takes on its mask.

"It did not choose to pretend to be a stone for the love of stones, but because it was afraid, so too my daughter was driven by fear into the arms of those who see her as an amusement, as one toy among thousands."

"Fear no less than courage is part of being human, but I do not see Lina as unthinkingly beholden to that fear. She would not have approached me with so perilous a plan then," you retort. "We live short lives, but they must be ours to live. I believe you can be part of hers, but to do so you have to give her the opportunity to let her in. Or shut you out. That is the risk of speech, my lady, but also the opportunity."

It is not just mortals to fear, you think, but do not say, hoping against hope that your words will move her to a more reasonable course. You might know much of the spirits of the sea, but this you can be sure of, there is nothing but blood needlessly spilled to be gained in battle to rescue one who is in duress. Faintly you recall something about the legends of... some ancient Greek land in a poem. Your Latin had never been up to reading the poem though.

"Clever is thine counsel mortal, though we have yet to see if it is wise, I will seek Lina out as you said..." Then something bright flashes though the water between you. As you catch it in your left you realize it is a pearl, bigger than any you had ever seen before, about the size of a knuckle-bone and it hums with power. "For your trouble."

Gain Pearl of Power level 2

With that it seems the spirit is ready to bid you farewell... without ever returning to the fate of Ohun.

What do you do?

[] Keep the reward and return to the ship, you are sure she will release him soon now that she knows the priest is not an enemy

[] Ask for Ohun's release rather than this as your reward

[] Keep the pearl and once she is gone continue towards where Ohun is kept, the spirit seems to have forgotten him

[] Write in

OOC: Well at the very least this was not hard to write, quite the opposite really.

 

[DragonParadox]

Out of the Deep ​

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

Though Esha does nothing to hide the covetous gleam in her eyes and you can feel the thing warm against your skin, that almost-living touch of power that you had seen before you can give but one answer: "My lady I cannot take for my own a treasure when I was bid to return in the company of Ohun, whom you call of many forms... "

"Why?" The word snaps out. "What is he to you and why do you so desire to see him returned? You do not worship as he does, you are not pledged to him in war save for the season. What is it you so desire to take from the waters? Is it some sense and understanding of your own place? Why do you so wish to be e hero sir de Verley? Why do you try and test me so? Do you not know not to tempt the sea least it devour you?"

"You are not the sea," Inge breaks in her voice an eerie calm. "Your wrath is your own, your joy is your own, lost men call you but you must not forget yourself, Lonely they name you because you choose the deep places..." she gasps, as though for breath, perhaps for something more ethereal. "I'll never go home, but I will always remember it, like it was, like it could've been too. You can't use folks even your own little'uns to make you feel like you used ta'. Sorry if that's me guessing wrong, but that's what it looks like to me with my eyes and with Hers."

"Cruel wisdom, but wisdom just the same..." a sigh passes the pale lips and then a turn, it almost seems as though he would forget the pearl so you swiftly proffer it. A moment later it had been plucked from your hand by a stray eddy and she is gone.

You find Ohun lodged between two of the stones, almost a cave, though more a pile of rubble unshaped since the world's making, one of his eyes is closed and fine red welts run across his face, when you shake him he does not stir, though perhaps that is to the best for on his face is a strange creature, half kelp, half diaphanous sea beast, though which he seems to be breathing.

Esha says something in the tongues of the east which you do not speak and then explains... or tries to at least. "A helper beast, one of those who cannot live on their own, but bond to a host of aid them... like the ox pecker and the grass eaters of the oasis, that each by the other is served." She points at places were the thing seems to have rooted in Ohun's flesh. "It looks like this one drinks blood in exchange for letting you breathe in water. Fascinating really.... though I do not think he would agree with me."

Not knowing what to answer you merely nod and keep swimming, up towards the surface towards the light.

***​

As Zaia pries the strange thing off Ohun far more gently than you would have done so the questions start. What had you found? What had you fought? Who had sent spirits to bedevil then and kill many of those who had lived though storm and battle, the death of kings and the fall of realms? Who they were asking should their wrath be turned against?

And of that you are not certain. On the one hand the fey had drawn no oath of secrecy from you, but you know that any revelation of Lina's involvement would likely be an end to her hopes of rule. That might earn you foes below the waves that a sailor could ill afford. Yet it seems churlish to lay the blame at Ohun's feet, t say he failed to deal with a water spirit and drove her to wrath.

How do you explain that had happened?

[] Honestly and in full, revealing Lina's part in things

[] In brief, Ohun would likely come out with a dented standing, but he will hopefully understand given what you saved him from

[] Write in

OOC: For anyone who is wondering, yes, Zaia is trying to save that symbiote, but he does not have good chances.

 

[DragonParadox]

The Long Way Around ​

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

"Well... that went well." Judging from his tone Antonio knows the word 'well' was used too freely. No one had actually gone so far as to call you a liar for the tale you have spun, but you had never been as skilled at bending the truth as you were at arguing a point in good faith. It was not that the people who helped hoist you out of the water had any reason to doubt you, but given enough time to mull things over by that evening many were wondering how came you to be friendly with the spirit that Ohun had angered. Poor Inge had tried to help as best she could, but she aught to still be fibbing about who took the last pie, not matters of sorcery and power and so like a net woven a touch too loosely your story had let slip a few too large fish, or at least that is how Antonio had described it.

"No one's challenged me to an honor duel yet," you grouse. To think you had once thought of such things as glorious. "The boy who lay on the green grass before the motte and saw dragons in the clouds would think he's grown into a sour old man before his time," you admit with a tired chuckle.

"That boy hadn't met a real dragon had he?" your friend asks with a rueful smile of his own. "As long as no one can catch you in a proper lie you'll be right as roses in spring and come out smelling just as fine. Not like anyone can guess the whole of it. Fuck if you hadn't explained the whole thing with the girl top to bottom yourself I'd still be confused. Two kinds of fish people with magic powers and she manages to get herself a prisoner of one and hunted by the other."

It is a touch disquieting to realize how cynical Antonio can be about people. You had done all you could to keep in mind that all concerned could have good intentions where he assumes the worst, but in the end you might never know who has the right of it. As the fleet sails east away from the nameless shore and the water of dreams it falls to you to think about where the Fellowship goes from here.

In one sense it is easy, back to Orinilu as you promised... and yet this if your last chance to have any sway in the matter of Lina and her fate. If you seek them will the dreams still come? Is it too far for Ripper to swim. Should you meddle at all or let sleeping dogs lie? At the same time if you wish to keep a friendly port open for the Marcella in the Sunset Islands it would behoove you to clear the air with Ohun and perhaps try to parley the reputation war has given you into the good graces of another of the great clans.

Last though certainly no least Wanderer will soon come near the end of the time he had pledged to spend in the Fellowship. Until the meeting with the water spirit he has seemed likely to carry on, fair company on the manner of his own folk , singing deep chested songs of hunting and travel, doing work around the ship with a willing hand... but since he had grown more silent, almost sullen and Tom had not been able to get a straight answer out of him.

What do you do over the next week on the journey back to Lirman?

[] Try to contact Lina

[] Clear the air with Ohun and try to keep the relationship between him and the Fellowship strong

[] Speak to Wanderer about what troubles him

[] Write in

OOC: A bit of a bridge update, but they can't all be dramatic, especially as your rolls selling the story were low without being a disaster or anything.

 

[DragonParadox]

Doubts Abroad​

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

You find Wanderer by the stern of the ship looking out into the waves at sunset, tossing out pieces of stale travel bread to the gulls. Sailors run rat races to remember land and soldiers feed gulls to be less lonely at sea, you had found, but you do not think something as mundane as the boredom of the high seas. For one you had not been at sea long and you would not call the last few days monotonous by any measure.

"Well met Wanderer, how fare you this evening?" you ask with little preamble, having found that the young Knikut has no great interest in courtesy for its own sake. If anything he seems to have found even the small formalities of the Anwari Kings odd and off putting. Like men would walk in the shoes of spirits he had called it then his tone leaving little doubt what he thought of such presumption.

"Fed, watered, good as a man can be on the dead water," he replies and again you see in him that distance that you had not known a mere week ago. Perhaps had you been less keen on the mood and manner of the Fellowship you might have missed it, but over the last year you have done nothing if not keep a wary eye on those under your banner. All the weapons to arm a host and all the gold to gather one are worth nothing without the men to stand firm in the face of battle.

"Fed, watered..." you count on your fingers adding: "A man is not a horse and I would know my horse talks." The jest earns an amused tip of the head, but no smile. "What troubles you?"

"Much, heavy like a sack of rye on my back. Like rye if you toss it on the wind it floats."

Now it's your turn to start, not having expected poetry... though perhaps you were doing the young man a disservice in doing so. You had heard tell that poetry is not the virtue of the educated mind, but of the generous heart, as much at home from a shepherd's lips as a learned bard.

"You are not a shaman, the little one is, so is Zaia of the Healing Draught, so is the Cold One, but they listen to you even when it is shaman business, spirit things."

"Sometimes...." you try to temporize. Yes it comes down to your choice more often than not, mostly because you seem to have a gift for talking people off ledges and 'people' is the right term for many called spirits of fey, strange and arcane kindred.

"No, not sometimes," Wanderer shakes hid head, the sudden movement scaring off the nearby gull... briefly at least until its greed can overcome its caution again. "All the time. You make choice like shaman, but you are not shaman, cannot see with the True Sight, cannot speak their tongues, do not know what spirit folk are like. "

"So you are... concerned about my leadership?" Maybe you are not quite as thick-skinned as you thought you were, the implication stings, all the more so because it is not unfounded.

"Guess all the times..." the warrior shakes his head. "Guess good so far, maybe some day not guess as good. Spear not much good if you guess wrong when facing water witch in water, can't stab sea."

What do you reply?

[] Pledge to learn more about the dangers of spirits

[] Pledge to listen more to those skilled in magic as a chieftain of the Knikut would do

[] He had no business doubting you

[] Write in

OOC: Way too late for this and I am too distracted, but I will be damned if I cannot get at least one update in a day.

 

[DragonParadox]

A Perilous Harbor ​

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.

 

[DragonParadox]

Betwixt Sea and Flame ​

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.

 

[DragonParadox]

A Hand from Below ​

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

Shock gives way to a sudden flush of anger at the fool for not keeping his hand off his bow "The fleet returns from battle, battered and bruised, but victorious! Is this the welcome..." you make the attempt, alas it is not worth the breath to speak it for the crowd is up for blood and armed enough to get it. A stone flies, then another and from the crowd a chant rises, that rage that is kin to fear and all the more deadly for it.

The sailors about to cast lines from the ship duck as arrows fly close from somewhere behind the press of the crowd as even from among your own men curses rise. Men who had been ready with buckets now raise their shields in defiance. It is all that you can do call on the archers not so shoot.

"Name of a black dog!" Esha calls out before you have the chance her voice raised but without wrath. "Has the wind taken your wits! Fire fills your city and behold you are undone, would your king find fair the bloody mob fit to avenge him on his companions?"

That is when you find that of those throwing stones not all were using their hands. Only a sling could cast a stone that far that fast... yet not quite fast enough not hard enough that it does not glance off what seems to be empty air before the sorceress' face. Unsurprisingly perhaps the show of magic does little to calm the mob and neither does the attempt by the otter-kin to speak from silence, reasoning perhaps that they have no reason not to show more 'uncanny powers'.

The fury only grows until at some sign from Antonio or perhaps by the will of the Marcella herself the ship draws away from the shore. Admittedly it is hard to argue with the pot of picked fish that shatters on the deck. As you try to look for another place to cast a line you are surprised by the flash of silver scales. Ripper does not like to come out of the water and especially not when there are armed foes about. At first you think he might be after the fish, but then he gives a thoughtful sort of growl and a short hacking noise that you recognize as calling for Inge.

The girl squeezes though the packed deck to lean close and 'speak' to your friend... then she turns to you with news you had not expected. "She's down there, the king's sister her and her mother-spirit. She's asking... Ripper thinks she's asking for one of the otters to talk t 'er." she stumbles over the last words in her haste, but Swift Pebble does not even ask for that.

A moment later Swift Pebble speaks into your mind: "Lina's about to show herself, to try to calm the crowd. She is asking if she can count on us to help?"

Damn and blast the quarrelsome Anwa and their sea-touched princes, you curse and know not if you had just thought it or if it slipped past your lips. When a get of royal blood asks to help settle the common folk they aren't just talking about the peace of the moment... You might well be pledging to support a play for the throne, yet there is a bloody fire now and from the looks of it someone should get the city in order soon or there might not be a city soon.

What do you do?

[] Agree to help Lina, with the king's hall burning someone has to take charge and she has the claim

[] Refuse to help Lina, stay out of this

[] Write in

OOC: Well this was harder to write than I had hoped, mostly because it was so chaotic. Hopefully I managed to get the atmosphere right, since it is not really all out combat, but it is also not the sort of situation where you can get across a very nuanced point across.

 

[DragonParadox]

Crest and Crown ​

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

It does not take you long to choose, one thing to refuse one who would by guile take a crown, another entirely to deny one of princely blood seeking to do their duty by their folks.

"Yes..." Even as the word passes from your mind to that of your diminutive friend you wonder if you had made the right choice, Lina was the same woman who had asked you to lie... and her mother was the one who had held Ohun captive not seven days past. But there is little time to quarrel over that now.

Lina Osane returns to her home on an arc of white foam and white is her garb, silver upon her brow all the brighter against her dark tresses. She comes as one born again, as a savior unlooked for, bearing on one hand the spear of war and in the other the ring-shaped drum that is beaten only in festival.

"And now let's see if they are minded to fall on their faces or if they need to be pushed," Esha's words are more cynical than you would have spoken aloud, but you cannot call them untrue, not so far as you do not know what she intends.

"Hear me kin of my kin and blood of my blood, I ask what ails you that you may be healed, I ask what evil holds dominion over you that it may be vanquished!"

"Three parts illusion one part levitation and hope to any god who might listen than mommy does not have to conjure a storm..." Esha's voice is low, but clear enough to be heard by some of the men nearest to you, some of which actually laugh, though not the ill favored Luc with whom you mean to have a talk soon... sooner than he might wish to certainly.

Thankfully Lina manages to calm the crowd, awe of power, of the sea doing what you could not... or perhaps it is simply that she is one of them, blood and bone of the island where you and yours have never been more than dangerous strangers. And so you find whence the fire was born and what could be done. "The Iraena, they have taken over the king's hall, said they have to... to protect us from the face-thieves and their ilk coming from the water," the same fellow who had slung the stone says as the boards are laid finally allowing the ship's company or at least such of it as you dare to take with you to disembark.

"How many of them are there? Who set the fire?"

Alas the confusion had not been in the least feigned, no one knows how the fire had been set only that news that the old king was dead had come before the ships were in sight and then the Iranea had taken the king's hall, some say by force and some by guile. Then the fire had gone up, smoke and ash, but few were willing to travel up the hill to the king's hall when they might be taken for foes and they did not even know who the Iranea wished to make king.

People had been confused and expecting the king to save them yet they had found none. Now they had Lina... and by the pledge you had made they had you.

Who do you take with you to confront the Iraenea?

[] Write in (Companions and troops)

OOC: I was more distracted than busy today so hopefully tomorrow I will be able to write more.

 

[DragonParadox]

Something Rotten ​

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

The streets are shrouded in smoke and the air is think with the sounds of pain and strife, you would not trust a common horse in this fight, but Silver is far from common. So you make your way out, yourself with Inge and Swift Pebble ahorse then the men coming two by two, eight in all and to your surprise Esha at the back. "Someone with the sight aught to keep watch here as well," she says with naught but a nod to mark her passage. A long way from the closed-mouthed waif you had met on that lonely ship, you think as you return the gesture.

For his part Zaia is not as bold, choosing to stay close to Tom near the heart of the group, the better to heal any who might be wounded, though just as you are about to leave Antonio surprises you grasping our arm in parting... and with that the now familiar sense of another mind touching upon your mind, feather light yet filled somehow with the sense of who Antonio is.

"Sort of like a feather dipped in wine?" Comes the question. "It's a gift from 'her', I can keep this up a lot longer than the sorceress and call from farther out than the otters." Clear enough who 'her' is in this instance, you can feel the sense that something far larger and less is... listening.

But the Marcella can do little good in this fight and so you set out down the straight path to the hall where you had been once before as a guest, now the guard of a princess coming home. We seem to be making a habit of that... the glib thought dies almost as soon as it occurs to you as you realize the shouts in the distance are not about the fire, nor yet about the confrontation at the docks.

There is fighting in the streets, and not the bare knuckle brawling that leaves broken bones and sore heads behind it. Gangs of men are moving though and with loud voice and with drums calling out that a new king had come, that a new age had come and those among the fleet who did not wish to face the 'rightful king' in wrath should come disarmed before his throne.

"Hold! Hold there! What king do you mean?" you call out in a loud voice, drawing the eye of the man with the drums, not so bold when faced with armed men, much less with the crowd that had gathered around you.

"Why King Almun of the Iranea first of his clan to take the throne!"

The name sends a chill down your spine, the memory of something alien behind dark eyes, the singer who would drag the boarfolk to their breath. Was this the thing Moru had called Izru again? A shapechanger in the service of the Faceless, a sign that Ohun had failed in his purge of the clan and infiltrators remained behind flesh masks?

"Bold of an old man without a single drop of king's blood in his veins to call himself a king, bolder still to do it with the aid of those beneath the waves and claim to serve the land!" So saying Lina throws back her hood and reveals herself once more.

"Tyrant I name any man who would be king without a call to the captains and their banners. Are we southern dogs to heel before some master for the sharpness of his sword. I am Lina Seaborn, sister of the king who was and I ask that this man come before me for I will not go to him with my hand out as a beggar for a handful of sorghum." She turns to look down the street towards the king's hall, though she cannot see in a straight line there for the road turns sharply left around the Fish Market she can see the smoke all too well and so can those with her.

"Master of thralls and king of a burning land," Lina snorts

A high cold voice speaking words you cannot understand rings out from the throng of warriors and a ghostly thing... a hand flies out to strike Lina full in the chest. Before you can so much as shout a warning a foul stench rises all about. Men gag and hold their hands to their mouths.

The enemy charges.

What do you do?

[] Write in battle plan

OOC: Welp this took a while, mostly because I had to do some stats for these guys so they would not be entirely boring. Esha could not identify the second spell hence why it is not linked.