Willem continues to smile and turns his attention Gemma as she walks up,"Good afternoon, Constable Atherton! I am glad you can join us for you and I are in the presence of greatness!" While Burton looks at Gemma sizing her up, Willem places a worried bent finger over his mouth trying to signal her and continues his verbal judo to deflect the "saving the king's ass comment" thinking that Burton will use the comment as fuel to harass Gemma like it would have most certainly have done for Willem, "Constable Atherton I want you to meet someone special to me. This is Senior Constable Burton Glix, my mentor from Slate and I owe everythin' that I have learned from him. He is an inspiration to the Constabulary and example to us all! It is just simply wonderful that we are in a joint team to quell a civil war!"
It turns out to be a naturally good hand for Emerson, but Letmas edges him out with a better combination that is hard to pull off without a discard-and-draw. Letmas chuckles and begins to deal a third set of cards.
"In answer to your original question, Emerson Hill, I was never in the Fourth Yerasol War. I was a cadet-apprentice at the time in the Risuri Special Service, focused on dialects, disguise and principles of espionage." Letmas shrugs and gives a wry smile. "As it turns out, I was only a journeyman agent in my first year when the R.S.S. was disbanded, not even a year after the treaty for the Fourth had been concluded."
Emerson throws down his hand in disappointment but shrugs it off.
"You're better off not having to experience or more importantly do the things we were forced to do in that war. I can't speak for Big Dan, but I didn't sleep well for years after. Sometimes still don't."
"Now, how about dealing the next set?" he smiles at Letmas and adds "slowly..."
Burton Glix scowls at both Willem and Gemma now, looking at each of them with some notion of disgust. He points a ruddy brown hand at Gemma’s newly requisitioned pistol holstered at her side, then to Willem’s own pepperbox pistol. ”Greenies with their toys, but don’t know how to prep ‘em properly. In case you didn’t grasp it we’re going into the water tonight, so why are your weapons not treated yet? Can’t use air bladders, ‘cause it will buoy you up and you won’t make the sea cave, will ya? Are your firedust charges and firegem primers stowed in waterproofed satchels yet? You think your pistols are going to fire after soaked by seawater? What happens if you have to make the shot to save the life of a constable and it fizzles out? With all of Risur at stake? Stupid greenhorns!”
Glix shakes is head as if talking to children, then takes a step closer and jabs a finger at Gemma’s breastplate. ”This isn’t drill parades around Battalion grounds girl. Your ‘plate needs blackening out, so that you don’t shine all about while we’re going over the mountain and alert every rebel to our position. It looks too new to me – you have tested the weight of what it will do to you in the water have you not? Even with our rope to pull yourself with? I expected they’d at least teach this to you four-double-nines before letting you out of the nursery…”
”Why sure,” says Celeana Kirby after a brief look at Johnathan Jackson, her lips pursed speculatively. She scoots over a bit from where she sits with the coils of rope and pats the floor invitingly to him. ”If you don’t mind sharing the floor that is.”
As Johnathan sits down, Celeana seems to stretch briefly in her tight-fitting, dark grey cat-burglar’s outfit, her arms raised in the air luxuriously for a moment – she turns her head just enough to stare at where Ifris is located in the room, a small smile playing across her lips as if she has just scored another point in some unknown game between them, smug and assured of herself. Then she finishes her “stretch” and turns back to Johnathan, handing him a portion of the coils of silken rope to examine for any signs of fray or weakness. ”Two sets of eyes are better than one…and you seem to be handy type with ropes Constable Jackson…or am I mistaken on that point?”
Before Johnathan can answer the bawdy remark, Celeana giggles and puts a hand on his shoulder ever-so-briefly. ”My apologies, Constable. Just my manner of relieving tension before the mission. I do hope I have not offended your…sensibilities?” He notices her complexion is very fair, with an carved ivory ring on her right hand that has the etchings of a rose upon its surface. Her dark hair is naturally curly and probably makes for exquisite ringlets about her fair face when done properly, though today she has most of it back in a serviceable braid with black ribbon ties to keep it in place.
Inside, Willem cringes for that little devil found an opening. However Willem is truly humbled that Burton finally pointed out something that had vaule instead of something absurd. He looks at Gemma, "See what I mean Gemma, everything I learn is from him! We should head back and make sure our gear is properly water proofed and make sure us other green horns do as well for I don't remember them doing that? Please excuse us, Senior Constable Glix?!"
Letmas Lewing regards Emerson’s words with an amused look upon his face. ”Certainly I did not experience the sheer brutalities of warfare as you and Danan have, Emerson Hill. Precisely because I was too smart to not to make myself a common soldier.” Though the reply is arrogant and condescending, his sudden roguish grin and tone of delivery suggests he means it in jest, at least partially. He deals Emerson the next set of three cards in an excruciatingly slow manner, watching his reaction.
Danan simply retorts with “Baaaaah!” and waves Letmas off, then sets aside his spiked chain and brings out plate greaves from a massive set of half-plate from a bag, starting the process of taking some black grease from a jar and smearing out the shine. ”Hill, when you get tired of dealing with this rapscallion and I finish off my armor, we can go topside and break some bricks and such that I brought – breaking things always helps me relax and focus before a mission.”
”Rapscallion? Rapscallion you say?” Letmas starts chuckling even as he discards two cards and takes another two from the deck in return, clearly amused by the big warrior’s insult. ”I didn’t know you could use words with that many syllables!”
”As many syllables I use as I can snap yer spine into pieces there, mate!” Danan roars at his own retort and jabs Emerson a couple of times in the shoulder good-naturedly. ”Right? Eh Hill? Good one there, right?”
As Letmas deals Emerson leans forward with a look of expectation on his face. He raises an eyebrow at the common soldier remark but smiles away the mock insult.
"That's the spirit!" Emerson lets out a full belly laugh at Danan's last remarks. "Once you crack them to pieces you can set them on the railing topside and I can use what's left of him as target practice!"
”Why sure,” says Celeana Kirby after a brief look at Johnathan Jackson, her lips pursed speculatively. She scoots over a bit from where she sits with the coils of rope and pats the floor invitingly to him. ”If you don’t mind sharing the floor that is.”
As Johnathan sits down, Celeana seems to stretch briefly in her tight-fitting, dark grey cat-burglar’s outfit, her arms raised in the air luxuriously for a moment – she turns her head just enough to stare at where Ifris is located in the room, a small smile playing across her lips as if she has just scored another point in some unknown game between them, smug and assured of herself. Then she finishes her “stretch” and turns back to Johnathan, handing him a portion of the coils of silken rope to examine for any signs of fray or weakness. ”Two sets of eyes are better than one…and you seem to be handy type with ropes Constable Jackson…or am I mistaken on that point?”
Before Johnathan can answer the bawdy remark, Celeana giggles and puts a hand on his shoulder ever-so-briefly. ”My apologies, Constable. Just my manner of relieving tension before the mission. I do hope I have not offended your…sensibilities?” He notices her complexion is very fair, with an carved ivory ring on her right hand that has the etchings of a rose upon its surface. Her dark hair is naturally curly and probably makes for exquisite ringlets about her fair face when done properly, though today she has most of it back in a serviceable braid with black ribbon ties to keep it in place.
Johmathan grunts. "What sensibilities?" he asks. "You're right, I've had to restrain plenty of naughty boys and girls in my day. How else would I properly punish them?"
Johnathan might like to flirt as much as Celeana, but he takes his job seriously. He examines the rope instead of her body. "So, you and Lanvaldan have history I take it?" he asks in a neutral tone, without looking up from the coil.
Gemma smiles and takes Willem's arm and gets set to leave for a quick stroll around the deck before going to prep their weapons. However, Gemma being Gemma, she can't help but respond to the nasty goblin's comments.
With a generous smile on her face, she looks first to Willem then back to Glix. "You're entirely right, Constable Muhnee! He has been very helpful! I'm sure you consider yourself lucky to have mentored under him." Gemma pats Willem's arm briefly, as if to go, but then stops a little short, looking back to Glix. "I would like to thank you ever so much for pointing out what we've missed. I know you've been in the field much much longer than we have, so you're words of wisdom most certainly don't fall on deaf ears. However, if I may be so bold as to ask, though, could you please refrain from trying to demean your fellow constables? It's unseemly and unprofessional. I know that I'm much younger and upcoming and all but I earned my badge, same as you. And everyone makes mistakes. I'm sure you made your fair share back in the day and someone had to train you up. None of us were born a crack-shot constable straight out of the belly, right?" Gemma continues to give him the same genuine smile and sweet tone that she's been giving him the whole time, but gauging his reactions to each word, looking for any weaknesses. "We're all on the same side, after all, 'else we wouldn't be here, right?" Gemma puts a hand on Willem's arm again, in earnest this time, and turns to leave. "A toast to Risur if we all make it back! Godspeed to you and your team, Senior Constable."
The door to the aft officer's mess creaks open, Ifris Lanvaldan spilling in with little fanfare. She had excused herself shortly after the briefing, found her way to the stern and taken a few minutes to herself to regain composure. An aloof presence doesn't seem out of character for her, the truth would be. Not everyone is made up out of the stories written about them, though, and Ifris Lanvaldan is no exception to that rule.
Discomforted by the presence of the others in the mess hall, Ifris almost excuses herself out the same door she came in, were it not for making accidental eye-contact with Tanya. A resigned expression sinks across Ifris' face, and the former marine reluctantly makes her way over to the table where Sparhawk reviews the maps and charts of the planned incursion. "Tanya," dismisses any pretense of formality. There's also no real vitriol there either, just Ifris' usual taciturn delivery.
For a moment, Ifris just stares at the maps, arms crossed over her chest and head inclined down. Dark bangs fall to shield her peripheral vision from allowing Tanya to make eye contact again, but when Ifris threads that errant lock of hair behind her ear, she turns to look at the other constable. "I don't like this plan," she opines quietly, not wanting to cause too much of a commotion over it. "I don't like putting both teams in an underwater tunnel, I don't like the idea of being underwater, I don't..." She abruptly concludes her sentence with a snort. "I don't like this."
Visible worry, some rational and some not, furrows Ifris' brows. "Never been bery big on caves either, in case that comes up." Ifris adds in an attempt at a more light-hearted tone. Leaning in next to Tanya, Ifris traces two fingers across the northeastern shore of the map. "Why don't we just drop anchor off shore, out of sight, and have Letmas summon in a... I don't know, a f$&+ing pod of dolphins. They haul us in to the beach underwater, then we come from the shore onto land and avoid the whole damned tunnel." To punctuate her point, Ifris taps two fingers down on where the tunnel is on the map, disapprovingly.
Then, brows still furrowed, she looks up at Tanya. Don't make me go underground isn't said, as much as its implied.
"This isn't an examination girl. This is the real meat, raw and bloody! There's no room for mistakes out here." He looks at Gemma and Willem with utter contempt, though mostly now at Gemma for her ongoing retorts at him. "Blind leading the lame eh - when you're lying on the ground with yer guts shredded out all over the place and screamin' for family, I'll at least do you the courtesy of ending you clean and quick. There's your mercy for being on the 'same side' and all." Glix then waves his ruddy hands at both of them. "Now off with you. I'll make sure Tanya leaves you behind if there's even one spot showing or strap not tied off."
"Sounds like a bargain!" Danan looks positively exuberant as he slaps Emerson on the shoulder in a friendly fashion, though the force exerted nearly bowls Emerson over from where he sits looking at his cards. "Uh, sorry there Emerson," Dan says sheepishly.
Letmas just watches the exchange between the men with a slightly bemused shaking of his head. "You two making that type of cacophonous calamity topside is not conducive to our stealthy enterprise, wouldn't you agree gentlemen?"
Danan Jakes blinks twice at Letmas. "Huh?"
"We're trying to be silent as we approach the island, so as to not spoil the whole bloody mission, remember?"
"Ah. Yeah..." Dan seems crestfallen for a moment, but then snaps his fingers in an inkling of an idea. "Say there Letmas, can't you just use one of those silencing scrolls to cover it?"
"Use an officially crafted and requisitioned silencing scroll assigned for mission...to...let you and Hill here have a good time breaking things and blowing them apart?" Letmas seems as if he is going to point out the obvious of not using R.H.C. resources for such trivial amusements, but then merely shrugs and says, "Certainly."
Letmas edges Emerson out once again in the revealing of their hands, shrugging his shoulders in a 'what can I say' fashion as he sets the last hand aside and deals out another set of three to each.
"Oh yes, Ifris and I are such dears with all our time together these past seasons," answers Celeana to Johnathan with a honey-sweet tone that is almost choking in its sarcasm. She picks up her section of rope and examines it dutifully however while she answers him. "Like sisters would be I imagine...sisters I never thought of having!" Celeana looks back at Ifris briefly where she stands at a map table near Tanya Sparhawk. "You see dear Johnathan, Ifris and Anya Landreth and I were all assigned to the prestigious assignment detail of protecting the King. The 'King's Bodyguards' formally known, though in lighter circles we were called Aodhan's "Ladies-in-Waiting" if you can believe the scandalous implications of such a thing...as if!" She giggles and then leans in to Johnathan and whispers, "Jests and rumors are not of Miss Lanvaldan's liking, for she has such a hardened disposition that she cannot absorb such things well."
Leaning back and taking the next section of rope to examine, She takes a deep breath and shrugs her shoulders. "Until the recent unpleasantness of 1 Spring, of course!" She sighs dramatically. "Yes, a lot of time to spend together, and I am afraid the duties were not as exciting or boldly grand as poor Ifris wanted in her mind. To be perfectly honest, not for Anya or myself either, truth be told. Yet I can find ways to keep the game interesting even under the most tedious of circumstances, finding worthwhile pursuits to pass the time as needs be. Poor Ifris, I am afraid, wilted rather than blossomed under the strain of it all, poor thing. All sour and running about to-and-fro looking for glory and honor to satisfy her inner-conflicts, all the while missing the subtleties and minutiae that allow us constables to succeed in our endeavors."
Ifris can hear Celeana Kirby talking about her to Johnathan Jackson, can feel the sickly-sweet ire of it even from across the room. Yet she holds Tanya Sparhawk's attention as the half-elven senior constable regards her with an intent gaze, looking back to the maps and sketches of the island that Ifris has pointed out to her.
Like Ifris Lanvaldan, Tanya Sparhawk has always been known as a serious woman with little or no frivolity in the accounting of her nature. She has also been rumored to be a woman who holds deep grudges, her good countenance unrecoverable once lost. Though Ifris has never run afoul of her during her time in Slate Branch, she has heard of plenty who had, most notably Willem Muhnee in his reactions to his harsh and unjust treatment by Burton Glix. Still, Tanya's record of success and meticulous planning on any given assignment is a large part of what makes Resilience so effective. To-date they had only lost one member to violence on mission a couple of years back, a Constable Cardiff Hengehill - an incident that was deemed a noble sacrifice by Cardiff and not laid at the feet of Tanya or the team.
After a moment of consideration, Tanya shakes her head and sets down the map again, her decision made. "It's no good, Lanvaldan. The entire coastline is set with alarming wards that alert the fortress as soon as they're breached, no doubt reinforced by the Duchess and her rebel ward-casters in anticipation of some type of counterattack. Numerous Danoran and Drakran traps are set along the coast as well, both on and off the beaches. The lookout towers and villages around the isle are held by alert rebel squads. My team may be able to disarm and mark those traps, but if the fortress is alerted by our arrival they'll be put on high alert and the mission will be sunk. No, the best course is to use the sea cave as provided by the Danorans, bypassing coastal defenses entirely."
Cernan looks up at Ifris briefly and then at Tanya, rising from his spot then to shake his fur and wander off to another area of the room - as if giving the two women the opportunity to talk completely alone. The senior constable stares after him a moment, then turns back to Ifris and says, "By all accounts the sea tunnel is only two-hundred paces deep to the mine, perhaps two-fifty. We have five-hundred feet of rope, and we'll secure and mark the way for your team to follow. That's only five minutes approximately to make the mine. With the sunrods and Letmas enchanting us all to breathe the water, we'll have no trouble. We've done this sort of thing before, in much more difficult and treacherous conditions. It will work out just fine."
As Emerson and Letmas review their next hand of cards dealt, Letmas looks over at where Anneca Summers sits by herself, reviewing her arcane spellbooks after having completed an inspection of her new pistol and other equipment. The Resilence gentleman wizard quirks his lips in an amusing expression, but continues to look at his cards nonchalantly as he addresses her. "So, the famed Anneca Summers of Flint Branch, the first to fire the Brand on His Majesty's prized flagship. Director Cyneburg was very put out with you, so I hear, for risking such an action...not to mention the risk of burning out your life-spirit. Which is quite remarkable in and of itself - getting Director Cyneburg to take an interest in any constable that is..."
He looks over then to Anneca with a sly expression and raised eyebrows over his cards. "Now whether or not you having the good Director's attention is a good thing or bad thing remains a mystery that I am fortunate to not be part of."
Willem looks at Glix with a smile, "Then we have an accord, if I see you cheek down in the sand all fraked up, then I will also return the favor of puttin' you out of your misery like some horse. A nice stick in the ear with some stirring and then maybe a couple of boot stomps should do it and keep your identity secret." Willem demonstrates it without a weapon and using his booted foot.
Then Willem starts to walk away from Glix looking back at Gemma, "Gemma let's double check our gear to make sure it is ready for the mission." At which time, Willem walks back to the ready room, making sure Gemma is following him, to look for waterproofing and camouflage alchemy.
Anneca looks up from her spellbook, entranced by how much her understanding of the arcane concepts have grown. Before the incident on the ship, most of it was beyond her grasp. Now they are as easy for her to read and master as chemical reactions, as the very foundations of magic are laid open before her eyes. Letmas Lewing breaks her concentration with his interruption, gaining a look of annoyance from the prickly constable even before he goes on cryptically. "Famed is a little much. The way I see it, we were already dead at that point, consumed by the fire. Firing the Brand was a move of desperation. If it had killed me, that would have been fine - since failure would have meant that we would all die anyway." She sighs, leaning back in her chair, and nods to her spellbook. "I'm still having trouble with illusion spells. Any chance you've got some advice?" She knows that giving him a chance to show off will probably keep him from scrutinizing her.
Letmas reveals a solid "castle" combination to Emerson, only to find Emerson has swept him with the rarest of rulership combinations. "Well well," says the wizard with a nod of respect to Emerson, handing him the deck to reshuffle and take over for the dealing of cards. He sits back and takes a long sip of his tea, turning his attention lazily to Anneca and her question to him.
"Hmmm? Well certainly my dear Constable Summers, certainly." He takes another sip of tea and then answers, "I would become better acquainted with painting. Or sketching if you prefer, though I recommend working with paint to properly understand color as well as form. After all, how can one craft up a vision of an angry mob to provide a distraction if one cannot envision what the mob is to look like? Or a wall with the right hues, values and texture?" Letmas takes a third sip of tea and then sets the cup down, putting his arms behind his head as he addresses her. "Skin colors can be especially hard to the uninitiated, so you should pay special attention to it - books on anatomy may be useful to you, as are various bestiaries found in your branch's R&D wing. Sounds also are just as important, so whenever possible you should take walks in both the city and countryside while blindfolded, to better train your ears for the sounds you desire - talking, shouting, swarms of bees, that sort of thing."
Though Letmas seems serious enough in his answer, he seems to take amusement on gauging Anneca's reaction to him, as he suspects she did not anticipate his reply.
"Oh yes, Ifris and I are such dears with all our time together these past seasons," answers Celeana to Johnathan with a honey-sweet tone that is almost choking in its sarcasm. She picks up her section of rope and examines it dutifully however while she answers him. "Like sisters would be I imagine...sisters I never thought of having!" Celeana looks back at Ifris briefly where she stands at a map table near Tanya Sparhawk. "You see dear Johnathan, Ifris and Anya Landreth and I were all assigned to the prestigious assignment detail of protecting the King. The 'King's Bodyguards' formally known, though in lighter circles we were called Aodhan's "Ladies-in-Waiting" if you can believe the scandalous implications of such a thing...as if!" She giggles and then leans in to Johnathan and whispers, "Jests and rumors are not of Miss Lanvaldan's liking, for she has such a hardened disposition that she cannot absorb such things well."
Leaning back and taking the next section of rope to examine, She takes a deep breath and shrugs her shoulders. "Until the recent unpleasantness of 1 Spring, of course!" She sighs dramatically. "Yes, a lot of time to spend together, and I am afraid the duties were not as exciting or boldly grand as poor Ifris wanted in her mind. To be perfectly honest, not for Anya or myself either, truth be told. Yet I can find ways to keep the game interesting even under the most tedious of circumstances, finding worthwhile pursuits to pass the time as needs be. Poor Ifris, I am afraid, wilted rather than blossomed under the strain of it all, poor thing. All sour and running about to-and-fro looking for glory and honor to satisfy her inner-conflicts, all the while missing the subtleties and minutiae that allow us constables to succeed in our endeavors."
"I see. I have little taste for the game myself. It's players who get us into all these messes, and spill Risuri blood. No, I am a simple man. Blade, beauty and duty is all I need to keep me happy."
Johnathan looks at her outfit, which would seem more appropriate on a dancer in some fetish club. "Don't take this the wrong way....but, you don't exactly look like the hard sort. I'm not so stupid as to judge a book by its cover, though. You can fight I take it? I'm curious about your style."
Gemma smirks at both Willem and Glix, pleased that Willem made the comments he did towards the venomous senior constable.
She releases the constable's arm and then starts to follow him below decks.
"Agreed! I do think some waterproofing is in order!"
She then claps Willem on the back before proceeding down the stairs, the smallest smirk still planted on her face.
Midway down the stairs, she does whisper to her fellow constable. "You can talk me through that a bit, right? Hasn't been much need to heavily waterproof things around Flint and pistols aren't my preferred weapon. We don't tend to go around underwater and then try and shoot things much."
Staring at the map, it takes Ifris a few moments to realize something is amiss to her. "If..." she almost doesn't finish that sentence, hesitation taking hold of her confidence. "If they've gone through the effort of mining the shore, setting up all these defenses, what's the odds that the one critical weakness into the island's interior isn't a huge trap?" Ifris looks up at Tanya, concern evident in her features. "You don't just lay down that much aggression," her hand motions across the shoreline, vaguely indicating the traps and hazards, "and leave a blind-spot like that. I'd rather take my chances with the devil I know." Then, after frustrated noise, "I'd rather fight my way through the whole damned fort's defenses than get backed up in a kill-box, underwater."
Celeana draws up and takes in a breath – something not displeasing to the eye given her current form-fitting attire – and gives off a miffed impression to Johnathan at his asking. To Johnathan, however, it is hard to tell with Celeana Kirby if she is truly irked at his asking, or just playing along for effect.
”Of course I can fight Constable Jackson! I was apprenticed under Constable Miriam Leschire before her retirement, and for a brief time under Constable Aurora Tremaine of Indefatigable. Though stealth, guile and wit are my forte over brawn and brute force such as Danan and perhaps yourself ply…and of course dear Ifris over there, I can very much hold my own if pressed, be it with knives, darts, staff or thin blade.”
Celeana sets down another section of rope in a careful coil with businesslike precision, then takes another section for inspection. It is at that point that she leans in to Johnathan and whispers softly, ”As for firmness of body and my ‘style’, perhaps you would care to spar with me a time or two in Slate when we arrive back? Who knows Mister Jackson? Perhaps I may teach you a thing or two about sparring, hmmm?”
Willem whispers back to Gemma, "I'll show you how to water proof and ready your gear for field ops. Hopefully, we can still find some waterproofing and weapon black for our shiny gear."
Willem looks around to make sure no one is in ear shot, "As for my old pal, Glix, I will not put him out of his misery. I would actually save him to add to his misery." Willem whisper laughs.
Willem enters the Ready Room and gathers as much water proofing gear and weapon black necessary for the mission. Then he make sure that everyone in his group has water proofing if they need it.
As Willem and Gemma enter back into the room, Danan Jakes is busy blacking out his main breastplate, quietly humming some jaunty tune as he listens along to the conversation. Though he cannot hear Celeana whispering to Johnathan, something else Celeana had said aloud gathers his attention.
”Aurora Tremaine! Now there’s a woman by the Heavens! Tall and fit. Good fighter too! Toughest with a quarterstaff or balanced spear that I’ve ever seen.” Dan snaps his fingers in memory. ”Say, didn’t she come up the ranks with Inspector Sutton and Inspector Grady back during the war?”
Tanya Sparhawk, who has an irritated frown upon her face while talking to Ifris Lanvaldan about mission plans, looks over and chimes in with, ”Yes she did. She probably could have been a Chief Inspectress by now, but didn’t want to leave the field for administrative duties.”
”Yeah, who wants that?” says Dan in agreement. ”Damn shame what happened to Hayden Grady in Shale…and Inspector Lawrence too and the others of course.” He gives a small sign of his hand to the Heavens and then continues on with his armor.
”Speaking of,” says Celeana Kirby with an air of excitement that she gets when speaking of Constabulary gossip, ”I heard that Price-Hill was quite impressed with James Sutton for the mission on 4 Spring, and will probably be the next Chief Inspector for the new Shale Branch mission…AND it’s been hinted that Anya Landreth may be his new Assistant Chief Inspectress there!” She looks over at Ifris to see if the possible promotion rankles her in any visible way.
Danan shrugs and says, ”ACI Sutton is a good man, tough but fair. He could do it certainly. I don’t know about Landreth though…still too green for my tastes and seems to have a perpetual stick up her…uhh…well she’s just so stiff and all that - unless she’s talkin’ to the scribes of the dailies that is.”
”Well you know how the good Director loves his war heroes Dan,” says Letmas Lewing. ”Especially if they curry such positive favor with the dailies and are a hero to the people…whatever that is supposed to mean.”
”You’re no longer a Marine, Landvaldan, and we’re not here to storm blasted Yerasol beaches with one-to-two casualty rates! You’re a Constable now and you’d…”
The weathered face of Tanya Sparhawk is somewhat flushed now in irritation at the younger Ifris Lanvaldan questioning her plan, but she quickly regains control of her emotions and takes a calming breath before continuing. ”Look. Normally I might agree with you if we were attempting this under the noses of the Danorans – perhaps they would leave a false-entry trap like you suggest. But we’re going up against Risuri rebels who have only taken hold here for a few days - they haven’t had the time to discover the breach. House Jierre wants their island back, so it’s not a double-cross. The information gathering is sound, and I’m not risking an alert to the fortress of our presence to put Ethelyn and her rebels on full alert – plus I’m not risking both teams with Danoran clockwork construct sentries, Drakran symbol and cloudkill traps or an array of other arcanotech horrors. We’re going into the archaeological mine by way of the sea cave.”
There's a reluctant understanding expressed in the way Ifris' stiff posture deflates with a prolonged sigh. She eyes Tanya for a moment, then the map again. She realizes that no amount of fighting will change the course they're on, and that she could pour over these maps for a month more and not find a better point of ingress than the tunnel. "I should be at the front," Ifris half-heartedly protests, running one hand through her hair as she does. She knows that isn't an option, knows that it's just a means to get this whole underwater thing over with sooner. The visage of the ocean's crushing weight all around her, suffocating and dark, is as uninviting as the notion that they might not be alone in those lightless depths.
"I suppose we'll have plenty of time to commiserate about this after we're done," is a more pleasant way to end the conversation, double so for Ifris. In spite of her protests, there is an undercurrent of respect for Tanya, if not outright camaraderie. Ifris doesn't really excuse herself, so much as she just excuses herself, heading back out the way she came in with the hopes that the sea air might clear her head.
It won't.
Anneca can hardly hide the scowl from her face. The advice from Letmas might as well be spoken in a foreign language. "I guess that's why I've got no talent with illusions. I like what's right in front of my face. Shouldn't it just pop out of the mind," she says with a pantomiming hand gesture, "just how you want it? Even fire seems more amenable to doing precisely what I want it to than illusion does. It will turn into acid or ice if I need it to. That's all I'm asking for when it comes to illusions." She goes back to her spellbook, hardly content with his answer.
After a few moments of relative silence, she looks back up. "They gave me a few spell scrolls that are considerably beyond my level of knowledge. I can't cast them on my own, and I've never cast spells from a scroll other than cantrips and minor training spells. Do you have any advice for that?" It's clear that she isn't comfortable asking questions on account of her pride, but this is a rare opportunity and a dire situation.
Celeana draws up and takes in a breath – something not displeasing to the eye given her current form-fitting attire – and gives off a miffed impression to Johnathan at his asking. To Johnathan, however, it is hard to tell with Celeana Kirby if she is truly irked at his asking, or just playing along for effect.
”Of course I can fight Constable Jackson! I was apprenticed under Constable Miriam Leschire before her retirement, and for a brief time under Constable Aurora Tremaine of Indefatigable. Though stealth, guile and wit are my forte over brawn and brute force such as Danan and perhaps yourself ply…and of course dear Ifris over there, I can very much hold my own if pressed, be it with knives, darts, staff or thin blade.”
Celeana sets down another section of rope in a careful coil with businesslike precision, then takes another section for inspection. It is at that point that she leans in to Johnathan and whispers softly, ”As for firmness of body and my ‘style’, perhaps you would care to spar with me a time or two in Slate when we arrive back? Who knows Mister Jackson? Perhaps I may teach you a thing or two about sparring, hmmm?”
"Perhaps....perhaps not. Wild fillys are only free to play until a stallion mounts them. Sounds like a challenge I might take up," Johnathan smirks. He gives her toned muscles another look. "Then again, sometimes the filly bucks the stallion."
"I don't consider myself a brute...but it's hard not to be labeled as such with a nick name like Spiny Jack. Subtle or not, everyone's got a demon in 'em. It just needs the right situation to bring about its emergence." Johnathan finishes up the last of the rope coil. "Looks good, perhaps we should go insert ourselves into planning the details of this mission? Or do you have better things to do?"
Danan shrugs and says, ”ACI Sutton is a good man, tough but fair. He could do it certainly. I don’t know about Landreth though…still too green for my tastes and seems to have a perpetual stick up her…uhh…well she’s just so stiff and all that - unless she’s talkin’ to the scribes of the dailies that is.”
”Well you know how the good Director loves his war heroes Dan,” says Letmas Lewing. ”Especially if they curry such positive favor with the dailies and are a hero to the people…whatever that is supposed to mean.”
Emerson laughs at the last exchange between his card playing partners and adds "Yes. It is important for the scribes and people to have a war hero explain to them why all their constables are dead. Softens the blow for everyone."
He leans over to Danan and whispers in his ear so no one else can hear. "Agreed Danan. She has a stick up her backside."
Letmas stretches briefly from his seat and then looks over to Emerson to excuse himself from the card game. "Apologies Hill, but arcane business takes precedence you know." He stands up and smooths his elegantly tailored grey coat before walking over to Anneca, his arms clasped behind his back in a practiced fashion.
"Oh I would doubt that the same Anneca Summers, she who on her own both calibrated and fired the Brand without transmuting herself to ash in the process, would need help deciphering a few paltry passwall and pyrotechnic scrolls! Indeed!" Letmas, as expected, hints his praise in that slight mocking tone that Anneca would be sure to find maddening if she had to interact with the gentleman mage on a daily basis. He comes to stand at her right shoulder, peering down at her spellbook and then to her expression with a raised eyebrow.
However, it is then that he abruptly takes on a congenial tone and speaks more as a colleague to her. "I wouldn't fret about it, Anneca Summers, for I will handle the spellcasting directly this night, and those there are only insurance in the event that I fail or am incapacitated for some unknown reason. Yet should it come to it theoretically, I have no doubt you can manage the readings of them." He unclasps his hands and holds them together as a gesture for emphasis. "Remember that, unlike attempts to learn an advanced arcane formula of thaumaturgy and commit it to memory for your own power to conjure, the arcane energies are already contained in the scrolls themselves. You just have to "spark" the energies with your reading - figuratively speaking of course - and simply keep your voice strong and steady and invoke the passages to their conclusion. Cadence is the key to your success in the reading." He pauses to tap his chin in instructive thought before continuing. "Now, the scroll's energies may be more powerful than you are used to at that last instant when you must direct them outwards, feeling the push of it, but in truth you have done admirably with the mighty Brand, so this would not overwhelm you. Just take control in that last moment of direction after the reading, and do not let the magics "slip" away to the sides or back to the scroll parchment, and it will behave as you intend it to."
Letmas Lewing smiles and briefly clasps Anneca's shoulder in a rare display of camaraderie. "Once several years ago, I had to invoke a teleportation scroll to evacuate the team from Nalaam - something I did not have the power or understanding to achieve myself until most recently. That scroll was crafted by Lauryn Cyneburg, and though powerful it worked flawlessly. These too are crafted by her practiced hand. You will do fine should it come to you needing to ever invoke her craftsmanship."
Anneca seems to pay more rapt attention to the description of how the scrolls work. "Maybe if I knew how to scribe scrolls myself, using them would come more naturally. They tried to teach me, but I did as poorly at that as I did everything else. Hopefully it won't be an issue." She smiles, actually grateful for his help. She lets it fade quite quickly. It is one of the few moments where Makala's death has not weighed heavily on her heart. "Makala was very excited about joining your team. Now I can see why. She would have fit in perfectly here." She can feel her face fall as she feels the grief return.
"Aye indeed," says Letmas Lewing in solemn agreement to her. "I did not know her well, but those that did know her always spoke of her in high praise."
"I knew her a bit...Makala was the true sheensteel alright," adds in Danan Jakes wistfully. "Not displeasing to the eye neither - say did you know she saved my arse back in Slate on one of her first assignments? I was just a couple years in myself, running a raid on the old Clegane smuggling syndicate operatin' north of Slate on the coast at the time...well anyways I'm still a greenhorn buck and I'm not watchin' my flanks as I take down this ugly muck that was stupid enough to try and draw on me and I had to smash his ugly muck face in...anyways another tough comes at me from the side with a knife and I've got my hands locked on the muck and he's got me cold...when out of spit and shadows comes Makala - she lands on this scrawny tough's shoulders and snaps his jaw, then steers him away from me like she's some mule-driver on a milk delivery! Ahh hahaha!" Danan slaps a hand to his knee in a fit of laughter. "Ahhh! Yeah, she was a steely slayer if she had to be, but the best part was she comes up to me after knocking out the jawless wretch with a sap, comes up to me she does and says to me, "Hey muscle-man, there's some pesky flies about so you might wanna ward them off with some more spray of that horrid musk cologne you've got on ya!" AHH HAHAHAHA!"
Danan quivers with raucous laughter for several seconds, reliving the memory and almost bringing a tear to his eye. "Yeah, that was Makala all right. She could always make me laugh...I was sad when she got transferred to Flint a few years back...did a fancy jig when I heard she was joining the team last Winter...yeah..." He trails off with a stare, not knowing what else to say.
Letmas gives Anneca a brief clasp on her shoulder and then walks back to his place and lifts up his mostly empty teacup. "To Makala Fileccia - may we avenge her loss tonight and give her spirit satisfaction beyond the Gate."
Danan stands instantly, as eventually do all the other constables in the room. He has no cup but holds aloft an imaginary one all the same. "To Makala...and to the first of us that gets hold of that cursed Ethelyn and snaps her wrinkly old neck for her!"
"We're to capture her alive if at all possible Danan," inserts Tanya Sparhawk abruptly. "King's orders, by his direct command."
"Sure, sure." Danan smiles and nods at his team leader, but the look in his eyes is far from agreement.
Though she stands with the others in the final toast to Makala Fileccia, the newest member of Resilience, Celeana Kirby, is for once silent and without comment.
By sunset the sailors and marines of the R.N.S. Impossible have readied dull black sails and completed the “darkening out” of anything on the ship that would convey their position by conventional means. The sailors have all donned black shirts and black caps, and Captain Rutger Smith and his officers have traded their usual naval coats for black longcoats. Even the lookouts on the observation decks and crow’s nests have blackened their faces. Though the fleet is still firmly within the boundaries of the magically induced mists, Navigation Master Leith alerts his captain as well as the constables that sunset is nearly at hand. Minutes later, as the sun sets to the west across the horizon of isles in the Yerasol Archipelago, Admiral Jellicoe aboard the Triumph signals for Captain Smith to begin. The Impossible hoists full sails on all four masts and receives a northerly push of summoned wind by First Lieutenant Langbury, and the fast clipper ship of the R.H.C. sails out away from the fleet and past the mist’s perimeter, greeted now by a bright and spectacular sunset to their port side as it begins the tenuous two-to-three hour journey northwards.
Soon enough, the sky begins to darken and stars peek out in the sky above them as they sail on at full speed, the mists concealing the fleet fading behind them. Master Leith and Lieutenant Langbury cast a full array of arcane and Old Faith wardings to ensure their concealment by magical methods, with the crew ensuring no errant noises or reflections to give themselves away. The mood is tense and quiet, the ship’s cutting through the ocean waves being the only noticeable sound as they speed on.
”We’re south-and-west from the isle at this bearing,” says Captain Smith to the constables as he eyes the sails above him. ”We could reach land in less than an hour, but we’ll be steering around the western side to approach from the north as we need to – I anticipate we shall arrive precisely at the nine o’ clock hour when low tide is expected for your ingress point.”
********************************************************************
The Spring season’s first ‘first-quarter’ moon sits low in the eastern sky. Commonly called the Hunter’s Moon by most Risuri , it is First Lieutenant Langbury who tells the men on deck that the skyseers have nicknamed this particular one of the year the “Hart Moon,” prophesized to mark auspicious beginnings. Given the dramatic events since 1 Spring, the sailors and officers onboard the Impossible cannot help but to agree. The nighttime sky is mostly clear, with the moon and stars reflecting off the mostly calm waters of the sheltered northern inlet they are anchored in, the sounds of gentle surf hitting the rocky coastline creating an almost idyllic scene that belies the tension of the operation that is about to commence. The Impossible is anchored approximately seventy yards offshore, the supposed sea cave entrance at that distance just off to starboard and five to seven fathoms down.
”Once my team is in the water, it will be only five minutes before we reach the bottom of the mine from the submerged tunnel and secure the rope…perhaps another two-to-five minutes if we encounter any unexpected hostiles there. I will send a messenger via a small fish or sea creature back here to signal you once we have the mine shaft secure, or failing that I shall send Cernan to fetch you.” Tanya Sparhawk speaks her last instructions while walking by each of you in a final informal inspection, her sharp eyes checking for any gear amiss or improperly stowed for the dive. Though it may rankle some, she has already done the same inspection upon every member of her own team – something they apparently expected. Tanya leaves nothing to chance, her preparations meticulous. ”You all have sunrods, but you only need expend two total for adequate lighting. Keep to the rope line, and do not touch the submerged cliff face or any part of the sea floor bottom until you pass into the cave. We’ll go over the next steps once you reach the bottom of the mine and get out of the water.”
Tanya Sparhawk nods to each of you, and then looks up to Captain Smith standing on the foredeck observation platform. ”Captain, by your leave, we are ready to proceed.”
”Granted. Good hunting, Constables. We’ll see you in the fortress harbor before dawn.”
She nods to him and then turns to the rest of Resilience. Dressed all in their utilitarian outfits of dark grey - that somehow manage to look much more coordinated and uniform than the “motley” array of outfits worn by the backup team – she issues final instructions. ”Lewing, enable us all with the breathing spell. Danan, you’re on point as usual and light the way, then Cernan and myself, followed by Letmas, Celeana and then Burton. Celeana, you have the rope – be sure to keep it taut as we go. Burton, keep an eye to our rearguard.”
Stretching his arms and then stepping between both groups, Letmas says, ”Approximately thirty-six minutes for each of us on a three-minute jaunt, so plenty to spare. Hands in please…and mind whom or what you touch!” Danan and Celeana both laugh at the quip while the eleven constables crowd in towards Letmas. His incantation of water breathing gives the constables all a brief yellowy haze across their vision and a taste of seaweed in their mouths that clears quickly enough, with no other odd effects other than each of them looks at the gentle rolling water with a yearning now that they can’t quite describe. Lewing steps to the edge of the starboard deck and abruptly casts a second spell, silencing the area just above the water where they plan to enter. ”After you!” quips Letmas to Danan with a mocking bow.
”Don’t mind if I do!” replies Danan Jakes with relish, rubbing his large calloused hands in clear excitement. He takes three large steps back upon the deck and then takes a running leap off the starboard side of the ship, careening into the water with a horrendous cannonball-type splash that sends water all the way back up to hit some of the sailors and Tanya’s wolfhound. Fortunately, the silence keeps Dan’s impact from echoing across the sheltered cove.
”Truly, Letmas?” admonishes Tanya with crossed arms and a stern expression. ”Wasting a silencing ward just so that Danan can show off?”
Letmas Lewing bows with a grand flourish to his team leader, replying, ”I was just seeing to the company’s morale, mum!” Then with a roguish grin he salutes the crowd of sailors at the railing and leaps off the ship, landing in the same spot with a flawless headfirst dive.
”Wait Lewing…” Tanya Sparhawk curses silently as he dives in ahead of her, shaking her head in disapproval. Instead she turns her head to the backup team and says, ”Five to ten minutes. Be ready.” Coaxing Cernan in first, Tanya gently drops into the water behind him and disappears under the water.
Celeana Kirby finishes tying off one end of the silken rope to a belaying pin by the starboard railing, hoisting the rest of the large coil across one shoulder before stepping to the deck’s edge. With one last look behind her at the team of backup constables, her eyes settle on Ifris Lanvaldan one more time. Apparently, the urge to snipe at her former partner proves irresistible. ”Well you know what they say Lanvaldan – last one in is…well…you’re just last, aren’t you?” With that she dives into the water with her own flourish, the rope stretching taut at an angle to the water’s surface.
Captain Smith’s Chief Engineer, Sub-Lieutenant Ian Smithe, leans on the railing next to a host of sailors and marines, apparently enjoying the view of Celeana Kirby and watching the exchange with some passive interest. ”Well boys, she’s a lusty lass with ample curves both fore and aft to be sure, but a right b*&$# that one is!” Most of the men laugh with Smithe and agree with him.
Finally, Burton Glix steps to the edge, fingering his large silver amulet and giving a brief but hard glare at both Willem Muhnee and Gemma Atherton. Regarding the others coolly, he points to his eye as if to reiterate ’keep a sharp eye for the signal’ and then hops into the sea to join the others. Team Resilience is now fully away to begin the mission.
Captain Rutger Smith steps down from the observation platform onto the main deck, crossing the space to stand with the rest of the constables. ”Good luck, constables – I’d give each of you one of my prized Langavor Plantation cigars for the occasion, but they won’t keep underwater well. I’ll set them aside for you when I see you all next in the harbor.”
Three Minutes Later…
Captain Smith is on the foredeck observation platform, quietly reading a report from the Master-at-Arms on ship’s complement of arms and provisions should it come to action with the Impossible during the planned assault. Occasionally he looks up at the alert men in the crow’s nests, then to his observation deck spotters for any signs of enemy movement. The sailors, marines and officers of the Impossible have their eyes peeled, but all is quiet. Only the rhythmic sound of the cove’s soft swells reaching the rocky coastline provide the distraction of sound. The six constables and several sailors look to starboard for any disturbance in the water that signifies a message from Resilience to enter the water and follow.
Suddenly, a strange vibration ripples across the water all around them, the large clipper ship slightly rocking back against the normal motion of the ocean waves in the cove. It is enough for every sailor on the ship to stop what they’re doing and straighten up, staring anxiously out at the waters surrounding them as well as towards shore.
”Did you feel that?”
”Were we struck my something?”
”It’s the Archfey Beshela it is! She helped the Duchess before and now she’s here with her kraken beast to kill us!”
”No no it’s ‘She Who Writhes’ - the Fey Titan is awakened and come to punish all of us for this war!”
”SHADDUP YOU FOOLS!”
The last comes from the ship’s Chief Bosun, who clips one of the overly excitable sailors across the head and pushes another away from the railing, ordering the men to see to their posts. Everywhere on deck the constables see marines with boarding pikes or crossbows rush to positions by the main deck railings, with other archer marines taking up places on both observation platforms. Other sailors in groups of twos man the light cannons on deck, while stores of cutlasses and boarding pikes are brought and laid out on deck for men to grab for an attack. Only for the moment, there is no attacker and no visible threat.
Captain Smith heads down the stairs from the foredeck as fast as the constables have ever seen him move, reaching the starboard railing at about the same time as Chief Engineer Smithe and First Lieutenant Langbury. Together the three men peer down at the water along the hull of the ship, then look to each other in quick conference.
”We weren’t struck by anything,” says Ian Smithe, leaning out over the railing to peer back and forth across the ship’s hull.
”Agreed, but head down to the bilges and make sure,” orders Captain Smith. The Engineer nods and races to the wide stairs amidships with two sailors trailing along in tow.
Lieutenant Langbury peers down at the water, then slowly looks to the rocky coastline. ”Sea tremors?” asks Langbury to his captain.
Captain Smith looks in the direction of the island as well, then firmly shakes his head. ”This close to shore? No. We’d see and hear landquake on the island itself…rocks would be falling off those shore cliffs into the water at the very least.”
”Capt’n! The rope!” exclaims a sailor by the railing as loudly as he dares. He points towards the silken rope in the water coming from the ship. Previously it was taut and steady but now it has grown slack, with several feet of it floating at the top of the cove’s swells.
As the constables watch intently over the next tense minute, they see the rope’s slack slowly disappear back under the water, followed a distinctive jerk of the line. Then another jerk, fitful and noticeable. Then another. After several more seconds, it becomes clear to all that the silken rope appears to be being tugged at semi-regular intervals, weak but distinctive enough to not be the gentle swells causing it...
Ifris looks decidedly different, standing by the rail of the ship as she peers over the water. Gone is her uniform, instead the black, form-fittig psychoactive skin is her only attire. The ridged material looks like corded muscle fiber in some places, while taking on a more rubbery texture at joints and other flex-points. Her bandolier of grenades is lazily swung over one shoulder. As she sees the rope tug and dart, all Ifris can muster is a grated curse between clenched teeth.
Like oil sliding across the surface of stone, the neckline of Ifris' suit expands upwards over her head and brow, leaving only her mouth and eyes exposed along with some of her hair at her crown in a black plume. "Come on!" Ifris exclaims, igniting her sunrod with a swift crack against the rail, before vaulting over the edge and disappearing with a splash into the murky depths.
____________
Gemma feels the rocking of the boat at the same time as everyone else on board and sees what’s happening to the rope. Being just as confused as the crew and her fellow constables, she starts running through the possibilities in her mind. She’s not happy with what it settles on though and what her instincts are tuning into. *explosives*
The next thing she sees and hears is her fellow constable, Ifris Lanvaldan, “changing” and then shouting to ”Come on” before disappearing into the black water.
Gemma leans over the side a bit before turning to the others, readying her gear and then drawing a dagger from the sheath strapped to her right thigh. I won’t be able to get much swing on this in the water, but just in case. If I go now, I won’t even need my sunrod. I’ll just follow Lanvaldan’s light.
”Well, lady and gents. I hope we’re all ready because it looks like the show's about to begin with an unexpected twist.”
She calculates the odds and options, unable to include the unknown and making the best of what she does know. ”Since our team lead has disappeared below the waves, I would have to recommend Constable Hill after me, then Summers, then Muhnee. Constable Jackson, since you’re newest to the team, perhaps you might jump in where you feel you’re tactically strongest in the line. Maybe even with Emerson, in case Ifris or I go down, or rear-guard with Muhnee so we’ve got no one sneaking up our backsides? We just need to make sure our spell slinger has extra support and guard.” Gemma takes a final look around and then jumps in the water.
It all happened in a matter of a minute, maybe two, and now she was here in the darkness, for better or worse. She could see the glow of the sunrod though, and made her way towards it, holding onto the rope, feeling its occasional tugs, wondering what would be on the other end. She was trying not to think of the fact that she was under the water and breathing like a fish.
I tell you what, Constable Lanvaldan…there’s going to be some conversation when we’re out of the water, if there’s time. Gemma’s hesitancy about the constable, specifically due to her glumly intense nature, is quickly replaced by irritation. If you’re going to make yourself our team lead, we need to have a discussion about how that works. You may have your special armor but the rest of us can’t afford for you to be the bull in the porcelain shop.
Willem nods to Ifris, then nods to the Captain, "Thank you captain for the ride". Then he looks to the others in the "bringing up the rear team" and nods to them. Then he makes sure all of his sunrods are in an easy reach location, takes one out to light it, and as Gemma updates the jump swim order, Willem tries to stop himself from jumping but the weight of his gear forces him to jump anyway. He jumps in feet first with crossed feet and he holds on to his rifles to make sure they do not clock him in the head as he hits the water. He comes to the surface to wave to Gemma, to quietly tell her that he tried but it was too late then disappears under the water to follow the rope, any light he can see near the rope, and in front of him.
Anneca looks down into the water, dreading having to swim in it. Orphans rarely learn to swim, and she was not an exception. Even living in a port city, she barely had enough ability to keep her head above water. Over the last few days, she has practiced the motions in preparation, but it is one thing to practice something on dry land and to perform something in dark water. As Emerson leaps into the water, she stands at the starboard railing and takes a deep breath. She knows intellectually that she will have no problem breathing the water thanks to Letmas Lewing, but that doesn't take away from her trepidation. She refuses to let her nervousness show, however, and leaps forward into the water. As the cold water rushes around her, she pumps her legs to swim closer to the surface and activates the sunrod. It takes every bit of concentration to ignore her instincts and let the air out of her lungs, but she does so and takes a deep breath in total defiance of the natural order. She keeps the panic from overwhelming her, looking around in the water with the light to see Emerson and Gemma in front of her. She checks to make sure all of her weapons and items are still waterproofed and secure, then slowly strokes her way through the water along the rope line.
With Ifris in the clear lead and followed by Gemma, Willem, Emerson, Anneca and lastly Johnathan on the rope line, the “backup” team of R.H.C. constables slowly descends at an angle into the murky depths of the sea. Those with true armor find the going difficult and have to struggle in their efforts to pull themselves along the rope line without dragging it down with them to the bottom of the cove, yet after some flailing and fumbling around they get the knack for it well enough to proceed. It is slow going – though it is low tide and the cove is relatively calm, the sea still has current and its swells jostle the constables back-and-forth as they descend deeper towards the coast under several feet of water; the water is somewhat murky with sand and seaweed churning through the sea water so near the coast. Still, it is positively pristine to the Flinters compared to what it would be like if swimming through Flint Bay, and the sunrods help to give everyone a proper feel for the depths…and that nothing looms just out of their reach to attack them.
Every one of the constables finds the breathing of water to be both a strange and invigorating sensation that they have never encountered before. They are actually drinking in the water and expelling it, which forces them to labor in the process more than they would by breathing air. Yet the water breathing spell by Letmas gives them the feeling that they can do this, and even though they are truly breathing water there is no sensation of drowning that some might have feared.
The entrance to the sea cave sits just a few feet in the coastal cliff rock just a few feet up from the sandy sea floor bottom. A larger cave than perhaps what they were expecting, it appears natural in origin (as if eroded by the action of the waves) and is wider than it is taller, some forty feet in width and perhaps fifteen feet tall, with an all-rock cave floor. At this depth they are perhaps over thirty feet under the surface, the sunrods overriding any ambient light they may have from the shallower waters above them. Their silken rope line has several feet of slack to it, but still stretches directly into the sea cave entrance. Contrary to Gemma’s initial theory, there does not seem to be any rocky debris at the cave entrance’s perimeter, no signs of explosion or violent disturbance of the rock – a few colorful fish and crustaceans hover around the entrance and just inside in a normal display of habitat. No signs of Resilience exist here. Warned that the Drakran wardings could be in effect at the sea floor bottom and along the submerged coastal cliff face itself, the constables can only continue to follow the rope line inside the cave…
…they are about thirty feet into the natural sea cave tunnel when they see it at the extent of their sunrod vision . Where the sea tunnel seems to further widen and heighten about forty feet in it abruptly becomes mostly blocked just past sixty feet – a massive block of stone now lies before them, with only ten-to-fifteen feet of tunnel passage still passable on the far right-hand side of it. The enormous block of stone appears to have descended from the cave ceiling along a fault or fissure line, for it does not appear to be a cave-in with masses of disparate chucks of rock strewn about, though two distinct pieces of rock have sheared off the main block and lie upon the tunnel floor before them. The block of stone appears to have fractured and descended at an angle, with more of it front-facing towards the entrance on the side the constables are at. Some thirty-feet wide and going all the way up to the ceiling, it goes back tens of feet beyond the limit of their sunrods to see, and must weigh dozens of tons.
The silken rope line runs right down to the edge of this rockfall at the rocky cavern floor, disappearing underneath its edge. A struggling figure lies not more than a few feet away from it to the left, the sunrod light glinting off of a feysteel thin telescoping rod with a hooked end, which he uses in his right hand to reach out and tug at the silken rope feebly. It is the goblin constable Burton Glix, lying on his back and pinned beneath the massive block of stone – from your distance it is hard to tell, but it appears his right leg is trapped right up to the knee, whereas his left leg is bent and mostly out but trapped at the foot or ankle. Puffs and streams of darker water seem to swirl around Burton, emanating mostly from the right leg. He struggles weakly and clearly he sees you know with the illumination you have, but he is too far away to make out whatever he is saying.
On the other side of the silken rope to the right, near the corner of the massive block rockfall at its base, stretch out two arms. Darker streams of water swirl around both arms, the skin pale in complexion and with each hand locked in a wretched claw or clutched grip of the cave floor. The right hand bears a non-metallic ring, most likely carved or fashioned from ivory…
Anneca spots the badly-injured constable from the Resilience team. Perhaps one of them accidentally activated the ward, causing the cave-in that has trapped Glix. She swims slowly next to Emerson and taps him on the shoulder. "Hold this!" She hands him the sunrod so that her hands are freed. "I can free Glix with a scroll! Get the wand ready to heal him!" She swims towards the trapped goblin, trying to figure out who the other trapped figure is and whether it is possible to save them.
Emerson grabs the sunrod and swims up behind Anneca careful not to touch the ground. He looks for signs of the other constables one he gets to the rock face.
Willem swims with Anneca just in case she needs more assistance. And he keeps a wary eye at the surroundings. Just like Emerson, he touches nothing at this time and remains within the cave.
In an effort to prevent Ifris from charging head-long in again, Gemma will swim closer to her. "I'm going to try and see what I can see through the gap! Can you give me some cover?!"
Once she got used to it, Gemma noticed that breathing the water wasn't too bad but trying to speak through it was proving more difficult.
She pulls the sunrod out of her belt and activates it, despite there already being a lot of light in the cave. The hope is that she'll be able to see any possible trigger mechanisms or rock shears as she gets closer to the rock fall. It should have the added benefit of allowing her to be able to see further down the tunnel as well when she gets there. With dagger in one hand and sunrod in the other, she takes a quick look around before swimming closer to where the advance team has fallen.
I hope they can live up to their name because this most certainly puts a damper on things.
As she observes the state of Constable Glix, she can't help but remember his words to her on the ship and what he promised to do.
Johnathan moves slowly through the water after Gemma. He doesn't bother to draw a weapon, everything he'd brought with him would be useless under water. He approaches the corner of the massive block rockfall and bleeding arms, hoping that they don't belong to Celeana.
Anneca, Emerson and Willem all swim straight ahead, closer to where Burton Glix is trapped and the silken rope line ends just a few feet next to him on his right; with sunrods being held by Emerson and Willem the three have no trouble seeing up close. What they see up close, however, is a gruesome sight when it comes to the goblin constable Burton Glix: the darker swirls of water around his right leg are steams of his own blood coming in fits and spurts, for whatever remains of his leg underneath are completely crushed to mash. With the massive block of stone falling to rest on the stone floor of the cavern, the impact to any who were underneath it would be nothing short of catastrophic. Only his left foot offers some chance of rescue – though hopelessly shattered and broken, Burton’s foot seems to have been pinned to the cavern floor where there was a small natural depression next to a bump in the rock. Yet it is completely wedged under the edge of stone with no give for him to try and wriggle it free in his current position. He flails weakly at them on his back, his arms outstretched and his head contorted to try and see them, breaths of water by him coming in sharp painful gasps.
Gemma and Johnathan swim to the corner of the rockfall, with Gemma igniting her own sunrod and drawing a dagger before proceeding cautiously around the corner and into the now-fifteen-foot wide passage to the far right of the cavern. She looks for any signs of the rest of Resilience as well as to judge the extent of the rockfall deeper into the submerged passage, and possibly signs as to what caused it. She has no expertise of caverns or rock formations, but her limited experience from Battalion in the studies of engineering and material forces brings her to a grim conclusion – nothing could have survived the crushing of tons of stone like this. Her assessment seems to be confirmed as she carefully moves down the reduced passage: in no less than three places she spies small dark trickling streams of blood entering the water from places under the rock, perhaps the final and only traces of the others. The massive block of stone itself has fallen at a slight angle moving away from Gemma the farther she moves down the partially blocked passage, widening to around twenty feet by its end before opening back up to the full width of the natural cavern beyond; the natural cavern proceeds on into darkness and presumably the entrance to the bottom of the purported mine shaft. Gemma stops before its end and judges the entire mass of stone to be about fifty to sixty feet long. Though she is no sapper or trap-maker, she sees no signs of mischief or foul play that would suggest a trap – no wires or cables, man-made cuts in the rock, metal objects or even carved runes that suggest magic.
As Gemma proceeds farther down and around, Johnathan holds at the corner, looking down at the two arms that desperately tried to reach safety. His fears are well-founded, for the outstretched hands are in a last grip of death that he has seen many times before. A ring on the right hand is carved from ivory and bears the image of a rose: the ring of Constable Celeana Kirby that he remembers onboard the Impossible. Though he tries to push back memories from long ago, an unbidden flash comes into Johnathan’s mind and across his vision: assaulting a Danoran fortress on some unknown island he witnesses a small team of Risuri Marines be utterly crushed to jelly under the rigged blockfall of the outer fortress gatehouse, blocking the gate and destroying the siege ram in the process. Like jungle fruit between a hammer and anvil, the only blessing being that it was violently sudden and quick. The flash of war memories subside. Celeana is gone, as are any that were under the rockfall when it fell.
Ifris, who was the very first to dive into the water, stays just back behind the rest on the rope line, her sunrod illuminating the entrance to the sea cave behind them all. She has good visibility on all the constables in front of her now but Gemma, though she can still make out the female constable’s position down the remains of the tunnel passage from the faint illumination of her own sunrod.
For Anneca, Emerson and Willem, they are close enough to hear Burton as he lets go of the mithril telescoping rod tool, watching it settle to the cavern floor next to him. ”SWAMP! THE SWAMP WITH PURPLE SKY AND YELLOW FROGS ALL AROUND US! (gasp) THEN BACK WE WERE IN THE RUSH OF WATER…(gasp)…AND THE CRACKING ABOVE…(gasp)…THEY’RE…(gasp)…ALL GONNNNNE! AHHHHHH!!!!”
Burton shrieks out in abject terror and extreme pain, flailing around uselessly as he tries to twist and struggle again, the right leg under the kneecap making a horrible motion that suggests bone is no longer attached and sending another massive spurt of blood streaming into the water all about them. Glix seems delirious, and for a moment it seems you may have to knock him out to keep him from killing himself. Then his eyes focus on Willem Muhnee, and recognition seems to take hold. He reaches out and grabs at the front of Willem’s coat and chain shirt, feebly but desperately drawing him in closer to speak. ”M…Muhnee…(gasp)…I know you…hate…(gasp)…hate me…I know you have cause…but…(gasp)…don’t leave me for the bloody sharks Muhnee! Don’t you leave me for those bloody sharks to come find me and rip me apart like this…(gasp)…cut it off Muhnee…(gasp)…cut it loose and free me and I won’t hold it against ya or nuthin…(gasp)…cut ‘em both off if you have to BUT DON’T LET ME BE TAKEN BY THE BLOODY SHARKS! GAHHHH!” Burton lets go of Willem in a violent shudder of pain that wracks his small body, but he remains conscious for the moment…
Willem looks at Gemma, "Gemma remember what I said on the ship and he is a senior constable. We should rescue him and leave no one behind." He then looks to Ifris and back to Gemma, "Foot Dragoons and Marines do not leave behind their own no matter how unsat or an arse they are. And since we are better than those two teams, or at least I hope we are, we should do the same? We can not take too long to decide because of our water breathin' spell and because his bleeding is probably already attractin' predators such as sharks or worse. Can we move the boulder safely for all of us? If not, let's heal him, tourniquet him, cut his leg, and then heal him again? At the same time, someone needs to see about rescuing who ever that is or is that person gone?"
Internally, Ifris is paralyzed by the sight. It isn't outwardly as obvious to the others, it looks as though she's just giving everyone room to work, but internally she's terrified of what just happened to Glix and—if his words at to be believed—all of the others. It takes Muhnee's voice to shake her back to reality, and Ifris is quick to drop her sunrod and let it fall to the floor of the cave, swimming over alongside the angular slab of stone.
Without a word, Ifris tucks her hands under the stone and closes her eyes. The corded muscles of her astral suit surge, squirming like snakes beneath an oily leather. She waits for some of the others to come down in and help her. Surgically removing that leg isn't in her wheelhouse. Manual labor, however, is exactly what she's capable of right now.
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