Rudabeh sees the change instantly when her sister clasps the cloak, and she surpresses an amused grin very poorly. "I was worried it was permenant too the first time I tried it." She remarks, giving a chuckle. "I am dedicated to the truth. I cannot be anything but I currently am. But... you are mercurial, and can be whatever you want, right? I think you'll find a use for it."
The big sister shrugs, making a plaintive and hopeful gesture. "Maybe you could go topside now and pay da a visit, at least."
Letting Dimi crystalize the thought, she turns to the elven druid. "I don't want to lay eyes on a Sea Hag ever again, but I do need to descend into the Darkness soon, as soon as I get my armor fixed. I can't tell you exactly where we will be going until we leave, and I understand if that is a problem, but I can tell you I will know the direction we need to go... it will be everything in between that will require your assistance."
Bending down, Rudabeh closes her bag of holding, sighing and throwing it over her shoulder. Another long day, another set of aches, and a ong list of things still to do. "If you're still interested, let me know where Ican find you, or send a swimmer. I think it will be the experience of a lifetime."
With a gesture at Ractus, she inquires. "In the meantime, could you help Ractus take on just a bit more salt water today? Enough to get to the surface?"
It wasn't natural. No one should looked that excited, like a child on a holiday morning. Not when confronted with a trip down into the Darkness. Now, granted, the Outsea version was not much compared to the true deeps, the crushing blackness that dwelled in the true ocean, but it was enough. If anything, the Darkness was a bit more compact and thus more crowded with dangers.
Sledlon however gives a grin and says, "Very exciting! Mystery, adventure! I am honored! The only place more exciting then the Darkness is going on land." This last word is said with an exotic flair that makes Rudabeh think of Tian Xia or the outer Planes instead of something that is, perhaps, several hundred yards away?
"It's overrated." Ractus snorts. "Then again, few sharks on land."
Meanwhile Dimi is looking at the cloak, swirling it in her hands, putting it on and off a few times. She looks up at Rudabeh's suggestion, "Our parents? Oh yes, of course. Surely." Yet when she glances back down at the cloak there is a flash of greed there that worries Rudabeh. Had she just enabled her sister to do something foolish?
Sledlon relates his residence, a rather unfashionable area down near the Outfall. Such places tended to be in little demand due to the currents and lack of sealife but perhaps the elf preferred his privacy. Or maybe the chance of being sucked over the dam's breast was exciting. The man seemed mad enough.
He does nod though and reaches out for Ractus. The brightly colored fingers just graze the elf's cheek as some arcane word is muttered. There is a very dim glow, a waft of magic and Sledlon leans back. "Done!"
Ractus looks puzzled, then worried and then confused as his eyes bulge. The mercenary opens his mouth but he merely gapes like ...well, a fish out of water. For a long moment he stands there, face turning blue in panic before a knowing look flashes across his eyes and he dives for the bubble membrane. It parts before him, and he tumbles gracelessly into the surrounding water. Once there he seems fine, face turning back to normal as he takes large gulps of water.
He shakes a fist and silently mouths something very foul at his fellow elf. The druid looks nonplussed however and says, "Aboleth's lung always works like that. Very useful. Many hours of change."
Rudabeh starts to wonder if Sledlon is actually insane, but remembers her teachings and decides not to judge. "Well, then I have found the perfect person to act as my guide. I will send a swimmer when my preparations are complete."
Eyeing up Dimi with a worried look that would make any mother nod in understanding, she sighs and puts it out of her mind. Dimi can make her own choices, even if they're foolish. Alseta knows everyone lets me do whatever I want and that hasn't always been a good idea, either.
The spell is cast upon Ractus and Rudabeh starts to reach out a hand in concern when the elf begins turning an uncharacteristic, but not unseemly, shade of blue. She never reaches the elf, and when he dashes for the water the undine barks a laugh when she realizes the spell the druid had used.
"I should have known when you said "lungs" instead of "gills". Well, he'll have plenty of time to swim around and taste the salt now." Turning to the aquatic elf Rudabeh gives a small bow of her head. "Thank you Sledlon, and may you find inspiration in our story of sea hags and clams. I will speak with you again soon."
To her sister, she extends her arms for an embrace. "If you can spare one hug? For me?" Rudabeh's large frame engulfing her sister's diminutive statue would be like a great white swallowing a guppy, but she just wanted to know her sister she was loved.
After saying her good-byes, Rudabeh casually strolls to the edge of the bubble to the floating Ractus. "I suppose I should give you some recommendations on where you can stay now that you're a bottom-walker." She says in common as bubbles fly out of her mouth and rejoin the arena behind them.
Laughing at her own joke, she waves a hand. "I jest, I know you can swim, but you may want to ilicit some pity in your current condition. I would suggest asking for a cargo net to sleep in so you don't sink to the floor during the night." Rudabeh makes a pinching motion with her fingers. "Some crabs take their chances even if you're still alive."
Extending a hand, she offers to give him a tow through the water. "Or you can come with me. I was going to check on Gig and the barge. Maybe you should stay with them tonight instead, and I can go to the Polite Clam to make sure it's not getting too rowdy. I have some swimmers to send anyway."
At first Dimi is reluctant to hug, holding back slightly, the cloak in one hand. But as their bodies touch, her sister melts into it and gives Rudabeh a tight squeeze. As they part the smaller sister says quietly, "I'll do my best to visit. I know they miss me. I miss them."
Ractus opens his mouth to reply to Rudabeh's teasing remarks but the elf hasn't quite learned the trick of talking 'with his mouth full', so all he manages is a strangled gurgle of bubbles. The mercenary contents himself with a glowering stare.
At least he is a powerful swimmer so he doesn't slow Rudabeh down too much as they head back to the barge. They find it easily, the lubber barge a different design then the Outsea vessels. It also sticks out because Gig floats under it, fending the world off with a spear. Evidently the grippli took Rudabeh's words seriously and is warding off not only the curious passerbyes but also the wildlife.
In Outsea this is not a trivial matter. The floating hulks of clamshells would naturally attract everything from curious otters to hungry fish. Even as they approach, Rudabeh watches the skinny frog-man dissuade a rather determined cloud of damselfish from taking up residence on the algae covered hulks.
Surfacing, and leaving a scowling Ractus below the waves, she holds a quick conference with the grippli and the ship crew. Sivuli reports no problems except lots of curious people wanting to know if gigas clams are being re-introduced to Outsea. "Your people seem overly concerned with animals." the Varsisian comments.
Litta is unhappy about being spilt up from Silvui but reluctantly nods at Rudabeh's orders to protect her parent's home. The quiet archer suggests a few names for the honor guard, all of which Rudabeh agrees with. At the very least, a few mercenaries around will keep any casual thugs from causing trouble. Although the paladin thinks the root issues will take a bit more work to solve....
With all in hand she gets ready to head to the Polite Clam. Ractus remains behind, sullenly floating next to the eager Gig, still unable to breathe air. Rudabeh hopes the experience of a true Outsea evening will teach the man some patience, but she doubts it. What a shame, since she would give a great deal to simply swim and enjoy the water.
She finds the Polite Clam where she remembers it, a few streets set back from the busy docks. It is large clean building made out of chunks of finely worked coral-stone, carefully and sustainably harvested from the various reefs in the Well. Completed generations ago, the large tavern still stood as a monument of cooperation between lubbers and finfolk. It had a good reputation as a clean, professional establishment with fair pricing, a rarity among the usual flophouses and grogshops that cluttered waterfronts everywhere, Outsea included.
Despite the building's size, her troops take up much of the building however, spilling out onto the tables and benches outside. Still, to Rudabeh's relief, there is no sign of drunken brawling, vandalism or littering (a serious offense, even on land). The paladin finds no sign of Irovetti however, or his usual bevy of servants. What had the former king gotten up to?
Leaving Ractus under the chopping waves Rudabeh looks over the assembled troops. They were all oath-bound as she was, and she had seen them fight against bandits and monsters with great success. WIth the exception of Gig, each could hold their own; their skill and loyalty reaffirmed her choice to dedicate herself to Alseta's teacings of peace and diplomacy. They didn't need her blade, they needed her to guide Alseta's light.
The sinking sun illuminates the undine's dripping back, causing an unwelcome warm radiance to begin spreading across her skin. Soon the soaked folds of her Pitaxian courtier's outfit would dry and she would be left to face the punishing heat of another River Kingdom's summmer. For reasons she did not understand the dark fabric seemed warmer than her thick, shining armor, but it was but a brief thought.
"All of Outsea is a delicate balance. We rely on the animals, and the plants, and all the little bugs we cannot see as much as they rely on us." Rudabeh says to Silvui as she repeats what any Outsea child even a lubber, would say in response. "The motivation is fairly simple. If we don't maintain the balance, nearly everyone and everything in Outsea's waters would die."
Kneeling down to peak with Gig, she looks the grippili in the bulbous eye. "You've done fine work today Gig, but don't forget to rest. Let Ractus take a shift keeping the clam shells safe." She muses internally for a moment before adding. "Maybe help him learn to speak underwater while you're at it. He's all bubbles right now."
After giving Litta directions to her parent's home/warehouse and impressing on her the desire for disrection, Rudabeh sets off for The Polite Clam, half-expecting to find a riot in progress.
She is pleasantly surprised at the genial atmosphere and manners the soldiers are displaying off-duty. Pride trickles into her heart as she surveys them from afar- without her armor she is just another undine in the crowd, and the brief, unfamiliar anonimity gives her a chance to see the former mercenaries relaxed. They were good picks, all of them, and she hoped one day they would be a shining example of what the Pact of Years Represented.
After approaching the establishment and checking in with the officer charged with R&R duty, Rudabeh is briefly concerned about Irovetti's absence. Leaving him to his own machinations had nearly gotten them both killed in Daggermark, and then his party afterwards witnessed both a duel that caused someone's hand to be blown off as well as an attempted mass poisoning by a foreign enemy power.
Well, as long as he doesn't blow out a dam, it should be fine. Rudabeh assauges herself, as if that was the worse the former king could accomplish.
She had other plans, as it was- she needed to arrange a meeting with the undine General, and The Polite Clam always had reputable quick-footed and/or quick-finned children ready to deliver shells in exchange for anything of value.
Rudabeh quickly realizes that the reason her troops are behaving themselves is that they are distracted by something all soldiers get concerned about. The food.
Aquatic food sources are more common in the River Kingdoms then in other landlubber kingdoms and few tables from Pitax to Daggermark lack fish or even mussels on a regular basis. But a few bass or pike is one thing, but a full range of carefully prepared proper Outsea fare is quite another. The buffet inside the Polite Clam is surrounded by a bevy of bewildered company men. It is divided into two parts, as is custom on shore, into a cooked landlubber side and a wild Outsea side. The Polite Clam prides itself on a full menu and Rudabeh can see why her men are puzzled. What did a landlubber know about dealing with a live octopus or a pufferfish that was still spiky as a chestnut? Even the landlubber side was full of unknown delicacies such as seaweed wrapped periwinkles or buttered conch. She even spots jellied jellyfish, a rarity even here. Must be later in the year then she thought.
The entertainment too was classic Outsea. Along one wall, there were no tables, and a low stage was built into the floor. In a tavern elsewhere in the River Kingdoms one might expect a band or perhaps a storyteller, but not in Outsea. On it were a dozen painted undine dancers, acting out a rather classic Outsea dance piece, The Hunt. It was a stylized dance, there the troupe acted either as the School or the Predator in turns. It was graceful and cooperative, with each dancer sliding into place and creating shifting sillouhutes and shapes. Interesting, the Preadtor, usually depicted as a shark, seemed to be some sort of kraken-like beast. Inventive.
Nearby, a few undines with drums kept up the rhythm. Precussion was the Outsea tradition of course, although strings were increasingly common in the last century or so. Rudabeh was not a musical expert but Urqat used to complain loudly (and with citations) about the 'decline' in Outsea tradition, so she had picked up a few things.
It doesn't take her long to find a willing courier. A young gillman lad who the tavern owner, from behind the bar, waves a recommendation to. Such communication is vital and, for the young, carries a bit of prestige. Rudabeh knew several militia members, who when called into their Service, proudly stated they had been messengers or runners.
With her approach, some of the more keen-eyed members would notice her presence even with the plethora of exotic distractions around them. She gave them polite nod, or wave, and resisted the urge to speak with them or give advice on what foods to try. Business came first.
The young gillman recommended by the tavern owner gets a sizing up from Rudabeh- the lad was spry, bright-eyed, and most importantly, moist. He had clearly been working all day- speedy and reliable, no doubt.
She pays to use the tavern's slate stationary and their luminescent stylus, though she decides she should once again find her own botte of the common, green bioluminescence grease drawn onto flattened slabs of stone for underwater commmunication.
The rod-like stylus made of continually sharpened bone is dipped into the mixture of fat and bioluminescent slurry, and Rudabeh is quickly writing out a message in flowing Aquan, starting with a traditional Outsea greeting:
May this messgage find your pools at low tide, General Derbacam.
I, Rudabeh, acting in my capacity as a representative of the Pact of Years, ask the Honorable General to meet and discuss the fulfillment of the bounty on mother-of-pearl from recently acquired Gigas stock. Please sound-back with a meeting time; or summon me at your earliest convenience.
High tides in the shallows,
Rudabeh,
Representative of the Pact-of-Years
Paladin of Alseta
And ending with a traditional phrase, bringing the positive message from low tide to high tide under good circumstances. Should the message had been negative, she would have started with an unfavorable low tide or inclement weather to an even worse high tide or disastrous weather, or switching between the two in order to communicate a change in tone.
She did not include her entire agenda in the message, but knew that Derbacam, or whomever reads the message, would know that pointing out she was acting in her official capacity would allude to other desired business.
The softly glowing slab is placed inside a bight red clam shell and tied together with a string before she hands it to the young gillman, along with a flake of mother-of-pearl so thin it could be mistaken for a fish scale.
"Swim well, and thank you. I will stay here and await your return."
Rudabeh wanders outside of the tavern, her pace casual at already deciding to stay. It was getting late. She still wanted to speak with her brother- but would she be able to find him before exhaustion took her? And her armor was broken within her pack, but the thought of arming herself, of the humiliation she faced in front of Finn left a cold pit in her stomach.
Instead, she looks about at the soldiers surrounding her, and admires The Hunt. She takes a step towards the painted dancers and the young gawking soldiers unused to unsexalized nakedness. Perhaps she would take a brief break, help guide her soldiers through this cultural change, and wait for the General's reply.
The courier is off like a striped marlin, vanishing into the black of real night. Watching him go, Rudabeh can hear the chorus of night insects, which creak and chirp with slightly different sounds then the freshwater swamps that surround them. Even Outsea's insect population is carefully curated and defended. Rudabeh recalls a very long and tedious court case over the protection of kelp fly breeding grounds, which despite being rather unpleasant and annoying, were a key part of the intertidal ecosystem. Urqat had only taken the case because he disliked the other side, but Rudabeh had grown to enjoy her role as representative of the silent and helpless.
She had won that case.
The paladin, although enjoying the cool night air on her bare skin, finally went back inside. It was pleasant to have a seat among friends and watching real culture for a change, pointing out some subtleties and frowning when someone made a crude remark. The food was good, the room not too warm (it had more vents for air circulation then a real landlubber place would), and not overly loud. In fact, it was so nice it took the undine quite awhile to realize something was wrong.
The place didn't have nearly enough humans. The Polite Clam was an institution, a frequent gathering place both of local landlubbers and travelers, mainly merchants who found their way. It was real authentic Outsea but reserved enough for outsiders. Yet, the reputation, the place was nearly empty. Apart from her Company (which did fairly fill the place to bursting), there were few. A traveling company of dwarves took up one corner, loudly playing some tile board game, a small party of druids on a pilgrimage and a few halfling merchants. Only a bare handful of humans were present, most of them travelers. Where were the locals?
Rudabeh was still puzzling over this a few hours later when a undine sergeant slipped in. She knew he was a sergeant because he was wearing his insignia, if not a full 'uniform'. He was also armed with a sword at his hip, and Rudabeh wondered what it was made of. Few metals could survive long in the briny world of Outsea. He had a serious sober face of middle-aged, older then Rudabeh. After a brief glance around the room he approached Rudabeh.
He nodded in somewhat un-military fashion and said simply, "The General will see you." A personal guide? This was most unusual for what should have been a fairly routine visit, even if Rudabeh planned to touch on some delicate topics.
The lack of humans in the Polite Clam left Rudabeh puzzled. She placed this in her mind alonside the gillman that was cursing the humans earlier, the problem with the Tallies... was this why Veleda had sent her here? Not the crime, or to get Rudabeh to stop causing trouble in Daggermark, but to styime the growing divide between the growing human population and the Outseers?
The problem made her uncomfortable. Though she litterally had feet in both worlds, how could she, a native Outseer, gain the trust of the Tallies enough to open a dialogue about solving their problems? If Finn is able to arrange a meeting with the Tallies to negociate the labor dispute... no, Rudabeh may need to speak with them to even get them to come to the table. But it was doubtful she was going to find any information here.
Rudabeh is sitting at a table of her men, listening to an asinine, greenwater-fueled argument between two archers about if it would be a better idea to use a mimic as a crossbow or as the bolt in a crossbow when the undine sergeant steps inside.
Casting an eye over him, before he notices her presence, she furrows her brow over his sword, his dryness, and the lack of salt sticking to his skin. If he had any awards or corals pinned to his lapel, she'd swear he would be ready for a parade.
The concern has left her features when he approaches, and she lifts her head to hear his statement. Something seemed off, and she could not get the image of "Samuel" standing on the walls of the First Palace, looking completely innocuous before suddenly turning into an exploding mercenary.
Rising from her chair, she says slowly and graciously- "That is good, thank you Sergeant...?" Her head tilts, expecting a name. "I am Rudabeh." Her bare hand is extended in greeting- not a traditional Outsea greeting for certain, but she wanted to feel his hand, to see if it was wet or the salt still clung to it.
Her eye casts downward at the insignia on his breast to identify his unit. "Are you with the General's Guard?"
The undine gives her a small grin, "You are paranoid. Good." Without hesitation he grabs her hand in a tight grip, and Rudabeh notes with a tiny ripple of concern it is dry and clean, although callused both from hard work and swordplay. Years ago Finn had taught her the difference and many times they had saved her life.
"Although I am tempted to ask who your enemies are, that cam conjure up an Outsea sergeant within a day of your landing." He lets her hand goes and comes to some attention, although Rudabeh notes he seems to be avoiding drawing attention to himself. Indeed, the eyes of others seem to glaze right over him without much care or notice. Maybe not magic but certainly some skill at remaining inconspicuous.
Intrigued, Rudabeh attempts to see his aura, or at least detect if he is chaos. She opens that divine inner sense, but gets nothing off the stout undine. Curious.
"Then again, knowing your friends, I'm not surprised." The undine says, the grin fading away. "A remora learns from sharks, or so they say."
"Sergeant Ghicek. I am a member of the General's....staff." Indeed, because the man lacks the insignia that would mark him as part of the formal bodyguard. Infact, he lacks anything identifying him at all, apart from his rank. No indication of unit or time served. Now that is highly unusual. Oustea militaries are organized quite differently then landlubber forces, but units are considered key parts of ones indenity, especially for those serving full time.
Very curious but only to the trained eye.
A slight rise of an eyebrow as he reads Rudabeh's face, "Do I pass muster?"
Rudabeh regards the strange undine, now more curious than paranoid. Sergeant Ghicek didn't seem to be tricking her- he wasn't pretending to be anyone important, or rushing to convince her to do anything. Either that was the point and he was meant to be a snipe in the reeds, some sort of eyes and ears for Derbacam, or this undine was very good at lying.
"I... think I understand." The paladin says carefully, though the tone of her voice brings any understanding at all into question. "Though I was merely expecting a reply. I could have seen myself to the General's home. The escort is flattering, but very unorthodox for a business transaction."
Maybe she came on a little too strongely in her message. There were important topics to discuss, but she really did want to sell that mother-of-pearl.
"Well." Rudabeh says with a sigh, picking a bit of crab carapace out of the folds of her finely woven outfit. "If this is a spawn-napping let's get it over with, shall we?" A smile of utter fearlessness punctuates the impish statement.
Turning to her inebriated soliders sitting at the table, Rudabeh switches to Taldane. "I'm off to speak with General Derbacam. I leave you with this- if you dropped a magical talking boot into the Well, would you be charged with littering or abandonment?" That would probably keep them occupied for another hour, if they could forget about the mimics at least.
Gesturing towards the door, Rudabeh moves to follow Ghicek.
On stage, the troupe finally winds down their performance, the avant-garde kraken dissolving into merely a collection of sweaty and tired performers. They know enough human custom to bow at the edge of the stage, and receive a scattering of slightly bewildered applause. The band gets a stronger round of approval, apparently less confusing then Outsea dance.
Rudabeh once again made a mental note to take a few of the Company to a proper Outsea theater production. Maybe real blood would hold their interest? She wondered if it was the right season for the Skum productions of Storm and Wave. The schedule followed some obscure calendar that regulated which performances would be preformed when. Or maybe The Riptide, there were some landlubbers in that one....even if they are only drowned victims.
Shaking her head she is careful to note where she is going to her men and, although they are distracted by drink and argument, a few seek her eyes and nod slightly. Fighting men and women, they understand why she is so clear to mention her destination. A scout is always very careful to describe their intended path, when they can.
So you can find the bodies.
Ghicek gives a nod to this as well, clearly understanding her tactic. If it bothers him he hides it well, although he says nothing to the Company men scattered about and ignores the dancers as well. He does murmur, "I think we shall endeavor to keep the number of spawn to a minimum."
Despite the improved ventilation, the air is cooler outside and free of the smells of food and human bodies. A salty tang fills her nose and lifts her spirits. If she is about to be stuffed in a sack, at least it will be a proper Outsea sack.
Ghicek moves her to a dark patch of ground just outside the Polite Clam. A bit out of the way for any later arrivals, but not outside of shouting range.
"Well, my first bit of news is this. We will not be going to the General's office or residence." The sergeant says bluntly, surprising Rudabeh. She assumed they would either be going to Derbacam's home or, if he was working late his office at the Nautilus (where the Outsea Council met and worked). All this cloak and dagger, to steal a landlubbers phrase, seemed a bit much for a simple conversation. "Is that going to be a problem?"
Rudabeh inhales deeply as they walk through the propped-up doors of The Polite Clam. The salty tang on the air and the cool breeze coming off of the waters invigorates her, and despite her injuries from fighting the adaptive ooze, she feels good. The smell of the sea even made her forget about the injury to her ego that she suffered, and the paladin boldly strode into the darkness with Ghicek. She wondered who he worked for- Derbacam, the Council, Vrasa, whomever was fixing the fights at Gargant's (they had to be upset about the forfeited bet, the ooze, and the arena), the Tallies, or maybe Irovetti had already landed himself in trouble, if this wasn't one of his schemes.
The undine's ears fan outward slightly in surprise at the Sergeant's bluntness, her head tilting slightly as she looks him straight in the eyes. "Interesting technique. I honestly expected to be netted right here, but you want me to just... walk into the crab basket instead?"
Eyelids falling down and brow furrowing, she waves her palms towards Ghicek. "Look, I'm hoping we can dispense with the secrecy now that we're away from the public and my soldiers. I'm quite familiar with meetings at strange places for unknown parties, but that was under the mantle of an arbiter as the Eyes of Alseta. This is clearly something else, and frankly I am too busy to be interrogated, ransomed, killed, or whatever your handler may have in store for me."
Shifting her weight to one foot, she lifts one hand in the air and then to her chest in a pleading gesture. "So please. Just tell me who sent you, what they want from me, and where they told you to take me. If this entity wants to talk, we can arrange it officially. I did not come to Outsea to make enemies and will lend my ear to all factions here equally, without resorting to skullduggery."
Ghicek gives a small smile that does not travel past his lips. After a short moment of silence he sighs and says, "Paranoia is a healthy attitude and I approve, but I'm a bit surprised you seem surprised." The undine takes a step back and sits on an faux driftwood bench, the wood artificially warped by magic to look as if it had been tossed on the open sea for a century.
Settling in a bit the sergeant goes on, eyes fixed on Rudabeh, "A member of the Pact of Years arrives in the city with not only an entire mercenary company at her back, but also with a former king of Pitax, a known cheat and scoundrel. This outside agent does not present herself formally to the Council. Within hours, the former king is involved with dissident elements, and she herself is noted at a notorious grotto meeting with sellswords and criminals. Then, after she, she sends a cryptic private note to a Council member ostensibly about selling some giant clam shells while also stressing her affiliation with the Pact of Years? " Eyes narrowed, "And then you act surprised when someone might want to handle things discreetly?"
"The General wants to meet you, but can hardly do so openly. His residence is watched by many eyes and his office has official records, and an after-hours meeting there would simply stir up more silt. No a private meeting is best. I was sent to arrange it because, well, this is my job. Doing things that the General would rather keep out of sight. You are now ranked one of them. I hope you are proud." This is all delivered with a very authentic air of a professional annoyed at a change in routine but used to it.
Rudabeh looks more and more guilty as Ghicek talks, until her ears are folded back and she has two fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. "Alseta perserve me, it does look really bad when you lay it all out. I am terrible at this job. I find it ironic that hiding nothing can be as detrimental as hiding everything." The news about Irovetti does not give her the slightest pause. It is not at all surprising, and may even be helpful when she speaks to him next.
She draws in a deep breath, the tangy salt air that once infalted her ego merely serving as a reminder that even though this was home, she still had to be the hier apparent of the Pact of Years. "I'm not here on any official business. I have nothing to report to the Council, so I did not ask after them, though I was warned they will summon me eventually. I wanted to talk to Derbacam before that happened." Sheepsihly, she points a thumb back towards the sounds of some far-off drinking song springing up from The Polite Clam. "I really did want to speak with the General about selling mother-of-pearl. I... promised the soldiers uniforms. Political talk was a bonus."
Shaking her head, Rudabeh relaxes and gestures for the Sergeant to stand up. "No, obviously I am not proud I cannot meet the General in his office. It's embarassing. Yet my excuses and self-pity are of little use to you. Please proceed, though you still did not tell me exactly where we are headed." The paladin abandons her plans to use Touch of Truthtelling on the Sergeant to repeat his statements- if anything, she deserved to be stuffed into a sack now.
As they begin to walk, Rudabeh is not silent. Despite being fifty pounds lighter and no longer making the same amount of noise as a peddler's cart stuck inside of a steeple bell in a hurricane, she still has a bad habit of projecting her voice more than needed. "So do you work only with General Derbacam, for the entire Council, or are you available for hire? You seem a rare breed... How would I go abut employing someone such as yourself? The last "discreet" person on my team stole all the utensils from the bardge and I hope to someday find someone more... lawful."
Rudabeh looks more and more guilty as Ghicek talks, until her ears are folded back and she has two fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. "Alseta perserve me, it does look really bad when you lay it all out. I am terrible at this job. I find it ironic that hiding nothing can be as detrimental as hiding everything." The news about Irovetti does not give her the slightest pause. It is not at all surprising, and may even be helpful when she speaks to him next.
She draws in a deep breath, the tangy salt air that once infalted her ego merely serving as a reminder that even though this was home, she still had to be the hier apparent of the Pact of Years. "I'm not here on any official business. I have nothing to report to the Council, so I did not ask after them, though I was warned they will summon me eventually. I wanted to talk to Derbacam before that happened." Sheepsihly, she points a thumb back towards the sounds of some far-off drinking song springing up from The Polite Clam. "I really did want to speak with the General about selling mother-of-pearl. I... promised the soldiers uniforms. Political talk was a bonus."
Shaking her head, Rudabeh relaxes and gestures for the Sergeant to stand up. "No, obviously I am not proud I cannot meet the General in his office. It's embarassing. Yet my excuses and self-pity are of little use to you. Please proceed, though you still did not tell me exactly where we are headed." The paladin abandons her plans to use Touch of Truthtelling on the Sergeant to repeat his statements- if anything, she deserved to be stuffed into a sack now.
As they begin to walk, Rudabeh is not silent. Despite being fifty pounds lighter and no longer making the same amount of noise as a peddler's cart stuck inside of a steeple bell in a hurricane, she still has a bad habit of projecting her voice more than needed. "So do you work only with General Derbacam, for the entire Council, or are you available for hire? You seem a rare breed... How would I go abut employing someone such as yourself? The last "discreet" person on my team stole all the utensils and spices from the galley of our barge before being dismissed and I hope to someday find someone more... law-abiding."
Ghicek unbent, a little, face become less sober. The undine stands up, dusts himself off a bit and says, "It is not just you, I admit. Things are a bit...unstable right now, in the city. You have just added a little ...foam to the wave."
They walk through the fairly quiet night streets of Outsea, Rudabeh letting the sergeant lead. He sticks to the major streets and it quickly becomes apparent they are headed for the water.
"As for where we are going," He replies, "You could say it is a vote of confidence, actually. The General has a close....friend, whose discretion is beyond reproach and whose residence will not be watched. It should be a suitable place to meet and discuss whatever comes up. It's in the Shallows, not too far from here, a rather fashionable part of town actually."
As opposed to Rudabeh's rather loud voice, Ghicek is soft-spoken and his words are sometimes lost in the tramp of boots on crushed-coral streets, crocking of frogs, and other nighttime noises.
"Alas, my services are not for sale." The undine says without smiling. "I read up a bit on your service, so I think you will understand when I say, that I serve an ideal." They reach the waterfront suddenly, the road turning into a gradual ramp into the water. Starlight plays off Gozeh's Well, a thousand thousand rippling dots. In the distance, just starting to clear the dim outline of trees, the Moon is rising. A sudden breeze full of salt wafts both of them.
"This is my ideal." Ghicek says suddenly, voice still dry and yet full of...something. "I do not know how you left it, Rudabeh. All of this, an accident of history and magic, creating a great city and a society unlike any other. I serve it, and the General. He is a great man. " Then, as if catching himself, he nods and says, "As for hiring someone else like me. Well, let's see where the night goes first, Rudabeh from the Pact of Years. Let's not put the eggs before the spawn."
"Discretion beyond reproach." Rudabeh repeats the phrase, savoring the words in her mouth as one would savor the oozing fat of a freshly bitten fish. "A divine trait, in my faith."
Even though she was expecting it he waterfront seems to appear suddenly, only foretold by the gentle slopping of rippling waves. She stops as Ghicek does, listening silently to his explanation of duty and the connection to Outsea that few water breathers can, or want to, escape.
"I understand completely." she begins, trying to focus on the twinkling lights slowly being washed out by the bright light of the creeping moon. "If I had not sworn myself to serve Alseta and the cosmic force of Law, I would be doing the same as you. I envy the fact you get to protect this beautiful and unique puddle. You can see it, touch it, and your actions can directly influence it." Kneeling down, she sees a hermit crab vainly attempting to pull out a larger shell stuck in the crushed coral of the road.
"The Pact of Years is like twenty independent Outseas all poured into the same bowl, but with worse food. The concept of Law and service to Alseta is the ocean, effectively infinite and beyond any one beings understanding. I may be a remora at the Pact of Years, but I am a single bit of algae in the cosmos, carried along by unseen currents caused by the splashing of the gods." Rudabeh stands, moving her foot and placing the heel of her boot upon the shell. The crab scuttles off to better things as she crushes the shell into the surrounding coral, adding it to the fabric of the road. "May the scales of judgment never force me to choose between our special home, the pact, or the greater good. I'm glad you will always know the right choice, Ghicek."
The salt calls, and at the edge of the water Danglosa's hook and line begins to become taut upon her soul. "So lead on, I can tell you're doing what you think is best for Outsea and I respect that."
"Deep waters" is all the sergeant says, a very old Outsea saying. Rudabeh had heard a landlubber saying once, one of the few she actually liked. Still waters run deep, and she had a feeling it applied to Ghicek.
Together they stride into the water, the cool liquid making Rudabeh's heart and soul race. She had not been home long enough for the novelty of stepping into salt water to wear off yet and while a landlubber couldn't see it, the difference between Gozreh's Well and the river was like night and day.
True to his word, the Sergeant leads them away from the docks and toward the Shallows. Outsea was not a giant city, at least by the standards landlubbers preferred, and Rudabeh had traveled over most it during her adolescence, either during her father's commercial deals, militia duty or legal training. Still, the 'fashionable' bit of the Shallows was probably the least familiar and part of the paladin still felt that old thrill at exploring a new part of her home.
Meanwhile, they swim through night Outsea and like every other city, it has a very different face after dark. Gone are the shimmering shards of sunlight and shadow cast by waves overhead, the expansive vistas, the sense of speed and life. In its place was a world of inky blackness, curtains of shadows, of being alone. The water even felt different at night, cooler and denser. Rudabeh recalled that the night was when engineering teams often did salt dumps, releasing tons of the mineral into channels and bays. In some ways, night was the Well at it's most oceanic.
The ecosystem was different too, as the animals and plants changed. Night was when the eel and grouper hunted, while other fish rested in crevices. Vast clouds of shrimp and minnows made a daily journey to the surface at night, using the darkness to hide while they fed. Other, stranger things sometimes followed them out of the Darkness.
They see little of such things as they swim, except for gently dodging a cloud of bioluminescent jellyfish rising like a undead specter. They billowed in perfect union, creating a hypotonic pattern of slow movement.
Soon after, Ghicek indicates they should descend to the still invisible bed. He leads the way and, slowly, the surrounding blackness starts to yield the outlines of homes. It takes Rudabeh a long moment to get her bearings, not only because of the dark but because she has to get used to thinking in three dimensions again. Outsea homes are not placed on the well bed in nice even rows like landlubber cities. They are a mixed pile of buildings thrown together, strewn among natural obstacles and clinging to cliffs.
Still though, Ghicek leads them right toward a house Rudabeh instantly recognizes. Most Outsea homes, even the most splendid tended to be understated and meld into the landscape. Stucco and rock, kelp and seaweed, nuteral tones all worked together to create harmony and break up outlines. Some older homes went so far as to nearly vanish altogether into swaying beds of vegetation and piled stones. It was a point of pride for the oldest Outsear families to have a ramshackle house that verged on being part of nature.
But the building ahead of Rudabeh was quite different. It was a square cube that jutted out from the bed like a tooth in a jaw. It gleamed a dusky white in the night, kept perfectly clear of the usual collection of coral of plant-life. No crabs or urchins crawled the stony surface. There was only one house like this in Oustea, unless things had very much changed.
Voyumre Vemlohy's.
Ractus was a good swimmer, but only because he beat the water into submission like all lubbers that learned not to drown. It must be exhausting to swim like that, but lubbers really had no other choice besides relying on magic.
It had been over a decade since Rudabeh swam with another water-breather, but she had not forgotten what a delight it was. Ghicek leads the way, taking the brunt of the counter-currents and leaving an easy wake for Rudabeh to follow. With every twist and movement he left behind sutble clues in the water that told of his next direction and speed, and Rudabeh effortlessly and gracefully followed without her armor slowing her down. They spun over the school of jellyfish with little concern, creating a small pulse of water to briefly keep them at bay. The ripple travels the group, causing them to wobbble like lanterns in the wind.
Sometimes in their bubble of darkvision bits of light flash through from the Twilight- a trap, a meal, or a sign of distress. It was impossible to know without taking the risk, and the further one descended the more risky finding out became. Yet the carefully curated nature of Outsea did not leave one blind. Navigation was difficult away from the walls of the well, but a series of posts laquered with some special paint imported from the Darklands blazed white in their darkvision, giving them bearing and keeping them in a "lanes" between buildings or away from the deeper parts of the well. If you stopped seeing the posts, some specially marked to warn of particually deep waters, you knew you went too far towards the center of the well.
They stay so imbeded amongst the buildings Rudabeh does not even see one marked post for waters leading to the Twlight, and the upcoming building was gleaming in the pale moonlight through her darkvision like a bleache whale bone. A bubbly snort escapes her lungs when she realizes Ghicek is heading directly for the sterile abode. "Does Voyumre still live in The Cube?" The paladin asks quieter than usual- she did know that in the cold waters, sound traveled far, and while she was not a discreet person she was no fool. Predators had ears, too, and being quiet at night was ingrained in those that grew up in the ocean.
Luckily on this swim they need not go 'past the posts', but Rudabeh knows she must soon. If she intends to visit Dangolsa, she'd be heading well outside the managed parts of Oustea and into the wilder depths. Still, one struggle at a time. First, something even worse then eyeless monsters and strange gods.
Politics.
Ghicek nods, "Indeed." He waggles an arm, "I've never cared for it personally, call me a traditionalist."
They descend through the dark water with ease and grace, stopping just short of stirring up the silty bed of the Well. Swimming a few feet above the bottom, the sergeant leads the way toward the imposing Cube.
Their is no door of course, such things being very rare in Outsea homes, due to the problems of differential pressures and swirling currents. The only concessions most homes gave to privacy was a dog-leg turn at the entrance to hide the interior from passerby's. Simpler homes usually lacked even that, simply relying on societal discretion to avert eyes. This generally worked since it was the height of bad manners to peek into someone's else home unbidden.
Voyumre of course would have none of this and her entrance was straight as an arrow, a perfectly rectangular door pierced through the carapace-like shell of the building.
Her guide pauses for a moment, eyes sweeping the night water around them. There is no one else, at least that Rudabeh can see. Just the usual collection of swimming, floating, crawling life forms. Near Rudabeh's boot a sea-cucumber, colors washed to outlines of gray in the gloom, slowly trundles past while a gray mudshark silently glides past on the edge of view.
"Let's go." Ghicek finally says, turning back toward the entrance. "The General is waiting for us."
They cross the threshold and enter the exact opposite of the wild nature outside. Order. Only Voyumre Vemlohy would make her drafting room the first room.
Then again, it was a place of beauty. The walls were covered in carefully hung, engraved wax sheets, framed in shining white bone. Every one showed a plan, a blueprint, or the layout of some aspect of Outsea life. Rudabeh saw planned canals, cleaning projects and reconstructions of historical pools. One section was even dedicated to the sewage laden Reekworks, which depicted a rather unsettling drawing of a wastewater fountain.
The room itself was filled with four tables, perfectly square and made out of heavy stone. One is covered with drawing tools such as protractors, compasses, sharp knives and rollers, along with extra stacks of wax. Rudabeh wondered where she got the stuff.
The other tables were topped with slate and covered with chalkboard traceries and sketches. Despite them being obviously temporary rough-outlines, Rudabeh could still tell they are Voyumre's work. Every line was perfectly straight, every curve mathematically graceful. Even the copious notations were drawn in neat, orderly boxes. Rudabeh didn't have time to do more then glance, but most of the drawings seemed to be about the new sinkhole under construction, technical drawings of the excavations and channels.
"The next room, Rudabeh." Ghicek says, and they pass into the next room. Rudabeh recalled, during her infrequent visits to the engineer's home in her youth, that it had been a gathering space, entertainment for visitors and friends. A comfortable room, at least by Voyumre standards. But as soon as they pass through yet another perfectly square entrance, the paladin can see that is no longer the case.
Now it is a cool, sterile place covered with off-white tile, from ceiling to floor. Benches and chairs are worked into the walls, providing the usual perches Outsears prefer. A large chalkboard, empty, graces one wall. The only concession to decoration is an intricate coat of arms worked in tiles on the floor. Water pouring over a dam, white foam cresting in vigorous splashes. Under it, in old Azlanti is the motto, Nihil rarius quam sensus communis.
The seal and motto of the the Collaborative Society of Flow and Function.
Seated on one of the benches is a gillwoman, dressed in the usual bare Oustear minimum of pockets and sash. Oddly she wore tightly fitted gloves, hiding her hands. What stood out however was the gold jewelry around her neck, an intricate series of angular blocks. The woman looked regal, stern but not cruel. Bright green eyes flashed in the gloom, sharp as agates. The years had not done much to the engineer, except made her a bit thinner perhaps.
On the other side of the room was someone else Rudabeh recognized but not nearly so well. The best word to describe General Derbacam was...dark. His skin was a deep indigo, heavy brows surmounting large black eyes. The undine had large powerful limbs, although his left arm ended in a ugly stump. Rudabeh knew the General had seen real action once upon a time, in landlubber wars but did not know the details. Tonight he wore his uniform, complete with General's insignia.
The large eyes fixed on Rudabeh when she entered, narrowed slightly but he said nothing.
"It has been a number of years, Rudabeh." Voyumre Vemlohy said, the gillwoman's voice austere as usual. "It is good to see you again. "
Silence descended.
Pausing outside with Ghicek, she lets the snipe survey his surroundings without interference. It was a difficult thing to know if you were being watched in the deep, dark waters. Some creatures had senses far more keen and wide-reaching than darkvision- you never knew exactly how you were being watched.
There was nothing within sight besides wildlife minding its own business, but she had always wondered if there were any druids that turned to spycraft... surely no one would pay attention to an errant mackeral in these waters, though perhaps the risk of predation would be greater than the risk of discovery.
Trusting Ghicek they have permission to enter The Cube, Rudabeh touches her Iron Key anyway. My goddess, forgive me if I enter this home unwelcome, and bless me with the words to stay welcome if I am.
Her prayer floats out into the astral plane as they cross the threshold of the dwelling and into the drawing room.
Rudabeh is briefly distracted by the wax plans, the intricate drawings, and the small ideas that represent grand undertakings. Each one of these projects would tower over her, all of them, taking decades. Creating architecture was a sacred act in the worship of Alseta; yet Rudabeh found it curious there is nothing in the scripture about Alseta herself being an architect in the material sense, even though it is very clear The Welcomer has expressed a great admiration and even concestrated clever, simple designs in buildings. Not all of the turtle marks on the archways of buildings were carved by mortal hands... gospel and rumor say a rare few have appeared on their own in the River Kingdoms and abroad, though the carvings are often so simple that proving such claims are difficult without magic.
If the gods have preferences, then surely they have hobbys as well? She thinks, before being ushered out of her distracted gazing by Ghicek.
As they enter the meeting room, Rudabeh is somehow reminded of the cave beneath Gargant's. It was as if the room had sat untouched for hundreds of years, sealed off from the outside, yet she knew that was not the case. Sweeping her eyes over Voyumre Vemlohy, she notes the gloves. To cut back one's finger-webbings is a concious and impactful decision. It required relearning to swim, and normally only those water-breathers that wore heavy gauntlets like Rudabeh or handled animals prioritized their hands over relearning decades of muscle memory. The rest took their nicks and developed tough skin.
So why did an engineer need gloves? The undine put it in the back of her mind- maybe another time.
"Thank you, Voyumre, it is very good to see you again too." Rudabeh says with a bow of her head, placing one hand on her chest over her Iron Key. "I would also like to thank you for inviting me into your home at this late hour for business that I hope will not bore you overmuch."
With her thanks given to the host, the paladin turns to Derbacam. Her feet firmly on the spotless floor of the dwelling, which seemed to be clear even of the ubiquitous marine snow, she bends her torso into a deep bow, one hand on her Iron Key to prevent it from dangling downward, eyes closed and her head down. "General Derbacam, firstly I wish to apologize. Sergeant Ghicek has tactfully informed me my actions today caused you some difficultly in meeting me. Please forgive me for putting you in a difficult situation. As one that strives to swim in the light of Truth, I often do not consider how my actions may be interpretted by others because I hide nothing of myself that others do not ask me to hide. I merely desired to see my family and old friends, and saw it as nothing more regardless of where it lead me."
Rudabeh straightens- her outfit was pristine, but Derbacam could easily tell she had been in a bad, recent fight by her cruises and posture. "Thank you for meeting with me regardless of my oversight. I was also truthful in my letter, and do wish to discuss the sale of mother-of-pearl to outfit and pay the soldiers under my command, as well as their boarding and possible contracting to supplement the Outsea militia. I did hope the conversation would lead to other matters, such as the state of Outsea and how Vrasa rose to such power, which I am putting forward now. To be clear, I was not sent here by Veleda on any official business, and wanted to know the attitude and concerns of the Council before, as I was warned, they requested to speak with me in a formal session."
The whole ordeal was at danger of turning into a speech- Rudabeh's words are delivered with conviction, clear and strong, as she attempted to both humble herself before the General and convey her actions and motives as non-threatening. "My father gave his word you were still a fine representative of the undines of Outsea and worth my trust. I am sorry I was unable to return the sentiment, but hope to foster that relationship starting now, General."
Rudabeh's quasi-speech is received in silence by her audience of three, all of them wearing mask-like faces. Sergeant Ghicek remains by the door, stoically floating just off the floor, eyes narrowed. General Debacam watches Rudabeh closely, the only movement the fingers of his right hand flexing and uncurling. A nervous tic of somekind? He blinked slowly at her words.
Oddly, it was Voyumre who revealed the most, a rarity usually. The gillwoman was rather sparing with her emotions and controlled her face well. Still, even in the gloom. Rudabeh could see a hint of a smile there, a wistful recollections of times past. It was she who spoke first when Rudabeh finally wound down and ran out of things to say and things to aplogize for.
"Bore me?" The engineer says, a trace of asperity in her voice, as if she had heard a contractor proclaim rotten coral as whole. "You were, and I imagine still are, many things Rudabeh but boring was never one of them. Even when you were just a law clerk."
This boosts Rudabeh a little but she knows the General is the real power here, and she turns to him. The dark eyes are still fixed on the paladin, his dark blue skin nearly melting into the shadows of the unlit meeting room. There are no windows, an Outsea rarity and very little life here. Voyumre must have the place cleaned daily to keep out the snails and shrimp.
The General stirs then, sliding of the bench. His posture is one of relaxed confidence, of power, of command. Even silent Rudabeh can see the charisma that has led this man to the top and kept him there longer then Rudabeh has been alive. Not the flashy aura of control that Irovetti sought so hard to exude, no something quite different. Dignity.
"I see Ghicek has given you the cold water treatment." The Council member says, voice as gravelly as a streambed. The big eyes turn on his subordinate, whose face goes wooden. "He would mistrust my own mother, gods bless her, if she wasn't dead."
Ghicek blinks once slowly, but then Derbacam smiles softly, "I wouldn't have it any other way. It is no use to train a billfish then draw his teeth. You have my thanks Sergeant."
Raising his voice slightly, the General goes on "I will say this also, for your benefit Rudabeh. I have known your family for a long time, and I have also known many paladins so I say this with confidence. You might not always been easy to get along with, but I have total faith you will be honest, forthright and put the greater good before yourself. I trust you, at least as far as that." He turns to Ghicek and says, "Go and keep a lookout. I don't want any eavesdroppers."
The spymaster undine nods and, after a final glance at Rudabeh, swims out of the room.
General Derbacam turns toward Rudabeh, face still sober, "So, here we are at last. A private word so we can clear the water between us. I'll start with the person that concerns me the most. Why on Golarion did you bring Castrucio Irovetti to Outsea?"
"Whom?" Voyumre says mildly, "I don't recognize the name."
"Former conman and traveling grifter." The undine Council member says testily, "Earned quite the reputation through the years although I don't think he ever passed through Outsea. Became king of Pitax, a minor city state on the side of the River Kingdoms. very vain but competent enough, in his own way. Or at least had been King."
"Had been?" The gillwoman said, drawn into the story despite herself.
"Yes, rumor on the docks was that he had fallen from grace." The General gave Rudabeh a hard look. "It was unclear but some even suggested it had something to with the Pact of Years. I dismissed it at the time, since that didn't seem like Veleda's usual style. But perhaps I was too hasty?"
"In any case, he is here right now and, as far as I can tell, drawn to trouble like an otter to urchins. He's meeting with the Tallies right now."
"The Tallies?" Voyumre says sharply, looking at Rudabeh with..disappointment?
"Indeed. Sergeant Ghicek personally tailed him. Not that it took much effort, Irovetti is as stealthy as an angelfish. So yes, Rudabeh, I must admit I was confused. I know you are honest, at least as far as I know. Yet I am confronted with a known criminal and trouble maker in your wake. So I came up with two possibilities." he faces Rudabeh and opens one palm. "Either you are being used or you are using him. I arranged for our meeting to be private so you can discuss this freely. I must confess I am curious to hear your side."
"Thank you, General." Rudabeh intones at what she perceives to be kind words about paladins in general. She had still never met another paladin in the chaotic lands of the River Kingdoms- Derbacam must be well traveled.
She should have known the General would be most concerned about Irovetti. Even Veleda didn't want the man in Daggermark. Rudabeh had tied herself to a pariah that entangled himself in rogue elements wherever he went. "You are correct it is not Veleda's style. It was my decision alone." The paladin begins, never shirking from her oath to take full responsibility for her actions.
Breaking eye contact with the General to look at her Iron Key, Rudabeh turns over the warm metal in her fingers while recounting the tale of Pitax. "Some months ago Veleda sent me to Pitax to attend a tournament held by Irovetti. I was soon contacted by the dissidents of the city, those looking to overthrow Irovetti and his gilded iron fist. They sought my help. At first I had hoped to broker an agreement between the rebels and Irovetti to avoid violence, but in my naive hope the king would listen I exposed their plans and he struck the first blow against them. I had still hoped to quell the rising tide of violence welling in the hearts of Pitax's citizens, but..."
She breathes in sharply through her nose, currents swirling in front of her face. The water in the room smelled so... clean, like salt-tinged rain. "At the tournament a cruel noble murdered another combatant during a joust. I knew he did it on purpose, thinking he was above retribution. I charged him with murder in front of the crowd and sentenced him to pay for the resurrection of the murdered or be put to death. The citizenship, starved for justice, broke the barricades and rioted. I choose then to help The People, to take Irovetti's hand off of their throats."
Shifting about, Rudabeh makes the slightest of movements and starts to float over to a crook in a wall. As she speaks, she smoothly drifts into the crevice to sit. "I took part in many battles. Killed guards and soldiers just doing their job. Spoke with the people, fanned their flames of passion. But when I looked at the piles of corpses I walked across for the sake of peace, I knew thousands more would die if I did not stop the violence. So I gave up my sword and walked to Irovetti's palace myself to broker peace."
She smiles slightly, remembering the fortification of the First Palace. How many would have died on those white walls? The crazed look in Irovetti's eyes when he showed her the mirror that allowed him to communicate with the Magma Dragon... "I was ready for him to kill me out right. But instead, we spoke. He revealed to me a magic item in his possession that allowed him to speak with a magma dragon in the Plane of Fire, with whom he had made a deal with to bolster Pitax's defenses. And if he were to break this mirror, the dragon itself would appear at the cost of some terrible price... and Irovetti made it clear he would rather pay this price and burn the city to the ground than give it up."
Rudabeh swallows now, briefly biting the insides of her cheeks as she recalls the details of their deal. "That mirror is still in his possession, for I offered him a better deal. Give up the throne, become my advisor, and when I lead the Pact I will place him in a position of power equal to that of a king." Looking between the General and Voyumre, the paladin looks as if she had eaten a bittersweet root indeed. "He accepted, and I swore an oath to protect him. Pitax was saved, and I though there is much more to the story, perhaps I can recount it another time. We are bound now, and though I think it was a small price to pay for an entire city, many others have different views. That is fine. I do not keep close watch over him, for I fear my oaths to protect him and to uphold justice would quickly come in conflict. Instead, General, I let him dig up the seabed, and see what he kicks up in the chaos."
The undine starts to slowly rotate her entire body along her center of mass- a sign of deep thought, as a lubber would steeple their fingers. "Indeed, I am glad in his muck-raking he has met with the Tallies, something I believe I would have struggled to accomplish on my own. I intend to speak with them, in hopes I can understand what it is they do and what they want. In hopes of settling the labor dispute between them and Vrasa as a mediator. In addition, I have seen the animosity, the hate in their eyes, and the words of the water-breathers about humans. There is a racial reckoning coming to Outsea, is there not, General? Irovetti may have opened the way for me to step in, and I hope, at the very least, cool the temperature of the waters."
”He kicks up in the chaos..” General Derbacam repeated, voice choked. His posture changed to one of anger and annoyance, and he grew rigid, floating perfectly straight, the equivalent of a landlubber shaking his fist. Then without warning actually shouted, voice reverberating through the quiet, cool room.
”I have to live here Rudabeh! You blithely speak of chaos in my home! Playing with strangers lives.” The General seemed to actually swell a bit, like an old bullfrog, dark skin expanding. ”I would have thought a paladin would have known better! Well, at least your own personal code won’t be endangered!” he added cuttingly at the end.
”Stress testing is a time honored engineering tool, General.” Voyumre offered mildly into the sudden, shocked silence.
”Not now!” Derbacam barks at the engineer, but he does seem to check himself, noticing his own anger. Slowly, with great effort, the swelling goes down and his voice returns to a normal speaking volume.
”Rudabeh. I have spent a century trying to prevent just such a ‘racial reckoning’. It will be death, violence, the end of everything I hold dear. To hear you casually mention it is…distressing.” Slowly he returns to his perch, one leg automatically wrapping around a exposed spike for that purpose.
The General lets out a long sigh, bubbles streaming toward the ceiling. "Your tale of Pitax bothers me more than it would have a decade ago. Then I would have smiled at the foolishness of landlubbers, laughed at their seemingly endless anarchism. Now? Now I look around at Outsea and see the same signs. A rising tide of violence, of change." He made this last word a curse.
"Not all change is bad, General."Voyumre broke in lightly but firmly. It had the air of a long repeated argument. "Look at what the Collaborative Society have discovered in your lifetime alone. We have expanded Outsea, deepened the ecosystem, improved the standard of living. Change has been part of that, it always will be."
The General made a disgruntled noise, ”Perhaps. But I am not fighting for change. I’m struggling to hold Outsea together as it was. Maybe not perfect but something worth holding onto. Are you going to defend the tent camps of the workers now? The street fights? The marches demanding political change? I'm not sure you have seen it, Vemlohy, immersed in your work. Just how far things have gone.”
The engineer sways slowly side to side, the Outsear version of a sigh. "Perhaps." She says, repeating his words back at him. "But how else would we carve out a new home? The new sinkhole is needed, the Council and Society were agreed on that. The old magics are not as strong as they once were, we needed picks and shovels to dig it. Who else but landlubbers? The social problems are regrettable but required."
”Easy to say.” The General says but turns back to Rudabeh, good arm still tight at his side. ”Minnows rush in where adults fear to swim.”His face twisted a bit, like someone biting into a too soft mussel. ”I don’t take kindly to an outsider falling into my problems and hoping to solve them, Rudabeh. I’ve worked too long and hard at this for such chaotic methods.”
A long pause, a glance at Voyumre and then slowly, ”But your idea may have some merit. I feel it is a waste of time, sounding out the workers. You ask ‘understand what it is they do and what they want’, I can tell you that. They wish to destroy everything this city is built on, the heritage, the history, our way of life.” The good hand spasms again, fingers jerking. ”But we have few other options. I cannot speak officially for the Council, or even myself, but I think such an arbitration initiative by a trusted neutral third party would be appreciated. I suppose you’ll do, for now.” This last is said with a ghost of a smile around the General’s lips.
It flickers out when he goes on, ”Be careful though and I want a warning before you go kicking up more silt in my home. And keep Irovetti on a short leash, oaths or not. I don’t want him running loose in my city."
Rudabeh barely reacts to Derbacam's outburst- she blinks a few times, but otherwise continues to float placidly. It was fairly common among undines to express brief, intense emotion, and though she knew what he was saying to be both true and his real feelings, she also knew he would calm down soon enough.
Voyumre says everything Rudabeh might have if she had not decided to remain silent and let the General run his grievances downstream.
The paladin's face does flash with a bit of concern when Derbacam calls her an outsider, and perhaps all the accusations of spreading chaos were finally getting to her as well. Images of Pitax flash into her mind, the bodies in the streets... she had caused so much harm before any good came of it...
But the old Alsetan method of "say nothing" seems to win out, and Derbacam starts to entertain her ideas. "I will be as careful as I can be, and make my actions known to you if I can. The Tallies seem quite dangerous, and as you put, anarchic. It will only be by the blessing of Alseta I can gain enough of their trust to hopefully accept some sort of compromise that can be brought before the Council." She says evenly, indeed hoping her goddess delivers some sort of opportunity. Derbacam seems an unreliable source to understand the motivations of the Tallies, and Rudabeh suspects they want the same thing most humans want- peace and prosperity at any cost.
"If I can settle the dispute between Vrasa and the Tallies, perhaps I could move towards representing them, and mediating an understanding between the Tallies and the Council..." The paladin takes in a great breath and sighs, a stream of small bubbles swirling from her open mouth before rapidly vanishing. She remembered all her grand plans for Pitax..."But one matter at a time. General, I do not understand how Vrasa came to such power and wealth in a mere decade. I have heard rumors of smuggling and narcotics, financing public works and influencing Council decisions, but how did it happen? How deep do they swim, and what is their goal?"
"A bully." General Derbacam snorts, "Nothing more and Nothing less. Other then prey, what does a shark care about?"
An old Outsea adage.
"Other sharks." The General says, and while the saying is not really accurate (awakened sharks often reveal deep and complex inner lives) the sentiment is fair enough. "They simply have not run into anything that gets in their way long enough. Outsea is a chaotic place right now, a good time for such bullies to make way. Even here, a decade is long enough to get swimming."
There is a long moment of silence, broken only by the undine General picking a snail off his shoulder. He moves to casually flick it away but a hard stare from Voyumre apparently dissuades him. Instead he swallows it.
"I can't imagine their motives are very complex, Rudabh." The General goes on, "Power, wealth, influence. The usual things. They are hardly the first power broker I've seen. We are just less capable of combating it right now."
"Negotiating is all well and good, Rudabeh." The conservative General unbends enough to say, "And I mean it. You very well may defuse the situation with the Tallies with open and fair meetings." A dramatic pause, "If, you can get both sides to come in good faith. I can't speak for the Tallies, but Vsara won't take you seriously unless you have something to scare them. Teeth of your own."
Rudabeh is about to get a word in edgewise when the General barrels on. A quick glance at Voyumre indicates this tends to be how audiences with the General go. Just what Rudabeh needs, another blowhward.
"And if you think," The undine Council member says, gesturing at Rudabeh with a finger (a rather more aggressive motion among Outsears), "That your so-called mercenary company is your teeth, well, you can think again. I won't allow fights in these waters, not on my watch. Not only does it go against everything Outsea symbolizes but..." A wave to Voyumre. "Prime?"
Rudabeh's engineering friend rolls her eyes and says, "I doubt Rudabeh needs instruction on this matter, General. I have always found her to be intelligent and well aware of consequences."
"I insist. I want everything out in the open." The older undine says grumpily.
Voyumre sighs and then says, "Any use of mass violence would be a particular danger to Outsea itself. While a landlubber city normally consists of little more then a collection of buildings, a few ditches and at most a dike, our city has one of the most complex infrastructure systems in Avistan. Even a small disruption would have long lasting effects on both the ecosystems and overall integrity of the city." A paused, "There, are you happy?"
General Derbacam grunts unhappily.
Rudabeh takes the lecturing and monologuing, effortlessly switching between using one foot to balance against the stone floor while the other treads water in a slow, ciurclar motion that, to a lubber, would make her appear to be floating slightly. Her arms have moved to behind her back, and she wears an expression of concentration, though her ears are level and relaxed.
So... Derbacam does not know Vrasa's motivations. Power cannot be all of it. Everyone said the same about Irovetti, and even he wanted to build a legacy, turn Pitax into a true kingdom with nobles and knights... Perhaps Vrasa is funding public works for the same reasons, to change Outsea or gain recognition? To work towards that idea should be as good as any teeth. Instead of immediately pointing out the General's generalizing, the Paladin tactfully bows her head at the end of the lecturing. "I understand, and know I do not pontificate the teachings of Alseta, but follow them. Violence is a last resort, reserved only for those that refuse or are unwilling to negociate, and here it is not even an option."
Her head lifts, looking the General in the eyes across the sterile room. "Firstly for the structural reasons, but secondly that Vrasa is employing and supplying Larviss Finn. I doubt there is anyone that could meet her in single combat in Outsea, and her commanding skills are just as impressive. Unless the entire Council and the Milita joined forces with myself and my soldiers there would be no stopping her in a show of strength."
Yet Rudabeh reaches up to touch the center of her chest, a small smile on her lips. "Thankfully, Alseta has blessed me with a long and friendly history with my former mentor. It would take the worse of conspiracies and circumstances for us to come to blows. She was hired to solve the problem with the Tallies, after all, and we will figure this out together."
Straightening, the undine allows herself to sink a quarter of an inch to the floor, boots firmly planted on the stone. It was as metaphorical as it was a practical gesture in Outsea, to ground oneself. "Yet, for a Captain to leave port with empty provisions, hoping they will be filled on the journey, will find that Hope does not fill the stomachs of sailors. I do have soldiers here with the intent of serving the Council's needs, supplementing the Milita and taking contracts. I want to propose to the Council they be housed in the Lubber barracks during our stay. I also wish to fulfill the bounty on Mother of Pearl you have standing, to pay them and provide board."
Tilting her head, she briefly considers the politics of the situation, now a more accustomed thought in her mind. "Is the Council convening tomorrow? I know they will summon me eventually for questioning, but perhaps, General, you could summon me to the Nautilus yourself knowing my agenda, and I will appear at your call." Rudabeh left the rest unsaid, unsure if her appearing at Derbacam's word would be beneficial to him.
"Lavriss Finn." Derbacam said shortly, "Another problem in a long list. No one hires a mercenary for the pleasure of her company. And they are not known for honoring friendships if the price is right." The General waves this away with a twist of his hand, creating tiny currents. 'Regardless, do not sell your old home short, Rudabeh. The Militia is stronger then it has been in decades, the Council has not been totally blind. If things, Dangolsa forbid, come to force, we will be ready."
Silence greets this grim pronouncement and the General grunts and adds, "Still, perhaps it will be good that you have a personal connection to Vsara's thugs. To aid a peaceful negotiation."
When Rudabeh changes the subject, Debacam addresses her second comment first saying, "Yes, we have a regular meeting tomorrow. I am sure your arrival will be high on the agenda. The barracks should suit, although they might be a bit crowded. I will think on suitable tasks for them, ones that are not politically fraught. If needed, you can be summoned." The older undine in lost in thought a bit.
He brightens at the mention of Mother of Pearl. "Ah, indeed? Ghicek mentioned you had a cargo. Did your Father perhaps.."
"I'll pay double market price." Voyumre says suddenly, cutting the undine off. The gillwoman engineer gave a smile.
The General coughed and swayed slightly, frowning, "Oh, really? I had hoped to...well, it makes such nice....why do you want it?"
Rudabeh's old friend shrugged, "It makes excellent emergency handles. It is highly reflective, resistant to damage and easy to work. Perfect for our purposes. The Society has the funds to purchase it."
The undine general frowned more, and his stump twitched slightly but then he shrugged, "Very well, if you must-"
He is cut off as two shapes flit through the austere doorway. In front is a female skum, wearing the usual belt and little else. She is young, with pale orange fins and smooth green skin. Behind her is a frazzled looking Ghicek, doing his best to keep up with the speeding skum.
They come to a stop in front of the trio. Derbacam frowns and says, "Ghicek, I said we should not be disturbed, what is going on? Who is-"
"She is one of mine, General." Voyumre says, and Rudabeh notes a medallion hanging around the skum's neck, a logo matching the design laid into the floor below them. "I am sure she would not intrude unless..." The question lies open ended.
"I don't care, I want her out of here-" The General says angrily.
"Salt before blood, Prime." The young skum says, quiet voice cutting through the undine Council member's bluster. With that the raging General falls silent and Ghicek does a slow loop, the Outsear equivalent of a landlubber raising his arms to the sky in frustration.
Salt before blood. One of the oldest codes in Outsea. A sacred phrase meaning that the well-being of Outsea itself is above all others. No amount of blood, toil or sacrifice is too high and nothing else has a higher priority. Nothing. Rudabeh knew that bloody coups had been paused, entire wars put on hold in answer to such a call.
With that phrase, General Derbacam, Council Leader was no longer the power in the room.
Voyumre Vemlohy straightened, floating a few inches higher, face stern. "Go on, Rssim."
The skum swallows, looks around and ventures, "I was talking to Kenandross. Getting the weather predictions.." Voyumre remains silent yet manages to convey she wishes her underling to hurry toward the point.
"A big thunderstorm is coming, a freak summer fall." A pause, "Enough to cap." Freshwater was always a danger to Outsea. When a large amount was introduced at a time, the prime fear was 'capping' where a layer of deadly freshwater would form on the surface, killing any salt-based marine life that ventured there. A small squall did little but a serious deluge could create a lethal cap of inches or-
"Of six feet." Rssim said quietly.
"I see." Voyumre said then turned to the General and Rudabeh. "If you will excuse us? This place is about to become very busy." Even as she spoke the engineer was starting to swim toward the drafting rooms, Rssim in tow.
She pauses long enough to say to Rudabeh, "It was a pleasure seeing you again, Rudabeh. I hope we can find time for a more suitable social engagement." She swims out, leaving Rudabeh alone with the other two undine.
Rudabeh remains silent on the assertion that Finn's friendship could be bought, though the thought he could be right disturbs her. Larvis was more a mother to her than Daabi, and had the General said such words to her yesterday, she would have readily jumped to the mercenary's defense. Yet today, she witnessed something... different in Finn. A darkness, devoid of light, where not even a bloodybelly comb jelly drifts...
The sudden debate over who would purchase her hard-fought mother-of-pearl pulls Rudabeh out of her rumination, brow arching in surprise at Voyumre suddenly offering to pay double. She was already thrilled to tell her father about this opportunity- after all, the floated clamshells tied behind the barge were still filled with their original (if... singed) mother-of-pearl, and if they couldn't find someone to buy them whole, they could be easily scraped for some quick money.
In the nearly still waters of Voyumre's home, Rudabeh is the first to feel the pulses in the water from behind her. Someone was moving towards them in starts and stops, the pressure wave making its way around corners to their edge of the room. The paladin turns her body slightly , first spotting the skum and then the beraggled Sergeant.
With the movement of a single toe, Rudabeh pushes off the stone floor and drifts backwards to give Rssim her full attention. Ears taut at the sides of her head, she flinches involuntarily at the depth of the coming cap. Hundreds would be forced into the Twilight alone...
"How long do we have before the storm?" Rudabeh interjects as Voyumre is already jetting away.
"Of all places, I'm glad I was brought here." The paladin offers to her old friend with a gracious bow of her head. "We will find time. After."
Limpid eyes dart from Ghicek to the General. "A time of great vulnerability is upon us." She says quietly, settling into a thoughtful frown. She was sure Voyumre would ensure the continuation of their delicate home, but at what cost? And who would attempt to take advantage of the chaos to come?
Voyumre stops in mid-glide, her jewelry clinking loudly as she halts to hear Rudabeh's question. The paladin has a feeling nothing else would have stopped the Prime of Collaborative Society of Flow and Function.
Rudabeh's old friend turns to Rssim, eyeing the obviously intimidated skum apprentice, "That is a fair question. Do we have an estimated time of arrival for the weather pattern, Apprentice?"
Rssim bubbles once, blinks and then says, "Noon tomorrow, was the druid's best guess. They said it is hard to tell, even with magic."
Voyumre nodded approvingly and said, absently, "I am glad you asked, that is a point in your favor. Come, we have much to do." If Rssim had been a landlubber she would have sagged to the ground in relief, as it was she merely smiled weakly. Rudabeh had a feeling the current Prime was not an easy woman to impress.
"Later, Rudabeh. I will make a point of it, I assure you." Rudabeh knew that such a phrase was the equivalent of someone else engraving the oath in stone.
In another moment they are gone, leaving Rudabeh alone with Ghicek and the General. Both look uneasy at Rudabeh's words, but the Council member puts a brave face on it.
"The Society has never let us down yet. There are procedures in place for such events. But it may be a long night at the Nautilus." He glances at Rudabeh, "I should hurry back. I will summon you if and when we get time." The General pauses, and gives Rudabeh a long, solid look. He apparently likes what he sees because he nods and says, "I think we are wary of the same nets, Rudabeh, even if we do not see them the same way."
A small smile tugs at the edges of Rudabeh's lips at the General's assessment, and she lifts slightly in the water. "Compromise is at its easiest when both parties have the same goals, or in trying times, the same enemies. I hope I can help you as much as you have helped our people all these decades."
Gaze averting momentarily, the paladin looks past the General, clearly in thought. Rudabeh wanted to say something else- it was apparent in the way she floated, feet not touching the ground, hovering in place. Tomorrow I could pray to Alseta at all the river locks, the dams, floodgates, so they may hold tight. But... there are other, closer gods with more at stake than my Lady. Her heart was always with Alseta, but this was the realm of Danglosa. Could Alseta assist, or was Rudabeh ignorantly dipping a toe into celestial politics? On the other fin, what price would the twin gods enact, if they were even willing or able to help?
Finally, after a heavy pause and an internal struggle, she blows a light stream out of her nose; a silent sigh. "If and when indeed. I apologize, I may not be able before or during the storm, but I will make an effort to be available after. Thank you, General." She reaches up to touch her Iron Key, feeling its ever-present warmth. "May Alseta ensure your currents flow unimpeded."
She looks to Sergeant Ghicek, letting the General leave if he wishes. "I am in need of some quick armor repairs. Magical, I think. Do you know of any magical menders? A priest of Torag would be ideal, but I am not picky."
Ghicek hangs back, catching Rudabeh's eye. They both casually drift to a stop when the General swims out of the sterile, dark room. Yet, although he effects not to notice them lingering, there is a twinkle in his eye, a glimmer. Clearly the one-armed undine misses very little.
Ghicek waits until the Council member has cleared the room before answering. The sergeant says, "So, are we to be enemies or not?" His voice is joking, but there is an underline of tension there. When the paladin asks about a smith, the agent frowns.
He opens his mouth, closes it and then glances toward the empty door Derbacam just floated through.
Lowering his voice delicately, he asks, "Is politics a concern?" Seeing Rudabeh's face the undine explains, "Tsask Zer is the best, by pure skill but he is a Tally through and through. Just going in there would get you on a watch list." He blinks slowly, the Outsear equivalent of a graceful cough. "Not that we, or the Council, have such things of course." Rudabeh didn't know the name, but it sounds Orc-ish.
"Smokey Ruthren is the safe choice, of course." Rudabeh recognized the name. A human blacksmith who had dominated the Outsea trade for a long time. He had had little competition due to most of the locals finding the forge a rather unpleasant (or deadly) environment. His skills had generally gone ignored in Rudabeh's home since saltwater made a mockery of even the best steel. Her people preferred bone or ivory, glass and stone. Still, she recalled Ruthern as being talented enough.
"But he is getting older, these days. His son does most of the work now and he just doesn't have the same knack as his old man." Ghicek gives Rudabeh a long look, "Planning on more fights, then? Another ooze get on your wrong side?"
Ruddabeh, with little to hide and less to lose, she notes Debracam lingering but chooses to ignore it.
"Of course not." The paladin responds to Ghicek's joke with a frown. "Every time I make an enemy I consider it a personal failure as a Paladin of Alseta." Thankfully, many of her enemies end up dead, keeping the list short and manageable. "Besides, know that I am oath-bound to respect legitimate authority, and I very much respect the Council."
"I..." Rudabeh blows more bubbles out of her nose as the Sergeant describes the political situation surrounding the local blacksmiths. "I try not to discriminate based on such matters, skill is my only concern. Besides, I thought I was already on the watch list?" If anything, it would give her the chance to introduce herself to a self-described Tally.
She gives the other undine a wry smile at his question. "Planning on defending myself is more like it. From whom or what, I can only pray to Alseta I will see it coming first."
Rudabeh holds up two fingers, webless and calloused. "Two more things. Can you tell me where Irovetti is staying? I lost track of him, and it seems I have been tasked by the General to be a better supervisor. Secondly, we spoke before about finding someone like yourself... Do you have any sons without the same knack as their old man looking to travel the River Kingdoms?" She jokes, dryly, as she tries to get a sense for Ghicek's humor.
Ghicek gives Rudabeh a knowing look, "You assume I know where Irovetti is staying? As if we had a watch list? What, Outsea is a police state filled with reporters and tipsters?"
A pause and then, "The Red Heron." Seeing Rudabeh face he adds, "A newer place, catering mostly to the upper crust landlubbers that flow through. Merchants and the like, although a few locals have taken up residence with the housing crunch setting in. My sources indicate he has quite a crowd of sudden admirers."
The sergeant considers Rudabeh for a long, serious moment when she ventures a small joke, "I have two sons. One is in the militia, serving his time with distinction. The other is apprenticing with a boat builder. Landlubber work but still, close to the water." The issue of taking up landlubber trades can be a hot one in the Oustear community particularly among the undine since they could, as Rudabeh did, live an entirely landlubber lifestyle if they chose. Many a family considered such a choice as a rejection of heritage and culture, with those choosing to go on land being virtually exiled. Rudabeh's family was rather more cosmopolitan but that was rare.
'Both their lives would be at risk, if the Tallies issue comes to violence." Ghicek adds as an explanation. "I do my duty and follow my orders, same as you, but I hope for peace. More then just ideals depend on it. Good luck and godspeed, Rudabeh. Much may rely on your choices."
As Rudabeh leaves the Cube, as usual her body and duty are warring factions inside her. Part of her knows she should find the Red Heron and track Irovetti down. Gods only knew what the (former?) king was up to unsupervised in what was apparently a fraught political situation. Leaving him unattended was like leaving an eel in a fish nest.
On the other hand it was past midnight and she had had a very busy day, including almost being killed in a fighting pit. Her body was bruised, battered and beaten. Her eyelids felt heavy and her limbs leaden. The paladin needed sleep, badly. Not only for medical reasons but such rhythms were a natural part of life, or so many Alseta teachings expounded. Ignoring them could be theologically dangerous.
Besides, Finn had once told her, "Being half asleep is being close to half dead." Not that her old mentor had kept a regular sleep schedule....
So, Rudabeh decides to head tot he barge instead to get some sleep. Her swim to the surface and the wharves is uneventful but hauntingly beautiful. The Well is quiet this late with most only the natural traffic of animals moving up for late night predation (or to escape it). Here and there a few schoolmasters accompany the more unruly or valuable collections of creatures. A tired looking skum waves at her, looking up from his charge of glittery anchovies.
The dark water, the dim shards of moonlight, the drifting animals...all of it was at risk. Outsea was a fragile world, more of an idea then a physical reality. And what happened to an idea if people stopped believing in it?
It died.
The barge is quiet, but not asleep. To their credit the guard is being kept up. Grig is, of course, almost suidicially vigilant in the depths, brandishing a small spear at every shape flitting out of the darkness. Rudabeh is waved through finally, and after a brief report that all is well, makes her way to her berth. So after a very busy day, the paladin falls asleep to dreams of gentle waves on sandy shores.
The smells of breakfast wake her up. More accurately the smell of burned bacon being charred. She really needed to find a cook for the Company. The world was dark and grey, as the sun was just starting to rise. Outsea stood on the edge of a new day. Birds were singing loudly from shore, and clouds were filling up the sky.
"Hundreds of families are in the same position." Rudabeh levels with Ghicek. "Motivation beyond duty to do our best."
The smell of burning awakens Rudabeh, a brief moment of concern and panic giving way to a grumbling stomach when she realizes it is bacon.
Rolling out of the barge's hammock with practiced ease, the undine lands on her feet and stretches, fingers touching the deck above her. Nothing hurt, and yesterday's injuries are no more than today's lessons.
Reflection was the most pragmatic of prayers, and the paladin sat down on a nearby stool with her copy of The Sacred Keystone for her morning devotion.
Opening the embossed silver book to the back, she pages through the addendums- a bit of regional gospel local bookbinders and priests add to the holy text that one would not find in a copy of The Sacred Keystones outside of the River Kingdoms. Some religions would find such "tacking on" to a holy text blasphemy, but considering community was a sacred keystone it was only natural for worshipers of Alseta to make their books representative.
Rudabeh's copy is only a few years old and contains a lengthy discussion on Veleda's many accomplishments and her construction of the Pact of Years. Rudabeh reads the story again, stopping to stare at the illustration of Veleda's hunger strike. The withered youth in the ink illustration looked closer to the old woman she had come to know in Daggermark than the organizer of the greatest governing body the River Kingdoms had ever seen.
Inhaling sharply, Rudabeh gently closes the book and comes to a decision on how she could help with the coming storm. She would not appeal to Danglosa, but instead to Alseta. It had been a decade since her Lady had blessed Outsea with a miracle. Rudabeh was going to ask for another one, and she was hoping to slip a message between the bars of The Agent Gate.
Rudabeh was topside with efficiency- it was startlingly how much quicker she moved without her armor, or having to prepare it.
She chokes down some terrible food, warning the sailors and Ostend of the coming storm before leaping off the side of the barge in an (unintentionally) dramatic fashion.
The salt gives from merely being on her lips to being on her tongue, filling her lungs and very being. Before the end of the day, it would be fresher than the Sellen and the gulls would be bobbing on the surface, gorging on dead fish.
With a graceful spin out of the column of bubbles she created, Rudabeh corkscrews around to check on Gig and Ractus.
Rudabeh dives down around the barge, swirling into the shadow cast by the ungainly watercraft. Already she can see some Outsea life has been investigating the flat-bottom hull. Small fish swim about it, and she spots a sea snail or two crawling over the surface. It occurs to here that Ostend has never been here before and may be unaware of the dangers of the teredo shipworm, a wood eating creature that lives in these waters. Few landlubbers ( it is strange calling the riverman a landlubber but Outsea's categories are as rigid and unfair as anyplace else) know about them, until they leave Outsea and find dozens of cracks and holes in their hulls.
Below, Rudabeh finds two very different figures. One is glassy-eyed with a feverish energy of someone who should sleep but doesn't wish to, and the red-rimmed glare of someone who desperately wished to sleep but can't. Gig is still clutching a simple spear, swimming in a never ending patrol while Ractus clings to the anchor chain with the grim determination of death. When he spots Rudabeh, he narrows his eyes at the undine and gives her such a foul look, the paladin is half tempted to just swim away.
Shouting in Common, the elf says, "I'm going to hunt that druid down and strangle him. Slowly!" Since he is still using Common, he has to bellow to be heard underwater and even then, it is dim and distorted. "And then I'll get started!"
Around them, the sunlight dims as, far above, the first clouds of the oncoming storm start to fill the sky.