Schist remains unperturbed by the outbursts. He sits forward, teeth closed around the stem of the pipe, bowl cradled in his left hand, puffing out only by opening the corner of his lips. When Vancen looks his way to confirm his participation, the dwarf nods.
"My name is Schist, lad. Not Smokie." But it's not said with ire, merely a correction to ensure proper address moving forward.
The vials are handed out and Schist pockets one after holding it up to one of the lanterns and turning it this way and that. He grunts and slides it into his pouch, pats it once, and then focuses on the conversation once more.
As the group rises and prepares to depart, Schist hesitates and then speaks up, loud enough to garner everyone's attention. He speaks to Shearwater, however, as if unwilling to make eye contact with the others.
"Your right about the skum having their reasons. Why did they leave their dart with Mparu's ribbon tied to it where Vancen could find it? They clearly hope to draw us in. I'd imagine we don't have the element of surprise on our side, but perhaps these skum are being tormented in like manner by the Stormwardens and are looking for allies." He shrugs uneasily and stands, tapping the pipe against the arm of his chair and handing it back to Vancen. "Either way, we'd best go in slow and careful. Could be a nasty ambush waiting for us."
-----
The rain doesn't bother Schist. He doesn't even raise a hood against it, rowing instead alongside the others; while his pull doesn't churn the waves into a froth, he seems tireless, and works without complaint, squinting into the distance every so often to mark their destination.
The shriek, however, causes him to stand, eyes wide, and he stares up at the tormented heavens as the rolling thunder washes over them. His upper lip peels back from his pearly teeth, and he grasps the side of the boat as he watches that terrible wing reveal itself in the arcing glory of the lightning.
"By Gozreh's tangled beard," he mutters, his voice most likely drowned out by the storm. He looks to the others. "That the Aessra bird the Stormwardens be controlling?"
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Catching Vancen's sly wink, Kwesi returns the gesture surreptitiously; she knows he's in on her secret. Those old tubs'll do for the newbies, she jibes good-naturedly, but you know I'll be taking mine. You know how it is - when you're trusting your life to it, better a boat you know stem-to-stern. Besides, what would Manu think?
With the conversation concluded, Kwesi is the first out the door and back into the storm outside. Looking down the length of the dock, she closes her eyes, and her hands begin to swirl almost of their own accord in an undulating spiral. It's not immediately clear at first what she's doing - but then, as she continues to gesture, a rowboat with a deep keel and high prow emerges from the mist. It glides along the quay's edge with its oars shipped, waves slapping its hull in time with Kwesi's flowing motions. Sundry buckets and sacks, as well as a chest, lie in the ship's bow, but no person is visible inside; the effect of the rower-less boat moving through the water is almost eerie.
As the boat glides to a stop in front of Kwesi, she steps lightly onto the slightly bowed floor with an air of familiarity. While the boat is well-kept, it's seen heavy use - broken shells, dried seaweed bits, and gobbets of unidentified sea creature flesh litter the floor. Pulling the resin-coated chest open, she draws out a well-made shirt of chain mail, pulling it on over her light woolen vest and shaking slightly to get the mail to settle right. Next comes a handful of small, glittering stones, one flickering with a strange heatless flame; with a practiced flick, she tosses each into the air, where they begin to orbit her head and shoulders lazily. Anyone who doesn't fancy rowing a boat by themselves, I can take someone. Less tiresome when two can trade off rowing.
Withdrawing a tiny silver bell from the chest, she lowers it into the roiling water and strikes it with a tiny mallet in a sharp, staccato rhythm. Several seconds pass, and suddenly the water around the boat churns into a froth. From beneath the surface, a long, spiraled tusk emerges, followed by a smooth, rounded grey nose; on the other side of the boat, a small, whiskered face peeks up from the water, soon joined by a lithe, brown-furred body. Adofo - heel! Manu - heel! she calls out, throwing chunks of fish from a bucket toward the water's surface; the narwhal and otter snap up the treats eagerly, circling slowly around the boat as it moves out to sea.
Fighting through the choppy waves, Kwesi proves a staunch rower. Her strokes are shallower, perhaps, than Malorrem's or Dima's, but she proves absolutely unwearying, barely even breathing hard when others are already huffing and puffing. Far from being troubling or annoying, the rough up-and-down of the waves and the pull of the oars seems almost meditative to her. From time to time her eyes drift closed as she pushes forward, and the small tongue of orange flame drifting around her gives her calm features an almost ethereal quality.
The shriek, though, pulls her back to practical reality. As the sound echoes through the lagoon, she drops her oars instantly and rises to her feet. The tracery of scars along her hand and arm begins to glow with a faint blue-ish were-light, and a wave crest rises to meet her outstretched hand. Her boat continues to drift forward with the wind and current - and the wave crest drifts with it, its foam caressing her splayed fingers. That's Aessra! she calls out to make sure her voice is heard above the din. We don't know if the Stormwardens are controlling her, per se - but she'd left us alone for years, until right after we'd refused their demands! Could be chance...but somehow, I doubt it!
As the bird moves away, Kwesi visibly relaxes, and the wave crest that had stayed so close falls away to join its brethren in rushing about the small fleet. Soon, the boats float over the Soac Planetarium's watery grave, and Kwesi turns to unload equipment from the boat's chest. As she does, her form suddenly thickens noticeably, and she shudders slightly. When she turns back, holding a wax-treated sack she's stuffed equipment into, her features have changed - her eyes are nearly all pupil, her fingers have a slight webbing between them, and long slashes have opened up at her neck. Anchoring the boat, she slides nimbly from its deck into the ocean, pulling the sack down behind her. Come on - no point wasting time!
The planetarium rests under forty feet of water, although its enormous domed roof comes within a few feet of the surface. With no visible entrance here, you surmise that the only ingress must lie closer to the seabed below.
Kwesi slips into the rough waters with barely a ripple, her feet nearly touching the massive dome beneath her.
Right behind Kwesi on the way out. "I want my own boat as well. Be right back."
Not bothering to wait for a reply before running off. But yelling back,
The dash across the uneven boards mixed with the pounding of the rain soothes his fury a little. Familiarity with this path lets him keep his footing. The weight of his clothing grows the further Malorren gets. Making his lungs and thighs burn in a glorious way.
Dashing into his humble little hovel and giving it a once over. Grabbing an errant oar that has no place near his hammock. Digging out a bit of food in the form of salty dried fish and shoving the a whole piece in his mouth. With an overstuffed mouth Malorren's long strides take him outside again and into his boat. Tugging on his wrist and a poncho drapes over his white clothing.
Tucking the remaining bit of horrid fish under the poncho. Then gripping both oars with white knuckles. Broad strokes bring him back to where the others stand ready to leave. Not bothering to say anything while he waits for everyone to load up instead choosing to quickly shove the rest of the dried fish into his mouth and slowly chewing. Looking up and making a 'come on' motion.
Dima's been as quiet as he's ever been in a long time, the usual bravado and boasting in the face of storms and danger strangely absent for the time being. Part of it is the intensity of his friend Malorrem being so agitated and angered upon hearing the Harbormaster's news - even a drunken and dim-witted Dima knows better than to rock the boat with his friend when he gets into these sorts of moods. A second part is in the sudden new alliance with these two strangers, neither of which he has even shared grog or broken bread with, or even had the satisfaction of clasping arms and looking them square in the eye to know their measure. It's odd that the dwarf is soggy and puffy, and the short high-voiced man has feathers and yellowed eyes, but Dima has never looked down on those with heart and skill who just happened to not be as muscled and handsome as he is.
Yet the main part has to do with the equal fierce intensity of Kwesi - not so much in any concern about her powers or changes when it comes to the water, for like himself he just figures she has her own powers through Gozreh that allow her to do what she does. No, it's more that she seems the sort that finds no joy in her power, the thrill of the chase or the contest of the hunt - dire as this 'contest' may be that Vancen has put them to. Which means to Dima that her motivations are spurred more by matters of vengeance or zealotry...and that's really no fun at all from his perspective. Dima got his fill of where that led him a few years ago in The Shackles, and isn't thrilled at the prospect to follow Kwesi now in an unspoken blood oath. Still, Mal has always trusted Kwesi, and Dima trusts Mal, so that really settles that in his mind for the time being.
Dima had to race back himself while all the business with the boats was being sorted out, nearer to the swaying docks where he left his dearest companion Magne and his own boat before heading up to the Storm's Pearl. By the time Mal got his boat squared away and going, Dima had returned armed and toting the rest of his important gear, clicking his tongue to get Magne to circle nearby in the choppy water. He boarded Mal's boat and started donning his armor, pausing only long enough to warn Magne not to regard Kwesi's trained pets as either threats or food. On the way there Mal was eager to be rowing hard and getting all his angst out, so Dima obliged him and contented himself to reviewing his gear until he asked for a hand in keeping the boat from filling up with water. Time passed, with the constant onslaught of the wind, rain and waves keeping the hunter's mind occupied on the actions of the boat until their arrival.
When they finally were on their final stretch to their destination of the old ‘planting-tavern’ or whatever-it-was, Dima alternated between tossing out water from Mal’s boat with the bucket and using a makeshift wooden piece of flotsam as a sort of rudder to help guide him in without losing strength on his oars. A third of the day spent rowing out to this exposed and forsaken place - running “in irons” as his old captain would say - was taxing on the body and the mind, so Dima kept mostly quiet and just doing the tasks a sailor needed to do to keep them moving along well. Other than when the mighty stormbird Aessra showed herself briefly in the storm, making even Dima whistle out in appreciation. Woah! Taking down that bird would be a legend that’d be talked about through the Age…and feed Hyrantam some good meat for at least a full season or more! Dima the Stormroc Slayer…that’s a good one…
Dima’s reverie on beast-hunting and roasted fowl that takes up an entire tavern room lasts only a bit as he’s got to keep bailing water and guiding Mal’s boat into the mooring post. Once they get there, he grabs Mal’s anchor buoy and the stern mooring line and gets going on securing their position, then starts to get himself ready: first checking the fine jet black leather-like lamellar scales that make up his best protections over his chest and shoulders, followed by securing a fine bow quiver around his broad chest and shoulders one way, with his bandolier of various useful items going to arrayed the other way. A large polished metal trident with an aura of light around it is drawn out of the quiver in a way that can only be magical, which Dima then attaches a stout leather cord between it and his left wrist. Unlike from the morning, his fine elvish-crafted and supple grey boots stay on his feet this time, Dima relying more on his stroke and arm strength to propel him forward in the water. He sees Kwesi place several dweomered stones around her head and grunts to himself in familiarity of something similar to what he has, putting up a stone that casts a flame-like illumination as if he could somehow impossibly light a torch in these conditions.
”You’re always in a bothered hurry aren’t ya, like you want to race or somethin,” remarks Dima to Kwesi as he pretty much ignores her last command to them. Instead he finishes up his preparations and stows his well-weatherproofed haversack in the bailing bucket before tucking it firmly in the recess of the boat’s stern, then leans over to call his good friend with a loud series of whistles and click-clack sounds with his tongue and teeth – some of which sound like something a dolphin or sea-creature might utter. As his man-sized alligator pops his head up and approaches the side of Mal’s boat, Dima starts speaking to him by his common name, feeding him a bit of salted fish from a stinky bag he fished out earlier from his pack.
”Magne…MAG…C’MON NOW…open that big snout of yours…MAGNE!” Dima feeds the gator twice to get him to hiss and open his mouth wide by the boat for more, at which point the hunter deftly opens the contents of Vancen’s seaweed concoction and pours it down his companion's maw; Magne hisses and snaps twice with his tail hitting the side of Malorrem’s boat with a jostling THUNK! in protest.
”Ol’ Vancen forgot about Magne here, and I’m not going down there on a long stretch without ‘em,” shrugs Dima by way of explanation. ”I’ll just have to create some air pockets m'self and get along the best I can...maybe this won’t be taking as long to force me back up topside.” Calling back Magne sternly with another series of clicks, the alligator hisses but complies, with Dima putting his right hand boldly on his toothed snout as he utters a prayer to The Strong Man. Dima then does the same to himself, with his tanned arms and legs growing darker as a result.
What does he think this is, a Sunday ramble? The little s%&*s have Mparu! Who knows what they're doing to her? Kwesi holds her tongue, though, because she knows the minutes of preparation will only make her new-found allies more effective, and there's no sense in antagonizing anyone. To satisfy her impatience, she ducks under the water and swims across the vast dome, trying to get as good a view of the immediate area as she can while sticking close to the boats.
As she surfaces to check on progress, she watches Dima pour the potion meant to keep him alive down his crocodile's throat and shakes her head slightly. She was fond of all the animals she trained, and treated them all well - but ultimately, they were tools, to be used according to their abilities. Why would he risk drowning himself just to bring the stupid crocodile? If we can only have one or the other along, I'd rather have the one that can operate a stupid door for itself. Still, though the decision was made...and there was something almost endearing about the recklessness of it, and his concern for his companion.
Paddling against the current, Kwesi returns to her boat and hauls herself over the side, opening the chest at its stern. Digging around for a few moments, she withdraws what looks like a deflated waterskin - from the random detritus she brushes off it, it hasn't been used in a long while. Opening the mouth wide, she drags it through the air, inflating it; after checking the seal on its mouth, she swims over to Dima and Magne and holds it forward. Here, she grunts, pushing the air bladder at him. Take it with you - it should hold underwater. It's not a lot, but it's a backup, at least. Enough air to get to the surface if you run out of other options.
Diving down again, she re-surfaces with a concerned scowl. If you're holding your breath, let me tow you for the swim. You'll only have so much breath you can hold - there's no sense in wasting it trying to show off. I'm a strong enough swimmer for both of us.
Dima accepts the air bladder with only a slight shrug as he lashes it to his wide leather war belt, revealing that he indeed has one of his own already for the same purpose. It's an unlikely realization that both of them think in much the same way when it comes to surviving the rigors of a dive. He nods his appreciation, with a smile starting to grow across his face.
When it comes to Kwesi towing Dima along however, the broad-chested muscular hunter simply laughs at her openly, as if she said the most laughable jest in the Storm's Pearl's history. "Ahhh hahaha! You may have your devotions and all shamaness, but you're not the only one who is favored by the gods here! No one is gonna drag all of this," says Dima proudly while thumping his chest through the armor, flexing his massive arms for emphasis. "Ten days' rations that I beat you down to the bottom, Mparu's apprentice! Don't cheat the start now - I'll conjure my own air and some hands and feet to match yours, and then we'll see who's the strong swimmer here!"
"As it happens, I've been having some mighty strange dreams lately. Might match your description, even. I wouldn't mind talking to some of these folk, once we're done with the skum."”I’d keep that information to yourself fer now, Mr. Shearwater. Them Stormreaders ain’t the type ya want to be socializin’ with, if ya catch my drift. We’ll talk more when ya return, o’ course.”
Shearwater mimes sewing his lips shut and nods to signal his understanding.
But as you approach the western ruins, the sky itself seems to revolt. A shriek, louder and larger than anything you have ever heard, pierces the darkness. With it follows a rolling thunder that quakes and shivers through the air--a skyquake. Lightning flashes behind the clouds, following a peculiarly elegant arc. The crumbling towers tremble and groan as though they dread the coming of this storm. And though you are unable to fully assess its scale, it almost looks as though a great wing, as large as a ship’s sail, emerges from the clouds.
The thunderbird's sudden appearance has a powerful effect on Shearwater. Though well aware of the danger, he cannot help but to be filled with excitement at the merest glimpse of such a majestic avian creature. He only barely stops himself from jumping to his feet on the boat, instead craning his neck to witness as much of the spectacle as possible from behind his more broad-backed companions.
That's Aessra! she calls out to make sure her voice is heard above the din. We don't know if the Stormwardens are controlling her, per se - but she'd left us alone for years, until right after we'd refused their demands! Could be chance...but somehow, I doubt it!
The priest looks at the receding skyquake, sighing wistfully. "Shame to see something so pretty be used for evil ends, ain't it?"
Soon, the boats float over the Soac Planetarium's watery grave, and Kwesi turns to unload equipment from the boat's chest. As she does, her form suddenly thickens noticeably, and she shudders slightly. When she turns back, holding a wax-treated sack she's stuffed equipment into, her features have changed - her eyes are nearly all pupil, her fingers have a slight webbing between them, and long slashes have opened up at her neck. Anchoring the boat, she slides nimbly from its deck into the ocean, pulling the sack down behind her. Come on - no point wasting time!
Shearwater looks on as Kwesi undergoes her transformation, suddenly understanding the odd tension between the Mwangi woman and his dwarven friend. They had salt water in their veins, both of them. He shows no signs of alarm at his companion's sudden change in appearance: for obvious reasons, he is not as easily put off by such animal-like characteristics as most people—even if they happen to be of a more predatory disposition than his own.
"I guess I've yet to see all there is to see," he remarks merrily. "Good! Always nice to have something new to look foward to..."
The priest starts preparing for the dive as well: he takes off his boots, ties his cape off to the side, and finally chugs his potion. He then starts lowering himself into the water, wary of getting his slight frame carried away by the waves. Though his conduct aboard the boat has mostly been that of a seasoned sailor, he is clearly not quite as comfortable in the water as Kwesi.
When it comes to Kwesi towing Dima along however, the broad-chested muscular hunter simply laughs at her openly, as if she said the most laughable jest in the Storm's Pearl's history. "Ahhh hahaha! You may have your devotions and all shamaness, but you're not the only one who is favored by the gods here! No one is gonna drag all of this," says Dima proudly while thumping his chest through the armor, flexing his massive arms for emphasis. "Ten days' rations that I beat you down to the bottom, Mparu's apprentice! Don't cheat the start now - I'll conjure my own air and some hands and feet to match yours, and then we'll see who's the strong swimmer here!"
Still paddling in the water next to the others, Shearwater swims back to the edge of the boat to look up at Dima. "Favoured or not, I don't see any gills on your neck. I'll bless you, if you'd like..."
Throwing himself into the mindlessness of propelling the small boat. The normalcy of harsh rain and fighting to move across the violent waters surface does little to sooth the wild fury singing in Malorren's veins.
Dima thankfully knows that silence is needed. A satisfying burn settles in Malorren's muscles, soothing the fury into a calm thrum. Nothing matters but the sound of the rain and Dima scooping water out of the little boat. Nothing matters but getting there and finding Mparu. Blood has been called for and it is taking far to long to reach that arena.
His focused anger is shattered and made to again feel like he is not longer in the slipstream but back into the storm by Kwesi hollering about Aessra. Arms locked in their constant movement but his eyes scourer the sky looking for that magnificent creature.
Growling wordlessly and refocusing on his task with fervor. Eventually like all things the trip comes to an end. Checking over Dima's work securing his precious boat but so little of him cares. Taking a brief moment to check over his gear. The strap on his quiver is still tight over his metal wrapped chest. Digging though his bag then tossing it over his back, making sure to position the bag so that he can open it on the opposite side of the quiver.
Lifting his head to watch Dima prove why he has that nickname. Dima is a nice man, very helpful, and great company but he can be a little dim at times. Shaking his head at the further bit of proof, "No one would bet on you in this Dima and this is not a game." Frowning at how rough his voice sounds. Hoping to take a little of the sting out of his previous statements, "When we have Mparu we can race back to the boats."
Tugging on his sleeves again and his white clothing changes to a formfitting dark blue. Feeling as ready as he can Malorren dives into the water. Popping back up and looking around, "We ready to go?" Holding up the little vial and taking it once everyone has said that they are ready.
"Hey now Mal, she's the one that's talkin' about haulin' me along on a dive like I'm some piece of flotsam!" Dima looks at his friend Mal in a manner that suggests this is more serious to him than what he's aware of. "And it is a game Mal, at least to the gods it is, even if it's a game of blood."
With that Dima jumps easily into the churning water by their boats, adjusting his own quiver and putting his fine trident back into it after unlatching the leather cord, presumably to have full speed of stroke for the dive. He wipes ocean water out of his eyes and looks to Shearwater near him for almost the first time truly, shrugging nonchalantly to him but not opposed to his words either.
"Bless me all you like friend, as long as your patron and Kurgess get along! I've been blessed by Desnans, Gozrens, Besmarans, priests of ol' Deadeye...even a Calistrian once." He winks to Shearwater and adds laughingly, "Almost didn't survive the night with that blessing mind you, but I'll never forget it! HA!"
Sucking in a breath and forcing himself not to snap, they were almost there and fighting among themselves would only slow things further.
Paddling over to Dima and putting a smile on that seems a little forced, "I meant no offence my friend. You are very far from flotsam and if you want to try to beat Kwesi in the water I wish you luck. I have been trying that for sometime."
Sighing looking over at the others but still speaking to Dima, "I do not like being a pawn in someone else's game." Glancing back at Dima with a more familiar glint in his eyes, "And you will have to tell me about that Calistrian blessing later. And the baby kraken."
"Bless me all you like friend, as long as your patron and Kurgess get along! I've been blessed by Desnans, Gozrens, Besmarans, priests of ol' Deadeye...even a Calistrian once." He winks to Shearwater and adds laughingly, "Almost didn't survive the night with that blessing mind you, but I'll never forget it! HA!"
Shearwater lets out a hoarse laugh at Dima's tall tales, genuinely amused by the northman's bravado. "Well, here's one more name to add to the list: Ylimancha, also known as Harborwing. I'm sure she and the Strong Man would get along just fine... and I hope we will, too."
The priest places one hand on Dima's chest while holding on to the edge of the boat with the other, beseeching the stormy skies for aid as he does:
"उसे आश्रय, हे हार्बर विंग! अपनी शक्ति के माध्यम से मुझे प्रवाह ने उस से करते हैं, और अपने गले में उसे दूर धोने!"
While there is little visual spectacle to the ritual, it is followed by a small but oddly concentrated gust of wind that tustles the hair of both Dima and Shearwater, and a slight burning sensation in the lungs of the former. Coinciding with the last words of the prayer, a flock of seagulls can be heard calling over the din of the rain. The priest claps the northener on the shoulder and smiles.
"That should even the playing field," he says.
Schist shucks his boots and then disrobes completely but for a loin cloth, robe and belt pouch. His body is squat and rounded, his skin thick and smooth like that of a seal's, and he quickly levers himself over the boat's side and down into the water. Anyone close by can hear his sigh of relief as the cold waters envelop him.
He dunks his head underwater, comes up blowing water out, and then begins to mutter a quick series of tangled words. As he does so, the water about him begins to still, then crackle, and ice forms about his torso, coalescing from the waves, till he's surrounded by armor of the palest green, rough to the touch yet still allowing perfect mobility.
That done, he releases the edge of the boat and uncorks the vial of green algae, which he drinks with one swift pull before tossing the empty vial into the boat. He gives the potion a chance to work on him, and then ducks under the water again. When he re-appears, he's on the far side of the boat, having slipped through the water with surprising ease.
.
He then digs into his hand into his belt pouch and pulls free two stones which he casts into the air. They immediately take orbit around his head, wobbling as if imperfectly adhering to their routes.
Schist looks over to the others and signals with a thumb's up that he's ready to go, his headband catching the faint light and glimmering as if already underwater.
"WOAH! WHA? What was...you heard those gulls just now too! I feel..." Dima breaks off with his gaze of wonderment and stares down into the choppy water, then completely dunks his head down underneath for a long moment as if trying to quench his thirst with salt water like a madman castaway.
He comes back upright, dribbling water out of his mouth and nose while not choking, a broad smile across his face. "OH THAT'S WONDROUS! Better than any brew Vancen was peddling out!" He swims over to Shearwater and claps him on the shoulder in return, holding out his hand. "I like your Harborwing there, friend Shearwater! How'd you learn that? And that oddly clipped tongue that sounds pleasant like music all at the same time? I gotta hope The Strong Man will favor me one day to be able to bestow that!" He vigorously clasps Shearwater's hand and arm and gives it a firm shake. "Lots to talk about later on that's fer...uhh...hmm your grip's a bit weak isn't it? No matter though, no matter - we'll work on that you and I, don't you worry!" Dima nods again and smiles warmly as if his insult at Shearwater's lack of strength wasn't meant as an insult, but just something to be mended later.
With Dima tended to, Kwesi visibly relaxes; it's evident she'd been more worried about Dima going down without a steady air source than she'd let on. With everyone in or near the water now and seemingly ready to go, the concern is replaced once again by impatience. Yes, that's great - except you forgot, "hmm, I'm also out of potpourri, perhaps you wouldn't mind bringing some with us". We're on a rescue, remember? Can we get a little more urgent, please? There'll be time for flirting later!
As she treads water, a small rivulet jumps from the surface and dances around her, tugging at her hair and surging up to play with the stones circling her head. The water around her rises up, pushing against her so strongly that it nearly buoys her up out of the water; as her arms circle, one bulge of water hugs tight to her left arm, moving back and forth with it in perfect time. A faint blue light suffuses the water around her, coming from the scars on her hand and arm - the effect of the pale glow against the water's ripples has a strange ethereal beauty.
Tossing the algae potion back like it was rum. The banter pulled most of the rage back down leaving only nervous energy in its place. Thrilled at finally getting ready to go, "Bout damn time too!"
Reorienting himself and ducking below the water. Restless energy again has a purpose, a direction. Kicking his feet to get moving then easily swimming deeper. I need more of this damn nasty potion. It would make my life so much easier. Stupid Vance has been holding out! That rage rises and simmers in his belly, slowly consuming him. Not he mad rush of fury but a slow burning righteous wrath.
The rough, salted waters of the Arcadian welcome you, seeming even to embrace you as you slip once more into her storm-kissed depths. She remembers you, of course, those who would cast away the world of sky and air, willingly submitting themselves to the secrets of her incomprehensible vastness. Who can say how many land-walkers have succumbed to her allure, effortlessly swept away by the currents of her caress?
Who can say how many more shall so pass?
With a dive and a kick you are submerged, and soon find yourselves enveloped in the darkness, where not even the glow of lightning can guide your eyes. Relying instead on your own resources, you traverse the surface of the planetarium. Over sixty feet across and forty feet high, with a series of broken and ruined towers, the enormous half-globe must have once been a magnificent sight, even if now crusted with an impenetrable layer of algae and sea barnacles.
Unsurprisingly, Kwesi shoots ahead the rest of you as she glides with smooth, serpentine undulations through the turbulent waters. Reaching the seafloor in a matter of seconds, she turns and waits for the rest of you to arrive.
You find yourselves at the entrance to the structure, easily discernible by the large double doors that seem to invite your presence within.
Cutting though the water with broad powerful stokes. Not fazed in the slightest when Kwesi shoots far ahead of him. Biting back a grin since he knows Kwesi left poor Dima in the bubbles. Land walkers simply could not compete with someone so tied to the water.
Stuck in the state between consuming rage and simple calm has this thoughts all over the place but rage resumes its reign when Mel reaches the seafloor. Kwesi's need to find Mparu is infectious.
Dima gets to the bottom after Kwesi, shaking his head in disbelief and irritation at her moving ahead of him so quickly. In his current state his boots have disappeared from his divine magic and now look more like flippers of a sea creature, with less-pronounced webbed effects between his fingers. "Phhhaaaaabbbgggggugug..." he says to her though the word gets garbled in the water between them. His displeasure at her beating him doesn't last however, as he starts to marvel once again at being able to draw in and speak the water without choking.
Some moments later after Schist, Malorrem and Shearwater have joined them, the man-sized Magne powerfully swims to one side of Dima and rolls his body in the deep water as if he too is energized by the experience. The hunter of Kurgess reaches back and draws forth his bright steel trident once again, attaching it to his weapon cord on his left leather bracer, ready to proceed at either Malorrem or Kwesi's insistence.
Kwesi surges ahead in the swim, even turning over onto her back to gently tease Dima and Mal as she glides by...but as she draws up near the planetarium's doors, she's fighting to keep her lips pressed hard together, her chest heaving to draw in air that's tens of feet above her. As she waits for the others, her form shifts slightly - gills disappear, skin turns from grey to its usual chocolate brown, and for a moment, the fully human woman treads water, slight desperation in her eyes.
But only for a moment. By the time anyone gets near enough to see clearly, her piscine features have returned. It'd take a careful observer to notice that the webs between her fingers are now almost entirely diminished, and what had been little more than smooth slashes on her neck before are now entirely functional gills, undulating gently to turn water into the oxygen her now-aching muscles crave. And the smirk on her face projects a confidence her air-starved lungs are only just catching up to.
At least I won. Cocky idiot. The water prevents much in the way of speech, but her small, snide wave is more than enough to convey her feelings about the result. Pointing to the doors, she begins to look them over carefully, searching for any sign that the skum might have prepared a trap or alarm against any curiosity.
Where the others sprint for the bottom, Schist is content to swim down with languid strokes, taking in the ruinous panorama as it reveals itself. The far reaches beyond his dark vision fades away to black, but even so enough light filters down from the surface to illumine the broad outlines of the wrecked planetarium.
Down he goes, watching and searching for signs that their arrival is expected. Sea creatures acting strangely. Distant shadows that might be squads of skum. He takes his time, not pushing himself, till at last he joins the others by the doors garlanded in weeds and barnacles.
The large double doors are closed, and remain silent and unmoving even as you gather before them. A few sea creatures swim in the shadows (perhaps predators drawn by the lights?), but you remain unmolested.
The exterior of the planetarium once surely featured additional doors or windows, but the layers of algae, barnacles, and other natural sea life that have built over the years have all but painted the structure. Schist, however, notices that in addition to ornamental spires, two towers shooting from the structure contain glass roofs, the northern one pointed like a chapel, the southeastern one domed. The third tower to the southwest appears collapsed.
Slowly kicking his legs and waving his arms so as to hold his position a few feet above the sea floor, Schist finishes examining his surroundings and looks to his companions.
He draws forth a small copper wire from his pouch, and then whispers and gestures to himself.
A moment later, he points at each party member and they can hear his voice clearly as if he were whispering by their ear.
"I'm concerned by their leaving Mparu's ribbon for us to find. An invitation? Either way, it would be wise to explore less obvious ways in, as they will be expecting us enter through the front doors. I'm going to take a look through those glass domes over there."
That said, he kicks and swims fluidly toward the tower tops, slowing as he draws close so as to peer down through the glass and inside.
Schist swims to the top of the tower nearest him, using his sleeve to wipe away a bit of grime and peering down through the ancient glass dome and into the chamber beyond.
And near its base, bound with thick coils of tough seaweed, an elderly woman lies motionless upon the floor.
Schist peers down through the glass, and those watching him notices that he immediately grows tense. He hovers in the water, completely still, then turns to look at where the rest of the group floats, his eyes wide with excitement.
"I've found her," he whispers into their ears. "Mparu. She's tied up within the room below. Not moving. Let me see if she responds to a message."
That said, he turns back to the glass, draws free his copper wire once more, and casts his cantrip.
"Mparu? I am part of a rescue team sent by Vancen to bring you back to safety. I can hear your whisper a response if you're awake, and see you nod if you can't speak for fear of being overheard."
Schist frowns then looks back to his companions. "It seems this glass is magically reinforced. It's preventing my communicating with her via a simple message spell."
The room appears to be completely flooded.
"Well then let's go grab her...wait do I need to whisper or how do we all..." Dima shakes his head and moves back to where the others are gathered aside from Schist up on high. "We go get her there, right? Or a decoy plan? Maybe Mal and I open up these here doors with Shear watchin' out for us, while Kwesi goes up there with Schist to nab her once we start causing trouble down here...at least that's the best I can work out."
At the report that Mparu is trapped in a completely flooded room, Kwesi's expression grows even more concerned. What if whatever's keeping her breathing runs out? But if the glass is reinforced, we can't get her out from up here - we'll have to go through the observatory, same as you. We don't even know that there'd be another way for me and Schist to get up that you'd be able to draw attention away from...if we'd be able to get in through the top, I'd be all for it, but I don't know that it's going to do any good. We're better off sticking together - and sending these skum bastards to the Boneyard together. Subconsciously, her hand clenches into a fist, the glowing scars standing out in sharp relief.
"Oh," answers Dima with a look of confusion on his face, "I hadn't thought about glass not being able to break." He nods in agreement. "So we stay together and open the doors then? Well, Mal and I can each take a door and see what's lurking on the other side!"
Growling quietly to himself when Schist swims off. Knowing better than to pace on the sand Malorren stalks around the area. Roughly propelling himself though the water while waiting. Finally stilling with a plan no forming.
Offering Dima a feral looking grin, "What are we waiting for then!"
Twisting so that he is parallel to the sea floor then darting off towards the door. Clearly he assumes the others with follow.
"I don't know what we're waitin..." Dima's momentary confusion at the question turns to understanding across his face, followed by an equally eager - if less feral - grin. "Oh...ya right! Let's do this!" Dima thumps his armored chest once with his free right hand and then readies to open the left-hand door with it, his left hand hoisting his gleaming trident.
Magne seems equally excited with his large tail quivering in the water in anticipation, swimming just behind and to the left of Dima's shoulder.
Gripping the ancient handles on either door with both hands, Dima and Mal brace their feet against the surrounding wall and tug hard. A shudder, a groan, and with a hair-raising grate the ancient doors release from the frame, swinging outward. That they open at all suggests they have been recently used.
Your ambient light spills into the chamber ahead. Within, the water is calm inside a massive, domed theater. Broken benches lie strewn amid silt and shells on the floor, while others float within the water. The dome rises up to a height of thirty feet and to a balcony running around the edge, with the apex reaching another ten feet above that. Low flights of stairs lead up along tiers in the recessed floor, while above, dimly glowing stars in the patterns of constellations flicker faintly. Barnacles grow thickly on the walls, but none grow above, leaving the planetarium’s constellations and stars plainly visible through the water. These appear to be tiny flecks of naturally iridescent stone that depict the constellations and planets of the night sky.
There isn’t much time to appreciate these extraordinary features, however, for within the shadows of the chamber the wall itself seems to shift. The building quakes as a thunderous roar emanates from the far left, and you realize that this is the sounds of an enormous sea creature lurking within the building! Surging through the water, the massive lizard is shaped like a giant fish with a powerful, toothed maw. Its bellow echoes through the flooded building, resulting in a scurry of activity just out of sight.
”អ្នកឈ្លានពាន! សំឡេងការជូនដំណឹង!“
___________________________
red skum: excellent condition
blue skum: excellent condition
Tylosaurus: excellent condition
”Now that’s a big fish!” exclaims Dima as he sees the massive beast ahead towards his left. He gives Magne a series of short clicking noises, even as his arm and leg muscles seems to enlarge and become even more pronounced. ”Yeaaaaaaaa!” Dima then boldly swims inside towards the creature with Magne close in tow, though he wields his trident in front of him with both hands in a series of defensive blocking sweeps.
__________________________________________
A tylosaur! Young, but dangerous! Kwesi calls out as she kicks to propel herself into the planetarium's entrance, her words feeling strangely flat as they struggle through the water...but at least they make it through. But I think I can control it - go after the skum! Focusing on the tylosaur, she meets its gigantic eye and barks out a series of grunts and growls, investing the sounds with her will as she stares the creature down and makes a calming gesture with her hands. We are not prey worth the fight, and we are not predator seeking to devour you...let us be, let us be...
Grinning at the size of the creature but Kwesi makes a good point. Pulling himself up higher and pulling out his ransuer as he swims. Spotting a skum. Nothing matters but that creature and its yelling.
Dima and Magne dart inside the planetarium, seeking to create a defense against the enormous beast. Its reaction is immediately hostile and retaliatory, but it seems to recoil when Kwesi comes into view, suddenly hesitating.
Meanwhile, Mal swims through the doorway and up toward the balcony in an attempt to circumvent the skum.
Swallowing the frustration of having seen their target but been unable to reach her, Schist swims down and then waits, watching, as the pair of men haul the doors open, disturbing clouds of silt and allowing him to peer into the gloom beyond.
As the group swims inside, he hears the yells, sees the tylosaur, and swallows the sudden jolt of fear; while the others charge forth almost recklessly, the thought of entering the planetarium with that vicious monster gives Schist pause - but only for a moment. Shooting Shearwater a nervous glance, he glides forward, through the doors, and lines up a shot at the skum to the upper right, waiting and trusting in Kwesi's ability to handle the massive beast.
Pointing his fingers at the far skum, he shoots forth swirling bolts of cobalt blue and silver, each looking like a small vortex, the force of which is punishingly strong.
While he is not completely out of his element underwater, it is apparent that Shearwater is not built for diving, at least compared to his companions: not possessing Kwesi and Schist's affinity for the water, or Dima and Malorrem's raw physical strength, he has to struggle to keep up with the others as they descend. As they enter the planetarium and provoke its inhabitants, however, he is quick to call to his patron once more. After another prayer, the priest suddenly goes from his somewhat awkward bird-like floundering to a smooth glide through the dark waters, as if being carried foward by the currents. He moves in after Schist, trying to get a better look at the ensuing combat...
The colossal tylosaurus’s eyes lock on Dima. It merely flicks its fins, but surges at him with an incredible burst of speed! It lashes out with its neck and extended jaws to snag him in its long, serrated teeth, but Dima is able to writhe and twist to the side, avoiding being torn in two .
Above them, the skum on the balcony close in on Mal. The first flits forward with a snarl, stabbing its sharp trident, slashing with its clawed hand, and snapping with its teeth. The tip of its blade snags Mal’s arm and its teeth clamp down hard on his shoulder . The other skum swims effortlessly across the expanse, stabbing at Mal with its own trident but merely scratching his armor .
Shuffling is heard from behind various closed doors, and those to the north and southeast begin to open...
___________________________
Skum red: excellent health
Skum blue: excellent health
Tylosaurus: excellent health
miss
hit
miss
hit
miss
As the situation quickly begins to escalate and further doors threaten to open, Schist drifts back as he focuses on casting a new spell; he whispers to himself urgently, making a waving motion with his hands as if pushing water towards his allies, and then lets out a final, sharp cry and unleashes a pulse of energy that infuses his group with newfound vigor.
Yelping when teeth sink into an already bruised shoulder. Dropping his precious ransuer and pulling out his greatsword since the skum decided to get to close. Grinning when a familiar magic settles on his skin. Add to not forgetting to grab weapon that I need to hug someone!
His grin turns more malicious as his blade finds flesh and leaves blood in the water.
”Uhhhh…Kwesi?” Dima instinctively tries to react to the unfolding battle, seeing the tylosaurus as his gravest threat while at the same time noticing Mal’s blood in the water above him with the two skum. ”Kwesi I’m gonna try and back off outta reach but…” His voice trails off as he waves his illuminated trident before him as both a warning and a distraction, even as he glances up again and makes a decision. With his right hand he points up at the skum nearly right above him and growls, ”MAGNE!” followed by a quick series of sharp clicks with his mouth in Aquan.
Magne’s tail quivers in excitement and swirls rapidly upwards towards the skum that bit Malorrem, his jaws snapping hard to the exposed legs of his prey from underneath.
For Dima’s part, he uses his illuminated trident to wave it one direction even as he suddenly twirls down and around behind him, seeking to escape the reach of the beast’s great maw as he tries to swim away back towards Schist, his hasted swimming giving him more speed than he ever thought possible.
There’s no sure way to know if he can make it in time or if the beast is intent upon pursuing him, though he does his best to get out of Kwesi’s direct sight in case she does have the ability to quell its hostility. For now Dima tries to hold a position to block another maw attack if it comes after him, as well as to be a bulwark in case something else comes to challenge the others down below.
__________________________________________
No...no! Kwesi calls out as the tylosaurus charges forward, sounding for all the world like a child scolding a naughty puppy. Them! Get them! Forcefully, she gestures up toward the balcony, and a roiling current pushes forward from her outstretched hand, its faint blue glow streaking toward the ceiling. The bolt catches the tylosaur's attention, even if just for a moment - but as it rushes through the water, it's clear it carries a deadly force of its own as well.
Hearing commotion from elsewhere in the complex, Shearwater decides to call up some reinforcement himself. He begins a longer series of supplications, causing the surrounding water to churn and begin to coalesce into a glowing piscine form...
Schist’s arcane surge vitalizes the group as the water practically thrums with energy. Mal’s sword cuts through the water effortlessly and severs one skum’s head at the gills just as Magne’s teeth rip and tear the life from the other . Perhaps it is the scent of blood in the water, but the tylosaurus seems to forget Dima and Magne, its head twisting instead toward the sound of open doors.
Through the northern door, seven crowned skum appear at once, moving in perfect unison! Their hands pulse with an iridescent sparkle.
Uttering a command, the same colors explode outward in a sphere centered just before the doorway. The lights encompass and dazzle Dima, Schist, Shearwater, and Kwesi. And while the former 3 manage to blink and retain their focus, Kwesi suddenly appears agitated and confused .
Four more skum dart out from behind the opened doors and head straight for Schist, Dima, and Mal, tridents brandished. The tylosaurus surges upward, easily snatching one between its teeth and jerking it back and forth His allies persist, stabbing with their sharp hunting blades, and Schist is pierced in the leg, his dwarven blood darkening the waters further .
As Shearwater completes his spell, a softly glowing shark appears before him!
___________________________
Skum green: quite a few wounds; grappled
Skum orange: excellent health
Skum pink: excellent health
Skum purple: excellent health
Tylosaurus: excellent health
fail
fail
pass
pass
fail
act normally
attack nearest creature (Shearwater)
hit
success
miss
miss
hit
no