The halfling might be smiles and hugs, but there has been a shadow in her eyes, fear, worry, depression, but then it is like the sun came out of cloudy day she Brightens so much. Turning in Jenica's arms, she presses her lips to the one she can barely do without. Hopefully, that is enough of an answer since she incapable of words at the moment. Or for many moments, before finally, a whispered but very happy "yes"
"Cabins, Mam." Melody slid out of Jenica's arms reluctantly. "I booked them ahead of time, please." she pulls out a pouch from her shows and holds it out for Ms. Avandth. "Shaumatiel, I hope you don't mind sharing with me." she gives the elf a small smile, and then nestles back into the arms she has so missed.
Shaumatiel nods. ”Of course. I’m sure you won’t take up a lot of space! And I’ll be sure to give you and your...spiritual paramour some privacy when you desire it.”
The phantom looks the elf up and down, not even attempting to disguise her gaze. "No need to go too far," she says. "You never know when a helping hand might be needed."
She leans down and whispers in Melody's ear, her eyes never leaving Shaumatiel.
"Oh, I forgot." Morgana says with a grin. "I got this for you Melody. It's a sorry."
She reaches into her bag and pulls out a small roll of soft leather. "These are the best, I was assured they were. If they aren't up to standard let me know and I'll ensure that Guin puts them out of business."
She glances at Vasia, sees the pointed look and nods obediently. "Where are the cabins? I'm under orders to get my beauty sleep." She winces slightly. "It won't fix the scars but at least I'll get my muscle tone back one day!"
Melody turns a bright shade of something at the whisper in her ear. When Morgana offers her the leather roll, it is a welcome distraction. Unrolling the bundle, she runs her hands over the needles, scissors, bobbins, even a bright silver thimble carved with little roses. "oh..." her mind is lost in the possibilities until she manages to pull away and give a smile of thanks to Morgana. "These are perfect!"
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16th of Lamashan, 4707 AR
Vasia broke the seal on the letter with curiosity. She'd never heard of the Bountiful Venture Company so why they'd be sending her a missive she had no idea. Unfolding it, she read the writing inside with interest.
Dear Miss Miklosovici ... a grand adventure ... new colony on the island of Ancorato ... unheard of opportunity ... Azlanti ruins ... highly recommended through our conversations with Aza Thinfinger ...
She frowned and read over the letter again.
Who in the hells is Aza Thinfinger?
Vasia folded the letter back up, distracted by other things. "What?" she replied.
I asked who is ...
"Oh, she was that gnomish scholar that ran that adorable book store in Magnimar. The one with the large fireplace."
Ah. The cross-eyed one. So does that mean we're taking them up on their offer?
"Don't be silly," Vasia answered with a roll of her eyes. She casually tossed the letter onto the iron fire grate where the flames immediately began consuming it. "Morgana needs us here." She rose from her chair as frantic animal noises arose from the nearby room. "They'll find someone else."
~~~~~
"It hurts!" The figure on the floor whimpered. This was, almost unbelievably, one of the better days. Morgana's eyes were recognisably human and her voice intelligible even as her legs scrabbled helplessly on the hard floor, long claws leaving grooves in the wood. "Vasia! It hurts!"
Watching was painful, seeing the wreck of the confident and proud daughter of House Deverin. The assassin had been clever, knowing that Morgana was by the grace of Falayna immune to most diseases they'd used some sort of magically infused toxin that had tried to rewrite the very fabric of her body, twisting it into something monstrous. It nearly worked too. Morgana spent three weeks in a cage on the Deverin estate that had once held a rare tiger, a gift from a trading partner in Vudra, as little better than a beast herself wracked by pain and hideous animal wrath.
Her limbs stopped twitching and Vasia came in carefully. Painful past experience had taught her that Morgana had an hour, maybe two, before another fit came on.
Vasia tooks a few steps towards the brick fireplace and the metal bucket that sat on the hearth. After testing the water temperature with her fingers, she lifted a nearby washcloth from a stack on a small table. Approaching the distraught and exhausted woman, she knelt down and brushed Morgana's hair from her eyes. "I'm right here," she said. "I'm sorry it hurts, but you'll get through this. I'll be right by your side the whole way." She soaked the cloth in the warm water and wiped away the sweat from her lover's forehead. "I'm not going anywhere." After wiping the rest of her face, she moved down to her neck.
"I didn't hurt you this time did I?" Morgana asked hoarsely. In the early days, during the first throes of the plague she'd been wild, tearing at her own flesh in an attempt to rip out whatever was inside her and causing all the pain. The bit she truly regretted was the thin white lines across Vasia's hand, where the animal inside her had attempted to rip off the hands that were trying to help her.
"Have you got any food?" She asked, relaxing into the gentle touch of the washcloth. "I think... I think I can eat like a person today." There had been days, many of them, when all she could eat was raw meat, cracking bones open for marrow and tearing at flesh like the previous inhabitant of the cage. Days when she'd vomited up soup, bread and every other piece of man-made food offered. Then on other days, even when she was covered in scales and fur she'd retained her human stomach - the carcasses of rabbits, pigs and other animals making her stomach writhe even more than before.
"Talk to me?" She whispered, crawling slowly into Vasia's lap. "Tell me about Melody and Jenica. Are her shows going well? I like listening to your voice... It helps remind me..."
Vasia's face darkens just a bit. "With Sabriyya and Amethyst gone, her shows have been a bit more ... melancholy as of late, but the ones she puts on for the children are still very entertaining." She reaches up to brush at Morgana's cheek. "I don't know if she's going to stay here a lot longer - so many memories for her."
With effort, her smile widens. "She did create a new story with FluffyBottom and BunBun. Although, she's only shown it to Jenica, who won't tell me about it. I asked Melody and she turned bright red and wouldn't say anything."
The dark-haired woman continues to discuss the day-to-day lives of the inhabitants of the small town while slowly rubbing Morgana's back, her thoughts never lose track of the time, though. She continues to watch her lover's eyes, knowing that that's where the beast will first appear.
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"Were you going to tell me about this?" She asks curiously. "It sounds like the perfect opportunity for you. You have to go." She holds up the paper and Vasia can see the crest of the Bountiful Venture Company in the sunlight.
Vasia gazes for a moment at the second letter that she'd received that very morning - the letter that she remembers quite clearly throwing out.
Melody's not the only one that needs a change.
Setting her basket of fresh fruit and bread on the small table, Vasia walks over and gentle removes the letter from Morgana's hand. "I don't remember giving you permission to read my post," she says with a forced smile. "And besides, I have more important things to do here." She leans down to press a kiss to the woman's forehead. "How are you feeling?" She tucks the letter into her waist, reminding herself to burn this one as well.
"Well given that it was sitting on the table when I got up I think you're looking in the wrong place for blame!" Morgana replies, her lips curving into the first smile Vasia has seen for months. "Blame your bunica, not me!" She takes Vasia's hand in her own. "I'm feeling better. It's been a week since I last had a fit and I even managed to use the chamberpot without you or Guin having to help me! Seriously Vasia, we're going to talk about this." She points to the chair opposite her, a familiar stubborn set to her lips. "That letter is everything you ever dreamed of. You have to go, what sort of girlfriend would I be if I stopped you doing the thing you'd always wanted?"
With a sigh, Vasia takes the indicated seat. She reaches across to grasp one of Morgana's hands. "I'll admit that the offer has some ... appeal." Her eyes look away. "But there are more important things. And some of them are here." She looks back at Morgana and gives her hand a squeeze. "And your success with the chamberpot aside, your needs still come first to me."
"Which is why I'll come with you." Morgana says, as though its the simplest thing in the world. "I've been stuck in this room for two months, and in that horrible cage for I don't know how long before that. I need to start living again sweetheart, and don't the doctors always say that a sea voyage is good for you? Besides Arthur says I need a goal and he's right - if I don't have a reason to get up I'm going to go mad. Well... madder..." Her smile is forced this time, but the determination in her eyes doesn't waver. "You've done so much for me Vasia, I am going to do this for you. And you know Jenica will help me!"
"My bunica meddles in things that she shouldn't," Vasia grumbles. "You're not ready for a sea voyage. And it's not like at the end of the voyage we'll be staying in a fancy inn either. This isn't even on the edge of civilization. This will be in the ruins of a fallen empire. Who knows what sort of dangers we'd face. I just don't think you're ready for something like that."
"Then I have to make myself ready." Morgana replies. "I can do it, and I am not leaving you alone to face those things. You're going, so I'm going. It's simple really. The only thing that remains is whether you're going to argue about it with me now, and then with Jenica after, and then with me again once I wake up from my nap, or agree with me now and give me a kiss so that I sleep better?" She looks ridiculously pleased with herself for that particular bit of 'logic'.
"How about I simply give you a kiss now and then you take your nap?" Vasia replies. "We'll ... discuss it ... once you've done that."
"You have to promise me that we'll talk about this again." Morgana says. "Don't make me do something radical! I will get Jenica on side if I have to!" She submits without demur however and even goes to bed as commanded. "I am getting better." She adds, as Vasia fluffs her pillows. "And I want to do this for you. Please?"
"I promise that we'll discuss it when you wake up."
Ensuring that the blanket is in place, Vasia gently touches Morgana's lips with her own and then touches her cheek. "Now go to sleep." She walks away from the bed and pauses at the fire grate. She pulls the letter out from her waist and holds it in her hands for a moment, watching the flames rise and fall. With an abrupt movement she slips the parchment back into her pocket and leaves the room.
When dinner comes around Morgana insists on getting up and eating at the table by the window. "I've had enough of that bed to last a lifetime." She says. The meal proceeds in silence as she looks pointedly at Vasia after every second bite.
Vasia ignores the pointed looks until about half way through the meal. Having pushed her love to her limit on patience, she reaches down to her waist and produces a different parchment which she slides across the table. "I will consider this adventure under three conditions," she says. "First and foremost, you need to achieve every goal I've laid out for you there," she says indicating the parchment. The off-white sheet contains a list of physical requirements. None of them strenuous, really, but they may take a bit of time to reach in her current condition.
"Secondly, I'll only go if Melody agrees to go with us. I couldn't bring myself to separate her and Bunica," she continues. She wags a finger at her lover. "And she has to honestly want to go, not just to make you happy."
"And lastly ..." Vasia falters a bit, unsure as to how to broach this one. "I think that elven woman ... Shaumatiel ... She's going. I want you to spend some time talking to her."
"Why?" Morgana responds, "Of course Melody would want to come, and that's fair, but why do I have to talk to Shaumatiel?" She seems, somewhere between confused and hurt.
"Because you share a common ... You're very similar and I think that there's a part of you that still needs ... to heal. If nothing else, do it simply because it would make me happy."
"Okay." Morgana says, letting out a long sigh. "If it'll make you happy then I'll do it. And you write back to the Company, tell them they've got three more people coming. I'll see Shaumatiel tomorrow." She eats a few more forkfuls and then pushes away her plate, mostly cleared. "So? Can we do something a bit more fun for the rest of the evening? Guin left me a new book to read." She gestures to the bedside table, where a familar looking book of poetry sits...
The phantom looks the elf up and down, not even attempting to disguise her gaze. "No need to go too far," she says. "You never know when a helping hand might be needed."
”I am flattered by your interest, but the bond between two lovers is a sacred thing. I wouldn’t want to come between you.”
Shaumatiel pauses a moment, then clears her throat. ”Er, that is, I wouldn’t want to detract from your love for one another. Besides, while I have dallied with partners of both sexes over the decades, I do prefer the company of men.”
Ramona gives you all directions to your cabins to get you settled in and allow Morgana to rest as requested. Your cabins both end up being 2 of five small cabins that are located next to each other with a flimsy wooden door separating each of them from a narrow-low passage.
Twenty minutes later, you hear a knock on both your doors as you make to unpack and Ramona stands at the entranceways reading a checklist.
"Hello! Everyone settling in okay? The ship doesn't normally carry this many people, so I'm afraid everyone is in rather tight quarters and these cabins are usually only fit for one. As part of a newly forming colony we all however need to learn to compromise, so this will just be good practice! We'll also have to have meals in shifts usually, but tonight we're going to try and cosy up together and enjoy a meal. I've got you down for early dinner on the other evenings, but we'll switch things up halfway through our voyage so that everyone can get to know everyone else. Tonight should be a little special; I'll make a bit of a speech to welcome everyone on this exciting journey!"
A crew member runs along down the passageway and whispers something to Ramona. "They put the goats next to the grain sacks? Oh no, this is a disaster!" Turning back to you, "I'm so sorry; I've got to go deal with this. Just so you know, since I am the Bountiful Venture Company's designated leader for this mission, you are always welcome to come talk to me with any questions or concerns. See you at dinner!"
"Take care, Ramona. If you need help with anything, let me know," Shaumatiel says to the woman before she departs. She smiles and looks at the others. "She seems nice."
The elven woman taps her fist against her chest in salute. "Blessings of the Warrior's Ring upon you. Vasia indicated that you were need of healing, both physically and spiritually. I am here to render what aid I can."
"And upon you." Morgana replies out of relfex. She gestures to the chair opposite and manages to suppress the sigh of relief that threatens to escape. "Physically I am much better. Spiritually..." She trails off and her silence is as telling as anything she might have said.
"Have you been in Magnimar long?" The ex-paladin asks, after the silence stretches uncomfortably for a minute or two. "There has never been much of a church to Falayna here that I've known of."
"There still isn't one," Shaumatiel says with a smile. "Just a small mystery cult, like those belonging to numerous other empyreal lords. A handful of followers to spread word of her faith to those who will listen. I have been in the city for several years--far longer than I first intended. But I know Falayna has a purpose for having me stick around. Perhaps you are my purpose, Morgana."
"And what would that purpose involve?" Morgana asks, pouring tea for both of them. "Falayna abandoned me, Shaumatiel. I don't know if it's because of how I look now, or what happened, but by the time I was myself again after the poisoning I had lost the powers she granted me. I know I'm not exactly a beacon of femininity any more but..." She trails off again and then pulls up the sleeves of her dressing gown. Her arms are thickly scarred, criss-crossing sets of parallel lines in all directions.
"When I was poisoned I was a monster, for a long time." She says quietly. "I... I was in so much pain I lashed out at everything and everyone, including myself. I needed something to hold onto, and She wasn't there."
"I know not why you have fallen out of her favor," Shaumatiel says, shaking her head. "Perhaps you carry guilt and shame in your heart for what you feel you have become. Perhaps you must learn to forgive yourself before the Warrior's Ring will forgive you." The elf taps her chin. "Or perhaps she hopes to guide you into the arms of a new patron. The empyreal lords all have a somewhat narrow purview of ideals they espouse. Maybe there is another celestial being who has taken an interest in the new path you have found yourself on."
"What path?" Morgana counters, frustration in her tone. "The only thing I care about now is supporting Vasia. She's given up half a year for me, living in a strange house, putting up with everything I've done. She sacrificed her future for me and I'm not going to let her do that again. Honestly, I'm speaking to you today because its one of her conditions. If she hadn't insisted I wouldn't be..." She pauses and sniffs sharply. "I wouldn't be opening up to all of this right now... It's hard enough just trying to be better, without needing to handle the spiritual hurt as well!"
Shaumatiel nods patiently. "I understand. Let us speak no more of spiritual matters, then. We shall begin your physical rehabilitation." The elf presents Morgana with a wooden longsword. "I trust you still remember how to hold a blade?"
"I remember." Morgana replies. "But we'd best go downstairs for this."
Stairs are a lot harder than she remembers but pure stubborness gets Morgana down them, having pulled on a loose shirt and skirt instead of her dressing gown and nightdress. A young man who looks about Morgana's age shadows her outside until his sister snarls at him. "I'm fine Merlin!" The young man raises his hand and steps back, flashing Shaumatiel a cheeky grin as he does so. "Good luck." He mouths, before taking a seat near the wall, apparently content to watch the fun.
Morgana meanwhile takes up the basic stance, feet apart, both hands holding the blade in front of her. It trembles slightly, despite Morgana's best efforts to the contrary.
Shaumatiel draws her own blade and raises it in salute and prayer to her goddess. "Alright. Show me what you've got!"
***
Morgana has very little, but Shaumatiel is a patient trainer, visiting every day or two. As promised they don't speak about Morgana's spiritual issues but focus purely on the physical until Morgana can perform every task on Vasia's list and then some more. As they spar and exercise a friendship forms between the two women and a small piece of the ex-paladin's heart mends in the process...
Vasia is occupied with attempting to find room in the small space for two people's worth of gear. It's currently not as crowded as it could be. With Morgana on the bed there was room to move around.
Nodding at Ramona's quick introduction, she waits until the woman has finished before raising a questioning finger. Before she can even ask, the woman is off to tend to a problem. "I guess I can ask her later," she says to herself and returns to shoving clothes and gear into corners.
Dusk – 1st night of sailing
The verdant shoreline of Varisia has well and truly vanished into the distance and the night is beginning to creep upon the ship as the sun is making its final attempts of the day. The journey has been smooth so far, even when you hit the open seas; the wind has been kind.
Up on deck, a large series of folding tables, boxes and crates have all been pushed together in haphazard rows, trying to fit as many place settings as possible; make shift stalls accompany a scattering of chairs squashed into cramped quarters with little elbow space means that the people already sat are already in cramped quarters. There are still a scattering of seats and crates available.
There are at least thirty people on deck, likely more, chatting jovially as they are sat awaiting dinner to be served, their smiles and laughter illuminated by tiny floating magical lights, dancing around the masts, casting a smattering of light upon the deck. Conversation is being encouraged by the uplifting background music provided by a couple of amateur violinists (perhaps soon to be colonists?) playing for entertainment.
A few look familiar enough with each other that they may have joined the venture together, but most seem to be meeting for the first time and exchanging tales.
Shaumatiel walks up to the strongest-looking woman and thumps her fist on her chest in salute. "Blessings of the Warrior's Ring upon you. I am Shaumatiel. A pleasure to meet you!"
Melody stays hovering behind Vasia and Morgana for a moment, but doesn't want to get in their way, so she slips away. Cramped crowds make it easy for a little halfling to find a nook to listen, look, and avoid getting stepped on.
Morgana can't help but feel delighted at the breeze and the sea air. "Thank you." She whispers to Vasia, giving her girlfriend's hand a squeeze.
Tugging Vasia into the thick of things she joins in a conversation with a red-headed girl who seems to lecturing a couple of other people on azlanti history. "If you want to talk history, you should speak to my girlfriend here." She says, offering a smile. "She's Vasia, I'm Morgana. It's nice to meet you."
She extends a hand to shake, making sure that her long sleeves are rolled down first. No need to give a bad impression on the first day!
Vasia extends her hand in greetings as well, though her cheeks show a slight blush at Morgana's praise. Holding Morgana's arm in hers, she's happy to wax on about everything she's learned about the history of Azlant.
I still don't see why you won't let me manifest. There's going to be a very lonely halfling on this ship by the time we reach this colony of yours.
"I've read in many places that sailors are, as a whole, rather superstitious. A ghostly phantom appearing in their midst, or even in our cabin - not that there's room - would cause the type of stir that I'd rather avoid."
Shaumatiel raises a slight smile from the woman she strides up to. This heavily tattoed woman was standing alone, but happily so as she watches the commotion around her. She has a shaved head with several runic tattoos, forming a variety of patterns, including a large moon across her shaved skull, the tip of the crescent reaching her eyebrow. "Be received stranger, thank you for your blessings. Blessings of the night upon you from myself, Anya Sandstrider, it is refreshing to find such a strong hunter among us." She says, complimenting Shaumatiel's physique.
---------------------------------------------------------
Melody, watching the party, finds a little nook to nestle in, amongst a collection of crates and bundles of rope. After a short while, a tall man with straw-coloured hair, pointed ears, violet irises and an infectious smile weaves his way towards the halfling and crouches down with his fellow friend.
"Hello! My name is Eamon Caranth, and this is my good friend Kurvis Nurpico. We just wanted to introduce ourselves to our flock, and we don't mean the sheep downstairs!" The smiling man in a green robe laughs at his own joke.
"There are no sheep on this ship, Eamon. There are 34 goats, though one is pregnant, so the numbers may increase mid-journey." Kurvis is shorter than Eamon, with stooping shoulders, even more obvious as he bends down to speak to Melody. He keeps his steel-gray hair in a short bowl cut and wears a smart black robe with gold trim. He looks older than Eamon, though Eamon's likely elven background likely delays gray hair and wrinkles.
"I know, Kurvis. It was a joke; no one says a flock of goats. Anyway, I am here to make sure that Erastil watches over the fine people of this new colony and you looked like you needed a little company?" The elven-looking man asks kindly.
---------------------------------------------------------
The slender strawberry-blonde haired woman, smiles warmly and grasps each of Vasia and Morgana's hands firmly, shaking them with enthusiasm. "Oh another historian, that makes at least three of us! I'm Lyra, this here is Perrell and Carver. Perrell and I were having a ....debate about the accuracy of the maps we have on the current Ancient Azlanti empire and the trustworthiness of their sources." Carver raises a bemused eyebrow when Lyra calls their conversation a debate, but remains stoically quiet.
"Vasia, you must tell us everything about your experience with the Azlanti history and we can all spend some time together on the voyage working out how we can all help each other piece together more of the history." Lyra continues with enthusiasm, quizzing Vasia on everything she knows, Perrell butting in with her own facts, as if it were a little competition over who was the most knowledgable.
After a short while, Carver nods and makes his excuses, retiring from the historical conversation. His only contributions to the conversation were to input his linguistic skill with Azlanti but was unfortunately spoken over by an enthusiastic Lyra and Perrell on several occasions. He didn't seem to be down-trodden by the situation ad still leaves with a smile.
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After a nice time to mingle in close quarters with fellow passengers, a ringing of a glass can be heard and everyone makes their way to a seat if they have no already done so. Whilst everyone was mingling, it would seem many of the sailors had been laying out a collection of simple, but tasty looking food. Bread and caper-stuffed olives found in sharing bowls and platters of lemon-braised plaice and honeyed carrots to share.
After everyone has settled and has made their way through the food, with many an accidental elbow nudge and the odd spilt glass of wine, another ringing of the glass sounds out above the sound of the waves lapping against the hull of the ship.
Clearing her throat, Ramona nestled amongst a group of other passengers and sat next to the Captain stands up.
"Hello, friends and colleagues. I am so pleased to welcome you to this exciting adventure on behalf of the Bountiful Venture Trading Company. Some of us may be strangers now, but we will all be one community when we reach Talmandor's Bounty, where even as we speak, the first wave of colonists is planting crops, raising livestock, and building residences. You're all here for many reasons. Perhaps to spread the values of Andoran and Varisia throughout the world. Perhaps you are looking for a new life and fresh chances. Perhaps you are enticed by the generous financial rewards from the Bountiful Venture Company for early settlers. Regardless, we are about to build something together that will be truly remarkable!" She seems to be a practised orator. "Now, for pudding!
With the end of the speech, she sits down as the cheer for pudding rises, and plates of cheeses, crackers and sweet blackberry wine are shared amongst the passengers.
Morgana has even less than Carver to contribute to the conversations about Azlanti history so she perches on a barrel and just relaxes, watching Vasia interact with the other two historians is a joy in and of itself and she savors the fresh salty air with the delight of someone that hasn't been outside in far too long.
Casting her eye across the deck she makes a note of what her friends are doing, rolling her eyes as Shaumatiel goes straight for the biggest beefcake on the ship and pleased to see that Melody seems to have found a kindly person to talk to.
As the historical conversation turns into a 'discussion' once more she looks upwards, examining the tangle of rigging and setting goals for herself.
I'll make it to the mast-head before we reach Ancarto. She decides. Two weeks, maybe three.
--------------------------------------
When dinner is served Morgan eats avidly, although she makes a face when she realises the fish has been cooked with lemon. An odd side-effect of her recovery has been a distinct change in her meat eating habits - plain food is much preferred now, and not too well done either! Still, she's only been allowed solid food for about a week so this is a pleasant meal regardless. It takes quite an effort of will to not bolt down as much food as possible and even with that effort the ex-paladin finds herself too busy for much conversation. Still she looks around and smiles encouragingly.
"Be received stranger, thank you for your blessings. Blessings of the night upon you from myself, Anya Sandstrider, it is refreshing to find such a strong hunter among us." She says, complimenting Shaumatiel's physique.
"Thank you," Shaumatiel says with a winning grin. "I work out. And I have hunted many strange monsters that call the sewers of Magnimar home. So, what brings you on this voyage?"
"Thank you," Shaumatiel says with a winning grin. "I work out. And I have hunted many strange monsters that call the sewers of Magnimar home. So, what brings you on this voyage?"
"I have been bought on this journey for many reasons." She says curtly, not expanding further but does insist that Shaumatiel tells her of her most impressive feats when hunting in the sewers of Magnimar. Anya grows a little less prickly if Shaumatiel chooses to share an anecdote or two. "I can see that many of the other voyagers are soft-people, they will need protecting from any native intruders with our combined strength. I will enjoy working with you certainly."
At that moment, a balding man with dark hair at the sides and the back of his head sidles up to both the women. He sports a bushy moustache that frames his smile of yellowing teeth, but the stench of smoke around him is the most overpowering feature. "Well hello ladies, I see you've both been drawn to each other. I'm Luetin, Luetin Calewick and will be serving as your assistant Blacksmith on Ancarto. I'm happy to see that I'll be sharing the island with such fine ladies as yourselves."
Anya wrinkles her nose, ever so slightly at the stench of smoke from the man. "Yes, the island does certainly need Shaumatiel and myself, it is unfortuante that so many others do not seem trained with a bow."
"You and I will have to teach some of these people how to use one, then," Shauamtiel says to Anya. She takes a small step away from Luetin to decrease the stench somewhat, but she gives him a polite nod. "It is nice to meet you, Mister Calewick. Surely I will be making use of your services when the time comes to craft more impressive arms and armor."
Somewhat taken aback at the lack of feminine interest in him, Luetin's shoulders fall slightly. "Yes, I'm sure my new Master Blacksmith already on the island will be suitably competent to create some very fine works with my aid." Clearing his throat purposefully, he asks, "So have either of you fine women come along with a husband? Are they here chatting away to one another?"
"I am not married," Shaumatiel says warily. "I have yet to meet a warrior who can stand as my equal. A man must be able to defeat me in combat if he desires to win my heart."
Melody scampers back to her feet as the two men come over to talk to her. Brushing off the dust from her skirts, she gives a quick curtsey "I'm Melody. Pepplefoot. Thank you, and Erastil for watching??" that doesn't sound right, her head informs her, turning the comment into a question at the end. "I am just a friend of Vasia and Morgana, not sure how much help I can be to the colony, but I can mend clothing, which might be useful. Thank you for letting me come along." her questioning tone shifts to mild panic when she is unsure if they knew she didn't have many talents like knowledge or stabbing things. But they couldn't send her away now could they. Her gaze shifts to the open water and hopes that is the case.
22nd Desnus 4708 AR
One week into the voyage, you've had a little time to meet a few more of the colonists who mostly seem to be getting on well, considering there are such tight quarters. Some are looking a little untidier as time goes on, Luetin in particular seems to be trying to grow his unusual moustache as long as he can make it. He seems to have taken a liking to both Anya and Shaumatiel and is often found coming up with excuses to talk to them.
Alba Divenvaar, a stout dwarven woman, has also caused a little bit of a stir, albeit unintentionally when she made her abilities with potions, chemicals and the like clear for the sailors to take advantage of; she managed to create a concoction that caused a commotion when drunk, making the sailors much merrier than previously intended. There were profuse, public, apologies from Alba to both the Captain and Ramona, stating she forgot that the constitution of humans is much frailer than that of a dwarf.
In the middle of the afternoon, a commotion breaks out upon deck, raised voices to be heard for many nosy on-lookers.
A handsome young man with raven-black hair, pale skin, and distinctly Chelish features argues with Ramona. "I just don't understand why I have to share quarters with someone like him! Someone of my stature shouldn't have to share a room with anyone. much less a brute!" Ramona gives him a smile that doesn't extend to her eyes. "Harcourt, believe me, the company appreciates your being here and expanding the Carrolby family business at our new site. But the ship really isn't intended to house this many passengers, and everyone has to share."
Unfortunately, nothing seems to stem the frustrations of the man "He just throws his belongings all over the place as if the room is just some pile of manure! Seriously, I cannot continue to share with this man!"
"Everyone has to share, Harcourt," Vasia says, speaking up. "Unless you'd rather sleep on the deck or in the men's common. I'm sure that anyone there would be happy to swap places with you. Or perhaps, since you're so important, you can convince the captain to let you use his cabin."
Shaumatiel looks the handsome Harcourt up and down. Knowing all too well how much of a cretin Luetin can be, the elf is sympathetic to his plight. And since he's quite the looker:
"Now, now, Vasia, no need to be rude. The cabin I share with Melody currently has extra space available. If my roommate is amenable, I wouldn't mind offering the spare bed there."
Ramona looks taken aback at Vasia's interruption, especially since Harcourt seems to be getting redder and redder, "Now, now, no need to worry, we will absolutely find another solution."
As Shaumatiel offers a spare bed in her cabin, he noticeably relaxes and nods. "Please, take him, he's all yours! He won't mind wherever he sleeps, but I warn you, he is a pain in the horse's hindquarters!"
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12th Sarenith 4708 AR
After five more long (and much more cramped than anticipated for one particular cabin) weeks, this morning the crew of the Peregrine sighted land to the west. A few hours later, the Peregrine sails into a natural bay with a sandy beach within rowing distance for the ship’s boats. Ramona had been talking to your particular group of residents, to discuss more details about your individual contributions to the colony when you arrive.
As the crew begins to untie one of the smaller boats to lower it into the water, the sailors pass a spyglass among themselves and finally hand it back to the captain. Captain Jacob Markosi peers at the island for a moment before grunting and handing the spyglass to expedition leader Ramona Avandth, who was previously sat on deck with you having a friendly conversation. “You should see this,” he says quietly.
Ramona accepts the spyglass and peers toward the shore. When she lowers the scope, she is clearly distressed but trying to hide her worry. She approaches and motions toward the far side of the deck, away from where most of the other colonists have congregated. “Can I have a word with you?” she asks.
“We have a problem,” Ramona says bluntly, once you all have some relative privacy. She offers the spyglass to any of you interested and explains, “Something is wrong. Nobody’s in sight. There’s no smoke from cook fires or the smithy. Some of the buildings look burned out.” Ramona continues, her voice low. “Sailors can’t keep their mouths shut. Soon all the other colonists are going to hear about this—if they can’t see for themselves already—and things could become… tense.”
Shaumatiel had spent her time aboard the ship sparring with Morgana and offering martial training lessons to any who were interested. In her downtime, she made a few casual passes at Harcourt. His overbearing manner was a bit trying at times, but the elf was sure he had some redeeming qualities buried beneath the haughtiness he projected.
When Ramona calls the group over, Shaumatiel nods. ”We will check it out. Keep things quiet as best you can until we return.”
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The last five weeks have been possibly the most transformative of Morgana's life. The woman who came aboard the Peregrine was deeply wounded, if not quite broken, hiding scars both physical and mental behind a shield that insisted that everything was fine. After five weeks of sailing that is no longer the case.
After two near death experiences with the rigging, she made her goal with a day to spare and continued to climb every day, ignoring Vasia, Captain Markosi and Ramona who all tried to suggest that she should stop. Sparring sessions with Shaumatiel started short, as Morgana ended up covered in sweat and trembling after little more than twenty minutes. Whether by Falayna's grace or simply her own determination however Morgana improved in leaps and bounds. Her body remembered the old moves, remembered the feeling of being well and grew to match it. Combined with the plentiful food and a lot of sleep every night Morgana's face began to fill out once more, her lean frame thickened and she stopped walking timidly around like an invalid and rediscovered her old stride, now with a graceful loping element to combat the constant movement of the ships deck.
Her other goal, to avoid showing off just how damaged she was, didn't make it beyond the third week, when the Peregrine was nearly becalmed under a baking hot sun for four days. Wearing long sleeved tops became unbearable and simply as a matter of self preservation Morgana started coming on deck in the light shirts that the crew had adopted almost as soon as they left Magnimar.
The sight was not pleasant. Her arms were covered in scars, so many that even after a few days in the remorseless sun when everyone started turning shades of brown her arms remained an almost unbroken white carpet of lumpy scar tissue. The worst wound however stretched across most of her stomach, the earliest legacy of her poisoning when the beast inside her tried to rip the pain out by whatever means possible. In an ironic twist the scar is rather similar to Nualia Tobin's, a fact that Morgana appreciates with a slightly wry grin. "Well Nualia only gave birth to a monster." She points out when Luetwin, rather unsubtly, asks about it. "I am the monster."
Much of her time that is not occupied by sleeping or honing her body, through climbing, sparring and occasionally swimming, is spent with Vasia in their tiny cabin, trying something that Morgana has never done before. Meditation.
The Beast, as Morgana calls it, has never vanished, merely sunk into a torpor as Morgana ruthlessly suppressed it over days and weeks lying in bed. It's a story that has a lot of resonance for Vasia.
"When Bunica first came to me I was terrified." She admitted to Morgana. "I pushed her away, tried everything I could to convince myself that she wasn't there and it was... painful, and impossible. Bunica is a part of me just like my toes or my elbow."
"I like your toes." Morgana replied, with the private smile that Vasia alone sees on her these days. "And your elbow!"
"What I mean!" Vasia countered, having accepted a kiss on the elbow. "Is that you can't necessarily get rid of the Beast. Maybe there is some magic that could remove it, but I don't know it and no-one in Magnimar did either. Perhaps in Azlant but until then try to make a truce with it. I'm not saying let it out or anything." She adds quickly as Morgana pales. "But perhaps see if you can communicate, so that you don't have to fight it all the time. I can help you."
Morgana floated in darkness, feeling the emotions pulse like a heartbeat in time with her own. She wasn't anywhere exactly, just within herself. Vasia described it like a bottle.
"There's more to all of us than even we know." She said with an enigmatic smile. "Our minds act like a cork, stopping everything inside us from welling up and spilling out all the time. Some of us have very short bottles that are easy to access, and some have deep bottles with a long neck that are hard to get into. Now relax, breathe and imagine that you're somewhere you know very well."
It was the pattern of her bed canopy, which she'd stared at for hour after hour, that Morgana focused on and before long she'd begun to sink into herself, through the neck of her bottle, with relative ease.
What are you? She thought/sent/pushed into the darkness. Do you know who I am?
A pause, a sudden ceasing of the pulsing emotions so complete that Morgana felt as though her own heart had ceased too. Caution, threat, circling a rival, rough tongue scraping over thick fur, scent, good scent, weight, hunger and tiny teeth scraping at teats.
Yes, I think so. Morgana replied in the strange thoughts that passed for communication. We fought, but we don't have to fight any more. Open, cautious, accepting, offering scent, offering food. A questing hand.
Caution, stalking, wary, trap. A sudden feeling of rough fur under her hand and a large head under her fingers.
"Morgana, Morgana!" The note of urgency in Vasia's voice pulled Morgana out of her meditation like nothing else could, so sharply that even the dim cabin seemed harshly bright for a moment. "What sweetheart? What's going on!"
"Look!"
Fur, black and orange, covered her forearms. Arms capped in wide pads with wicked looking claws at the ends. Both women stared as Morgana very slowly began to open and close her fingers, watching in awe as the claws responded exactly like her hands would.
"Well..." Vasia said eventually. "I guess you managed to get in touch with the Beast?"
After her first successful shift, where the claws didn't go away for about three hours, Morgana practised daily, communicating with her Beast and trying to gain control over the claws so that they didn't appear randomly, such as once at dinner when a particularly large fish was being served and the rumble of Morgana's stomach and that of the beast had been in perfect harmony. Morgana had to spend the rest of that meal with one hand hidden under the table while Vasia made vacuous excuses about a box falling on it in the cabin.
Over time other things came with the claws, a sharper sense of smell (which caused the unfortunate dinner incident), quicker reflexes and even a new appreciation for lounging in the sun. The most subtle change was probably in her attitude though. When Harcourt started making a fuss the old Morgana would have stepped in immediately and dealt with the situation, whether through charm and a smile or simply by the force of her personality. The new Morgana preferred to watch, to avoid getting involved unless she had to. It was amazing, what could be learned when you stayed out of the conversation, the way Luetwin practically glowed on being invited to share with Shaumatiel, the way Harcourt looked pleased and somehow oddly upset as well...
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The moment land was sighted Morgana turned to Melody and scooped the bard up in her arms. "Hold on tight Spider-Monkey!" She said with a grin, looping the halfling's arms around her neck and leaping into the rigging. She scuttled up the ratlines with a grin as Melody gasped and clutched tightly to her dark hair until she could wrap Melody around the masthead and then sit behind her, securing the halfling in place to view the approaching islands.
"So, what do you think of our new home?" She asked, breathing hard and feeling her spirit soar at the sight before them.
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It isn't until Ramona brings Vasia and Shaumatiel off to a quiet section of the quarterdeck that Morgana's newly sharpened instincts flare and she gently disentangles Melody from the ropes and slides the two of them down a backstay to the deck in a slithering rush that would have left Morgana's hands rope burned and sore if not for the Beast lending a paw.
Landing just in time to hear Ramona's report Morgana stares across the water for herself and nods at Shaumatiel's plan.
"Yes, we'll go." She says, glancing at Vasia to check that she's ok with this. Morgana may not be a paladin any more, but that doesn't mean she's going to let others go into danger without her help.
"Of course we'll go," Vasia says with a nod towards Ramona. She gives Morgana a smile and a quick squeeze of her hand.
"I..yes...thats a kind offer, thank you." Ramona nods, gratefully, a little surprised by the selfless women standing in front of her.
"I will take you up on that. I think what is best here is if I ask Captain Markosi to sail north along the island's coast to the secondary identified landing site, which was the original alternative spot for the foundation of the colony. It was designated as an emergency extraction point for the original colonists in case anything went wrong, but was never needed. If you could go to check out Talmandor's Bounty and then meet up with us to report back, I can then make the final decision about where we can disembark." A look of concern crosses her face, a sign of disappointment arising.
"Unfortunately, we do not have the resources to turn around for help, we have to disembark either way. If you take one of the ship's boats to the shore, that will help. I will say that you are scouting things and try to keep things settled on the Peregrine as people will soon grow suspicious."
==================
Lowering and boarding the boat, Morgana, Melody, Shaumatiel and Vasia spend a little time getting acquainted with rowing, before heading off.
The bay’s waters are calm, with only a gentle rocking of the ship’s boat. The shore is approximately three hundred feet to the east, where a lonely dock is built off a sandy beach.
After a few minutes of hard rowing, you have made excellent progress and are just under half way to the dock, about 250ft from the ship.
However, Melody's watchful gaze suddenly spots two creatures underwater, jetting toward the small boat at high speed! The strange beasts look like a combination of a goblin and an octopus, and just as mean.
These are Grindylow. About 4 feet long from head to tentacle tip, grindylows appear to be half-goblin and half-octopus, the split occurring at the waist. Grindylows are violent, ravenous creatures that use their spears to hunt or just to poke at things that scream and cry.While grindylows resemble goblins, they are not humanoid creatures. Nonetheless, these aquatic monsters are just as wicked as the most sadistic of goblins, and take immense pleasure in others’ misfortunes and the spread of mayhem. Thanks to this twisted desire, grindylows have a nasty reputation among both other intelligent water-dwelling creatures and most land-dwelling beings.
PCs who remain seated take a –2 penalty on attack rolls.
A character can negate this penalty by standing up and attacking, but anyone standing in the boat must attempt a DC 10 Acrobatics check each round in which they attack.
Success means they remain standing until they attack again.
A PC who fails must attempt a DC 10 Reflex save.
If successful, the PC immediately sits back down as a free action (standing back up is a move action, as normal), but a PC who fails this save falls overboard into an adjacent square. PCs fighting in the water follow the normal rules for aquatic combat.
"Incoming!" Shaumatiel shouts. She draws her curve blade with flair, then slices one of the gobtopuses in two with a brutal slice!
Melody peers over the edge to the darting forms under the boat "Oh, they are fast swimmers, yes, um, but that won't be enough... will it?"
Shaumatiel's blade slices the sea creature with ease as it's blue blood spills into the ocean.
The remaining Grindylow let's out a screech at its fallen ally and jabs at Shaumatiel with its spear. It's tentacles lash out, trying to grab hold of a stray limb or two, but it misses.
Voices from the ship carry through the light breeze, lending you support. "Watch out! Row faster! and many other calls from concerned colonists watching but unable to help from afar.
Shaumatiel winces as she takes a bit, but her focus doesn’t waved as she decapitates the second foe.
Morgana barely has time to look up from the rowing as Shaumatiel decapitates the two foes.
"I'll row." She suggests. "You keep an eye out in case there's more of those things."
Vasia is appropriately impressed at Shaumatiel's quick dispatching of the strange water goblins.
"There may be more threats here than originally planned for," she says. Trying not to let the sight of Morgana's form as she pulls mightily at the oars distract her, the girl closes her eyes. Now would probably be a good time to manifest her bunica.
She lets all the outside sensations fall away as she focuses on her breathing and then the other presence within her mind. With practiced ease she gives it a gentle push.
The phantom appears next to Melody and before the halfling can react, Jenica swoops her up into her arms for a cool, ephemeral kiss.
"I've missed you so much, My Lovely," she coos once she finally relinquishes the delicate lips. "Someone," she glares at Vasia, "had some sort of inane idea that they would throw us all overboard if someone caught a glimpse of my gorgeous ghostly self."
She turns her gaze back to the scrumptious woman in her arms and her smile widens. "But now that I'm here, I have lost time to make up for. Have you been practicing what I taught you?" she asks, her smile turning salacious.
Melody's exclamation of glee is beyond description, followed by breathless giggles and quiet noises smoothed in kisses. Her cheeks turn bright strawberry at the question, but she whispers "yes... as well as I could, alone..."
But before all that her little arms wrap around her Jenica and she buries herself in a hug she dreams about even more than... well... other things. (by only a tiny margin)
Morgana smiles, it's nice to know that some things never change, and Jenica cares for Melody in a way that is truly inspiring, if a little bizarre.
As she heaves on the oars she catches Vasia's eye and smiles, enjoying the last moments of peace before they reach the island and whatever, no doubt horrible and dangerous thing, awaits.
Shaumatiel flicks the blood from her blade into the water before sheathing it again. She bows her head in a silent prayer to Falayna as they approach the shore.
A solitary dock extends from the beach into the bay. The construction is solid and looks recent, suitable for tying off a small boat, although no watercraft are visible. Pulling up to the East of the dock, you all manage to tie off the boat between you and step foot onto the dock and thus the first solid land you've stepped on in six weeks.
The beach inclines to the east before giving way to grass and trees. Further on in that direction, buildings and a palisade wall stand on the rise.
"It's quiet. Too quiet," Shaumatiel observes. "Where should we begin?"
The ground rocks strangely for a few moments as Morgana steps out of the boat and she staggers a little before getting her bearings.
"No footprints at all." She points out, sweeping an arm across the beach. "Nothing has happened here for some time."
She cranes over the edge of the dock and frowns. "There's a boat down there. Give me a minute."
She hops fully clothed into the water and attempts to drag the canoe closer to the waterline.
The halflings's natural sense of balance keeps the wobble out of Melody's feet as they finally find the shore again. Though a wobble wouldn't matter since her hand is firmly in Jenica's.
"A beautiful day, eerie quiet, This is really bad, isn't it?" she squeezes Jenica's hand harder. "We... Jenica and I could scout out one of the building?" she says before Morgana finds the boat.
The phantom nods and reluctantly releases the halfling's hand. An eldritch sabre appears in each of her hands. "You're correct, My Lovely; This isn't good."
Torn between staying where Morgana is bring up a sunken canoe and her bunica who is slowly moving towards the limit of Vasia's will, the woman decides to follow along the scouting duo at about fifty feet behind.