Signs of Life

[rassafraggin]

As she works to untangle her leg and foot from the rigging, Maggie pauses and looks down at Merrisol as he heads for the deck. Her expression holds relief and her fingers move with more speed and dexterity. Once free, she works her way down to the deck, arriving slightly after he does. Jumping the last few feet, she rests a hand on his forearm for just a moment before hurrying off across the deck the the crewman who was bandied about on the air like a ragdoll. Reaching the spot where the woman is now sitting on her haunches, Maggie bends down, one hand resting on the other's shoulder to speak to her quietly. The exchange is not loud enough to carry to others but when it has concluded, Maggie pats her crewman on the shoulder and rises. There is a look of pride on her features as she signals the Deck Chief. The crewman rises to salute the Captain, then the chief. The Chief nods, salutes, and walks with the crewman toward the stairs leading down into the ship's innards. Maggie sighs, then turns to head back toward Merrisol.

Quinlan exhales slowly. "Sorry about the bouncing," he says. "I couldn't just counter your momentum directly, it'd hurt too much. I had to keep redirecting it until you were on a good trajectory with a velocity that wouldn't hurt you."

Melina does a quick assessment to make certain that Merri, maggie and the battered crewperson are ok. should that be the case, she waits anxiously to find out what mystery merri has uncovered

Merrisol keeps his head bowed in private contemplation but by the time he does look around, the dynamic on deck has changed. Noting the direction the shaken sailor had gone with the deck chief, he stares undecided for a moment, then turns to look at those remaining. Alright. "Sorry to have given anyone a shock." A nod to Martin as earlier questions are recalled. "I was up there.. went up there because.." He spreads his hands into a viewfinder, gazing through at the deck. "Everything was too close just standing here. Couldn't make anything out. Had to go up, to see what the tearstone was showing me. Martin, you.. were looking for the center of the node, but... nothing will happen unless you raise the," he ruminates a moment over the concept, and offers, "..The first born. They are.. old beings.. living beings.. buried beneath the waves here, perhaps beneath the detritus. I don't quite know what they are... ancient sea creatures of a sort?" He looks past the prow, surveying the bulky mechanical remnants. "Made part of the ritual to form the node," he adds, disgust pulling his lip in an unconscious sneer.

The crewman is clearly shaken as she walks with the Deck Chief toward the stairs. Still, hearing Quin's apology, she turns to give him a wave, her palor already beginning to ease. As she looks back, she spots Merrisol and he is given a shaky salute before the two women of the deck vanish into the hold below.

At that point, Maggie reaches Merrisol's side on her way toward Martin. She listens to what he has to say and her expression gets more and more thoughtful as he speaks. When he finishes, she does not comment on what he has revealed. Turning to Quinlan and Miriam, she smiles for them, "Thank you for saving my crewman."

Looking back at her husband, she sorts through her impressions. "So. There are five ancient beings somewhere either in the mess ahead or beneath it. They must be raised in order to proceed." Frowning, she glances back at Quinlan before continuing, "And... They were somehow tied into the node's creation. I wonder if waking them will mean freeing them from the node. Which might well mean that we must set down a new ritual or lose the node... Though perhaps I should not borrow trouble here."

Dirk is sitting listening to Maggie Moo.

Quinlan takes a deep breath. "Yeah. That doesn't sound extremely ominous *at all*. Look...Oberon had a habit of chaining what he couldn't - or decided for whatever reason he shouldn't - kill. We should probably see what the current situation is before leaping to release - or, maybe, re-chain - these beings. Which sounds like some deep dives are in order."

The Solaris woman's eyes go wide as saucers "So I was sort of right ..The old ways must be rebalanced with the present to ensure the future. The next time I get an overarching theory of existence someone remind me to be wrong please"

Now that there's no (apparent) immediate danger to anyone, Miriam's relaxed and listens to the others. She frowns at the news about the old beings used for the ritual, but then nods to Maggie. "I'm glad she was saved." she replies, then nods to Quinlan at the ominousness of it. "We need to take a look." she agrees.

Merrisol looks understandably alarmed when remarks seem to be trending towards possibly dismantling the node. He looks slowly from Maggie to Quinlan, mouth open to voice some kind of caution, then comes to the realization that nobody is intentionally forwarding such an agenda. He studies Melina herself for a longer moment, head tilting slightly while weighing her words. "You're not wrong," he says with an uneasy look. "We shouldn't lose sight of the main goal, though. The sea is shallow.. no more than eighty... at most a hundred feet deep," he adds, as though that were nothing. "The stone showed me where they are. Did anyone else get anything from theirs?" he remembers to inquire.

Quinlan shrugs. "Mine indicated I should go to the island. That was pretty much the limit of its advice."

Dirk says walks over to Maggie and rubs against her leg.

Maggie gently steps away from Dirk's rubbing against her. Her movements are careful so she does not accidentally step on the Dirk-cat, but they are decisive. Looking to Melina, she nods, "That makes sense. And it is a good way to think about this, I hope." Moving to Merrisol's other side, she nods to Quinlan, "Grandfather used beings of power in a lot of obnoxious ways. Trapping them goes against my grain. Leaving them trapped is not something that I want to do." She sighs, her tone softening away from indignant irritation to quiet resignation, "However. Releasing them might be worse? In a way? I mean... Ancient, pissed off entities freed to reclaim their own does not sound like a recipe for peace. And it would certainly ruin Begma's path." Lowering her own head, she ponders until she quirks her husband a wry smile, "That is deep enough, my love. Without help, you, Martin and Quinlan could go down. I can because of you." Which earns the man a smile and a hand resting gently on his arm. Her expression turns a bit more sober, though, "I... Well, no. My stone became warm, though. Which might be a way for all of us to know when one is being active."

Melina only has a rueful smile by way of a nonanswer to merrisol's question.

"We're not Oberon," said Quinlan softly. "The whole boat of us together aren't equivalent to Oberon. The beings he bound are right to be pissed off about it. But if we free them...history suggests they'll be indiscriminate in their anger, and whatever damage they then do would be on us." Voice of experience, there, possibly. "We should know the situation fully before committing to anything we can't undo."

When Merrisol asks if anyone has something to add, Miriam's gaze flickers over towards Martin. But, then she nods to several things said and notes "Unless we're sure we can best whatever Oberon trapped down there, we should be very careful about releasing it. Them. We can feel sorry for his victims," and she certainly looks like she can appreciate that particular anger, "but we also have homes to protect."

Raphaela offers idly, watching her nails, remaining omniously quiet all this time. "I could fortify the node from falling apart, but one would probably need a Karm to consult, if my private monster is to be of any indication." She adds "Mind you, Sorgo and their monster have a deal. Maybe, like with my house, our part of the deal was forgotten and they could be sated by... you know. Taking up our part of the deal again."

Merrisol examines first Martin, then the makeshift coastline, nodding to Maggie's assessment. "They must all be attuned to every site, regardless of which one 'speaks'. If we can pass through that gap, Captain, we can tackle the five sites from a more central location..." He pauses to consult Martin for his take on the situation, but it is Raphaela finally speaking up that grabs his attention, which shifts towards wary confusion. "If it even comes to that, endangering the node's stability. I, uh... hope we wouldn't need to dig Sorgo a deeper pit just so we can grab some power for the Sceptre," he says soberly, and continues in a mutter to Raphaela, "Didn't know the demon was such public knowledge. So, your mission to the mountains did not resolve the monster's grip?"

Raphaela pouts "It is ancient preamberian godlike creature which Oberon managed to lock off. He only did that because it proved impossible to kill, and had powers which Oberon wanted." She lifts one finger, than another. "Which is why he'd leave anything alive. Mine merely covers both angles. And my house is fully transparent about my Duty. If it weren't for others I'd never recover it, and most of you already know everything, anyway. I would like to add that... if we neglect to act on these creatures, whatever they might be, now... We might end up having another rampage later on if whatever lock holding it down fails." Also she wants to check them out. Nothing suicidal about it.

Merri just glances towards Martin again, certain they are agreed upon preserving the integrity of the node, whatever is found. He shrugs a little helplessly over the warnings and anecdotal evidence offered by the others, then begins preparations for a potential dive.

Martin nods at Merrisol, he has the right of it. He had been thinking about something. Or perhaps having an inconvenient not-actually-a-trump-conversation conversation. "If the old map is anything to go by, everything has to be as it was. If you deviate, it will not be. Yes, we are not Oberon. Yes, some beings were used for this and suffered." If it's odd to hear Martin sound slightly callous, you're not wrong to think so. "However, the integrity of the node is paramount." The scepter is in a small sheath at his belt, near the sword, something that hasn't been a thing until recently. Normally he has it stowed away. Locked in a chest.

Melina frowns "So we have to raise these things only to re-torture them? We can't have the same result but approach it differently?"

Maggie listens to all, her eyes tracking from one speaker to the next. Pensive concentration grows as she compares what is said with what she knows about Pattern magic, which is considerable, and her grandfather, which is slight. Noting two things about Martin that set her on edge, she watches him for a while in silence before Melina's question draws her attention. Turning to the gentle lady, she adopts an equally gentle tone, "Alas. And I mean that sincerely. We cannot change their situation. If we do not have something of equal strength, in whatever aspect that means for this particular node, we cannot release them. Just to be clear, strength can mean physical, mental, emotional, magical or worth. Worth can be to the original Node's creator, the beings themselves, or the people who lived when the Node was created. In the last case, the worth to the person or people who remake the Node is a viable substitution. Since we do not have the answers to any of those value equations, we are stuck leaving the beings where they are. In addition, as Martin..." Here she pauses to give that particular cousin a near-glare, "... has said that we cannot change the Nodes, then we cannot modify the existence or bonds of the beings currently held." Drawing a breath, she turns to Martin, though, perhaps oddly, not for validation or clarification of her statements. She remains confident in her explanation.

Quinlan frowns. "...I'll wait, until I see the situation," is all he has to say on the matter. "But my mirror made the island shine in reflection...so maybe my job is somewhere on there, not below."

Merrisol listens from the rail where he'd been eyeballing the "inlet" he'd gestured to earlier. "It should be deep enough for both ships... after all, others must pass through to activate the node itself."

"Hey listen," Martin responds, less harshly than he had in the past. "We can debate this forever. No, the tactics that designed the shadowpaths weren't the best thing in the universe. People were hurt, realms decimated to hold back the tide. Our job is to not remake but to fix what was broken. Remaking is what has continued to destroy. Every time someone tries to do something that wasn't done before things get worse. So, we maintain the node for its integrity. It's the job of pathfinders. It may not be nice but it is necessary. We can, Maggie, we can do something for them after the fact. There are no laws to say that we cannot make things better. They just have to be the way they were first." He lifts his hands up as though in a 'relax' kind of gesture. "But we should do this soon." He glances at merrisol. "one way or the other."

Maggie lifts a brow ever so slightly at Martin or Merrisol. Or maybe Quinlan. Whatever is in her mind only makes it to her features by a slight tightening and a shallow nod. Turning on her toe, she glances out to the sea and the path that Merrisol is indicating. Lifting a hand, she signals to Mr. Anderson to follow the path shown, "Half ahead, Mr. Anderson. Get someone else up in the nest as lookout. DOn't worry about soundings just yet. It should be fine." That worthy gentleman salutes his Captain and goes to make it so. As she lowers her arm, she glances at the shiney stone held in its bracer.

Raphaela says "You do happen to have a negotiator on board. I think checking the situation is in order, either way. No point getting into moral dilemma before we know the situation. Maybe one of them merely needs a nose scratched and node will be as new for all we know."

Diana seems to have been faring poorly. She kept mostly to herself, sparing some brushes with socializing on the deck. In fact, prior to all these dramatics, it was the first time she had been seen above deck in days. Now, with a jaw that twitches and eyes dilated so wide as to be almost black. She tries to shade her gaze from the burning sun with one trembling hand, looking out to where the Captain points. She swallows back stomach acid as she sways.

Raphaela pulls out a wrap of dry cookies and offers them to Diana. Will soak up that acid. MIlk would help too, but alas. Would have to feel up and pillage a mage for a flask of that.

Diana blinks, turning to consider Raphaela at the kind gesture. Sweat glistens on her brow. She reaches out and, gingerly, plucks the sweet from the other woman's hands. "Thank you, Sister-Man." Her voice is huskier than usual even! She doesn't eat yet. "Are we going to land soon?"

Raphaela shrugs and gestures at all the others with command regarding the decisions.

Merrisol is keeping an eye on the ships' clearance of the irregular outcrops as they enter the node proper. The plethora of individual items comprising each scrap pile makes it hard to concentrate on any one of them while pushing ahead. He glances around upon hearing a strange voice, and sees it is Diana out and about once more. "This is as close to land as you're going to find until we're done here, Lady Lethem."

The way opens into a seemingly straightforward network of channels between precariously stacked formations of junked invention. The ocean beyond can be glimpsed from the crows nest, so one has something to look forward to, so long as they can find some inspiration from one or two of the thousands of miscellaneous machines in evidence here. A massive blackened derrick with a prehensile neck broods in one corner of the location and is glaringly obvious as the mechanism most used by ships' crews to gain passage through the node. Indeed, it may have served the original purpose of constructing this obstacle course way back when, with its heavy mandibles capable of pincering even the larger machines. The control box is accessed via caged stairwell.

Raphaela sees something of interest, one can tell beacause she starts finding higher ground, and higher still, unbllinking pale eyes never resting from analysis of the maze.

"Not much to set foot on, less that I would trust a foot too..." Diana says dreamily. "Everything is cold and iron and dead. I do not suspect I will be of much use here, other than a cheerful disposition." Her dilated eyes shift rapidly as she tries to take in too much at once, motes of shadow in bloodshot sea of scelera. "I will try to stay out of your way... by the by, what title do you prefer? You have so many. I worry that I offend by using a different one each time."

Maggie has been moving between Merrisol's position and the forecastle as duties require. She is using all of her various skills to help guide t he ships through and, if she is lucky, spot anything useful to their cause on the way into the Node proper. When the structure comes into view, she nods as though it was an expected sight. TUurning, she spots Diana and Raphaela. A frown touches her brow when Raphaela begins scaling the ship. At Mr. Anderson's querying gaze, Maggie nods and a crewman is sent to scramble after the woman. In case there is an unfortunate repetition of an earlier attempt at deck diving without proper personal protective equipment. At least there is no shortage of PPE aboard. Only a shortage of it in use. But the sailor is agile and strong, so there may be no danger. Then Mattie tunes in to Diana. Another sailor is mustered to stick with the Lethem Lady. To make sure her illness and dreamy demeanor do not cause her to stumble or fall overboard.

Looking back once her friends are seen to, she begins to study the structure that they approach in greater detail.

Raphaela is curious, but much less insane than she used to be since Feldane was needed when she fell of the roof of a castle that once. She also knows, surprisingly, how to secure herself on rigging. Almost as if she didn't spent 2 years with her fleet in the cabin! She doesn't give Anderson any cause to worry other than a wink, and she makes sure she isn't in the way of the useful people.

Castoff devices cry out to the creatives on board, for purpose or perhaps just appreciation. This propellor system ribbed for counter-turbulence measures; that magnetic gyrospanner set to run amuck loosening all the nuts; the magnificent airship sail waxer that guarantees a rainproof and slippery ride through the clouds!

Despite the urgings to look at every interesting, abandoned and lonly device out there, Maggie keeps her focus squarely on the tack at hand. Her hands grip the railing where she stands, gaze sliding over the sculpture ahead. Turning at last, she looks around the area they have entered as though seeking significance elsewhere. "You said that there were five, Kerf. If this is one, then we need to locate the others." Turning to her husband, she nods toward the sculpture, "That is one, isn't it?"

Merrisol fidgets out the mirror stone from the leather gauntlet still affixed to his right forearm. He's changed clothes into a utility vest and light trousers, ready to go down into the water if need be. "Captain usually does the trick," he says to Diana after taking a moment to understand the question. "However, I don't even require that unless aboard my own vessel. You might call me Merrisol, if that suits you." He too does not appear unduly surprised by the sight of the giant multi-jointed crane arm, and shakes his head, replying to Maggie, "That is used to clear away obstacles to the goal, be it a particular machine, or the exit itself. Although... we could most likely use it to dig up the spots where the First Born are located, if the way is blocked.." he adds with a preoccupied smile. His tearstone, warm in his hand, draws his focus. "Someone will go over to operate the derrick, while the rest of us go below the waves to investigate the five positions for signs of life."

Raphaela oohs "Maybe it is a puzzle or better, a trap!" She pouts almost instantly though. Damnit.

"Cool, Captain-Man." Diana says. Did she just... finger guns at Merrisol? Pow, pow, she did. Armed with twin thunderpistols, and with a license to kill. She wanders off to the shaded area to observe the gameplan from a safe distance, a bit of kindness to her unexpected entourage/caretaker sailor.

Quinlan mmms. "Should I be the one to go over? My shard indicated the island, not the water..."

Raphaela mutters "Kinda misnomenclature, isn't it... more like.. coral reef. Of crap."

The heaps and stacks of prototypes rattle imperceptibly with sadness at this remark!

Priceless research material atol?

Maggie watches Diana as she shoots Merri with the fingers of doom. Doom! Tilting her head, she follows the Letham Lady's path to shade and, hopefully, feeling better. Looking slowly back again, she pauses at Raphaela, "A puzzle, I hope. I am not a big fan of traps." Spoil sport that she is. Further, she focuses on Quin, "Well... Was your shart pointing to an island here? Or did it mean the one we passed? Or one yet to come? Or... Well, I suppose that it would be difficult to say. We will need four at least in the water, I think. Then one up here to use the derrick yonder. So far, my stone has not shown me anything, though it has felt warm a time or two. Maybe I am the one to remain aloft and operate the thing."

Quinlan shrugs. "I saw this island, but shining. Like a quest goal in a game. I mean...not exactly subtle, but did it need to be?"

Diana lingers in the shade, pulling her hair away from her face and restoring some quota of propriety about her appearance. Ruffled clothes smoothed down, hair soothed. She draws a small vial from her pocket, pinching between fingers and bringing to her nose. A long inhale is followed by a pensive silence, almost meditative. To her sailor guardian, baby blue eyes set on him. Glassy. "Life is beautiful, no?"

Diana offers the vial, as Raphael has shown her. It is the neighborly thing to do.

The sailor, one Juan Fernando of some distant, exotic island somewhere in the vastness of the sea, smiles at his charge. He nods, "Life is beautiful, Lady, yes." His smile fades when the vial is tilted his way, "Ah, but no thank you. I do not indulge while on duty. Captain Flame has rules about that and Mr. Anderson is diligent in enforcing them. Another time, perhaps."

Diana considers the dark, swarthy sailor - all sinewy muscle and honorable workman spirit. Her lips quirk up in a pale shade of amusement. "Perhaps..." The vial disappears with no cajoling.

Melina hms "So some of us are going to need help with the breathing underwater bit and by First Born are we talking dieties here?

Merrisol looks uncertain, answering Quinlan, "From what others have indicated, all of the stones have reacted in one way or the other to being near this place. But according to the lorekeeper, Lady Jessamyn, only one will give specific instructions at each site." He nods to the gigantic crane, "As far as I know, these mechanisms *aren't* purely of Begma, in the sense that only a Begman could make them function. Anyone with experience with standard heavy machinery could work those controls."

He brushes Maggie's back briefly with his non-rock hand before moving over to the rail to see where the gangplank might be set down for a competent soul to traverse the craggy piles and reach the derrick. "Whoever comes down with us will have the Sea's Protection, of course. And.." he turns and looks to Martin with a nod, "..*must* be prepared to face whatever is uncovered.. without doing anything that risks dismantling the node. I don't know if these are gods, Lady Melina... the way it was put to me by the vision, they are... five of the first lives. And they are being held here, below. That's as best as I can describe it."

Raphaela rolls her eyes, "I wonder who might end up operating heavy machinery while everybody else is getting damp."

"So, Mr. Fernado wasn't it? Do you have a type, of dreams..?" The pause might be a slip of a drug-addled mind. Or Diana?s idea of coy flirtation. "I find I dream often, here at sea.." She considers the absolutely massive crane, seeking out the rust and corrosions that show even the mightiest of structures answer to time.

Quinlan shrugs. "This is you guys' quest more than mine. I'll work with it. If you'd rather I go below, I can airbubble."

Amy is generally dragoned up, watching things quietly. Because she can. She is also in the best spot for a random nap.

Melina nods "I might be able to help with them i think but I won't do anything without asking save endeavor to stay alive and sense things

Juan watches his charge, a brow lifting just a fraction of an inch, "Oh, I don't know, Lady. Dreams come and go. Usually, I don't remember them on waking. I am not one for portents and mysticism." When her gaze lifts to the machine, he glances at it, then back again. Stepping back a pace or two, he clasps his hands behind his back and centers himself to stand at ease for a time.

"You chose a bizarre crew to caper with, considering your sensible sensibilities.." Diana says. "Do they not kiss each other with abandon to dive beneath the waves?"

Maggie pauses when she feels Merrisol's touch. He is given a quick, if quiet smile. Turning her attention to the deck at large, she takes stock of who is where. "Well," she says in answer to Raphaela's very presence, "We do have a mechanical expert aboard. If you are willing, Raph? I can go below. Perhaps those of us with stones have to be near each other to cooperate in whatever is required down there."

Juan steps forward again to answer Diana's query, "THere are kisses, yes. The Captains kiss with passion, but not with abandon. The others? Vary. So, I fear that the answer is yes and no, Lady. But beyond that, it is a stable crew with enough of interest to remain engaging without the tedium of some crews. But, tell me...? What are you seeing when you look with such interest at the derrick yonder?"

Diana, for the first time, appears melancholy. "Entropy and screaming lambs. They always scream when the dream is dying."

Raphaela chuckles. "If I mind, she says." she fetches her satchel hanging on the, somewhere handy, and heads twards the plank. "If I mind," she says with not quite a sane grin as she hops over.

Juan looks at the lady resting where she is and his expression turns sober, "Ah... THat sounds terrible, Lady. It is no wonder that you indulge,then. Have you used ganja?" Lowering his voice, he murmurs, "My cousin might be able to provide."

"I think the tear stones are guides and they will point us in the direction and show what is needed to be shown when the time is right. I think your stone was basically saying that there is something here we need to find and figure out." Martin says after some thought. "Between Merrisol and myself, we can assure that those who are with us can breathe underwater. Let's just be careful as we go. I am sure that we will find out more as we go. As far as what Quinlan's mirror showed, that's what I think, anyway."

Quinlan nods slowly. "I'll go down with the rest of you then." He does not look particularly thrilled - but thenk we're talking lots of swimming and eldritch horrors, and the fox does tend to have a problem with both.

Once the ships are steady at anchor amidst the branching channels, the gangplank is laid between the rail and the edge of what looks like a huge forlorn unmatched glove of hammered steel, and Raphaela has clambered nimbly away like a spider monkey to be a derrick operator. Merrisol sits the outside rail, advising a feet-first drop into the water rather than a dive. He has Maggie, Melina, and Quinlan confirmed as swimming buddies, but now pauses to consider Martin. "Not certain what the instructions were with regards to putting you or the Sceptre in the digging work as well.. If we should be sticking together, Ruby and Duke Chantris ought to come along as well."

Maggie is probably glad that she is over here and blissfully unaware that a crewman is either trying to play armchair psychologist with Lady Lethem. That he is offering her a contact to get a mild psychoactive depressant is less worrisome. Maybe. She nods to Martin, though she retains her air of calm determination. Probably to get through this. Her gaze strays to Martin as he speaks. Quinlan is given a brief smile and reassuring nod, "We'll watch out for each other, Quin." Turning, she moves to the railing near Merrisol, waiting to go in first and guard the forefront of their entry into the water. She pauses there to look back at Martin, "Maybe you should stay above? We can't risk you or the scepter." It hits her then that he is carrying it rather than leaving it locked safely away. "Amy and Miriam are here. I don't know that either are going below...?"

Martin puts a hand on Miriam's shoulder and Amy's, "We'll be fine if you want to stay up here but Merrisol and I can handle whoever wants to come. I need to be with Merrisol. I know that much." He glances at Quinlan, "I think we have to be careful with these stones. They play upon your desires but I know I need to do this with Merrisol. If there is a chance that ... hm." Maggie has a point, but still. "I don't want you all down there without backup. What if something happens to Merrisol? You need me."

Quinlan nods slowly. "You may need a scholar, too," he says. "Water isn't my Mastery, but I don't need your assistance to breathe down there. And I can electrify the water if I need to, or boil it. I've fought underwater before. You were there, even, I think." A little, rueful smile. "And my travels may mean all of that turns out to be unnecessary. Which would be nice."

Merrisol doesn't offer further argument on the subject of Martin's participation. "Sticking together, it is," he declares, passing along word for Ruby and Ashby to join them as soon as they can. He takes on his share of candidates for Underwaterproofing, sitting first with Maggie to deliver that efficient blend of Blessing/Canoodling that works out so nicely. "See you down there, Hotstuff. A lot of metal, so mind the pokey bits." Melina is next, once the ship's captain has made it safely into the water and swam clear. He nods acknowledgement to Quinlan's assurance of having other magic means of breathing, and since the buildup of submerged tech makes the sea even shallower, there is no real pressure issue to consider. Once everyone is accounted for, Merrisol does a last check for his tearstone in its wrist harness, and his trump deck with Raphaela's on top, then jumps into an empty section of the channel.

The sea water here is not all that clean due to the combined runoff from hundreds of cracked engine chasses throughout the machine atoll. The false sea bottom is uneven and marked by gaps and fissures between large sunken devices. It is treacherous and unpleasant, but nothing one cannot full recover from so long as the mission is a relatively efficient one. Thirty feet down, the wide base of the technojunk towers are found, the lower layers effectively squashed into sedimentary scrap by all the weight.

Merrisol takes a headcount after the last splashdown from the ship registers. He invokes his hand's light tattoo to direct the party to the inner wall of the island perimeter. Here, it seems there is a circuit which runs within the wall, through which there are many openings, some large enough to enter. Diffuse light lances in through them to aid visibility in the subterranean corridor. "Five locations.. more or less equally spaced," says Merrisol, making a face as he inadvertently ingests some of the water instead of aspirating it.

Martin ensures that Amy is able to breathe underwater. Miriam has the gills tat so she will be fine. He checks for Ruby and anyone else. "Okay!" Martin gets up and dives after Merrisol, taking everything with him, of course. He seems to know what he is doing, or looks like it! Also, he seems a little more himself as he enters the water and his head bobs up to join his friends. Perhaps being in the sea has washed away his lack of morals.

Quinlan mmms, pauses, and takes out his mirror shard, holding it in his hand for a few moments. He looks toward the island, and then toward Martin, and then back to the shard in his hand. "You may be a bit confused as to who's in charge here," he says to the object in his hand, his tone quiet and rather dry. Then he puts the shard away again, and jumps into the water, a bubble of air gathering around his head as he does so. And then looks for Maggie, since he's supposed to go with her.

When the nature of the water is discovered, Maggie takes a boot dagger from its sheeth and uses it to cut the longish hem of her tunic into strips. She passes one to each of her companions. When she has finished, her garment is considerably shorter, but still comparatively modest. Tunics for the win. Tucking the dagger back into place, she ties her own strip about her face as a make-shift filter to keep the worst of it out.

The dive is taken with a fair amount of care for Maggie is trying to keep an eye on Merrisol, for she promised Martin she would; on Martin because his sudden intent expression of concern for Merrisol's safety was both alarming and somewhat out of character for him; on Quinlan as the mageling is uncomfortable and might need an assist from a more martial cousin and... On the warmth of her own tear stone, giving her what might be false confidence. Trying not to fall into its encouraging attitude is a bit of a struggle with her split focus but she is giving it a go.

Merrisol moves into the corridor, noting its rather deliberate characteristics, more built of intent rather than naturally occurring. His voice comes subdued through the makeshift scarf supplied by his spouse: "Looks like this was made to go all the way around.. and until we have more evidence of what's down here, we should stay in range of one another.. agreed?" Naturally, appropriately, they will follow the clockwise route.

The moment signals arrive from the Wave Dancer to the Son of Serminia there is a flurry of activity about the deck. One of her longboats is brought around and lowered into the water with the unmistakable hat of Ashby de'Mandrake observable at the bow. Joining the group, he doesn't shy away from the Blessing. On the contrary! The Montevalnan takes on whoever the Blesser is by the cheeks to perform the Sacred Act with gusto as one of his people ought! With that important act completed, his hat is removed to stay behind, he gathers himself, and then executes a theatrical swan dive on into the water! Once underwater, his demeanor transitions from flamboyant Duke back to that of professional soldier as his head stays on a swivel, constantly looking about in each of the directions to watch for trouble or notable points. Swimming as best he can, he tries to work toward the tip of the spear to keep lookout. Quiet Ashby is all business! Looking back from their surroundings, he locks onto Merrisol and gives a sharp nod, "Agreed. Let's keep it tight."

RPG: Ashby declares that he has the Shadow Adept (TEN-SA) gift.
RPG: Ashby declares that he has the Observation (SKL-OB) gift.
RPG: Ashby declares that he has the Danger Sense (SKL-DS) gift.

Melina lowers herself with great care. she is able to swim of course and this is not her first time under as she had travelled beneath the waves of lyonesse in such a manner quite some time ago. this is not a natural and accostomed habitat for however and she has no intent of being out of the range of one of the more acomplished swimmers. Without any magical items of her own, she is uncertain what assistance, she will be able to provide but keeps both physical and magical senses peeled

RPG: Melina declares that she has the Observation (SKL-OB) gift.
RPG: Melina declares that she has the Analyze Magic (MAG-AM) gift.

The passage bends in and out of shape with the movements of light and shadow, and a reedy moan that is hopefully only the current playing silly buggers with the acoustics and the wall gaps like air blown across flute holes. As the party labours on through these effects, there comes an addition sharp and distinct enough to stop them in their tracks. A watery pinging, piercing through an egg-like bulge half blocking off the passage.