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The Pod Squad roams the oceans in search of the usual suspects. Whenever a message comes down the royal pike tagged for the Warden, the Dolphins snatch it up gleefully. So often it grants the opportunity for sightseeing through the Endless, for the fool is always slipping away on ‘SEP Missions’ ...Somebody Else’s Problem! Also this means there’s a good chance their other favourite dummies will be with him... it’s like going to Heckler’s Heaven! A real Burn Ward Boonanza!
This time though, the search isn't going so well. No stone they turn or puffafish they interrogate yields any clueful hints as to where the idiot went.
"HMM! Mebbe he's not even near the wadda.."
"Why tho? There's noffin' even to do on land!"
"Then that means only one thing. They's dead."
"Dead. They's all dead."
"Noooo! We gotsta keep lookin'!"
"Yeah! We looks until we's dead!"
"Ke ke ke kekekekekekeke!"
Before the sun rises on another day filled with the promise of Begman-y path nodes and travel, Maggie makes her way back up on deck. She walks with two members of her crew. One, young man, all gangly arms and legs, slim and active as a colt learning the way of things. He wears a non-descript uniform and has a white garment slung over one arm. The other is the more recognizable Mr. Anderson of First Mate status and fame. When their conversation has concluded, Maggie nods to each in turn before looking to see who has roused out of their assigned cabins, or avoided retiring all together. In addition, she scouts the waking ship for one particular head. And, the body that goes with it, of course.
Raph isn't asleep, she might have had a cat nap somewhere, but she is in her unobtrusive spot in the rigging, waiting for sunrise. Drinking coffee and chatting to air. Or her butler back home.
As the sun's rays sneak pink and gold over the horizon, the gangly young man leads a team of sailors up from below. Breakfast preparations have begun aboard the Wave Dancer. Maggie stays out of her head chef's way by walking up the stairs to the forecastle. From there, she uses a spyglass to scan the path ahead, seeking the tell-tale signs of their next transfer point. If she also checks closer in to see if Merrisol is returning yet, well, that is only to be expected, right? Of course, right.
The fourth Begman Shadowpath node, or the second one, depending on whether one is coming through from Amber, is a dark slab in the distance, which will gradually span the entire horizon in that direction, growing to the size of a hydro dam. Dead ahead, a taller section of the same structure, squatly monolithic. Must be the Topsy-Turvy Locks, which from basic accountings involves a faithful climb into the sky... or was that a courageous descent into the deeps?
An incongruous mass skims just below the coursing ocean peaks, occasionally rising in a smooth arc that barely gives off any extra spray. Coming up behind the SoS, it veers to one side before becoming chum for the sharks in the great propelors. Skipping and swooping after the Wave Dancer, the disturbance reveals itself to be not one but four separate creatures... including Merrisol. He's got an arm hooked over the shiny sleek body of one of three blithe-beaked Dolphins, as they begin to circle the brigantine energetically, hooting triumph from their blowholes which sort of sounds like a rabid tribe of calliope-wielding circus carnies carrying out boarding actions on the ship.
Maggie has the spyglass trained on the Shadowpath node when the commotion begins. Lowering the glass, she glances around, first to see if she can tell what happened behind near the SoS. A frown begins, and she signals to a sailor, "Send across. Ask if anything is amiss. We may need to lend a hand." Her attention is then drawn by the trio of dolphins closing in on the Dancer. Spotting Rebma's Warden with the pod, her expression eases as relief begins. Taking in the manner in which he returns to the ship, however, the disquiet returns. With the rising sun at her back, her expression may be in shadow. Lifting a hand, she waves, then moves to the stairs down. Her gaze seeks Mr. Anderson's and she shakes her head just a little. It is the First Mate's turn to look relieved for some reason. Walking across the deck, she finds a place at the port side. Leaning against the railing, she waits until they are heading 'round the ship toward her before calling out, "Welcome home, Kerf." There is a rope ladder near her and she nudges it enough that it rattles and rolls down the side of the ship until the end splashes into the sea. "Are you ready to come aboard?"
Quinlan emerges into the day, possibly summoned by the tricksters of the sea. And the horizon view is...well. That's a view. Taking a deep breath he touches fingers to his shard, just to see if this is going to be It or not.
Merrisol doesn't look injured. Just tired. The small scouting pod dives with him still attached though, gathers on the side of the ship with the rope and Captain peering down, then pops up almost all the way out of the waves in staggered order, singing out a three-part chord:
"Hulloooo...."
"Hullooooooo...."
"Hullooooooooooo...."
Throwing Merri off in the process. He manages to grab the tumbled rope and swings gently against the hull, regarding the trio thinly, as they end in unison:
"HULLO!"
The Warden gets himself straightened out on the rope and begins the climb upward. "Good morning... apologies for not trumping in sooner," he says up to Maggie before hauling himself gleamingly over the rail. "But they came across me while looking for the Dancer, so I hitched a ride."
Maggie glances back as she senses movement back there and nods a silent greeting to Quinlan. The splashing of the pod's leap out of the water pulls her attention back. She smiles a bit for the dolphins and their antics, "Hello. Thank you for bringing him back." Looking down, she focuses on Merrisol, stepping to one side to give him room to come aboard. "I am sure that you did as you thought best, Kerf. Like I said... Welcome home. The cabin is yours if you wish a nap before we get too much farther along." She pauses, then looks at him more closely, "I hope that you are doing better?"
melina meanders onto the deck "Did I hear singing?" she questions looking fairly energized as if she maged to pass out and get rest
Quinlan just gestures, with a smile, toward the dolphins. The gesture briefly puts black top hats on the heads of said dolphins.
Off toward the prow, tables have been set up, chairs drawn to them and baskets of pastries have been set out. Orange juice pitchers, coffee and cups are on their way up from the galley.
Merrisol sees Quinlan standing nearby with his shard hanging out, and nods to him. "It'd be odd for two of these sites to be found along the same Shadowpath," he offers. He looks back at Maggie and nods. "I suppose I am, Maggie. It is good to be past the one hurdle, at least. I do intend to be there for the rest as well.. but the time has come now for me to attend to some issues in the Deep, as well as lend logistical aid to the war front." He nods to Melina as she comes over, then glances over the rail at the Dolphins again in silent confirmation that he didn't run into them at random.
Maggie listens and begins to nod slowly as Merrisol speaks. "I am glad that you are feeling better, Kerf." Her tone is quiet, gentle, for she is relieved that he feels better after the ordeal of the day before. But as he goes on, her back straightens and her arms lift to cross in front of her. She glances at the dolphins, gaze sharp and focused, "I see." Taking a longer breath, she holds it, then releases it. "Good luck with it." Turning heel to toe she stalks off toward the stairs leading down, "Breakfast is served. Please help yourself before you leave. Everyone, please eat. Mouse will take orders for whatever you want." Her pace picks up though she keeps just shy of running.
Meanwhile, the porpoises are still bobbing vertically within the waves, slightly angled so they can eyeball the small gathering beyond the ship rail.
"SO... you's here onna Path all along! No wonder..."
"What even goes on with this? So many Patternheads sailin' inna line!"
"Just a line through the Endless! So boring! This is why yous fail..."
But then.... TOP HATS? The three simultaneously spot these hats on the other two's melonheads. They swivel in place to face one another, their jaws cranking wide in a stunned gape, air whistling into them in an loud wheezing gaaaaasp. The screaming begins, EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
Then... NO HATS.
The flailing begins.
Quinlan casts a worried look back to where Maggie flees, but...whatever it is, butting in probably won't help right now. So he keeps his attention on the dolphins. This time it's pretty beribboned bonnets, one red, one yellow, one blue, with BIG flowers bobbing on the top.
Martin gives a mighty yawn as he staggers on deck and shades his eyes from the sun. The screaming must have woken him up, or at least made him stumble up. "Oi, what's the racket about." There's a million hammers somewhere nearby and they're all zeroed in on him. He's wearing mirror shades. He must not have slept well, poor Miriam.
Merrisol spies the shift in Maggie's demeanor right away as he turns back from looking at the Dolphins. He misses the hat trick entirely, and can't afford to spare a glance towards the ruckus below, while he launches into a drippy stride after his spouse. He barely nods to Martin on his way past, and follows after Maggie in a hurry.
Melina waves to Merrisol brightly enough at Merrisol and listens carefully as he speaks. She blinks and reflexively turms her attention to maggie as she runs off a with a raised brow and silently watches Merri run after before turning toward Martin "Good morning, your highness. I'm going to fetch some breakfast i believe"
Quinlan looks guilty. "Uh. Probably partly my fault," he admits, indicating the glamour'd dolphins. "They were singing when they brought Merri back, and I thought to join in the play for a little while. Sorry." He waves a hand, and ...no more hats.
The racket is three Dolphins of the Rebman Royal Messenger Corps, wearing quaintly puffed and ungainly enfloraled headpieces, holding a muttered, highly motivated debate over who had been wearing the previous chapeau in the most genteel manner, thereby making one of them officially once and forever....
The Dapperest Dolphin.
By the time they get around to noticing their adorable bonnets, there's no time to launch into a new discussion, for they hear Martin's voice, and wriggle back into a unified trio, looking up.
"O Crowny Prince o' Tides! Nooble is youse bearin'!"
"Hangovered is youse mien!"
The other two flap their flippers to shush at this insolent remark, before the third continues,
"Ya gotsta reports to yous grandymum! Ya know, 'cause Her Majesty hates the tromp!"
That is all. They sink below in a slow blast of blowhole air. For now.
Martin grumbles and nods, he'll do the thing, of course. He leans on the rail of the ship, sort of keeping himself steady. He gives people greetings and nods and such but not much else. He might need coffee. He looks for coffee.
Quinlan nods slowly, and decides distance is the better part of wisdom. He flies up to the crow's nest, where there's a nice breeze. There's probably also a book.
Raph watches the bloody frolicking from above. She bites into a cookie. Hard to get her grossed ut. She draws the merry band of critters. Et al as they chat.
In the days that follow on board, people might find semi tikered toys batting through their rum cups and water supply. Someone's been tinkering dapper dolphin toys.
This time though, the search isn't going so well. No stone they turn or puffafish they interrogate yields any clueful hints as to where the idiot went.
"HMM! Mebbe he's not even near the wadda.."
"Why tho? There's noffin' even to do on land!"
"Then that means only one thing. They's dead."
"Dead. They's all dead."
"Noooo! We gotsta keep lookin'!"
"Yeah! We looks until we's dead!"
"Ke ke ke kekekekekekeke!"
Before the sun rises on another day filled with the promise of Begman-y path nodes and travel, Maggie makes her way back up on deck. She walks with two members of her crew. One, young man, all gangly arms and legs, slim and active as a colt learning the way of things. He wears a non-descript uniform and has a white garment slung over one arm. The other is the more recognizable Mr. Anderson of First Mate status and fame. When their conversation has concluded, Maggie nods to each in turn before looking to see who has roused out of their assigned cabins, or avoided retiring all together. In addition, she scouts the waking ship for one particular head. And, the body that goes with it, of course.
Raph isn't asleep, she might have had a cat nap somewhere, but she is in her unobtrusive spot in the rigging, waiting for sunrise. Drinking coffee and chatting to air. Or her butler back home.
As the sun's rays sneak pink and gold over the horizon, the gangly young man leads a team of sailors up from below. Breakfast preparations have begun aboard the Wave Dancer. Maggie stays out of her head chef's way by walking up the stairs to the forecastle. From there, she uses a spyglass to scan the path ahead, seeking the tell-tale signs of their next transfer point. If she also checks closer in to see if Merrisol is returning yet, well, that is only to be expected, right? Of course, right.
The fourth Begman Shadowpath node, or the second one, depending on whether one is coming through from Amber, is a dark slab in the distance, which will gradually span the entire horizon in that direction, growing to the size of a hydro dam. Dead ahead, a taller section of the same structure, squatly monolithic. Must be the Topsy-Turvy Locks, which from basic accountings involves a faithful climb into the sky... or was that a courageous descent into the deeps?
An incongruous mass skims just below the coursing ocean peaks, occasionally rising in a smooth arc that barely gives off any extra spray. Coming up behind the SoS, it veers to one side before becoming chum for the sharks in the great propelors. Skipping and swooping after the Wave Dancer, the disturbance reveals itself to be not one but four separate creatures... including Merrisol. He's got an arm hooked over the shiny sleek body of one of three blithe-beaked Dolphins, as they begin to circle the brigantine energetically, hooting triumph from their blowholes which sort of sounds like a rabid tribe of calliope-wielding circus carnies carrying out boarding actions on the ship.
Maggie has the spyglass trained on the Shadowpath node when the commotion begins. Lowering the glass, she glances around, first to see if she can tell what happened behind near the SoS. A frown begins, and she signals to a sailor, "Send across. Ask if anything is amiss. We may need to lend a hand." Her attention is then drawn by the trio of dolphins closing in on the Dancer. Spotting Rebma's Warden with the pod, her expression eases as relief begins. Taking in the manner in which he returns to the ship, however, the disquiet returns. With the rising sun at her back, her expression may be in shadow. Lifting a hand, she waves, then moves to the stairs down. Her gaze seeks Mr. Anderson's and she shakes her head just a little. It is the First Mate's turn to look relieved for some reason. Walking across the deck, she finds a place at the port side. Leaning against the railing, she waits until they are heading 'round the ship toward her before calling out, "Welcome home, Kerf." There is a rope ladder near her and she nudges it enough that it rattles and rolls down the side of the ship until the end splashes into the sea. "Are you ready to come aboard?"
Quinlan emerges into the day, possibly summoned by the tricksters of the sea. And the horizon view is...well. That's a view. Taking a deep breath he touches fingers to his shard, just to see if this is going to be It or not.
Merrisol doesn't look injured. Just tired. The small scouting pod dives with him still attached though, gathers on the side of the ship with the rope and Captain peering down, then pops up almost all the way out of the waves in staggered order, singing out a three-part chord:
"Hulloooo...."
"Hullooooooo...."
"Hullooooooooooo...."
Throwing Merri off in the process. He manages to grab the tumbled rope and swings gently against the hull, regarding the trio thinly, as they end in unison:
"HULLO!"
The Warden gets himself straightened out on the rope and begins the climb upward. "Good morning... apologies for not trumping in sooner," he says up to Maggie before hauling himself gleamingly over the rail. "But they came across me while looking for the Dancer, so I hitched a ride."
Maggie glances back as she senses movement back there and nods a silent greeting to Quinlan. The splashing of the pod's leap out of the water pulls her attention back. She smiles a bit for the dolphins and their antics, "Hello. Thank you for bringing him back." Looking down, she focuses on Merrisol, stepping to one side to give him room to come aboard. "I am sure that you did as you thought best, Kerf. Like I said... Welcome home. The cabin is yours if you wish a nap before we get too much farther along." She pauses, then looks at him more closely, "I hope that you are doing better?"
melina meanders onto the deck "Did I hear singing?" she questions looking fairly energized as if she maged to pass out and get rest
Quinlan just gestures, with a smile, toward the dolphins. The gesture briefly puts black top hats on the heads of said dolphins.
Off toward the prow, tables have been set up, chairs drawn to them and baskets of pastries have been set out. Orange juice pitchers, coffee and cups are on their way up from the galley.
Merrisol sees Quinlan standing nearby with his shard hanging out, and nods to him. "It'd be odd for two of these sites to be found along the same Shadowpath," he offers. He looks back at Maggie and nods. "I suppose I am, Maggie. It is good to be past the one hurdle, at least. I do intend to be there for the rest as well.. but the time has come now for me to attend to some issues in the Deep, as well as lend logistical aid to the war front." He nods to Melina as she comes over, then glances over the rail at the Dolphins again in silent confirmation that he didn't run into them at random.
Maggie listens and begins to nod slowly as Merrisol speaks. "I am glad that you are feeling better, Kerf." Her tone is quiet, gentle, for she is relieved that he feels better after the ordeal of the day before. But as he goes on, her back straightens and her arms lift to cross in front of her. She glances at the dolphins, gaze sharp and focused, "I see." Taking a longer breath, she holds it, then releases it. "Good luck with it." Turning heel to toe she stalks off toward the stairs leading down, "Breakfast is served. Please help yourself before you leave. Everyone, please eat. Mouse will take orders for whatever you want." Her pace picks up though she keeps just shy of running.
Meanwhile, the porpoises are still bobbing vertically within the waves, slightly angled so they can eyeball the small gathering beyond the ship rail.
"SO... you's here onna Path all along! No wonder..."
"What even goes on with this? So many Patternheads sailin' inna line!"
"Just a line through the Endless! So boring! This is why yous fail..."
But then.... TOP HATS? The three simultaneously spot these hats on the other two's melonheads. They swivel in place to face one another, their jaws cranking wide in a stunned gape, air whistling into them in an loud wheezing gaaaaasp. The screaming begins, EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
Then... NO HATS.
The flailing begins.
Quinlan casts a worried look back to where Maggie flees, but...whatever it is, butting in probably won't help right now. So he keeps his attention on the dolphins. This time it's pretty beribboned bonnets, one red, one yellow, one blue, with BIG flowers bobbing on the top.
Martin gives a mighty yawn as he staggers on deck and shades his eyes from the sun. The screaming must have woken him up, or at least made him stumble up. "Oi, what's the racket about." There's a million hammers somewhere nearby and they're all zeroed in on him. He's wearing mirror shades. He must not have slept well, poor Miriam.
Merrisol spies the shift in Maggie's demeanor right away as he turns back from looking at the Dolphins. He misses the hat trick entirely, and can't afford to spare a glance towards the ruckus below, while he launches into a drippy stride after his spouse. He barely nods to Martin on his way past, and follows after Maggie in a hurry.
Melina waves to Merrisol brightly enough at Merrisol and listens carefully as he speaks. She blinks and reflexively turms her attention to maggie as she runs off a with a raised brow and silently watches Merri run after before turning toward Martin "Good morning, your highness. I'm going to fetch some breakfast i believe"
Quinlan looks guilty. "Uh. Probably partly my fault," he admits, indicating the glamour'd dolphins. "They were singing when they brought Merri back, and I thought to join in the play for a little while. Sorry." He waves a hand, and ...no more hats.
The racket is three Dolphins of the Rebman Royal Messenger Corps, wearing quaintly puffed and ungainly enfloraled headpieces, holding a muttered, highly motivated debate over who had been wearing the previous chapeau in the most genteel manner, thereby making one of them officially once and forever....
The Dapperest Dolphin.
By the time they get around to noticing their adorable bonnets, there's no time to launch into a new discussion, for they hear Martin's voice, and wriggle back into a unified trio, looking up.
"O Crowny Prince o' Tides! Nooble is youse bearin'!"
"Hangovered is youse mien!"
The other two flap their flippers to shush at this insolent remark, before the third continues,
"Ya gotsta reports to yous grandymum! Ya know, 'cause Her Majesty hates the tromp!"
That is all. They sink below in a slow blast of blowhole air. For now.
Martin grumbles and nods, he'll do the thing, of course. He leans on the rail of the ship, sort of keeping himself steady. He gives people greetings and nods and such but not much else. He might need coffee. He looks for coffee.
Quinlan nods slowly, and decides distance is the better part of wisdom. He flies up to the crow's nest, where there's a nice breeze. There's probably also a book.
Raph watches the bloody frolicking from above. She bites into a cookie. Hard to get her grossed ut. She draws the merry band of critters. Et al as they chat.
In the days that follow on board, people might find semi tikered toys batting through their rum cups and water supply. Someone's been tinkering dapper dolphin toys.
