Beachcombers and Diggyholes

[rassafraggin]

Ruby runs through one of the plumes of steam, adding chaos to her attempt to sort through a hastily grabbed trump deck. After a yowl of surprise and probably losing a trump here and there, she's sorting through the cards with twitching fingers and trying to make contact with allies, friends and decoys. Communication while jogging isn't working out super well but she's doing it all the same.

The happy hostage Boaz is bearing away from the grumbly hill is busy trying to free her wrists. In between some artful revolutions of her wrists and the odd toothing, she shouts to be heard over the tumult, "As many as we think we found. Our friends have been very helpful in locating possible resting places. They've not interfered, which makes us skeptical at first. But they have a sympathetic story and strive to help others wishing to chart their own course." This is all delivered a lot more disjointed and stuttered because of the running. "We expect some conflict, son of the seasons, but in nature, is there not a pecking order must be contested before harmony of a tribe?"

"What now, Ruby.." says Merrisol very briefly through a very unstable trump connection. "So where'd you get-..." Snap, crackle, fizz, he's gone! All this nets Ruby is the guarantee of a return nudge through the astral plane sometime in the next minute or so, hopefully when she's trying to concentrate on something else.

A quick hop over a rock and Ashby is back into some open territory for smooth sailing. He glances about for a quick inventory of the team, spying Ruby now trying to get the word out via Trump. At this point, the Duke goes through to rapid exercize of pondering his own deck aloud. "Certainly not. Definitely not. Hmm. Tempting, but no. And... no. Note to Self: Get more Trumps!" Along he goes, still running like mad for the shore where they had landed!

Running and thinking, so much harder then walking and thinking. Add to that the lightning from above and the rumbles from below on top of the running and dodging things in the way. No..it's most certainly harder. Even with it being harder it's easy for Boaz to reply to the woman in her language. "For people! NOT GODS! Oi! One! One god.. see 'ow tings go. Maybe wake oop anodah latah. Not wake oop a TRIBE of dem and let'm duke it out ta see who gets ta be king of da castle! NO! NOOOOO!" He weaves around another bush and looks for the boat, willing it to be closer. "If we can get off da island before it blow we might live ta argue 'bout it more. Crazeh woman!"

An unstable connection begins with flashes of crimson and rust. Maggie's face floats into view, "Hmmm?" She sounds distracted, "Oh, hey, Ruby. " One brow arches and she calls over her shoulder, "Weren't you just talking to Ruby, Beloved?" The image shifts up and down with Ruby's footfalls, "Uh. What's going on? You're jostling all over the place."

"Don't know. I'll give her card a try.. maybe that will firm the connection," says Merri. That's not how that works! He knows! Muahahahaa!

Ruby huffs and puffs out as the beach comes into view. "We. Runnin. From." The connections break as she cartwheels clumsily but makes a recovery from her lack of focus. "Ex. Polde. Ding. Volcanoooooo." Behind her image is just a mess of green fronds. But slowly, the horizon seems to lower, or raise, and shows a volcano getting struck with a whole mess of lightning.

Maggie does not dare turn to look at her husband, though confusion at his offer but her confusion turns to shock and insipient nausea at the cartwheeling. How the heck did Ruby keep the connection? Maggie moves quickly, trying to keep the contact but dang it. "Volcano? Want to..." Lifting her hand, she tries to finish the sentence when the lightning is spotted. The connection is lost just as Maggie's hand is offered.
Off somewhere else, Maggie rips open her own deck, "Get her back if you can, Kerf! They are fleeing a volcano!" She flips through her own deck searching for her friend's card.

"On it." Because he already is. Pick it up, Ruby. Pick it up. Pickituppickituppickitup. "Oh, better grab our stuff. You can tell Anderson where we went after we get there and see what kind of trouble... wait, did you say Volcano?"

"Yeah. An exploding one. Pull them through if you can. Not sure how many." Turning, she darts off calling for Mr. Anderson and the ship's medic. Luckily, the pair keep their gear fairly near to hand for just such occasions. In case the others don't want to be pulled to the ship's deck, she grabs their packs and jogs back toward where Merrisol is.

mel sighs "Well so much for preventing explosions then. Please say we haven't caused or just don't say anything. That way you haven't lied. I've done that with the elders on more than one occasion"

Merri is focusing on Ruby's trump card, but he hears others on the approach, even though Maggie is still dashing around in the background getting things prepared for either a precipitous entrance and triage, or a just as abrupt departure and forwarding instructions. Hearing Melina, he just shakes his head slightly. "Maggie told me what happened in that dream, and... it did sound like it was something that was about to happen, or already did. But Melina... volcanoes are forces of nature, and many societies deify that force. That sometimes there's a /real/ deity behind that force doesn't change things.. and certainly doesn't mean we have a duty to oppose it." He frowns at the silent card. This can only mean one thing...

(They's dead. Dead. They's all dead.)

The ferns and fronds, bushes and branches of trees suddenly give way and the trio of runners find themselves back on the beach again. The truly beached ship has sagged over on it's side even further, looking like it's been ransacked. And if Boaz knows his crew it likely has been ransacked for anything truly valuable or useful. He mutters to himself when he has breath. "Bettah.. no overload ..boat.. crafty ..devil spawn.." And then there is his oversized outrigger boat. Crew onboard.....and in the water already! "'EY! 'EY YOU LOT! GET BACK 'ERE!" He lobs the shaman-ess over his shoulder and pounds sand towards the waterline as the volcano and sky rumble behind him.

Ruby has to pull up short once the beach and the ship are within running distance. She attempts to pull in as many connections as she can, unless they're all daisy-chained through of course. A little far-eyed she yells towards Boaz and Ashby. "We gots some friendlies poppin in." She sets her legs in a wide stance because every so often there's a tremor that makes the sand dance.

We're coming in hot! Ashby doesn't look to be slowing as he breaks out into the open and has the shore in view. Instead, he is waving on out to sea, shouting, "Let's go! Shove off! We can meet up with them out there!" For his part, he carries right on over toward that outrigger! "The Son is headed back around! Her escort squadron is in the area, too! How much went missing from that armory? You got a ledger somewhere that we can go through?"

For a brief moment it looks like the remaining crew aboard the outrigger debates going back to get the trio. But that would never happen...right? Still in the end they reverse their seating and paddle back in with effective strokes. The boat is indeed sitting much lower then it was. Heavy with the guns and trinkets of lightning and loot from the other ship. Dispite the missing crewmen that were lost on the beach the crew gets the ship back to waist deep water and holds there, making urgent motions of arm and voice to board so they can get out of harms way. Boaz splashes into the water and sets the priestess into the boat before following her in. "If ya got incoming they'd best hurreh! Don't know 'ow big a cloud that thing gonna make!"

mel sighs 'why must we responsible for making things break but never fixing them

Having finished gathering the adventuring gear, Maggie comes to a stop near Merrisol, "So. Are they coming through or are we going there?" She shifts her weight a bit, settling her things, "You know that exploding volcanoes are not my favorite backdrop for adventuring, right?"

Ruby tries to wave in Ashby and Boaz back from immediately boarding, or at least ensure the non-essentials are squared away. She's involved with trying to pull (abduct) as many as will come to her side of the Trump connection.

Merri starts to protest, "How did we make it break... it was a /dream/.." but then falls silent as he seems to pick something up by card finally. "She... she wants us to go to her," he frowns a bit skeptically, but still lifts his free hand outwards like clockwork, not out to Ruby per se, but to those in his own location, as a pathway for whoever is ready to rock and roll.

Maggie takes Merrisol's hand, a look of irritation fleetingly passing over her expression, "To a volcano. Why not get away from fire and death?" Sighing, she steps through to a sandy beach populated by... a rough and tumble sort and someone with elegance and grace. When the rainbow sparkles have dissipated enough she steps out of the way to allow Merrisol to come on down, "Where to, Ruby."

Diana steps out onto the deck, just as a chain of individuals pop out of existence. She rubs her eyes vigorously for a second, squints, and then descends back below deck again.

Ashby is just starting to stomp into the water, when he gets the sense that Ruby isn't next to him anymore and he turns about. Bewilderment is written all about his expression as he looks to her, until he sees her reaching out. His eyes go wide and he starts shuffling on over her way, shooting the crazed priestess a look along the way.

Boaz slappy-hands at a crew member trying to help him up and takes two wobbly steps towards the rudder and freezes, seeing Ruby and Ashby still on the beach. "Come on! We ain't gots time ta be doin' whatevah it is ya think ya be doin'! She's gonna blow any minute! And priestess 'ere says there be poeple tryin' ta wake other islands oop as well dis week! Get in da boat and lets go!"

mel sighs laying a hand on merri's shoulder 'hello, sukho'

Merri adjusts the angle of his arm to 'hand' Melina through to Ruby, and with a quick shake of his head which doubles for glancing around his periphery in case other companions are en route. He then firms his own handshake and allows himself to be pulled away from the fresh balmy sea air into a new seething hot mess. As soon as he sees their situation, he reaches down to retrieve his kit from Maggie and anything else that needs to be hauled away in a hurry. "That's all of us, let's go," he barks.

For those making the trip to Sukho (ie: pulled through), upon materialization they're greeted to a stormy sky and a grumbly island. Every so often there's a tremor that originates from deeper down. Rivulets of steam ssspewww upwards from the island, which the stormy sky wipes out when it reaches too high. Lightning is not an odd occurrence. Ruby stands upon a beach. The beach has been a warzone quite recently, with blackened patches and craters. Bodies and curious fulgarite formations, the latter like branchy coral sculptures reaching up like claws. A good sprint away is a ship that has been run aground and is tipped on its side, and looks like it has suffered a thorough looting. Cargo has spilled from it and a mad medley of tracks go between it and the beach, where an Outrigger is being loaded with wounded and loot. Boaz is on board and looks in charge of the vessel. Ashby was in the water, but looks to be on approach.

The island is a familiar itch to sleepy-time people who shared a dream with a certain dream-kiddo.

Turning to look down the beach, Maggie's complexion shifts from honey and rose to a pale ashen hue. "Shit," her tone is soft, but vehement. Handing Merrisol his kit, she again adjusts her own and turns to see Boaz-in-a-boat. Nodding a greeting to Melina, she gestures toward that conveyance, "There. Run for it." Setting her feet, she waits for Melina to start off so she can protect the other woman's six. Again, she glances down the beach to be sure that she is not imagining the similarity with that fated beach. A quiet, "Blast it," escapes before the irony of phrasing hits her, "Uh. No. Keep it together."

Flash after rainbow flash, Ashby is standing by and watching each as they enter the most dangerous hotpoint in the Sukho shadow. Flashing a quick and devilish grin to each, he gestures back toward Boaz' outrigger. "Welcome! Yes, let's all step lively and get back out to sea! We can safely watch the fireworks from there." The Duke is walking back to the water line now, gesturing to escort them all. "Lady Melina! Might I carry you to keep you dry? I would offer for you as well, Captain Flame, but I should hate to rob Captain Merrisol of his husbandly duties!"

Merrisol turns with the others toward the tide, then pauses and looks back around the smoking beach. "Hotstuff, this is the place, isn't it?" he calls to her. "From the dream..? Wasn't there something here -- or someone? Buried, you said.."

Maggie's steps falter though whether that is due to Ashby's statement or Merrisol's query is left to the interpreter. Turning again to look down the beach, she nods, "You are right. Just... Where?" Her eyes lift to the volcano, then trace a path down to the beach. "There?" Her chin lifts to point vaguely past the overturned boat, "Yeah. There." Glancing back, she frowns, "I'm going to see if digging him up will stop this mess. Didn't try before and now? I think it is the right thing to do."

Ashby blinks as he hears this. Going back in the midst of all of this. For something so horrid! He looks to Maggie, then Melina, then Merrisol, before landing on Ruby. Had she known of all of this and that was why she had been slowing at the beach? "Dig. Up? How distasteful!" His features very visibly show him going through the stages of grief over this decision, but he makes it there in only a few brief seconds, finally looking to Maggie and stomping his way back out onto to the dry sand near the others. "So be it! But I insist neither you nor Lady Melina dirty your hands with such morally reprehensible work! Captain Merrisol will take charge of that detail! And I will assist! The Admiral as well! Please lead the way with all due haste! The volcano waits for no one! Everyone keep your eyes peeled for makeshift shovels!"

Melina hms as she eyes the sand "The symbolic nature of the dreaming makes it dificult to know what he was looking for. I doubt it's an actual fuse but it's likely magical in nature. What can we sense? Then belatedly ashby's gallant offer registers, apparently ranking second to an immenently exploding valcano "One moment your Grace?

Boaz stops as more folk arrive on the beach. At first they seem to be doing the sensible thing and rapidly moving or talking about getting on the boat. Then there is a sudden shift in conversation and movement that leaves the tall man agape. "Whu.. Whut is ya talkin' about?!" His hands both gesture towards the volcano and then back to the boat. "Explodey! Soon! Boat?! NOW!" A look is given to the nearest crewman who looks back at Boaz and gives a desperate shrug.

Maggie gives several people wry looks, but continues her sea-leg enebled sprint down the beach. When she reaches a spot just passed the hulk lying on its side, she slows and stops. Standing there, she lifts her hands and a breeze picks up near her. With a twist of her hands, she sends it spinning out like a dust devil intent on 'finding stuff'. Inhaling, she calls on her Pathian heritage to scent where the person might be. Her winds can fill sails and send a ship moving across the waves, but moving quantities of sand is a different thing altogether. Itcis more difficult, for sand accumulates weight and wnertia is hard to overcome. A ship usus momentum to keep going once it starts moving. Then there is the question of where to put the sand. Maggie's gaze slips toward the volcano. Can she stop the explosion with sand? Or would the potential fused glass be shrapnel?

Those with magic senses, tuning into those frequencies would be an experience something akin to being suddenly transported into the perfume section of a department store. Between the lightning-tech unleashed earlier, detonated weapons and the storm causing its own interference (albeit not strictly magic), the beach is awash with a torrent of scents. If one has the wits or resolve to be painstaking paranormal detectors, the fulgarite sculptures of lightning-infused sand are giving off their own altogether unique signatures that should be identical, but bear curious differences of conflicting energies. They dot the beach at seemingly random patterns, like a child had thrown a scattering of popcorn for squawk-birbs.

Dream-team might recognize more similarities of this place and those of the dreamlands. A coincidence or not that the ship on its side mimics the crashed chariot, that the volcano is roughly similar in silhouettes. The fried corpses and craters of blasted sand are new, as opposed to there being a big sand-papa-leonardo-person sculpture. No persistent persnickity wick trying to stay lit, though a connect-the-dots of steam fissures…could…at a stretch…serve as a weak reflection. Ashby, Boaz and Ruby just may have come a-running from that direction with leaps and bounds.

Merrisol's strides lengthen to follow after Maggie's quick pace. He adds on to the initial familiar nod to Ashby with another look around at the Monsdrake, brows hiking slowly upwards combined with a tilting head. He... insists?! Once upon a time, Merri used that word... insist... a couple of times, maybe. That makes him smile, inappropriately considering the setting and circumstances, but when he scuds to a halt to observe the location Maggie has chosen to start a diggy-diggy-hole, he is back to seriousness. "I can try to wash a portion of it away," he offers with a look of concentration towards the shoreline. A runner of foamy tidal water begins to roll and stretch up the dry sands, creating a canal in its wake, but only when Maggie assents does he commit to pooling it into the exact region so that in withdrawing may melt away sand en masse.

Mel hms "Is it possible we can be a little surreptitous here. We could have trouble if we're spotted interferring, unless that point is already moot before we arrived. " "That concern articulated she considers the surrounding senses "Even if i'm right and were witnessing different objectives here. i don't have anything that supports one goal versus another another. either everyone gets calmed or energized and that's it. It doesn't work like what they've got

Maggie nods to Merrisol, "Good idea." Her 'wind' is not doing as much as she wanted it to. No great swaths of sand lifted away, no neat geyser of sand swirling over the top of the jungle... So, with a hint of self-disgust, she lowers her expectations and focuses the swirls more tightly, the sand-spouts seeking the buried dude. Her attention keeps getting distracted by the fulgarite and their magical signatures. Finally a low growl begins and she whispers, "Why aren't they the same?" She is not looking at the structures, though her gaze keeps darting from one to the next. No time to really investigate. Not unless they plan to abandon finding the buried person. Assuming he is here.

With furrowed brows Ashby watches as the newcomers on the beach set to doing... something. He follows along, hoping for any manner of replies or things approximating explanations while quietly considering if they are drunk or have gone mad from recent events. "Is this the spot you spoke of? I sense there are some things I'm missing here, so... Just tell me if there is something I can do to help?" His eyebrows raise as he watches two sets of magic working together to try and make short work of making a hole!

Ruby is on the beach and peers towards Boaz's boat. Noting it looks ready to go, she raises a hand to her kid and tries to counsel just a few more minutes. She cups her hands over her mouth and yells, "I think they 'avin a thunk aboot somethin. Just a few more minutes." She starts creeping to the boat though, turning to view whatever it is M&M&M&A are investigating. "If you lookin for keepsake shells an pretty stones, you gots maybe a few more minutes tops before Boaz starts eatin 'is boat!"

~Gubba-bubba … Gubbo-goo~ There’s bubbles coming up from sections of the beach that are wind-blasted and slooshed with tidal sea water. The tremors originating from beneath the volcano where nature’s forces are jostling about are helping sift the sand in some small ways themselves. While lightning continues spend itself, needling into the caldera of the volcano, it has yet to explode. More sounds like buried New Jersey gangsters emerge, coming from six particular locations.

Merri appears to be quick-clearing a section for a nice big sandcastle and moat, and as the excess moisture spreads into the surroundings and uncovers other weaknesses in the sand, his gaze begins to dart around with intrigue and urgency. "Hotstuff, you want all those spots cleared?" He pauses to address Ashby with a note of a helpless shrug to his tone, "Uh, Iiiii am not completely clear on the hows and whys, Duke Chantris," he glances up towards the grisly caldera, "but apparently this island and this volcano were featured in the Dreaming and witnessed by Maggie, Melina, and Raphaela." And the soul-brothers, but nevermind about those jerks. "It may have been a portent of sorts, of the scene of a murder? Or buried treasure, or... wait, so what led the three of you here?" he counters finally, before refocusing his attention on pushing more water out of the main excavation while he waits for Maggie or Melina to come to some consensus about the other bubbly spots.

melina asks "So for sea-going tipe folks can we use nets to dredge sand and get whatever's under there up?

Maggie finally gets frustrated with her wind's inability to make a big difference. Hauling back, she gathers air around her hand then thrusts it forward in a scooping motion that sends the wind-strike flying into the sand. Her follow through aims to send the sand away from the bubbly bits. Nodding, she speaks quickly, "Please, Kerf. One of them might be..." Pausing for a moment, she looks at Merrisol, then Ashby, then over to Ruby and Boaz and back, "The kid in the dream buried her father here." Looking over to the sagged boat, she gestures to it, "That was a carriage filled with ... I don't know. Stuff for the journey. Raphaela went crawling in it. But the thing is. The little girl's father was alive. She didn't want him to wake up and said that keeping him in the sand would let him sleep." She blinks, suddenly afraid that their work to clear the sand might not be the greatest idea of all time. (tm)

Like a sponge, Ashby quietly soaks up the explanations, not even realizing that his mouth is beginning to hang open. Which is a terrible idea with all of this sand flying about! "We followed the Consortium here, bringing stolen storm weapons in that boat to dump into the volcano, call down this storm on the weapons..." He then points up at the volcano and continues, "And awaken the volcano! They had some crazy local priestess who was helping them! We'd thought we stopped it, but it would seem a crate of weapons wound up in the volcano!"

All the crazy people are on the beach. All the sane folk are in the boat. That's all there is to it. Boaz /stares/ at all the crazy people. Those he knows and doesn't know. It doesn't make a big difference. "Are yas all insane?! Fur da sake of all tings holy and not the volcano is gonna loose it's tempah!" Words are again accompanied with hand waves at the sky and rumbley spout in the ground. "We has gots ta go! What da heck are ya looking for? Buried treasuah?!" The weeping priestess clinging to his leg isn't helping him on the innocence front.

Something moist this way comes! ~Ubba-blubba~ The bubbling becomes more frantic where there’s sea water soaking into the sand or covering it completely. Things below are emerging. Some emerge faster when there is assistance provided. Thanks hoo-mans! Long-stalks and leggy bits push up with churning cauldron curdles. Claws festooned with barnacles and growths on chitin that the whole spectrum of the rainbow. Crustaceans like horseshoe crabs and like coconut creepers and clams...that whole spectrum. They are big boys that would be choice selections at any seafood market. Except…they’ve got faces. The largest parts of their carapaces are wearing magical masks like they’re hats or simply new homes to poke leggos and eye-o’s from. The mouths move of course. Some of the masks even animate in super-bizarre magical face contortions. From the mouths comes an initial riot of insane nonsense. The right kind of Animal-speak and Chantris-Chat might be able to piece together some nuggets from the nutbar talk: Screams for help and deliverance, reciting coconut drink recipes, begging not to be chosen for ~the surf and the turf~. They scrabble frantically.

Melina blinks and then blinks again as the crustaceans of many colors emerge from their holes. Despie the fact that she has a myriad of questions, at the moment she has no clue whether this things have a two word vocabularly or are ancient ones as old as the pattern so she simply listens for a moment

Merrisol nods to Maggie and begins to push additional streams out of the tide to collect and sieve away pockets of the surrounding shoreline, juggling his attention between them all while she and Ashby converse. "Ohh.." he scowls at the report confirmation that the Consortium is behind the volcanic activity - seems Melina and Maggie were correct in hoping to forestall the natural event! But those thoughts scatter as he recoils a pace from the faces pushing out through the breaking crust of beach sand... awful sweaty-toothed madman faces! The concentrations of directed sea water appear to lose cohesion and spread like unset jello for a few seconds. "Masks... like in the dream!" he utters, gathering the waters again in an effort to sweep the crabbos free of the grotesque accessories.

Expecting to see the nose and mouth of the buried man or, perhaps his eyes, Maggie angles another blast of wind with a strike intended to scoop out the... Her aim falters, then the punch fails entirely when the mask-wearing crab-horrors rise to the surface, "Well... crap." Eloquent, ain't she? With a sigh, she tries to form a claw with wind to pry the mask off one of the coruscations, "Yeah, love. Masks were part of the dream. And horrible. A poor dog put one one... You know how dogs are. Sniffing, trying to figure it out. The mask turned the dog inside out, if I understand what the kid was saying." Of course, her squeezing gestures don't do anything except make her look like a Darth Vader reject. Force choke does not work with errant breezes, more's the pity. Giving up on that, she growls, "I don't know if we can get them off, Kerf." Walking forward, instead of running away, Maggie displays her suicidal ninny side, "But we can't just leave them. The masks might be hurting them poor things."

To those empathic to animals, these crabbo's give off waves panic and discomfort. They do not like their situation. The language sputtering from the mask mouths is mostly nonsense. However the creatures got involved, they were probably not meant to wear the things or use them as shelter. The facial contortions and babbling may lend proof to this theory. Peering closely, it is an imperfect as well. The straps or ties to keep the mask in place are visible tangled around their leg joints or has become tight under their carapace. HA HA HA one gurgles wetly as its eyestalk stick out at odd angles like rabbit ears for a television, picking up some mad frequency when cursed/gifted with this mode of divine speech. 3.1415926535The horseshoe crab of one just keeps whispering Pi to as many digits as their are grains of sand on the beach.

Ruby comes upon the revealed shellfish and her face contorts as if to mimic the horrible treasure uncovered. "Bog's barnacles..." She removes her pistol from its holster and checks the charge.

Merrisol's use of water does manage to dislodge one of the weakly attached carnival masks from a shellfish, and immediately upon separation, there's a drop in hocus-pocus scent from the creature. The crustacean slumps exhausted. The mask shrinks some and becomes a more plain and neutral wooden accessory, though retains a nugget of magic within the artifact.

"Masks on crabs?! Good or bad?!" Ashby is forming a shadow blade out of sheer self-preservation reaction while looking to the others with the experience of this dream to gather some context. "Can't we? Let's see if I can't have a go at this one. In the meantime, what else from that dream can we try here? I would hate to save these crabs from the masks only to see them all cooked!" As he's talking, the Duke's hands spread out at his sides and his shadow begins to spread. His fingers all wiggle and waggle to prepare before their shadow versions stretch toward the crabs and begin to multiply. Each crab gets its own hand that works to try and slide into place to tug the masks off. With so many hands now in play, the Monsdrake goes quiet to be able to focus on orchestrating all of this.

In the boat Boaz can't see much at first. But he can hear the little masked critters babbling and crying out. Then he starts seeing them. Objections sort of die away and thoughts of rumbly volcanos and lighting that makes sculptures drifts away as he just...stares. His face has that sort of expression one makes when brain can no understand just what one is seeing. And he leans over to pull the priestess up from the deck without removing his eyes from the drama that is unfolding. Once he has her on her feet he extends an arm with a pointy finger at the end. Then finally he turns his head towards the priestess and asks. "Whut da fook?"

Seeing the ablutions only have an effect on the mask that is already loose, Merrisol lets the water go and starts moving in to do it manually alongside Maggie... when the freaky shadow expands over the beach and the Duke's fingah-puppet show commences. The Rebman stops short of barging into the animate darkness, glances around to pinpoint the source, and nods slightly at Ashby -- powers like these he has witnessed a couple of times before, though he hasn't made up his mind what moral philosophy they signify. He skirts the man's line of sight around the workspace in order to pick up the slumping crabbo and toss it headlong into the deeper surf. Gooooooo! As the contorting masks are pried off shadow or Maggie-style he continues to get the critters on their way into the sea in case the beach is in imminent danger of a lava flow. Only until the last mask is shifted, does he puzzle over their simple inanimate state, picking up the nearest and turning it around in his hands.

The Priestess near Boaz, now helpfully levitated up onto the deck for a better view, rubs her wrists where her bracelets had made deep impressions in her flesh. She says, "Lightning is fleeting. But there are forms that last a little longer. Before tide or wind renders them down as if they were never there. Do they give you unease? They should if you are a child of our home. Where gods tread...should they leave behind the spoor of human beings?"

The storm above is cantankerous, and wants to stick around and nag the volcano a lot more, but the zeal is abating, becoming more desultory strikes of lightning within the caldera. The rumbling of the ground is almost like a pulse, but not so strong as to have uncareful people fall.

The crabs seem...grateful...after the masks are removed by the bipeds. They crawl towards the waters once they get all their legs moving in the right directions. The garbled gobbledegook ceases abruptly as soon as the artifacts don't have a thing to be attached to, and each mask goes dormant and woodenly plain. There's a kind of passiveness to them. Looking at the backs, as one might before putting them on, there's a shimmer and sheen of the promise of potential power. Oooooh, shiny.

The storm is quieting some and the ground is rumbling some so that allows another sort of sound to announce itself in the area. Sound carries quite a ways over the water under the right conditions. There's drum-beats. There's hoots of horns. Sukhoti. Those with more than a few Sukhoti bits of culture rattling around in their brains could rub together the realisation that those sounds mean tribes are being assembled for great purpose from nearby islands. The sounds aren't welcoming ones. They're the equivalent of the Nature Cops, drawn by the supernatural and probably quite significant signs of unbalanced nature going on upon this particular archipelago. Woop Woop! They won't be handing out tickets if they find viable culprits.

melina eyes the mask suspiciously "We shoulf probably get rid of those though i'm not keen to touch one. We've got about a dozen ancient artifacts to many already. Whatever we're doing we best do it quickly before the unwelcoming comittee arives"

Maggie whews audibly when the final crabbo is off into the surf. Whirling, she takes stock of where they are again. Spotting the masks, she begins to collect them. Can't leave them lying there. Then the drums begin and she turns to listen for a moment, "Ah... puckernuts. Go!" Snatching up another mask, she motions for people to flee to Boaz' boat. "Go!" Collecting masks as she does so, Maggie hurries toward the boat.

As the last mask comes off, Ashby finally begins to relax, his shoulders slumping a bit as he takes breaths. It almost seems like this particular effort had taxed him even more than all of the running had previously! The shadows fade away as if the sun had just come out from behind a cloud and he slowly shuffles forward to help in collecting some of the masks, absently looking toward the volcano to note, "Hmmm. It seems to be slowing some!" Then the drums kick in. He hears them and perks up, looking to Maggie, he nods in agreement. "That is most certainly our cue to exit the stage." One more mask for the road and then he is scurrying on toward the water. "Come, Lady Melina! My offer still stands! I'll carry you to the boat!"

mel acededes " If you like I don't mind, though i don't disintegrate in salt water i assure you"

Ruby is off at a loping sprint for Boaz's outrigger boat. She doesn't offer to carry anyone and the sound of drums raises her hackles. "Oh aye, no diplo-matic incidents for me." She cups her hands around her mouth, "Comin aboard! If we can't make speed tah tha Navy escorts in toime, just get us oot 'o soight at least. If yer 'alfa-boat alfa-raft can manage tha!"

Merrisol holds the one mask still and does not join in the mad holiday shopping scramble to snap up the wood carvings. He does scan the unbroken areas of the sandy vicinity for an additional moment in an effort to be certain there are no other buried crabbos stuck beneath a constipated effigy. That might change things, but failing a ping to his critter senses, the drumbeats of the converging war parties get him backing towards the surf along with the others. He offers his empty hand to Maggie in case she wants to pass over a few masks for his much larger grip, or her own hand so they can run frolicking-style into the sea to catch the waiting boat.

Boaz grumbles at the priestess and points her to a specific place to sit. "Row'n stations! We's 'eavy wit gear an' peoples now! Gonna have ta pull 'ard until we get ova da reefs, aye!?" ,he yells at his remaining crew. Then he stands ready near the rudder offering a hand up and in for those running towards the boat that floats in hip-deep water. When mum calls his boat half a raft he narrows his eyes at her. "You call on me, 'membah? And I did me bloody job in dis 'ere boat. All 'ands are welcome aboard and get ta paddle as well! We's got two races ta win now. Volcano and me fellow shadowinians!"

Running, Maggie nears Merrisol. He wins a smile and she tucks the terror-masks into the crook of her arm, then takes her mate's hand to frolic along the beach in a faintly demented race over the sea-soaked sand. Unless there are more crabs in need of help. Feet flying, hair a tangle of flame down her back, she keeps a weather-ear on the drums and other sounds behind. When they near the boat, she queries, "Would. Would it be better if we take the low road and help push the boat?"

"I wouldn't dream of letting a Lady of Chantris touch that water! I couldn't!" Ashby scoops Melina on up rather smoothly, wades on out into the water, and holds her up high so that he can place her right up aboard the outrigger. With that task completed, he then pulls himself on up to head to the bow. Reaching into his jacket, he pulls out a spyglass that is extended with a quick flick of his wrist. Raising it up, he scans the horizon to begin sizing up the landscape. Freeing up his other hand, he sets to digging about for something else in his jacket.