When The Wind Blows

[rassafraggin]

The Wave Dancer has returned to the edge of the impenetrable storm surrounding the island of Antika, perhaps also besetting the land itself. Merrisol leaves the shell and ship in the First Mate's care, determined to get something of the original purpose for being here done, while he still has a chance. Stripped down to his breeches, and armed with a glass harpoon currently anchored to his body by loops of chain, he is already soaked through with rain before he even mounts the gunwale and gazes down into the opaque swells. He executes a planed dive to put distance between himself and the wave-dashed hull, and lets the force of his entry carry him lower while adding a pulsing swim stroke to take him deeper.

When Merrisol dives into the water he finds it somewhat icy from the depths being churned up by the continual storm. The water is difficult to swim in despite his Rebman comfort in the water because the water is being churned by the fierce storm above and the waves extend beneath the surface to create violent currents that keep pushing him off-course.

Tiny trapped air bubbles froth around him initially, are dashed away by their own buoyancy and the strength of the currents, and are followed by larger bubbles as he slowly lets the air deplete from his lungs. Adjusting to the environment gracefully at least internally, he has to work to flip himself upright and stay that way. At least he is no longer pulled upwards by a quantity of oxygen held within. When he inhales, there is no reflex to stop cold water from rushing into his lungs, and he fails to drown. He swims experimentally, testing the direction and speed of the turmoil, then frowning, jackknifes and plunges deeper still, looking for a lessening or cessation of influence from the storm above the surface.

When Merrisol dives low enough to faintly see the bottom of the channel leading into the Antikan harbor, he finally finds waters of relative stillness which allow him to swim in a mostly straight line. Having to dive so deeply is in an of itself an oddness since the storm should not be affecting the waters so deeply.

Once he finds the calmer level and can even see clearly enough to spot the harbour channel, Merrisol cranes his head and stares upwards. Realization of the depth of the storm sparks some scholarly intrigue within, but then, it was already obvious there's a supernatural component to these storms. Graham had reported seeing a huge face shaped out of the Antika storm system, and put forth the suggestion that a deity was present. Merri darts horizontal now, the swimming now comparatively quick and easy for him as he makes for the channel, cautious to stay below the reach of the current.

As Merrisol continues to swim he is forced to angle upward slightly by the narrowing of the waters as he swims through into the Antikan harbor. Once there he finds himself having to dodge through the wreckage of sunken ships.

Not a pleasant encounter, not even for an undersea explorer of his experience. He hesitates, as the hulks and whatever dead they contain affect the surrounding waters. Do Rebmans ever need to hold their breath underwater? Yes, they certainly do. Merri accordingly takes none of this water in, squinting as he continues to direct his stroke on a gradual upward climb towards shallower levels. He makes some effort to determine the age of the wrecks as he twists past broken masts, and dodges unattached ropes, rigging, and other debris.

None of the wrecks are older than the rumors of the storms encompassing the island, but some of them are nearly that old. Apparently the storm raging above has turned what should have been safe harbor into something of a nightmare. As Merrisol continues to angle upward, he can feel the tug of the currents returning. Apparently the storm surrounding the island is raging across the entire island as well.

With that realization comes a look of mingled curiosity and indecision. He unhooks his harpoon from the chain crossing his shoulder, and spins in the water to loose the loops around his waist. He winds the chain in his hand and casts the harpoon upwards into the troubled currents above, testing to see if there are forces working to push things away from the island at this point, or to keep them from leaving.

The currents in the harbor appear to be pulling things around the harbor at random neither pushing toward the island nor toward the mouth of the harbor.

Merri reels the chain back towards him, yanking it back down to his depth. His breath control is well-honed and his lung capacity relatively huge, but as he loops his chains close about his torso, he considers the rest of the harbour undersea, and its polluted state. Would he rather take his chances above at this point? With some time still to make that decision, he resumes swimming the channel, even dropping closer to the sunken vessels to avoid being dragged and pummeled by the far-reaching storm as long as possible. He keeps an eye out for any vessels still managing to stay afloat. When the violent currents are no longer avoidable due to depth, obstacle, or his own flagging lungs, he enters them and seeks land, structure, or vessel to help him exit the water fully.

Some of the ships seem to be afloat still. No doubt these ships are equipped with storm sails and other Minosian storm crafts. As it happens one such ship is nearby when Merrisol is finally forced to surface by his desire not to breathe the waters of the harbor. The winds are fierce over the harbor and equally over the land. Other than the ships, the area seems deserted since the residents of the island have long since taken shelter.

Merrisol aims for that boat dead center as he rises and applies a determined flutterkick, and fights the resistance of the currents like a salmon swimming upstream. He figures by the time he breaks the surface he'll have been displaced enough to come up on one side or the other. The full auditory effect of the storm returns to him like a slap of reality, as does the air chill. A retching cough expels water from his lungs to join the oneness of the Sea, and he gasps in air, unpleasantly clammy and sharpish of texture. He employs the chained weapon again, this time as a grappling hook, and twirls the harpoon in several arcs to build up its potential force, while he sights an edge on the ship at a likely distance, carefully aiming and adjusting for wind direction. He looses the barbed weapon, the intent to anchor himself while he gets his bearings on the deserted setting. He doesn't particularly want to end up on some strange ship, but will have to make the climb if reaching solid land isn't feasible.

Alas, the tugging currents have kept Merrisol close to the interior of the harbor. If he wishes to make it to land, he has a long grueling swim ahead of him. The ship is much closer. Close enough for his weapon to find purchase there to anchor him.

After taking stock of the ship, particularly if any identifiers are present in flag or written plainly across the flank, Merrisol does take the option of digging a barb or two into some rigging block or porthole frame. Grunting, he pulls himself up enough to cling like a wet, cold barnacle, watching and listening for activity above decks.

The ship is firmly anchored and still flying its storm sails to make constant adjustments as the storm tries to push it about despite them. Several sailors are present on deck but all of them seem to be tied to the ship in one way or another to keep from being swept off the ship by the winds.

Merrisol flexes one hand, then the other, changing out his looped grips on the chain, to fight the numbness beginning to set in as he's been hanging out. Now, he starts pulling himself up, hand over hand, until he reaches the rigging block and can pry loose his weapon to loop the chain haphazardly around his shoulder, no time to make it snug. Getting both hands securely around the knotted ropes, he takes a deep breath and directs a shout upwards, loud as he can, "AHOY Storm Survivors! My name is Lirre! Permission to board at the starboard side!"

A deep voice cuts through the winds to reach him, "Board and state your purpose here!"

Merri climbs up and over, moving with deliberation and open gestures to minimize the risk of anyone taking him for a hostile. Once he's standing on the deck, with one hand still hanging on to the ladder of rope, he takes a moment to catch his breath and take in the crew presence, looking for the owner of the deep voice. "I'm from beyond the storm wall," he says, still loud, but not as loud. "I'm an agent of the Royal Pathfinders Corps, looking into the cause of these severe tempests that have encased Minos, and Antika in particular!"

There are currently eight men on deck. Three along each side rail, one on the quarterdeck manning the helm, and one at the bow. Each man is tied either firmly or loosely to his position against the tempest depending on the requirements of his duties. It is the man at the helm who responds, "About damned time Amber decided to look into things. When are they going to fix this?"

Merri turns to face the man, squinting through the spitting rain, and takes a few paces from the rail, finding a closer and more central handgrip from which to speak to the helmsman. He doesn't bother to demonstrate any particular competence with balance or footing on the tilting deck and is weary enough that he's not even certain he could. Reining in the shudder that begins in his muscles, he responds, "Once we've determined the cause, Sir, and if it requires King Random's intervention, my Director will bring him our recommendation! I believe Antika holds the answers, and seek witnesses from which to build a better picture of what's happened here! To whom do I speak, and on whose ship do I stand?"

The captain calls back, "You are speaking to Captain Stormheart. Never meant to take the name quite so literally again. No one's been here since the storm swallowed us. I fear if things don't change soon, Storm Faerie will join the others at the bottom of the harbor."

Merri nods sharply in acknowledgement, and swings his regard from side to side to observe the morale of the beleaguered crew. Looking back up at the Captain, he declares, "You have my word as a fellow son of Minos that action will be taken. Now that they have a man through the wall, the Pathfinders will be able to launch a full investigation upon the island." He pauses, considering the logistics out in the pounding rain and cold wind. "I require shelter, dry clothing.. a hot drink if you still have the means, Captain," he requests more humbly.

The captain gestures toward the crew passage, "I've dry shelter below. Tell the lads below that the captain sent you down and they might be able to find you the rest. Might have to make do with rum and a blanket for the warmth though."

Merrisol nods his gratitude, but as he reaches the hatch, he pauses in thought, then backs up until he can address Stormheart again: "You said the storm swallowed Antika? Do you recall if storms were already raging throughout Minos - or did it begin here?"

The captain nods, "Aye. I remember. The seas got rough. Then the storms started gathering. They'd been getting worse and worse for a while. I stopped in Antika on a supply run and got caught just where we are when the storms suddenly swallowed us. Finally tossed the anchor to keep from getting smashed into something else."

Merrisol frowns at that and nods, as his initial theory is likewise smashed. He thinks for a moment. "My team will need to make it to land to look around, can you loan us the use of your shoreboat?" he asks hopefully.

The captain frowns, "The shoreboat will never make it to land. Currents are too strong. It's like the storm is actively trying to kill us. There's some call the storm gods sweet, but whichever one summoned this storm is nothing of the kind."

Merrisol tries to picture the face in the storm, Graham had reproduced in his dream realm. It hadn't looked benevolent, more like.. howling mad. "All right.. nonetheless, we will need to land. I'll figure out a way!" He gives the man a sharp nod before going below to seek that warm blanket and rum, giving the lads the Captain's word. Once he's calmed his shivers somewhat under the blanket, he pries a tin deck case from the pocket of his breeches and examines the cards inside, thinking about who he might call upon to start.

There's no rooms available for privacy but the lads hang a blanket in a room that has to be a smuggling hold because of it's odd shape and leave Merrisol there alone with his blanket and a whole bottle of the finest Minosian rum.

The contact with Ryika comes like an icy wind.

To the image of Ryika, Merrisol is somewhere dim, a ship's interior by the floaty, pitching and yawing feel to it, with irregular corners and walls, light seeping through a privacy curtain... well, a hanging blanket anyway. He is huddled in an additional blanket, still wet from a swim or perhaps just a deluge. A bottle of rum open and snugged into the crook of his arm. Oh boy, he's drunk-trumping! "Hullo Ryika," he says, clearly enough. "Feeling up to a... little excursion?"

The image of Ryika quirks a grin as she considers the picture put forth in her mind's eye. "Should I be saying good morning, or is it still the night before for you? Anything I should bring?"

To the image of Ryika, Merrisol rubs his browline thoughtfully. "I haven't seen the sun since the last time I was in Amber. At a guess, it is afternoon in Minos." Utter conjecture. "I'm on the inside of an unbreachable wall of storm that has engulfed the island of Antika for months.. and I will be looking to bring Quinlan through, and Martin.. and Maggie.. Anyone who can help determine a way to break up this unnatural tempest. First however, I need you to get into the Wave Dancer through your mirror, and tell the first mate, Anderson, to make for a safe port. He has an artifact on board that lessens the hardships of travel." He pauses, thinking. "I want to see what happens if we bring it here. Will you do this for me, Ryika? I'll trump you back after a certain amount of time, so you can come here with it."

The image of Ryika quirks her head as she listens to the cunning plan (tm) and nods slowly. "I can pop over to the Wave Dancer, and talk to Anderson. I'm going to guess you've got some sea and water mages poking at this, or is that what Quin is for?"

To the image of Ryika, Merrisol smiles grimly. "Sea and water mages? Do you know any? Maybe Salin.. he's lost in Arden, last I heard." He subsides, lifting the bottle, then lowering it. Ryika doesn't get to see him swilling finest Minosian rum straight from the bottle, nope. "The harbour here is devastated, Ryika.. most of the ships have gone down by now, and it's a long hard swim to shore from this vessel.. the Storm Faerie. Her Captain Stormheart is generously sheltering me at the moment, but we need to make land and find out what is anchoring the forces at work. I've been hearing it is the murderous intent of a god.. perhaps something or someone on the island holds the answer. So plan for traveling lightly and bring nothing you are loathe to lose to a gust of wind. Relief supplies would not go amiss here, I suspect, Dame Ambassador."

The image of Ryika waggles her hand back and forth. "I've been experimenting, but I'm not very /good/ at it, yet. Waves, not storms, but perhaps it might mitigate it somewhat? I might be able to conjure up Salin, but that's dependant on if he's got a mirror out, and he's been, as you said, hiding in Arden." She does take a sip of her coffee and nods thoughtfully. "Medical? Food? Fresh water? All of the above? I did a bit of not-overly helpful reading up on storm gods, but didn't get far."

To the image of Ryika, Merrisol shakes his head. "I'm not certain how mass-transport works by trump." Really? He did all that supply hoarding in Rebma by grunt labour alone? "Oh.. unless you possess some other means. With all the rain, I don't imagine they are suffering for fresh water, but medical surely. I'll ask around and get back to you then. I didn't realize you were learning wave control, Ryika," he adds, looking even more intensely interested in dragging her over and putting her in all sorts of peril. "It's certainly worth a try.. there are still a few ships afloat here, fighting endless to keep from dashing up against one another and everything else."

The image of Ryika gives a little wrinkle of her nose. "I've no clue how mass transport works by trump either, but if nothing else, I can just bring a backpack full of relevant bandages and medicine? I dont think I can shove a Mandrake in, so it's a bit old school, but better than nothing, even if it's only spotty assistance." She gives a touch of a shrug. "As much as I know I'm decorative, I am eternally curious. Perhaps not the most useful endeavour I've explored, but equally, I've spent quite a bit of time an effort on even more esoteric things."

To the image of Ryika, Merrisol gazes at the trump with a familiar stirring of fond irritation. "You are both decorative /and/ valuable, Ryika. I know if you try, you will also be serviceable." Dawww. Such faith. "How much time shall I give you to accomplish the first leg of your journey before calling again?" he then asks, efficiently. Yes, he does still need to get her a Merri-trump.

The image of Ryika takes a sip of her coffee. "Getting to the ship will be a matter of moments. Conversation with Anderson, well.. that will take as long as conversations might. I can have my staff prepare some assistance, and contact me when it's ready, just carry-on sort of assistance, but it will give some relief to the ship you're on, if nothing else. How's the underwater? Is the sub there?"

To the image of Ryika, Merrisol shakes his head again. "No, the SF isn't in Minos, and wouldn't have been able to traverse the harbour channel at any rate, with the amount of wrecks that have settled the sea bed here. The storm.." he pauses, mulling his words. "You know how most storms don't tend to reach very far below the surface... but this one does. I had to go much deeper than estimated to avoid the pull of its influence. Swimming the channel was not easy, with all the debris and pollutant of dead matter." He looks more unsettled for a moment, then does take a swig from the bottle, washing away some foul taste with the soothing burn of rum. "Uh. Tell Anderson he doesn't have to keep up the act for your benefit, by the way. Or the rest of the crew. Not below decks, anyway."

The image of Ryika nods. "Good, I was going to worry about the SF from what you said about the storm." She frowns at the mention of the storm going deep into the water. "That's just not good at all. I expect nothing to Anderson that he doesnt have to keep up the facade will make the conversation go much faster. Do you want me to bring better booze than what you're drinking?"

To the image of Ryika, Merrisol looks mildly amused by the question. "What do you mean, Ryika? This is Minosian rum.. what's better than that?" He's serious, but the question is rhetorical, really. They can't take the time to talk about what's good booze right now.. maybe later, at the first, prestigious, and ground-breaking meeting of the Rebma Meritorious Club.

The image of Ryika smirks a touch. "Mmmm. Hmmm mmm. Alright, let me go talk to Anderson, and sort out that ship going somewhere safe, and artifact fetching and you can call me in say.. twenty minutes? Half an hour? Less if you want to be there while I'm chatting with Anderson. It won't take me long to get to the Wave Dancer."

To the image of Ryika, Merrisol nods. "I'll give it a couple of hours, I think. I want the Dancer well away from this one storm system by the time I call you through with the artifact.. a small, peculiarly shaped sea shell, by the way, if Anderson thinks to test you. If this thing decides to pick up and move, and something happens to her ship and crew, Maggie will kill me." That's probably not true but he appears to believe it. "Thank you, Ryika."
To the image of Ryika, Merrisol says, "Shaped peculiarly like a human skull, that is."

The image of Ryika ahs. "How charming. A couple hours seems reasonable, then. Ideally Anderson won't pitch a hissy at me. I'll do my best to convince him I'm legit. Tis no worries, Merri. I'll talk to you later. Call me back if you think of anything else you need or want."

To the image of Ryika, Merrisol says, "I will do so, Madam. Take care."

Merrisol takes another warming mouthful of drink, but resists torpor and sleep, stepping back out of the hold to look for the Quartermaster. He asks if any their essential supplies are in need of restocking.

The quartermaster admits that they were stocked for a long voyage before attempting to leave Antika which leaves them only beginning to hurt for food which they have been rationing. There were a number of injuries however and they have exhausted most of their supplies in that regard.

Merrisol notes this, and transmits word to Ryika via trump about the ships' provisional and medical needs. He borrows a rain poncho from one of the big'n'tall sailors if there is one available, and makes his way back up to speak with the Captain: Does he communicate with any of the other ships still in the harbour? Any suggestions who to speak to in Antika to learn about the island and its history?

Fortunately for Merrisol, the ship does have some bulky crewmembers. One finally consents to give up his slicker on the condition that he gets it back as soon as Merrisol comes below deck again. The captain suggests the harbormaster or the commodore as the best people to speak with about the island in general though he admits locating them might be difficult since the storm engulfed the island. As for communication with the other ships, he's not been able to risk getting near any of them.

Before he returns below, Merrisol lingers another moment, studying the vessel with its hardy storm sails and other magic accoutrements. He remarks, "The Storm Faerie is fortunate to be handily equipped with these fine measures, Captain. Might I inquire who the smith and craftsperson was?"

The captain makes a pained look at Merrisol for the request given the circumstances. After that pained moment he does admit, "The finest stormcrafter in Cameron it was, Captain Midnight, though we got our stormcrafters before she got herself a ship. What with her spending most of her time in Amber these days it's hard to find her in her shop any more."

Merrisol tips his head, remembering the shop in Amber he and Maggie had given their custom.. Midnight Creations. He nods to the Captain and excuses himself from taking up the man's time. He gets below decks and returns the slicker promptly, retiring once again to his private hideyhole to make another outgoing trump.



While above decks, Ry would be treated to a dazzling lightning stormy sky, and a view of angry seas all around. The Dancer herself, while receiving a good share of rain and fluttering breezes, does not seem to be as affected by the storm as she ought to be. As, say, those three other ships are, spotted trailing behind the Dancer at a safe distance. And just due south of the ship, there is a terrifying sight upon the near horizon, a violent storm front that obliterates much of the sky in that direction. Apparently there is a large island mass within that churning, forbidding system.

Anderson, Maggie's first officer who replaced Merrisol when he went to serve his posting in Rebma's military, is an intelligent, level-headed, and even-tempered gent. He recognizes Ryika quickly and stops the blood-thirsty crew from menacing her. They in turn, are also Maggie's regular shiphands, who have shed their uniforms to be scurvy dogs. They wouldn't have hurt Ryika! but perhaps they had hoped to frighten her off before she saw too much.

Ry isn't easily scared, likely even a bit to thier dismay. She makes a terrible damsel. Ry's pretty good at the act, however, 'til they get below decks and can speak more privately.

With the mirror in the guest cabin, she would have started out below decks, so more or less wind up in the same room to talk. Passing by the crew quarters, there can be seen a number of officers and sailors still wearing their dark green WD uniforms and pins. Anderson mutters they are hostages who refused to recant their loyalty to Flame. He is going through the motions of deception despite Ryika's revealing her knowledge of said ruse, but by the time they are ready to talk business he is all but convinced that she did not simply conveniently show up on the ship only hours after Merrisol had disappeared under the waves and into the storm. Learning the order to abandon Antika and make for a friendly port for shelter, Captainless, gets a bleak look from the First Mate. At that point, Merrisol calls back early, citing the need for ships' medical supplies foremost, and then also hard rations if she could swing that as well. As an afterthought, Merrisol asks if she can bring a 'travel-sized' mirror of the sort she can enchant for further egress options.

Ryika explains that she can't bring anyone but herself through the mirrors, which is a serious irritatnt, but it is what it is. In the interest of being able to return to where Merri is, she'll bring a mirror with her. Basically if she can carry it, she can bring it with her. Fortunately she's little. She can do a modest mirror, and a backpack of medical supplies and rations.

As ironic as it might be for a Rebma, Ry is very grateful of the artifact, as she gets faintly sea sick on stormy ships. Which y'know, doesn't come up /that/ often, but she's about to enjoy a whole lot of it.

Merrisol signs off trump again, saying he is going to speak with Captain Stormheart a bit while the Wave Dancer makes its getaway. Anderson goes to order a new heading and the Wave Dancer heads away from that weird weather phenomenon. The crew won't complain, although they do start to wonder if Merrisol has, in fact, made it back aboard. Anderson shows the bone-bleached shell to Ry, cushioned in a soft cloth. It is tiny and does look much like a Lilliputian skull. He says Maggie discovered it when her blood-born instincts led the ship off shadow-course and came across an island in the middle of nowhere. After that, holding it gave her an ache to go to Minos. Merrisol took over holding it, since he was unaffected by its demands. Anderson will give the skell to Ryika once she is ready to join Merrisol.

Ryika should, equally, be unaffected by it's demands. She doesn't get in Anderson's way, but does take and make a number of mirror and trump calls from various embassy staff, to collect up things that they've gotten for her in Amber. (rations, mirror, medical.. hurriedly acquired, but the embassy surely keeps some stashes, there's enough Rebmans who tend towards Adventure)



The contact with Quinlan comes like an icy wind.

The image of Quinlan is enjoying the late summer sun on the deck of his little boat, it seems, reading in a long chair in the sun. "Afternoon," he says pleasantly. "What's up?"

To the image of Quinlan, Merrisol is doing perhaps the exact opposite, damply huddled in a blanket a ship's smuggler's hold judging by the irregular corners and walls. Light seeps through a privacy curtain that is actually hastily rigged blanket. Not quite on the level of a luxury yacht. He is clutching a bottle of finest Minosian rum however, so wins out on that count. "Quinlan, hullo. It's Merrisol." He stares a moment at Quinlan's warm and peaceful, /sunny/ setting, then adds, "You look like you could use a bit of... excitement."

The image of Quinlan grins, closing his book. "And you look like you could use a hand. Or at least a warmer room. What can I do for you?"

To the image of Quinlan, Merrisol compresses his mouth for a second like he doesn't want to accidentally beg for Quinlan to pull him through and pull up another deckchair. "Do you remember Lord Graham was on about getting a group of Pathfinders past the stormwall around Antika? Well, I'm here now, and it's a mess on the inside. Most of the ships are sunk in the harbor and even the survivors with stormcraft are barely holding on. The city is shut down, that I can see. Yet this system has been sitting on the island for so many weeks now, and still pounding away at it.. it is certainly unnatural.. there's something here either manifesting the storm, or being targeted by it."

The image of Quinlan nods slowly. "I'd been waiting to hear how that was going," he says, and offers his hand. "I'm happy to help if there's anything I can do."

To the image of Quinlan, Merrisol smiles with relief. "Terrific. You might want to grab some weather gear or.." Or wait, this is /Quinlan/. A tiny pet sweater and booties, then! Anyway, he hesitates. "Here's the thing, Quinlan, I've got Ryika going to the Wave Dancer to get some distance from Antika, and then she's going to come through to here, with an artifact the Dancer's been using to travel Minos' waters with less difficulty. But it could not penetrate /this/ storm. I do not know what trumping it in will do, but Maggie and I had been thinking there might be something here that does not /want/ the artifact to come near. Are you still alright with coming through now?"

The image of Quinlan says, "Do you have any other reasonable option for me *getting* there?"

To the image of Quinlan, Merrisol shakes his head. "Me? No. I only wanted to give you a heads-up of a potentially volatile action going down within the next hour. You might have wanted to see how that played out before literally placing yourself in harm's way." He stands up, shedding his blanket. Oh Merri, shirtless /again/, some /more/? He holds out his hand.

Quinlan arrives holding Merrisol's hand; he's made sure the bookbag is closed so his books and papers stay dry, but otherwise seems fine with getting storm drenched as he focuses on getting a grip on something more stable than a person. "Bit of a mess!"

Relaaax, they're still below decks, within some kind of smuggler's hold. Merrisol leads the way out past the blanket-curtain, and returns to a more well-traveled portion of the ship. "The Storm Faerie," he notes, as to their location. "It's anchored in the harbor bay, where I came up after swimming the channel. It will be a very hard swim to shore. How does your air pocket or flight ability hold up to gale-force winds?"

Quinlan grins at that. "Holds up just fine, actually," he says. "It helps that it's a form of flight that tells the laws of physics to go screw itself, in that respect."

Merrisol looks hopeful at that. "So, you could have flown right through the storm from the outside," he comments. "At least that'll save us a swim if you head for land and trump the rest of us through." Not that he couldn't just swim the choppy waters anyway, but... he's not always a masochist. Only when it feels good..err, feels right, that is. "I'll see about bringing Ryika through once the Dancer has made it far enough on the power of the artifact," he says, explaining, "Maggie discovered it when her blood-born instincts led the ship off shadow-course and came across an island in the middle of nowhere. After that, holding it gave her an ache to go to Minos. I'd taken over holding it, since my blood is unaffected by its demands."

Quinlan nods slowly. "Yeah. I can fly right through it. But if I get hit by lightning, it's probably going to hurt a lot. I'm not storm-born."

Merrisol's head tips as he gazes at Quinlan, not having considered that likely hazard of flight. "Oh.. yes, you would be a likely target that way, wouldn't you."

Quinlan laughs. "Kinda yeah," he says. "I will risk it, y'know, if it's needed. But I did want to clarify that if I have to go flying up there I'll probably want a tether around my waist in case I get knocked out of the sky, so someone can drag me back onto a boat." He shrugs. "So. Island causes cravings for Minos in Minosan-blood? But not other people?"

Merrisol inclines his head thoughtfully. Of course they will keep a safety cord tied to Quinlan, and fly him like a Kite.. or in this case, a Pathian! "No, not that I know. It's the artifact. Maggie was drawn to it.. not me, although I supposedly have Minosian blood. I'm not the best example for lineage, of course," he admits. "But Maggie has storm in her blood. And this is an artifact that helped the Wave Dancer get /through/ the storm well surrounding Minos. And sail across Minos in bad weather as though it was merely a light rainshower. However. We tried to sail through to Antika, to /here/, and the artifact did not help one bit. In fact, it seemed like it was giving Maggie fits just to try. That's when I took over holding it."

Quinlan hns. "Do you want me to give it a sniff or two?" he asks, curious and thoughtful. "Things that compromise Maggie's free will don't have a good scorecard, on the whole."

Merri nods. "Definitely do. Ryika will have it when I trump her through. And given its apparent reluctance to be here, and the storm's defiance to let it pass... I'm sure you see my concern." He glances towards the hatch leading to the main deck. "Captain Stormheart has been a good host since I came up from the wreck-filled channel. He and his crew have been keeping the ship afloat for a long while now, waiting for help from Amber. I hope I'm not making a mistake bringing the artifact through," he mutters. Heh. Merri, make mistakes? Nevvvver happens.

Quinlan mms, nodding solemnly. "I can ...try? to use Arcanis to counter whatever the storm or the artifact try to do. But we're talking effects that really fall more strongly under the umbrella of Rebma, Tanus, and Minos here. I may not be able to do very much."

Merrisol looks like he appreciates the thought, nonetheless. He glances at the red leather manwatch on his wrist, peeling back a cover from the face. "Just about time to trump Ryika. Better do this on deck." He starts to walk for the hatch, then pauses as he recalls another point of interest. He looks for and stops a sailor in passing. "I was wondering.. what's the story behind your Captain's name? Stormheart." Considering where they are, it is weird. Even the captain had pointed it out.

Quinlan smiles to himself as he tags along. But then, it's not really much of a secret that any code name for Quinlan would wind up being along the lines of "Pale-and-Dorky", so.

The sailor gives Quinlan an odd look since he doesn't recognize him but finally says, "Captain saved his first ship from the heart of a hurricane only to lose it to a different one a year later. He made sure the Storm Faerie had all the crafts he could buy so it wouldn't happen again."

Merrisol raises his brows at the answer, and nods. How.. unlucky. He thanks the man without explaining Quinlan's presence, and starts to shoulder through the hatch, this time sans rain slicker. Vooosh, both wind and sideways rain howl through into him. He retreats backwards into the passage. "That's not going to work.."

Quinlan considers that, in the current context of 'really big storm outside', and shrugs slightly. When Merrisol opens the door onto that storm, he simply nods. "Yeah. That doesn't look, um, safe. I could kill the winds in a small area around us, but I don't think under the circumstances that'd be all that much help."

Merrisol glances around the corridor. "Here, then. I don't think they are used to seeing trump in action, but I don't want to be stuck in a smuggler's hold when the artifact comes through, either." He produces the card from its tin.

The contact with Ryika comes like an icy wind.

The image of Ryika has things and stuff, and is probably still shipboard, it seems likely.

Quinlan nods, and ...well, tries to make sure Merri has as much room as he can give him.

To the image of Ryika, Merrisol is standing in the ship's crew passageway this time, and Quinlan is standing with him, with the ever-present shoulderbag of wonders. Through a closed hatchway leading to the main deck, forces pound and whistle. "Ryika. I trust Anderson took the Dancer all out to sea and made for a friend port, as instructed? I'll need my raincoat to come through too, if you could request it." For some reason, Merrisol just isn't comfortable standing around half-naked in galeforce winds and driving rains.

Quinlan blinks. Apparently the whole 'half naked' bit went right by his attention span, possibly on the way to snag spare attention for 'huge storm'.

The image of Ryika nods. "Yes, the Dancer is in port now. Y'know, you clothes being here doesn't help the facade." She notes as she moves over to speak to a crew member, to fetch said raincoat. It doesn't take long before she's adding raincoat to mirror and bag. "Anything else? Not that I can't just come back if we need to."

To the image of Ryika, Merrisol waits a moment, listening and watching the activity on yon Dancer heading for relative safety. "Aside from Anderson giving the shell into your care?" Wrapped in that same soft cloth and pocketed, naturally. "Did you manage to reach Salin? We could use a few more good eyes and ears for the investigation after we hit land."

Quinlan waits, listening quietly.

The image of Ryika smiles a touch. "Yes, I've got that too. I don't think I've travelled with this much stuff in my memories. No, I couldn't get a hold of Salin. which is too bad, I haven't seen him in forever."

The image of Ryika adds. "Do we have a means of contacting Mercier? and ideally keeping him from slapping you? He worked well with the Kelpie thing."

To the image of Ryika, Merrisol nods to the card, and hasn't either apparently, although he doesn't look like he minds the absence of Baron Cousinly. He listens in thoughtful silence. "Templeton.. uh. No, I don't have the means, although he has my card somehow. But, he is a member of the Pathfinders, and should do some good here," he says grudgingly. "I'm just not sure how to find him on short notice. I'll see about asking Maggie to come, at least."

The image of Ryika mmms. "Well I sent him a message, ideally he will manage to swallow whatever grudge he's got against you to trump that long. Pull me through, and we'll sort it out from there."

To the image of Ryika, Merrisol nods, "I'll be on my best behavior with him," he fails to promise. "Ready Quinlan?" He holds his other hand out. "Come through, Ryika. And brace yourself. That is a storm-influencing artifact you have on you," he reminds, like, at the very last second.

Ryika arrives loaded down like an arrogant tourist who doesn't want to pay for checked baggage. She's got everything from a hefty duffel type bag to a moderate sized mirror, and one might presume, an artifact in her pocket. Either that or she's just happy to see you.

The moment Ryika steps through the trump connection onto the ship, the winds outside magnify until they sound very much like a roar of outrage. Wind and waves begin to batter the Storm Faerie, slowly but surely shoving the ship against the tug of the anchor on the bottom of the harbor. Any response that might have come from the sailors on deck is completely drowned by the storm.

Quinlan makes a sound that, to trained ears, might sound rather a *lot* like a fox's surprised - or possibly terrified - yip. Throwing out long spindly arms to grab some kind of stable grip on something, he does what is instinctive for a mage to do; he throws out Arcanis spells trying to at least calm the high winds.

The arcanis spells do indeed have an effect, the roar quiets a bit but the ship still keeps coming under the violent shaking of waves pounding against its hull.

Ryika almost gets knocked off her feet as she arrives to the Storm. She sets the mirror as much out of the way as she can and looks over to Quin as Merri gets that look. "I don't think this is helping."

The image of Mercier focuses on the trump, furrowing his brow at it as the contact comes. He's standing at the docks, turning his eyes, briefly, from someone to his side. He looks at the card grayly, "Are you receiving?" He asks simply.

To the image of Mercier, Merrisol is in some unfamiliar ship's passage, and it's shuddering and listing something awful while waves heave up against the hull. He staggers back from the initial wind blast, but as Quinlan throws his magic back at it, it levels out and it's mostly violent waves. "We have to get it off the ship," he shouts, keeping his balance enough to just stagger back and fetch shoulders back against the wall. "Quinlan, can you take her to-.. unh, WHAT?" he snaps abruptly, and yeah, he's got that preoccupied look. It's an awfully uncomfortable preoccupied look. OH, and he's not wearing his shirt, so that really helps Mercier's assumptions about that man, doesn't it? "...Templeton. Excellent timing. I've got Ryika and Quinlan with me here on Antika! Pathfinders Mission status: Dire." Way to downplay the situation, Merri. Crash go the waves, and he braces against the wall. "We need good people here. Are you in?"

There is a violent shudder through the ship as it shifts against the tug of the anchor. Finally a sailor looks at them and growls, "What are you doing? You were supposed to help!"

"A Rebman with power over the waves would be *really helpful* right now," says Quinlan in the distracted tone that tends to result when he's focusing on maintaining a spell. "If I try to calm both wind AND wave, the BEST result right now would be a splitting migraine and failing at both." To the sailor he answers, "You know the bit where you aren't being blown overboard into the sea? That's me helping. I'd do more if I could!"

The image of Mercier takes a moment to consider, his look stilll, rather gray, "Couldn't just be you drowning. Very well." He turns to someone in the other direction, giving her a nod, "Grab my shoulder, and prepare for loose sheets." He looks back to the card, "Hold out your hand."

"I don't need Quinlan to take me anywhere. Artifact plan, not working." Ryika comments as she moves towards the mirror. "I'll take it back to the Dancer, and then trump me when you have a sec, Merri. That work?" She stumbles as the ship lurches, trying not to land in the mirror just yet.

The image of Ruby peers into the card with wide eyes and a grim expression.

To the images of others, Merrisol actually pauses for an extra moment of lambasting, not just from Mercier, but also from the beating waves on the ship, and an angry passing sailor. Ryika has informed them she will be mirror-zipping herself and the teeny tiny incredibly dangerous artifact back out to the Dancer, and he takes the moment to consider the enraged reaction from Nature itself. "Yes, do it," he nods, his gaze still focused on some absent party. "I can't drown," he neeners, then narrow-eyes. "Who's that... Ruby? All right. Good." He extends his hand as the ship hull groans. "Come through, both. And thank you!" Grabbing Ruby first.

Ryika is really only here for a moment or two after Ruby and Mercier arrive before she crouches down to wobble less as she concentrates upon the mirror she brought with her. And then steps through it.

Ruby appears and has the fun task of steadying herself /and/ absorbing what the heck she's been brought into. A few paces and she's asserting some control on the potential vertigo that swells up in time with sound of waves crashing. "Hells." she shakes herself and checks to see who else is here or in the process of doing the same trick she just did. Muscles acquire a little extra definition while she checks her person, making sure she's still got all her bits.

The battering of the ship vanishes instantly when Ryika and the shell she is carrying disappear from the ship.

Crew passageway under a closed deck hatch, one sailor standing around veddy angry with the apparent shenanigans attributed to Ryika's recent arrival by trump. As it coincided with the terrible violent storm outside just cranking it up tenfold. Said Ryika has just slipped away by scuttling through a solid mirror, yes. Quinlan is ominously quiet, in deep concentration while he works magical control over the devastating effects of the storm. And Merrisol his here, what more does one need to know than that?

Even when the battering stops, the Storm Faerie still rolls a lot in the water from the general battering that comes with being in a storm normally, but it no longer feels like the brigandine is going to sink immediately.

Mercier steps the through the trump contact, and pauses to steady himself, shaking his head. The process was always disorienting, and it didn't help that- whoops. The ship pitches one way and Mercier stumbles into a bulkhead, putting his hands on the wooden wall, he pushes off after a moment, working on getting his sealegs in an expidited fashion. He spies Ryika departing, and grasps someting to keep himself steady, looking through those present, before his eyes land on Merrisol. Not happy. "Out with it then, what're the circumstances here, mister?"

Quinlan relaxes a bit as Ryika goes, and takes some of the ferocity of Nature with her. Rubbing at his forehead with one hand, he says, "How long've you been in this storm, Merri? Just in ballpark figures?"

Merrisol lets go of Mercier when he's steady enough, but a little soft shoe shuffle across the corridor also never hurt no one. He pushes away from the wall when it stops trying to hug him, and bends towards Ryika's mirror. Precious magic mirror. He turns it away from him before he picks it up, and stands to face Mercier. Dude.. look how pissed you are. He gathers his thoughts for a moment and seems able to ignore the snarky address. "..Above and beyond the wall of storms surrounding the collective islands of Minos, and the general tempests raging every which where, the island of Antika has been the particular focus of a large, impenetrable storm system. I have only been here this day, having dived deep enough to swim in under the influence of the currents. The artifact I had Ryika bring through had in fact been used aboard the Wave Dancer to not only sail through the outside storms of Minos, but to cross the troubled waters with comparable ease. When the Wave Dancer came across Antika's storm, we had tried to break through in similar fashion, but the storm only rallied more forcefully against our passage. Lord Graham had also made an attempt to pass previously, and reported seeing a large angry face within, shaped by the atmosphere. These factors led me to believe the source of the storm is here in Antika."

He gestures to the main deck above them. "The Storm Faerie has been here since the storm's inception, many weeks ago. Captain Stormheart.." Yep. ~Stormheart~. "He said the weather across Minos had already become severe, when they put in at Antika to resupply, but before they could depart, a storm engulfed the island. It dashed numerous ships to the bottom of the harbour, and only a few have survived until now, owing to their stormcrafts." He pauses, taking in a long controlled breath.

Quinlan blinks a few times. "A face...in the clouds?" he asks. "Did you want me to go try *talking* to it?"

It's only a tiny bit awkward when Merrisol is holding the mirror, and its facing Mericer and Ryika climbs back through it. She is without artifact on this trip onto the ship, and ideally that makes this particular arrival a whole lot less exceiting than the last one was.

Ruby huddles by herself, making herself hard to trip over while she takes in more of the situation. She rubs her nose furiously and clears her throat. "Bloody hell...What have you dragged me into?" she murmers half to herself.

Mercier wasn't being snarky, just cold and without regard to any of Merrisol's supposed titles. He crosses his arms over his chest as he listens to Merrisol's comments, shaking his head, "And where, and what, precisely, is Antika?" Mercier asks, plainly, before nodding, "I had heard of the face." He watches as Ryika steps in, and reaches up to tip his hat at the Ambaassador, before turning to Ruby, "Just What Must Be Done." He notes, "Remember what I said about trade? Well getting rid of this storm would probably help that." He looks to Merrisol again. Then again...

Merrisol nods matter-of-factly as Ryika comes through to much less fanfare this time, although perhaps a roll of thunder obliges for effect. It was totally the artifact, guys. He glances between Mercier and Quinlan, perhaps a bit startled by both of them. Instead, he addresses Ruby first. "Welcome to Minos," he responds to her tersely, assuming she got the whole spiel and just needs a bit of huddle time to process it. He nods to Quinlan then. "Talk to the storm face? I admit the thought had not occurred to me. You'd have to get it to manifest. The only time I'd seen a face myself was when Lord Graham replicated it in his dream realm." Presently, he looks at Mercier, eying him wearily. "It's time we tried to make it to land, at least. It was suggested we locate the harbormaster or the Commodore who runs the island, to find out more of the local legends." He glances at Ryika's backpack. "Is that for the Storm Faerie?" He gestures it over to the Sailor. "It's relief medical supplies and some hard rations.. could you convey this to the Quartermaster." Yeah, they'll probably need more gauze after that battering ram of a wave.

Quinlan blinks at that - and then grins. "New books of legends," he says, in the tone some people might reserve for new shoes, or a rare trading card. "Yes. I like that idea. Let me know if it's an oral tradition please, so I can make sure and dig out the *blank* notebooks."

"Talking to the storm face occured to me as well, but I can't get into dream realm reliably on my own." Ryika comments to Merrisol as she passes the bag of supplies off to the Sailor and waggles her fingers in greeting to Mercier and Ruby both. "Well, you have Quinlan hook, line and sinker on /that/ notion of new legends." She reaches to take her mirror from Merrisol. "Thanks. How likely are we to smash to bits trying to get to land?"

A sailor, drenched to the skin from the storm, slips below deck and looks at Merrisol. This is clearly one of the men who was tied to the railings. "The captain said he wants you off the ship. He thinks you did whatever just happened and he's unhappy about it."

Ruby continues to shake off the heeby-jeebies of recent travel. When she's welcomed by Merrisol, the large woman offers a curt nod and a brief gesture. It's an approximation of a quick easy salute, by someone who has never served in any official navy. "Homecoming then." she says and chews on that for a minute. And after digesting it, the stalking begins. It's a slow pace and with some fidgeting thrown in. The fact Ryika made an entrance via strange means, has only helped to add a little urgency to her walking to and fro. The talk of legends and storms isn't troubling, but smashing to bits is flagged as a priority. She blurts, "Aye..." she raises a large hand into the air and raises her voice. "How likely are we to smash to bloody bits?"

Mercier glances towards Ruby at the mention of homecoming, but doesn't ask for an elaboration. He looks about to say something when the drenches sailor comes down, and he raises his eyebrow at the man, "And here I was about to ask if they needed anyone running the boards topside." He quizzically looks at the sailor, "I believe we'd be happy to disembark when you call in Antika." Mercier says, arms still crossed, as he adjusts his footing with the pitching and rolling. He looks towards Ryika and Ruby, "The chancs are irrelivent. If we need to make for Antika, we need to make for Antika."

Quinlan winces sympathetically at the drenched sailor. "Um. We definitely have no desire to sink a ship we're standing on, if that helps," he says quietly. "Um. I realize you're going to get wet again the moment you go above, but would you like a minute or two being dry first?"

The sailor just stares at Quinlan at this question.

"Only fair to poor chances," Merrisol says candidly, a bit of nerdy risk calculation showing through, probably due to the fact there had very nearly been a disaster of Begmanomical proportions. He's watching Ruby curiously since her 'homecoming' statement. It seems obvious now, as obvious as that honking gigantic sword on her back. The mirror goes to Ryika, and he retrieves his rain slicker from her in return. Now he looks at the sailor and listens to the relayed order with a regretful sigh. Probably gave poor Stormheart the Hurricane Heebies.. "We are going.." he agrees staidly, and to Mercier, "We are in Antika. Anchored several hundred meters from land, but..." He waits through the exchange with the confused sailor. "Quinlan, can you fly to land and bring the rest of us through by trump? The swim would be an arduous one even for me." He slips into his raincoat and retrieves his chained weapons.

"If it's certain smashy death by ship, then we'll work to come up with some other cunning plan to get there which isnt certain smashy death. Probably involving peril for only one or two people rather than the whole ship." Ryika explains to Mercier with a touch of a shrug. She nods at Merrisol's assessment of the odds. "I can try and soothe out some of the waves if that would help, while Quin works on the wind.. I can only do waves, I can try and swim? I'm smaller, which counts for something."

Quinlan smiles. "If she smooths the waves, and I calm the winds, we should be able to hold well enough to let a little boat carry everyone to shore?"

The sailor nods, "Captain Stormheart said he'll give you a boat if it will get you off his ship."

Ruby eyes the sopping sailor with a look that is not exactly pity. It's actually on the verge of making her smirk and defusing a bit of tension. She raises a hand to wipe at her face like a washcloth, smushing her flesh with enough pressure to bring about spots behind her eyes and wiping out the potential smile. She blinks away the motes behind her peepers and resumes pacing. She steals glances at the individuals present again as she makes the rounds. Mention of trumps has her trying to eat her own bottom lip as she meanders, running her hand along the nearest wall, draggings fingertips. Furrowed brows and strange looks are passed around in turn. "Give me two oars and I'll have us across fast." she utters in a low tone.

Merrisol is in full agreement with the free boat plan, Ruby, no worries. Trump-traveling a piddling 500ft? That'll never get into Quinlan's never-to-be-published Legends and Lore of Antika manuscript. He directs the loiterers up to the main deck, keeping an eye on Ryika and her mirror, the glass item hopefully enough to weigh her down in the face of sudden wind gusts.

Mercier gives a nod, "A small boat sounds like like the most amiable solution here, assuming the Captain has a whaleboat or something similarly constructed? Calm waves or seas aside, it sounds like we could use something with a twin-keel." The merchant notes, giving a nod to Ruby, "I imagine we'll all give way if Mister Merrisol plays Coxswain." Mercier notes, flatly, flipping up the collar of his suit coat as the step on deck, one hand going up to hang on to his hat.

"I have no idea what Templeton just said." Ryika admits as she brings her mirror along and seems fairly resigned to getting drenched leaving below deck to head up to the main deck and onto whatever small boat they've got, whale or otherwise. "I don't know that we've met." Ryika comments to Ruby. "I'm Ryika." She looks around as she gets a good look at the water that they're going to be so much closer to. "This should be fun."

A wave slams into the side of Storm Faerie and washes over the deck just as the group comes on deck.

Quinlan gets drenched, which makes him look like a walking drying rack. But his first instinct is to check his bag, making sure his papers aren't wet. "We need to get on this, Ryika," he coughs, sputtering water. "They can't do anything fighting this weather." Looking skyward, he growls a spell in the throat-shredding words of Arcanis, calming the wind again.

It is telling that Quinlan's spell is only able to mute the winds not entirely still them.

Ruby tucks away a few articles on her person, vigorously divesting herself of anything that swing about and smack her in the eye. Her headband gets an adjustment to try and keep her hair in check. As she's messing about with her unruly coils, she glances down at Ryika and speculates. She begins to answer and then gets a mouth of water. She snorts and sputters briefly. "Oh...aye. Pleased to /splutter/ meet you on this fine day. Ruby. The fellow Templeton is a bloke of experience and knows-his-ledges. He's got a weight between his shoulders. Truth." she advises. "We were just getting knucky-knucky about the sea. Funny that." She rolls her tongue around her mouth and spits. "Dead funny." Quinlan's effort draw her attention and she eyes him with something like distrust. She grinds imaginary flower between her molars.

Merrisol heard 'make way' in his head at least, so he doesn't miss a step in following behind the group on deck. Of course he'll take charge of that rowboat. He's well used to commandeering other Captains' boats, don'tchaknow. He shuts the hatchway quick to keep all that overflow from coursing down into the crew passage. Wheeling once in a cascade of rolling rain from his coat hem, he looks to the helm and calls, "Apologies for the scare, Captain! But I mean to keep my word!" He goes the rail and holds it while the shoreboat is loaded, making sure it is of correct specs to carry the the group capacity, and Ruby has laid hands on the oars, then steps in last and gives the signal to launch. Or.. lower if it is still suspended by the rail.
Captain Stormheart calls out an order and a longboat is lowered into the still tossing but smaller waves.

Mercier boards the small boat with the rest of the party, and finds himself a seat, still holding onto his hat as Ruby grabs the oars. Well, this should be intereasting, "Hang around enough sailors, you pick up a few of the terms." He explains to Ruby, over the wind, before looking back to Merrisol, briefly. He turns and faces front on the boat gripping one side briefly as they get moved by a wave.

Ryika is settled at the edge of the boat, leaning over to get well drenched by waves and spray and unconcerned with the drenching. In direct contrast to Quinlan's forceful declarations in Arcanis, she's making soothing sounds towards the water, murmuring softly. She periodically glances up at the sky, hidden as it might be by clouds, and then back to the waves.
Quinlan manages to scramble into the boat, but he's busy doing all he can to calm the winds as far as he can, to make the passage as safe as it's going to be, so he doesn't have much to say.

Ruby seems intent on finding a seat as close to the middle as possible, and eyes Mercier. "Right. One of the reasons for our talk earlier. Truth." She has indeed managed to acquire some stout oars. Each fits easily in her hands and she holds them upright like flagpoles while the business of lowering is going on. She squints her eyes against the elements, calmer though they are. She stamps her heels against the floor of the boat and rolls her shoulders, her head rotating slowly on her neck. Next works at fitting her oars into a lock or cradle in preparation for some strenuous use. She alternates between insulting her palms with spit and gets a grip. Her upper lip curls like a worm making it's way across the surface of an apple. She faces the rear of the boat, eyeing Merrisol for direction. Her arms go from merely large, to strangling with definition and snakey veins, oars ready for a vicious pull.

As with the winds, the waves do not calm entirely but at least they level off enough not to capsize the longboat immediately.

Merri faces their destination and nods to Ruby once the boat finds its level on the water and the support ropes run loose from the eyelets. "Port hold, starboard row," he directs their turn about until they come about to face the nearest land or wharf. He looks to Quinlan and Ryika, gauging their success with the wind and waves, and also checking to make sure their mystic distraction isn't about to pitch them overboard. "Commence to row, and.. row." He braces at the rear edge while Ruby goes to work, watching her even stroke and making slight course adjustments until they get close enough to merit the command to run the oars and come aground or dock.

With Ruby doing the hauling, Mercier is free at least to take stock of the surrounding seas, hrming as he looks about for land and a safe port, before glancing up towards the storms.

Despite Ryika and Quinlan's efforts, the storm seems to actively fight their attempts to make progress toward the island. There's little doubt that something doesn't want them going there.

With water whispering, it's bad. Wihtout, it'd be worse. Ryika keeps trying to soothe the waves and water as best she can, to try and sneak them in, or just persistance their way to the island. Or let someone who isn't keeping the elements at bay come up with Plan C.

Quinlan is likewise doing his part, murmuring the growling words of Arcanis, setting his will against the storm - just long enough, perhaps. Just enough to get to shore.

Ruby follows the order with something approaching a brooding look. She keeps her gaze level on Merrisol. Can't sightsee so she'll maybe make him vaguely uncomfortable by keeping him under scrutiny. Her body ripples and she pulls the oars in wide strong arcs. Speed is an issue and a gentle row is not. She puts great effort into pulling the craft to its destination, her oars making creaky sounds with particularly good pulls. She grunts and pulls, perspires, but the physical activity is quite agreeable to her.

The currents of the harbor keep pulling the boat off course but they do seem to be making slow progress toward the shore. Assuming Ruby can keep rowing long enough, they will no doubt make it to shore.

RPG: Ruby challenges a difficulty of 8. Ruby chooses Force and the gift BLD-OB. Ruby succeeds.

The process is long and arduous with several close calls with toppling in the water as waves struggle to stop them but finally a deeply tired Ruby manages to overpower the storm and reach the docks of Antika's harbor.

Merrisol notes the sluggish pace and the sheer number of course realignments made, and continues to urge Ruby, in louder, harsher tones to goad her shoulders and spirit into action, and because she's creepy-staring! She's taller than him, if not bigger, and hopefully as strong! Or.. stronger.. whoa.

Mercier raises his eyebrow at the pulls Ruby's making, even in the ocean, something that might exhaust even a fit man, and he cocks his head at her curiously, but remians silent for the time being. As the approach the dock, he stands up himself and makes with pulling the boat closer, before hopping out with a line, tieing it down to a clear. He certainly seems to have enough marlinspike in him. "Good show." He says to the occupants of the boat. He has to, after all. No way to exclude Merrisol!

Ruby feels the ache in her limbs and someone kindling a fire at the base of her spine. A thrum of exhaustion courses like a live wire inside her shoulders. The threat of capsizing and floundering was certainly helpful motivation back there. Ruby makes some unladlylike grunts and levers one of the oars into the sky as they come in and begin to disembark. There's a moment when /she/ threatens to capsize the boat while scrambling to the dock. "Alive. Not washed up. Double good."

Merrisol shakes the numbing chill from his hands and looks over Mercier's handiwork, although chances are good the brave little boat will be a loose mass of kindling before morning. "Seconded," he agrees with Mercierwhaaat? Merri assists Ryika and Quinlan up to the pier, lets Ruby clamber up on her ownsome, and staggers after them all onto solid land. Must find.. their hotel. Or, uh, make do with the first place nice enough to give them some rooms.