The Antika Road Show

[rassafraggin]

Sending Quinlan up into the storm is without a doubt one of the most daring and dramatic ventures they could be trying, but first - they should really talk to people and do their research. Oberspawn may be a dime a dozen, but Quinlan's continued health and safety are not trifling matters to these fangirls and boys! Accordingly, a team sets out on a mission up the hill, and it well and truly deserves the phrase Legwork. Merrisol's raincoat flaps wildly to escape his body while he tries to play windbreak for Maggie, head bowed while he continues to look for signs of habitation amongst the commercial establishments and offices. And even if they didn't find anyone in the residential area either, it would be worth going up the slope just to get into that observatory.

Trudging up the hill after Merrisol, Maggie does her best to stay tucked into his wake where the violence of the storm might be somewhat broken. It is a slog, though for the wind seems to whip around the man in order to buffet her. The rain slams down, beating about her head and shoulders with a fierceness that is utterly unlike anything she has experienced up until this adventure. Antika's storm seems to have a real issue with her. Still, she soldiers on, gamely trying to spot any signs of life in the buildings that they pass.

They come upon a total wash out, at a point where the incline takes on more green space and cultivated residential estates. The soggy topsoil had evidently shifted and begun to roll and slide, accumulating enough to collapse the main road and create a large dirty reservoir bobbing with broken carriages, dead trees, and park monuments. Merrisol surveys the area for passable spots, finding soft ground at the edges. He grimaces over the notion of taking a wide detour, slogging over to examine a large building jutting partially into the morass. The large display windows have been mostly shattered, but then boarded up with plywood and scrap planks, along with the doorway. A glow of fire light emanates softly between the cracks, almost undetectable through the storm's fury.

Reaching the top of the incline, Maggie stops in her tracks as Merrisol moves toward the remnant of a bulding. She wavers for a moment, eyes narrowed against the storm's fury. The rain pounding the ground at her feet only adds to the slippery, squelchy mud surrounding the reservoir. She is breathing heavily from the effort it has taken just to get this far. The broken carriages bobbing in the water are buffeted by the wind that howls down from the storm's center. That same wind whips at Maggie's sodden hair, trying to get the wet strands to stand out around her head like they might in Rebma's waters. No luck there, though, storm. Her hair is tied back in a ponytail that is plastered down her back. Turning away from the sobering body of water, Maggie slip-squelches after Merrisol toward the jutting building. With the storm doing its level best to bow her beneath the weight of water and wind, it takes a few moments for her to notice the warm glow of a fire peeking from between the cracks in the boards that protect the building's interior.

Merrisol is too busy squinting up at the eroded sign scrolling across the length of the building to see weak heat sources. "I think it's a general store.. Apothecary.. Tobacconist.. Grocery.." he guess-reads the weathered partial lettering. "Suppose there must have been looting at one point.. or.." He frowns at the barricaded doorway, no runaway barrels getting through that. He works his way around to the wide alley where shipments are brought in through the back storerooms, and notes the raised loading bays are not similarly blockaded.

Maggie tilts her head to one side, eyes narrowing against the rain. That does not help so, bird-like, she tilts her head the other way, "Kerf?" Looking up, she catches his attention and follows it. Her voice lifts, for the wind's caprice throws her words all over the place, "I think there's a fire inside there." Lifting one hand, she sort of points toward the boarded up windows while the other lifts to wipe a layer of water from her face. Which does not help, really, but there you are. Leaving the morrass of the washed out road, she angles down away from the slippery-slidey rim and angles along toward the same alley.

Adjusting his tie as he steps outside the tattoo parlor, arm smarting like nothing else, the Merchant braves his way through the storm again, not content to sit idle or leave things to... well... Merrisol. Making his way through the city at another lucky route, he finds himself near to Merrisol's and Maggie's vantage point, raising a hand slightly.

"Every bit of the town I've seen is waterlogged and looks like its been through half a sandstorm." Mercier approximates, "Who knows how long its been like this, but if anyone's still here, they're going to start running out of food stores before too long." He gives a nod to Maggie, "For once, I can understand what it might feel like to crawl down a mooring line and swim to shore." He rubs the arm, "Like I let myself be stabbed without the benefit of a gallary showing, but the woman's quite an artist, all things told."

Merri listens for a moment, but the state of the specific indicated roadway is still unclear. He wanders off to check on the personnel entrance to the indoor market, and bangs on it and calls through a few times without response. But before he can add it to the list of places they will be offering recompense for mysterious portal damages, someone actually opens the door for them. It had to happen sometime.

Merrisol says, "As reference for daytime RPers tomorrow, I'm going to say the department store has a bunch of working-class folks camped out inside. After introductions, Merri's going to ask them where the naval presence and Commodore have been throughout the weeks of stormy, and if they have heard anything of a cause behind the storm. If you have any ideas you wanna run with here, I'd state so now so Nara can see it when she looks at her log."

As predicted by Mercier, the food stores, even considering the comparative abundance one expects from surplus stockrooms, have run deplorably low inside. All perishables have long since been consumed or perished: Fruits and vegetables, meat and eggs, breads, milk and butter. The salted goods, and dried meats and fruits went next, and they are nibbling down the tinned and canned food, trying to ration amongst their number. There are still items like sacks of oatmeal, flour, and spices, kegs of molasses, and lots of coffee beans however. Which might mean the occupants are feeling mighty regular, if also keyed up and jittery, right about now.

They are incredulous that help from outside Antika has finally arrived, and in such pathetically small numbers. Merrisol assures them the team is working on investigating the causes of the unnatural storm, and any anecdotal input from them would help immensely. He promises the situation will be reported back to Amber when they have determined what needs to be done to lift the storm. He also makes a point of asking whether Commodore Eamonn or the naval personnel have been out and about.. and where might they be found now?

Unfortunately none of the people inside are sure where Commodore Eamonn might be. They can, however, give directions to his home and suggest checking the observatory atop the hill for someone who might know more. This also might be a good way to get a look at the storm as a whole come to think of it.

Mixed in with the regular deliveries from Ryika of warm food, are bags of rations and dried fruit and nuts and meats. Hearty food that packs a lot of nutritional punch in a small space. Mirror delivery is not at all well suited to large amounts, but something is better than nothing at least. The petite woman arrives, or at least has the luck to be anywhere near by a mention of observatories.

Merrisol memorizes the address and consults a city map to look for a good travel route by storm, both to the Commodore and the observatory. He picks up some paper and a fountain pen, considering, then invites Maggie to be the one to write a report to Lord Graham, detailing the state of the harbour and city, their observations of the Antika storm, a recommendation to advise King Random of the need for medical and food relief, and the names of those currently involved. He would rather not be mentioned, obviously. The letter will go out by pattern bird or next time Ryika makes a mirror run to Amber.. whether it gets shunted up the chain of command when Graham can't be located? Remains to be seen.

"Well Ryika?" Merri asks, suiting up again after finding a few good clothing accessories to add to his ensemble. "I'll trump you and Maggie when I locate the Commodore.. he'll be more receptive to you both for your credentials, I'm certain. I'll check out the observatory with the others." If they're coming. He understands if they would rather wait and be trumped over rather than be tossed around by the storm enroute.

"I can tromp around and try and find it with you, if you like." Ryika offers, having now well bundled against the incessent chill, even if she's not overly bothered by the water, per se. "I dont get tossed around .. I get tossed around differently by the storm than Maggie. It's not personal, I'm just not particularly heavy."

Merri has no objection to her company. "You're heavy where it counts," he assures her, what a guy! Back out in the rain and wind, he moves quickly out of the side alley the opposite way, finding the roads clear on that end. The wash-out would appear to be an isolated incident, and it is mostly brownstones and cobblestone the rest of the way up. Still, the storm manages to chuck the occasional green roof tile indiscriminately into the street, as the buildings are steadily beaten off-kilter from their foundations. Having a much better clue of where they are going helps loads, though, and eventually Merri and Ryika get on the narrower climb to the observatory.

"Er.. " Ryika starts at the 'compliment' but just shakes her head and follows along in Merri's wake, quite content to let him break some of the wind for her smaller self. "How much are we expecting this guy to say 'no, please go to hell', or is this a 'hi, you're stuck with us, just letitn gyou know' sort of meeting."

Merrisol pauses in a doorway to converse a bit more comfortably, braced over the opening to contain their voices from the wind. "Ideally he would welcome the specialist aid and divulge all he may know about the storm, if it is a god's doing, a summoning by witchcraft, or who knows what else. What is the connection to the storm-born? Maggie was led to that artifact, she said, by a pull on her being, assumedly that factor of her bloodline. You know what happened when it was brought in - we became targets, candidates for immediate execution. What if there are other things like it in Antika..? If it was just storm-blooded folk, there would be more of these severe storms chasing them around Minos."

"Unless there's an artifact connected to this island.. or this city.. I haven't quite worked out if Antika is the name of the city or the island, or if that's one and the same. A hazard of travelling as I do, you end up without a good sense of the bigger picture." Ryika tucks into the doorway to escape the wind a bit. "If they've been tied together, so to speak, then the pissed off storm god might be aimed at the whole thing, rather than just the storm-blooded."

He smiles at her, clearly appreciating the bouts of thinky-chatting with Ryika that occur whenever they meet up. "Island, and city," he says, and ducks his head to study the roiling, flashlit sky from beneath the door's beaten overhang. "On the other hand, it's not just Antika.. it's all of Minos, corralled by storm.. with the focus on Antika, as though.. this island is only the beginning? What does it have.. a large port, but surely not larger than Port of Cameron. The naval academy. Wiping out the center of the fleet's strength would weaken the rest of the islands," Merri suggests, settling back with the thought, and preparing to move on after Ryika has had a chance to respond. They are near the base of that single path crawling up to the hill's summit.

"Is there a central authority that's based here, who might have something? Or a figure head who did something dumb in the name of the whole country?" Ryika speculates, throwing theories at the situation until something sticks. Brainstorming, in a storm, at its finest. "Or perhaps pissed off storm god just has a really odd sense of aestetics and felt the artifact didnt /go/ with the shabby storm blown chic look it's going for with the shadow."

Merrisol admits seriously, "Yes, perhaps. I don't think any of them are quite right in the head." Has he met other gods before, then? It sounds like he's saying that, yep. Rested up a bit with a head full of new notions to bat around, he gestures that they are on their way again. Bounding out into the thick of the rain, they leave the structures behind and hit the path winding up to the observatory.

Ryika snickers softly and nods before the pair of them head back into the brunt of the rain and wind and storm to go up hill. Clearly up is going to somehow be better for the storm. Ry follows along behind Merri, looking up, stright up really, periodically.

With no structures to block them, the winds batter on the people with relatively stronger intensity.

Merrisol reaches back without a word and gives Ryika his hand. His hood flies back, and he glowers determination, eyes narrowed to the battering wind and blinding rain. Stairways, rails, any found are used to full advantage in hauling them higher, practically crouched over to keep a lower profile and a lower center of gravity.

Ryika has a lower profile, and a lower centre of gravity by factory design. She aslo gratefully takes Merrisol's hand as the pair of them fight the storm up the mountain. She draws up close to him, practically yelling to be heard over wind and rain. "At least it's not raining blood!"

Merrisol is totally yelling, using his outdoor voice liberally. "Shush, Ryika! It can hear you!" There's no arguing this entity is blood/thirsty/, at least. They must have passed a difficulty checkpoint, because the domed observatory is looming ahead when a gale swoops down around it and blows down the slope, just about visible due to the swift change drop in altitude. Wheeeee, let's go fly a Ry!

Ryika can't help but grin wickedly at Merrisol's admonishment that it can hear her, and the storm itself almost seems to take her teasing words as a challenge when the gale picks up. She'd make a snarky comment, but her words are caught, tossed aside by the breeze and she has to pause and lean into the winds, squeezing Merri's hand tightly. Whatever she just muttered, it's unlikely to be concilliatory towards the storm, nor likely to be heard by anyone but herself.

Evidently Ry weighs in just above the cut-off mark of the 'You Must Be This Light To Ride' gust. It sweeps at her legs and tugs at her rainwear, but she does not leave the ground. Pity, Merri would have looked absurd running around on top of the island with his own decorative wind toy flapping from the end of one arm. Far too grounded himself by his own muscular density and anti-silliness well, he curls his arm, pulling Ryika closer to him, and puts one knee down, waiting through the strength of the howling current until it spends itself. Then on upwards they go, aiming for the broadside of a stone sign bearing the observatory's formal name, establishing details, etcetera.

Clearly it's the rocks she loaded into her pockets that keeps Ryika grounded. She only feels like she's going to end up airborne without the help of magic. She's not shy about settling close to wait out the storm, making good use of his larger size and peeking out when there's a break, no matter how brief it might be. "If the Commodore isn't here, I am going to be seriously irritated." She comments to Merrisol, at a conversation holler.

Merrisol scrambles into the shelter of the two-legged signpost, putting his back up against it while the rain lances into the stone in a dulled spackle of sound underscoring the constant roar of wind. Chest heaving from the exertion, he gazes back down the way they had come, seeing everything through a hazy visibility filter: The empty expanse of hilltop; the residential district packed neat and orderly on the more gradual incline; the downtown commercial sector nearest the high wall; the port authority beyond and the distant harbour itself, rolling the anchored survivor ships about like lightweight toys. He can't see the cafe or the tattoo parlor, but he can probably make out the shape of the market emporium that is their current base of operations, at the edge of the regimented neighbourhoods, half-swamped on one side by a road washout. Some of the team are there, waiting to be trumped in closer, and sharing the latest of Ryika's hot food and ration deliveries with a few dozen working-class Antikans (Antikers?).

Merrisol glances sidelong and down at Ryika. "I uh.. don't think the Commodore is up here.." he shouts thinly, bracing for an irritated Ryika, "I was thinking we should have a look at the island like the townsfolk suggested, first. If there's no good mirror to work with inside, I'll get Maggie or Quinlan on trump and hand you back to bring in another one, and get a quick transport set-up. Then we can drop in on the Commodore's estate."

"Hrm." Ryika considers that in the leeway of the signpost as they pause to take a breather and considers how irritated she actually is, threat or not. "I think I even knew that, and had forgotten in the face of the damn wind. I can leave even without a good mirror up here, I just can't get back. But I can pop down to where the others are, and one of them can trump you and get pulled up here. Or you can trump me once you figure I've gotten there, it generally doesn't take long as long as .. its pretty quick generally. I /am/ curious about a bird's eye view of what we're shoving Quin up into."

Merrisol nods, his gaze sliding up and arcing the edge of the info board, as though trying to figure out where the stalking hunter is going to pop up next. Indeed, if it is as selective and cunning as it seems, the gusts are working out by now that if they swirl in from the other side, they can really blast the cowering Rebmans, like a crotchety old codger turning the hose on a couple of mutts to get them the hell off his yard. Or maybe.. Merri's paranoid imagination is just running away with him again. "Ready to tear like mad heck for the finish line?" he asks Ryika, firming his large grip around her hand. He gathers himself up and just when it feels like the wind has wound around to pummeling the leeward side, he gets them running off for the building entrance at a hectic run.

As it happens, Merrisol is completely incorrect about Commodore Eamonn being present in the observatory. When their hectic run ends with falling through the observatory door the overbearing presence himself steps out of the central observatory to bellow, "What's all that racket about?"

Ryika runs, races, is dragged and generally half stumbles into the observatory, in a most undiginified entrance. As if arriving looking like a half drowned Rebman isn't undignified enough. She looks up at the overbearing presence bellowing and draws herself up to not really much in the way of height, but at least something approaching it. "We've come to assist with the storm, and had hoped to gain insight from those who would have far better more effective local knowledge. And you are, sir?"

Merrisol thinks they'll make it through without keeling over! But he is wrong, wrong, always so wrong. He shoulders through the door, tossing Ryika inside first, then whuff! down he goes. Then up he comes, standing stiff and straight at the shouting approach of the captain o' captains' aura of authority. That eyes-front posture only lasts a couple of seconds, then he finds a more natural, fatigued stance to take before the man. Ahrm. And lets Ryika do the talking for now.. only introducing himself as Lirre if that ever comes up.

Eamonn looks the two of them up and down like a captain sizing up a brand new sailor on his ship before he responds, "Commodore of Antika. And you are Rebman of some persuasion. How'd you get onto my island?"

"I am, indeed, Rebman. Rebman ambassador, Ryika Ygrayne." Ryika doesnt shy away from being sized up, holding her head up as he looks her over. "Getting here was a mix of perserverance, stubbornness and a tiny bit of luck. Luck that holds yet, as we were hoping to find you, Commodore, to note our presence here."

Eamonn nods, "Of course you were. So what brings the Rebman ambassador and did food come with you?"

"My companions and I are hoping to determine the cause, and ideally, how to get the storms to ease off. Fixing the shadow path would be a lovely bonus. Yes, food came with us. Our supply chain is tenous and very limited, but every trip back and forth includes more food and medical supplies to be distributed." Ryika explains as she drips.

Eamonn frowns, "When did the shadowpath break? Something that happened with the storm?"

"That's the current theory, yes." Ryika nods. "How long as the storm been going on from your perspective?"

Eamonn snaps out a curse in Minosian under his breath then faces Ryika again, "Good, good. Been a while since any of my ships has been able to bring in supplies. They keep trying but they can't get through."

"It seems as if the storm has decided to take offense at this particular island in particular. Do you have any idea what about Antika might draw the ire of a storm god?" Ryika asks curiously. "And requests for specific supplies are welcome, beyond food. I will be making another supply run soon. It's just waht I can carry, so its really not a fast operation, but its something."

Eamonn notes, "Clean water is in good supply because people are smart enough to collect in barrels. Medical supplies are welcome. We were well supplied, but it's been a long while now. That and food are all we need until this storm blows herself out. As for Antika, I have no idea what happened to anger a god."

Merrisol speaks up after Ryika gets her answers, "Commodore Eamonn, I am an agent of the Royal Pathfinders Corps of Amber. My name is Lirre. We have among our team a Pathian mage and a storm-born Minosian, who will be directly interacting with the unnatural weather, to determine whether it is the manifestation god or not."

"I'll be sure to bring back more rations, and medical." Ryika nods and then nods as Merrisol/Lirre provides slightly more reasonable commentary on their actual mission, beyond her mirror jumping with a backpack full of rations and ramen.

Eamonn nods, "Oh we've no doubt she's a god this storm. Nothing natural would have blown this long."

"Is there anything on the island that is particularly old? Or of power that might have attracted the attention of a storm god?" Ryika asks and then adds. "It seems to have a distinct hate on for artifacts. It seems to have a lot of distinct hate on, but that in particular."

Merrisol inclines his head. "Then there is no reason to believe the storm will merely run its course, however unnaturally long," he says with terse logic. "Something needs to be done to appease or ward away this god.. or goddess, as it were. Has anything been attempted?" He is silent while listening to Ryika's questions, also of interest.

Eamonn gestures around him, "This observatory has stood nearly as long as people have been on the island." He looks back to Merrisol, "I'm a naval man. I don't do rituals to gods. I leave that to others."

Merrisol says evenly, "Yet sailors are a famously superstitious lot." As though Eamonn is no longer one of those? Shuddup, Merri. "Sir, have you noticed the predilection of the winds to focus their force upon the storm-blooded?"

Eamonn frowns at Merrisol. "You take me for an idiot, do you, lad? I've been out in the winds, don't you think?"

There's a reason why Merrisol had been trying to avoid running into Eamonn. A few reasons, even. Undaunted, he shakes his head, errr, nods, errr. He sighs in exasperation. "That shouldn't be happening. Would you say there is a greater concentration of storm-born on Antika than anywhere? Or Stormcrafts, for that matter?"

Eamonn shakes his head, "I'd not. Not at any given time. The fleet is rarely all in at once. You're much more likely to find lots of Storm-born at Cameron then here. Best Stormcrafters are there as well though we do have our fair share of sails and orbs."

Merrisol nods appreciation for the extra bits of enlightenment provided in the answer. His gaze moves to the central observation deck inquisitively, then back in a slight headtilt in the direction of the harbour. "Captain Stormheart of the Storm Faerie remarked that the storms around Minos had already been severe by the time he sailed into Antika to resupply, only to then be trapped by this storm. Do you remember that day, Sir? Whether any unusual circumstances preceded the storm, and how it started?"

Eamonn frowns, "Aye. I remember it. I'd just sent the fleet out to see how bad the storm wall had gotten when everything closed in on us. At least the fleet was out to sea so most of the ships survived. As for how it started, the storm just reached out and swallowed us of a sudden like it came to life."

Merrisol listens intently, but while it is definitely interesting stuff, he doesn't look like he's come to any conclusions. "Thank you, Sir, for your candor. We will continue collecting witness accounts and making attempts to encourage the storm to release its grip on the island. I am going to contact the rest of our team and bring them here, as this seems an excellent point from which to launch our Pathian mage. You are welcome to observe, of course." ..Launch..? "Ryika, I'll send you back through to them first so you can use your mirror to make another supply run. You'll want to bring another mirror through to set up at Farsight, so we'll have a quick transport option up and downill." He reaches past his raincoat to pull his trump tin from a hip pocket, and brings up Quinlan's card. "Oh.. were you able to see anything from the observation deck? Was there something in particular you were searching for in the storm, Commodore?"

Eamonn shakes his head, "I'm not searching for anything. I'm checking to see if the fleet has seen the signal flags I put up in the lighthouses."

Merrisol holds up the card, but wonders, "And had they?"

Eamonn nods, "Aye. We change them daily to communicate. If they were inside the storm wall, I'd be having them check on the other islands. For now they're just stuck."

Merrisol pauses, then nods, still looking somewhat perplexed. He looks at the trump for some seconds and smiles at someone not in the room. "Quinlan, Ryika and I are in the Antika Naval Farsight Observatory, atop the hill. This would be a clearer spot to conduct your flight plan, right? Bring your stuff and your harness, oh, and let me send Ryika back through to see to her mirror portal. Who's with you..? Bring along anyone who wants to be here rather than there, for now. Commodore Eamonn is here at the observatory," he advises as well, then waits. He turns to a clear section of floor and holds out his hand to bring people through.

Merrisol also does send Ryika through - rainbow sparklies! - on Quinlan's hand before bringing any through on his own.