Blood Is Thicker

[rassafraggin]

Quinlan smiles. "From here is also good," he says. "To test a whisper I don't need to fly. Just open a window to let the whisper out." To demonstrate, he closes his eyes, and...either he's speaking but nobody's hearing, or he's just making the shape of words without giving them voice. No one else can hear anything in it. He opens his eyes, then, and heads for a view of the outside.

Ruby drains her mug and settles it to the table while her cheeks slightly bulge with sloshing liquid. Swallowing it down, instead of savoring it, she's manipulating her legs to get herself up from her seat. "Right now?" she half-rises and then leans towards Merrisol. "Aye...Was thinking, I don't suppose disguise'n him as a femme would help, aye? Cause it's a lady and Maggie'n me was...Bloody hell, never mind that..." She doesn't know what can be accomplished from being on her feet, but she stands regardless.

As Quinlan approaches the window, a blast of wind strikes it so hard that it rattles the glass.

Merrisol isn't sure what Quinlan means by all this whisper business, but he watches dutifully while the mageling demonstrates. "So that's better than just straight-up shouting into the wind, is it?" he wonders to Quinlan's back, after his departure. He turns to look the other way at Ruby, only to find her looming over him closely, and doing some whispering of her own, only it's quite audible. His mouth falls open slowly, speechless. He shakes his head minutely to the cunning idea, and is almost relieved when the gust upon the window distracts them all. He bounds up and moves to Quinlan's side. "Did you even get to say anything?"

Quinlan grins. "I did," he says. "But it seems I'd better try the talk outside. I'd give a lot for a Chantris along right about now. We'll have to do the best we can with Morse, I suspect."

Ruby accepts rear-guard as she follows the two gentlemen. She inclines her head to Captain Dark and mumbles something under her breath. "Think it works better outdoors. Truth." she gestures with her hands in little fidgety motions. "It's the air...pressure and accoustics. Dead wrong." With a bit of a longing look towards the area of the cantina containing the drinks, she starts walking.

"Do you have the harness still.. or need it?" wonders Merri. "Rabe would rather you didn't fly up, regardless." He too trains a glance back to the interior, seeking errand party members, before he gets the door ahead of Quinlan, waiting to usher him out into the storm.

Quinlan steps out with care, into the storm. He sends a whisper out into it, keeping a grip on a windowsill.

Ruby follows Merrisol and Quinlan, coming a little closer. At the threshold she grinds her feet firmly into her sandals, making sure they're on quite snug. "More in danger of needing a net than a rope maybe. Swatted rather than sucked in. Truth."
Yet again a gust of wind strikes the building. It might seem like the wind is trying to slam Quinlan into the building.

Merrisol, keeping pace with Quinlan, watches the mage for cues. Is he using his flight training at all to control the air around him, or is the wind about to make a fine putty smear of him against the Cantina wall? If the latter, he nudges himself forward as a windbreak, and gestures for Ruby to, erm.. what is he gesturing, for her to get to the wall behind him, for a nice tasty Quinlan Sammich? "Might want to start off with an apology for the other night!" he suggests in a thin shout into the wind.

Quinlan does get slammed into the wall, which quite knocks the breath out of him. "I dunno," he wheezes. "Every time I speak her answer is to punch me. Leaning toward 'no means no' here."

Ruby purses her lips and nods enthusiastically to the idea of apologies. She tries to get herself behind Quinlan. Unfortunately she only has the opportunity to shuffle up beside him and frown. She curses and then unhelpfully pats him on the back or shoulder. "Quinlan, femmes love a good compliment. Tends to set the mood. Truth." She squeezes his upper arm next.

Quinlan gives Ruby a dazed look. "I only asked how we should communicate," he says. "Not really thrilled to be the storm's cipin, if she's looking to respond in code."

It took a while for Maggie to reach Random. Who knew that Kings of Amber are generally busy? After spending time discussing the situation in Minos, the conversation was completed. But, even after that, she did not call down for a trump-over, which is typically nicer than a comb-over, but not as much fun as a sleep-over. Instead, she spent some time with the spyglasses in the observatory. Only then, when there was plenty of time for her friends and family to get into more trouble, did she try to trump Merrisol.

Merrisol moves protectively in front of Quinlan again, bracing himself from being shoved into the slighter man. "What if you stopped /talking/, Quinlan, and just.. /listened/? You were able to detect femaleness before -- Can you extend your senses like that again, while one of us does the asking?" With that, he glances at Ruby, then up into the sky. "Almighty Goddess of Storms, a Son of Minos does beseech you, grant us the joy of knowing your name!" he shouts, and searches the thunderheada vainly for that elusive face.

Quinlan smiles a bit and does as asked; he shuts up, and listens. And tries to get a grip on something solid.

Though Merrisol has never been attacked by the storm before this statement manages to end in that, big time. Obviously something he said upset her. The air that strikes him feels almost solid.

Smooth, Merri, very smooth. Looking up, he is at just the right angle to miss detecting a gathering force of air that slugs him right in the midsection - WHUFF - and over he doubles, then pitches forward into a tumble, ending up sprawled on his ass. He wheezes an airless expletive, and waves vaguely to the others.. who's next? Just then, he gets a nudge to the mind that is much more pleasant, and he scoots and scrambles back to the shelter of the wall to attempt to make the connection, "H'lo? Maggie?"

Maggie pauses for an instant before speaking into the card. When she does, her tone holds concern, "Are you okay? Uh. Bring me through, please?" She slides a glance one way, then back. Maybe she is seeking those with Merrisol or; perhaps, she is looking to see that she is still alone in the observatory. It is clear in her gaze that there is more that could be said, but she keeps her own counsel for now.

Quinlan smiles slightly. "Well. Least now I know it's probably not personal," he manages, still a bit out of breath.

Merrisol lifts one arm outwards but doesn't get up just yet. "Sure.. just, careful.. I screwed up with Stormy." Once Maggie gets through, he looks over at Quinlan. "Get anything? Does she like me, do you think?" he quips unsteadily. "Too flowery, maybe.. or perhaps my blood isn't her type.."

Maggie steps through on Merri's arm and eyes him. She frowns, though her ire is not aimed at the man particularly. "I am sorry, Kerf." Pressing her lips together briefly, she follows his gaze on over to Quinlan. Blood. Well. That's a notion. "Oh. Before I forget. The Commodore is not using the observatory in an astronomical way. He is watching the watch towars of the other islands. And the fleet." Squeezing Merrisol's hand gently before she releases it and steps toward Quinlan. The wind tugs at her even though she stays near the walls. When she reaches him, she smiles at her cousin, then lifts her face to study the clouds above. Stepping a bit away from the wall, she lets the wind swirl around her. "Look. Lady Storm. I know that we are kind of blundering around down here, but... We are trying. Honestly trying. Trying to talk to you. Trying to help. I know that you can sort of get your message to me. You did before, I think. When you led me to that island. Remember? Well..." Stepping farther into the storm's fury, she exhales slowly and squares her shoulders, "Well. Lead me again, please. If we cannot speak, then guide me to where ever the problem is. Let us try to help. Please."

For just a moment, Maggie has an almost undeniable urge to go find the shell. Then it fades and the storm tries to blow her over like a child lashing out during a tantrum.

Quinlan coughs. The fact that Maggie isn't sent flying or flattened is a promising sign. "Any luck?"

Buffeted, but not bruised, Maggie stumbles backwards beneath the renewed onslaught. Fetching up against the wall nearer to Quinlan than to Ruby or Merrisol, Maggie gasps and squeezes her eyes shut against the blasts. Quinlan's query is held at bay for a moment while she gathers her scattered wits. Then she nods, "Yeah. I did. For just a moment... I need to get that shell." Turning, she looks at Merrisol, then back over to Quinlan, "The artifact on the Dancer."

Quinlan nods. "Could try to fly you, but she doesn't seem to appreciate me flying very much."

Maggie draws in a slower breath and eyes her cousin for a moment. The look is not dubious exactly, though it is speculative. Finally, she shrugs and grins, "Let's try it." Oh, she does sidle a glance over to poor Merrisol. That look is brief, however and she refocuses, "Maybe she will help if she knows we are going for the thing." Or, the storm's apparent caprice might dash them to bits on the rocks. Lifting her voice, she adds, "He is going to take me to the shell. Please don't hurt us." Clearly that was for the storm's benefit. "Okay... It's as good a time as any." Wheeee!

Quinlan looks wry. "Sure, I'm good with risking another decking." He offers his hand, and if all goes more or less well, will fly himself and Maggie to the Wave Dancer.

Taking Quinlan's hand, Maggie darts another glance over toward Ruby and Merrisol. She offers the two a smile, then nods her readiness. Quinlan does his magic while Maggie sniffs a bit to see if she can detect how he does it and off they go. It is rough for the wind's caprice seems torn between wanting to go easy on the flying mage and wanting to tear the Storm blooded to bits. Up and down they go, jerking left or right as the wind dictates. Across the near buildings toward the storm wall surrounding Antika they fly, growing smaller and smaller and... turning into a speck that bobs and weaves against the clouds and is gone.

Time passes. Seconds tick by to minutes. More time passes and the speck returns to view. Now, the flight is more eratic, more disjointed, slower and lower. The pair grow larger and more easily distinguished. And then? Just before they come within easy shouting range, Quilan lowers toward the ground rather quickly and the pair vanish behind the building at speed.

Meanwhile, the rest of the group have made their way back into a dimly-lit Cantina overlooking the harbor and a large inlet bay, one can see through the thick, barred windows a severe tempest rocking a few surviving ships bearing storm-craft on high, tossing swells, as well asw the scattered evidence of many more wrecked ships. Inside, about twenty mariners are sheltered from the storm and drinking whatever is still available, including a gift of finest Alhambran Arak brought in on one of Ryika's many provision runs through a growing network of enchanted mirrors around the port city.

Ruby watches the pair with some nervousness and irritation. Out in the fierce elements. Not being able to do much other than spectate at this point. She takes a few steps closer, as if this would make a difference. She makes an impromptu brim with her hands cupping overtop her brow, hair flailing about in the wind. She watches what appears to be a crash landing and mutters. "Oh bloody hell." She grits her teeth and tenses her muscles, hoping and hoping they reappear shortly.

Merri is inside, at least, claiming a bottle of Arak and working his way through a three cupfuls in succession. Awful thing when a storm goddess rejects one's worshipful advances. Even worse when your archenemy takes advantage of your incapacitation and flies off to get her ship back! He toasts the trump card in his other hand and sips, probably unable to make a connection due to the deafening winds up there, yeah that's the ticket. He can see Ruby keeping her windy vigil outside, and squints at her a moment, attempting to lipread: Oblah-dee, oblah-daa..

Rabe is also sheltering inside from the storm. It would appear that he's decided that mage or not, trying to fiddle with this storm is a bad idea. So inside and dry for him. Ooh, alcohol.

Ruby takes more ineffectual steps to the edge of her vantage point. She's usually tense, but her body language has that sort of alarmed posture as it leans into the buffetting winds. Her hands go from shading her eyes to cupping her mouth. "Maggah! Green man!" she shouts in a bellow off thataway, her voice cutting through the howl of the wind. An assortment of colorful curses and expletives follow, hair doing a wonderful medusa-impression as it whips about like snakes.

Merrisol watches Ruby another few moments, then knocks on the window to try and get her attention. The wind rattles back all bitchily, so he gives up on that. He gets his trump tin and switches to another card. "Raphaela? Hey.. oh we're fine. We're all fine here now, thanks. How are you? Terrific. Dirk still stays there, yes? Could you see if... he is? Perfect." He waits, then his gaze sharpens at something. "Dirk. We need to talk to you, alright? Do us a favour and leave your fez and stuff behind for now."

Dirk comes through in just his pants and a linen shirt. No jacket and fez? He's naked then. He also has his nifty sword. "What's the situation?" He looks at the rain and walks to the window to put his hands on the window. "Wow its raining?" He sounds like a kid on his birthday, "Can I go outside in it?"

"NO," snaps Merri, reaching out to drag Dirk back into the seat to his left, his back effectively turned to the rest of the room.

Dirk is dragged back and looks confused and hurt. "Ok?"

Rabe glances out of the window, sighing. "Well. I'm going to guess that there's probably a Quinlan shaped hole in a wall out there somewhere?" he suggests idly, downing another shot. "I should probably go and check..."

Quinlan makes his way into the building, drenched and windblown...for a few minutes. A few quick spells dry him off and fluff his clothes. "The weather man on this island has the easiest job in the world. Oh - hi, Dirk. You're looking normal today."

Dirk says "I want to go play in the rain. I love the rain."

Ruby comes running into the cantina with a worried expression, all wet and windblown from the rain. "They just cra..." she stops dead inside the doorway. "Where the hell is maggah?"

Merrisol is seated at a Cantina table near one of the windows, and has a tight grip on Dirk's shoulder while striving to keep the other man seated and facing away from the general populace, which does mean he's facing the window and can see all the lovely evil rain pouring down. Merri waves to Quinlan, then Ruby, a bit urgently. He looks around, having heard Rabe's voice and nods to him too. "Patience, Dirk. We have some questions for you."

"Quinlan!" Rabe says, perking up. "I guess I don't need a new Ward just yet," he says cheerfully, pushing a shot of whiskey towards the other mage.

Dirk is tensing and totally distracted by the wonderfully wet and damp and wet and rainy rain. "okay?" He sounds very preoccupied.

Quinlan seems amused, going to sit by Rabe. "If you've had enough that you couldn't sense that, then you've *totally* had enough," he says, grinning, and accepts the shot. To Dirk, he says, "There's a captain around here that is very unhappy with you. We're kind of curious as to why that might be."

Dirk says, "I have no clue. I haven't crossed any captains that I know of. Not even my bio-dad, not maggie moo, not captain midnight not anyone.'"

Whatsamattah, you raised in a barn? Ruby watches with her mouth open and then turns back to the open door letting all the wind and rain in. She jams her upper torso out and then retreats back inside, shutting it curtiously. She stamps and creates a mini-shower that gets rudely remove from her person. She'll still need a good wringing out to not look like a drowned troll. She begins to make puddles towards the cantina table. When she's almost there, she gives a long stare to those assembled before diverting course to where she can get her own drinks. That's right, plural.

Rabe gives Quinlan a dry look. "If I was -really- worried, I'd have been outside. But it's raining outside, so there's no need to dash into the weather just because you decided to fly into a wall."

Dirk is watching the rain and is tensing to make a move...

Quinlan grins at Rabe. "Decided. Sure, just not by me." To Dirk, he says, "You were out here, on a ship captained by someone else. You stopped at an island, and then sailed here, to Antika. The weather got bad, and you Trumped away. We need the details of that island stop, and the trip from there to here."

Merrisol nods slightly in agreement with Quinlan, darting a glance over the various mariners, looking for the Sukhoti/Sukhoti-fancier. "Quinlan, can you change the colour of his hair or give him a big floopy hat?" he mutters over to the mage table. He glances at Ruby diverting to find more drinks, then focuses on Dirk again. "Did you take anything from that island, Dirk?" he adds specifics to Quinlan's inquiry.

Rabe reaches up to tap Quinlan's nose. "Po-tay-to, po-tah-to, you flew into a wall and you're -fine-. IN fact, I think it's one of your lesser injuries this week."

Dirk says, "I was on a ship that crashed on an island and I guess I might have picked up a shell? Maybe it was a rock? Not sure. I don't have it anymore either way.""

Quinlan coughs. "I could but it would very obviously be illusion, Merri," he says, giving his Custos a knock-it-off elbow. "We're better off yanking a tablecloth off a table and wrapping him in that."

Merri-who's-Merri? studies Dirk, then Quinlan irritably, reminded of certain other complications. "Don't call me that here, please.. the name is Lirre. Where is Maggie? Did you find the ship..?"

Rabe sticks his tongue out at Quinlan cheerfully, idly sipping his next drink.

Quinlan looks contrite. "Lirre. Sorry, I can be bed about names," he apologizes. "And no. I couldn't get free of the storm. She's kind of...firm...about people staying inside the boundary of weather."

Dirk says "why?"

Dirk starts to stand up...

Merrisol nods to Quinlan more mildly, no harm done, but holds on to Dirk's shoulder still, rrargh. "Wait, Dirk. The shell, what did it look like? Do you remember what you did with it?"

Dirk says, "It looked like a shell and I think I left it beside a tree. It felt like the right thing to do so I did it."

Rabe pauses, glancing to Dirk and Lirre-sol, waiting.

Quinlan nods slowly. "Where was the tree, do you remember?"

Dirk says, "I think I can climb to where it was if I don't pay attention to what I am doing and have a lot of rum in me."

Merri glances out the window, frowning, attempting to recall if there were any noticeable trees beyond the docks. He looks back at the others then, brows hiking. "Why, that sounds foolproof," he mutters skeptically. Yes, he needs to work on his sarcastic voice. Still, he looks around for their errant companion. "Ruby! See if there's still any rum about!" he calls to her.

Ruby jerks her head up and looks around to the source of the voice. At the bar, she looks over the heads of a few assembled and purses her lips. She gives a slow thumbs up and then leans over to see about acquiring more spirits. Looks like she's finished a few already herself. She pops her head back up, leaning back, "Better be! Why, how much we need?" she asks, brows furrowed.

"Lots more," Rabe says, eyeing his near-empty glasses. "And that's just for me."

"Enough to get Dirk soused," shrugs Quinlan.

Merrisol look pained over something, and shakes his head. "Probably a lot..!" He glances at Rabe and Quinlan. "What if we just go out to the harborfront. Find the spot where he disembarked.. Captain said the pier tore away with his ship.. no, they probably all have, by now. But how hard can it be to find a tree?" He tilts his head at Quinlan. "Use that earth-scrying magic of yours, maybe?"

Dirk says "Or I can just go for a walk. I am a lucky dude."

Quinlan blinks. "I don't know what I'm looking for, beyond 'a rock or shell under a tree'," he points out. "Of which there are probably a lot. We'd do better just letting Dirk wander and using that as a baseline if he turns up nothing."

Ruby acquires the magical cure-all elixirs in bottled and stoppered form, grasping them in her hands. She comes over to the table and deposits one in front of Dirk. A bottle. "These other ones is what I like to call /reserves/..." she offers with a hint of a warning. "I'm no bloody barmaid. Get your own if you've got feet on the end of your legs. Truth." she hovers near the edge of the table, the remaining bottles clenched in either fist. She eyes Dirk with distrust. Hey, welcome to the group!

Rabe eyes the bottles, then shrugs, leaning back as he listens. "Not much I can do there myself, unfortunately. Now, if Dirk had left Quinlan under a tree I could find him."

Merri nods to Ruby, puts away his trump tin, and picks up the half-full bottle of Arak at the table. "Let's go then. Drink along the way if you have to.. but being out there is already like being reeling drunk." He gets up, taking his hand off Dirk and gesturing for him to take the bottle.

Ruben faintly snores, tucked away in a corner, covered with surely less damp clothing bits.

Dirk gulps down the bottle and stands up. "I want to go for a walk in the rain boys and other people. Lets go."

(For Ruben) The group has trump-frogged back down the hill and across town, now gathered in a dimly-lit Cantina overlooking the harbor and a large inlet bay. One can see through the thick, barred windows a severe tempest rocking a few surviving ships bearing storm-craft on high, tossing swells, as well as the scattered evidence of many more wrecked ships. Inside, about twenty other mariners are sheltered from the storm and drinking whatever is still available, including a gift of finest Alhambran Arak brought in on one of Ryika's many provision runs through a growing network of enchanted mirrors around the port city.

Ruby knews she was right to give him the hairy eyeball. She feels a muscle under her eyeball twitch as Dirk downs the entire bottle of available alcohol. "Bloody hell. We'll be watching him walk of piers and into poles." She looks down at one of the bottles and hands it off to Merrisol, thinking maybe he's clever enough to know if and when the other should be administered.

Merrisol stoppers the Arak, and takes it with him in case Dirk needs his memory jogged by a swift whack to the noggin. He accepts Ruby's other bottle and accompanies Dirk to the door. "Let's go hunting."

Dirk gets up and heads for the door. "What did I just drink?" He takes a flask out of his pocket and drinks from it to rinse his mouth. Bouncing towards and through the door, Dirk doesn't have a problem with the rain. He grins and jumps into the water puddles, like a kid. He's having a good time.

Ruben's eyes suddenly pop open at the mention of the word, "Hunting". Without asking for an explanation he stands up only slightly unsteadily and moves to shadow Merri. Where he pauses to wipe his face some, looking bleary.

Rabe sighs as the others go for a rain-walk, standing and following. Cloak on, hood up. "Think I'll leave the magic at home, not sure a storm goddess would like me playing with her weather," he tells Quinlan, amused.

Merrisol gets the door open for Dirk to go pouncing through, letting in the howling wind and hard rain for the Nth time today. He gives a 'move out' gesture for the rest of them going on the jaunt, turning it into a brief wave to the mariners, most of whom are still not impressed with them for failing to bring in more rum. Seeing Ruben unfurl to join them, he nods to his fellow Rebman.

Ruby follows along, her attitude a polar opposite to that of Dirk. She's still a bit moist from earlier, so what's a little more rain. And that swirling tempestuous wind. She grumbles and watches Dirk do his thing and catches up a little with Merrisol. "This be madness, aye? If he isn't already, he'll be three sheets to the wind and taking the piss." she adds darkly and privately to Lirre, "You remember what I was saying before, aye? Bout where all this leads...Wait, was that with Mag...I didn't say nuthin." she says pointedly and quickly.

Dirk is heading up the hill at a good run. He sings a marching cadence as he goes. Something about rum soaked girls doing what rum soaked girls do. He's not getting attacked by the storm. He just runs up the hill with a gait that suggests time in the military.

Quinlan smiles at Rabe. "She's been reasonably kind to me so far. I can fly in the weather but she seems to think it's a challenge. C'mon." He heads out after Dirk and the others.

Ruben sticks to Merrisol's shadow, loping along easily, despite his fading liquor fugue. His black and gold robes once again becoming sodden and clinging. His stolen turban long-lost and un-replaced.

Merrisol gets the door shut, and goes after the others, with Ruben. Collecting the bottle necks in the crooks of a fist, he frees a hand to keep his hood tugged lower on his brow. Dirk's ease in the storm is a surprise to him, but that doesn't stop him from gamely following along up the slope.

Ruby breaks into a jog to try and keep Dirk within eyeshot. Her footing is put down solidly, but the ground is a whole other matter. At least she's got a longer stride to counteract that a tad. She blinks through the winds and rain and doggedly pursues.

Dirk eventually gets to the gate and slows down. He's concentrating on something as he watches his feet.

Unlike Dirk, the rest of the group gets treated normally by the storm.

Quinlan keeps his footing remarkably well as he follows after - sometimes, admittedly, moving edgewise against the storm to cut down on wind resistance. His stormsilks are thoroughly soaked, as is the rest of him, but that is apparently an Issue for Another Time. Right now, the mageling's focus is on keeping track of Dirk.

Merri glances over at Ruby, grimly apologetic; he'd been preoccupied with the prospect of resolving this Dirk-centric mystery. "Reminds me, Maggie's after the other shell, on the Wave Dancer.. hope she doesn't try to bring it here. It's Dirk's that we need to get off the island, yes?" He looks around to the others for opinions.

Dirk stops and looks around. He seems focused on a tree that was downed in the storm.

Ruben squints into the wind and blowing water, taking in the fury and the destruction as the group proceeds. His weapons remain on his belt, still sheathed. Otherwise he seems lightly garbed and geared. As Merri talks of shells he shrugs.

Ruby comes to a slippery skidding halt. She steadies herself and watches from a distance. She wipes at her face with the flat of her hand, smearing rain out of her eyes and off her brow. She takes a moment to readjust her headband to try and keep things out of the way, up there. Merrisol's question rises the dreadful possibility in her head. She doesn't try and linger on it for long. Her voice cuts through the wind, "Aye, one thing at a time. Truth. The shell. Us. Everything."

Dirk turns and bends down into the mud. He presses his shoulder against the tree trunk and leans into it.

Merrisol draws closer to the tree himself, pauses to see if Dirk is making any headway with the pushing, and goes to help if he needs it.

Quinlan catches up rather breathlessly, pushing wet redbrown hair out of his eyes. "Want a hand with that?" he asks Dirk.
Dirk nods "I think its in the mudd under this tree."

Ruby wanders a bit closer, but doesn't go much closer, seeing as there is already a support system in place if he needs assistance. Hanging back, she directs her gaze skywards, as if this will herald a clue or phenomena that accompany their little trek. The rain lashes against her face.

Ruben doesn't wait to ask, instead he just wraps and arm around a thick limb and steadies the tree as Dirk lifts.

Quinlan frowns, sniffing the ground. Then he puts his hand in the mud, murmuring a spell. After a few moments, he says, "Guys, we need more digging. It's *way* down there. More hands, faster digging." He puts action to words then, using his Arcanis to scoop as much out as his hands can move.

Dirk gets the tree out fo the way and then digs with his hands like a doggie,

The moment Quinlan begins to dig, the storm attacks him. Dirk gets the storm's negative attention finally as well when he begins to dig.

Dirk yells to the stormm "stop it will you. Please?"

Merrisol sets the bottles aside once the tree is moved aside. Seeing the wind start to batter at the ones trying to scoop away earth, he sets himself to provide cover for Quinlan, who is likely able to make the most progress with Arcanis. "Keep going!" he yells.

The storm becomes even fiercer, trying to throw people away from the location with gusts of air so strong they feel more like punches than gusts of air.

Ruby grumbles and begins to come over to add her own efforts. But when she sees Quinlan suffering some consequences, she hesitates to see if it's going to go after anyone else. Shaking her head she goes over to stand near Merrisol. "Be nice if we knew we'd need bloody spades!" she brays. "Alright!" she dives down and starts adding her own strength to pulling away clods of dirt. She grits her teeth and takes a rather hefty gust, which staggers her before she presses onwards.

Quinlan pauses, panting. "Lirre, no," he says at last. "Everyone can dig. I'm the only one that can hold off the wind. Let me do that. Protect the rest of you." Stepping back, he raises muddy hands to the winds, and sets his Arcanis to *that*. To diverting the mighty winds around the group, so that they can dig.

Instead of digging, Ruben focuses his mind on the image of the Pattern and wills the force of the storm to lessen in the immediate area. Focusing on the a scene of calm and tranquility as he digs his own heels into the mud for stability.

Dirk is digging and digging.

Merrisol might have been sucker punched the last time, but he is determined to fare better this time around, not quite parrying the air-strikes but soaking the impact with a mulishly set jaw. He nods to Quinlan and drops into the space previously occupied by the mage, reaching in long arms to the growing hole and dredging up mud and stones into piles around the pit. When the wind comes after him, it's not being blown aside that concerns one of his size and weight, but the consequences of not bowing like the reed. Argh.

With Quinlan fighting the wind to divert it away from the people digging, the storm apparently decides to take a different tack. The rain begins to fall harder, heavy pelting drops that gather into rivulet as then slide down the side of the hill they are on.

Quinlan is apparently at the limit of what he can do, in diverting the wind. Distractedly, as his focus is largely on the invisible wind-war, he says, "She really seems to want that thing buried."

Dirk digs and digs as deep as he can.

Ruby continues to dig into the mud, dragging handfulls and tossing them behind her. When the rain increases, the large amazon almost laughs maniacally. Perhaps it means they're on the right path of some answers. She grimaces and puts her back into it, her determined labors and grunts with each scoop of wet muck. "At...least...we ain't...diving through wrecks!" she adds with sarcastic glee.

The hole they've dug quickly begins to fill with water and muck pulled down the hill by the water.

Merrisol shakes his head forcefully, clearing away the flying silt from under his browline. "What - the hell?" he grates out in frustration as the wind is replaced by a deluge and he plunges his arms into a deepening well now. "Isn't this what she wants?? To get the blasted thing off her precious island? Quinlan! What if she wants the other bit here too?" He just doesn't know.

Quinlan answers, "I wish I had an answer for you. That's for stormbloods to say, Lirre. Dirk was 'told' by the storm to put the first shell here. The storm's buried it deep which seems to corroborate that. But I've no stormblood to tell you what she wants done with the other shell. I'm just trying to keep her from killing you guys by blowing you into the water. Kinda wishing I had options on keeping you all from *drowning* too but I can only fight one aspect of this lady at a time."

Ruben has been looking around for something to bail water with, but seems to be coming up short. As Quinlan speaks he brightens and adds, shouting to be heard over the winds, "I've got not drowning covered!" Then proceeds to tap each of the group in turn, bestowing his metaphorical 'Kiss' upon them in advance.

Merrisol listens to Quinlan while adjusting his digging so that he's pulling earth away from a channel, intending to create a drainage ditch for the water to run out of the dig site. His hands are just mits of goopy earth now, cold and stiff.

And so. While the intrepid adventurers stum.. No. Scratch that. While the intrepid adventurers went off after a stumbling Dirk, Maggie went in search of a Ryika. Once found, the two women mirror-trumped over to the Wave Dancer. Since Ryika's mirror to the ship is in the guest cabin below decks, the ships sailing with the Dancer are none the wiser. Once there, Maggie rifles through the drawers in the cabin's desk looking for the skell before looking elsewhere. Once it is found, she pauses and stares at it. Slowly, she opens the wrapping around it. The little shell gleams whitely in the light and she closes her fist over it. "We have to go. We have to leave and sail somewhere. Anywhere but Antika." Her tone is nearly a whisper, strained and low.

Ryika reaches for Maggie's hand with a shake of her head at that whipsered declaration. "Hmmm mmm mmm. Can I borrow your trump of Merri a sec? We're not sailing just yet. Besides, you're not actually here, remember? You're not going up there to give orders about where we're sailing." Her voice is quiet and calm, quite definite and certain.

RPG: Maggie challenges a difficulty of 14. Maggie chooses Resolve and the gift BLD-PA. Maggie fails.

Maggie nods once, the movement short and sharp, "Sure." Her free hand moves almost in slow motion to find her trump pouch. It is unhitched and offered to Ryika. Then, she lets go and turns for the door. "We have to leave right now." The whisper is gone and steel has entered her voice. "Please let Kerf know. I don't have time to wait."

"Oh bloody hell." Ryika takes the trumps and then hurries without letting anyone know to grab for Maggie and keep her from leaving. "Oh no.. no no no. Hell no." She wriggles in to stand between herself and the door and Maggie leaving. "I'm sorry Maggie, i can't let you do that."

Merrisol manages to scrape out an angled channel, letting the collected water run out of the pit. Then it's back to searching for a buried shell bone like dogs after.. well, a bone bone. "Guess we'll see what happens when Maggie gets the other one here! Maybe..." He falls silent before other theories can spill forth. Oh what the hell.. "Maybe there are /two/ deities in this storm? One that wants the things and another that /doesn't/?" He finds himself sliding into the hole up to his hips now, it's gotten so deep and wide. "Dirk, how deep did you bury the thing??"

Maggie frowns at Ryika as she insinuates herself between Maggie and the door, "But. We have to, Ryika. Have to. We /have/ to." Though she keeps trying to sidestep her friend and escape, she does not want to hurt her friend. "Please move, Ryika."

Ruby works like a machine, dirt and mud going over her shoulder. Caked in the stuff, she's getting much more trollish than her usual wet brooding. "Oh, that's full of wonder. That's a cheery thought, Lirre." she spits as some of the earth gets into her mouth, friendly-fire from all this scooping. "No way he got it this deep on his own. Bloody worms 'n nightcrawlers down here are as big as bloody boas down here. Truth. That's what I heard."

"Right right. I disbelieve." Ryika is clearly prepared to be a physical speedbump between Maggie and her 'have to' as Ry digs out Merri's trump to hope he picks up /really/ fast. "I just need to chat with Kerf a sec. Have to will have to wait just a moment." If she's particularly lucky, Maggie might smack her at the right time to join the connection.

Merrisol is just getting his Clay Golem look perfected, calling to Quinlan to confirm that the shell really /is/ somewhere in the sodden pit still. His yelling trails off, and then the digging, and he reaches up to clasp his rain hood around his head, muffling out thunder, wind, and fury, while he concentrates. "That's her now..!" And as usual this week, he is quite utterly wrong. "Maggie? Have you got it?" he growls both mentally and out loud.

Ryika speaks in a rush into the trump contact. "Dont ask questions, just yank us through when I say go, okay?" She doesnt' wait for an answer, just reaches out to grab for some bit of Maggie, any bit of Maggie and then says, ideally before Maggie can react too much, "Go!"

Maggie begins tap-tapping her foot, then shifts left to right. She tucks her hands into her pockets, then takes them out again, "I have to leave this cabin, Ryika. Please. Hurry up." As though nattering at the poor thing will help her concentrate. Right? Of course, right. Hearing Ryika's portion of the conversation, she lifts both brows, then yells, "No! No! I have to..." But she does not step back far enough and the wily wee Rebman grabs her arm. Suddenly, she is in the conversation, "I can't. I have to... To... Looking at Clay Golem Merrisol, she frowns, "Kerf, I have to take the skell somewhere." She sounds uncertain, though and her frown deepens. "Somewhere not here."

Merrisol blinks away glop when he 'sees' it's Ryika, and the mud mask frowns heavily. He lets his hood fall away and reaches out for Maggie as she suddenly enters the connection, but grope as he might, cannot find her hand, or her consent. During his respite from digging, the rain melts away the sod from his face, eyes, and hair. "Maggie, why? How do you know..?" It takes a flickered look between the two women, one concerned and the other confused, to tell him something is wrong with this picture. "Take my hand, Hotstuff," he says firmly, staring, arm out, palm open. "One and Only. Come to me. We'll figure it out together."

The moment he feels any sort of grip on Maggie, he pulls hard.

Almost by reflex or instinct, certainly by desire, Maggie does take Merrisol's hand when he calls to her. "Kerf? I... The shell, it..." But with that much concent and his offer to help figure it out, she eases her mind and is pulled through the trump contact to tumble bodily against him. If Ryika follows or comes after or the trump connection ends, she pays it about that much attention and no more. Poor Ryika. At least, in the confusion, Maggie did not slug her friend for trying to help.

The shell screams in Maggie's mind as she takes Merrisol's hand. It does not want to go there.

And when Maggie is jerked through the connection, the world darkens as the storm screams with rage and they finally manage to summon the face of an angry goddess to the clouds above them. The storm howls out her apparently unending rage.

Ruby gouges at the earth with her hands. And she'd kept at it with methodical motions if she didn't hear the roar of anger from up above. She looks up, mouth agape, and poignant regrets burble about in her head. Eyes go wide and for a wonder she can't summon up something to yap out. She sits back on her haunches and her hands sink into the dirt, momentarily frozen in shock and awe.

Quinlan visibly winces as the storm gets *really* intense, and the face takes shape. But for what little he can do, he doesn't back down. "Not going to let you blow us down," might have been heard if the air were still, but it isn't. All the power of an elemental master of Arcanis is devoted, not to fighting the storm with brute force, but by deflection; angling the ferocity of the winds away from this little group right here. He can't do anything about any other aspect, but he'll fight to keep the winds from blowing the group away.

Merrisol falls back against the bank of the pit, the mental effort of the pull-through reflected physically, and gets a hold of Maggie as she fetches into him. Twisting, he traps her on her back, and throws off mud from his other hand, and then squelches it over hers that holds the skull-shell. He insinuates his fingertips in between the curled digits of her grip, trying to pry the artifact away from her, all to the orchestral doom effects now blotting out the sky. Concentrating on Maggie only, he misses out on seeing the manifestation of that verily pissed-off visage. He leans down close to her face, slanting down and with his mouth almost touching her ear. "Maggie! Let go!"

Unfortunately, Quinlan's efforts are not quite equal to this amount of focused storm rage. The winds are so strong that they begin to get through his attempts to deflect them, not as hard as she wants to rage at them perhaps, but more than they would like. Boy. She really doesn't want that skull shell there.

Dirk strips his clothes off and digs even deeper in thed mud.

Ruby manages to pull herself slowly out of her stunned state. Her fists squelch mud between her fingers, gaze pulled from the aerial apocalypse and down to watching Merrisol and Maggie tumble about. She yells out, shaking her head and squinting against the mud and rain. "We're fooked! This is it!" Moral boosting stuff right there. Her eyes go a bit nuts, wide and pupils going to pinpricks. She stares around herself and then fixates on the bottom of the pit. With a cry of terror and self-preservation she dives in practically head first, scrabbling with claw-like hands, trying to burrow herself into the earth.

As she comes through, Maggie's expression faulters, then crumples to one of pain and fear. Or maybe it is anger. It is lost to astonishment when Merrisol turns and pins her on her back in the mud. Heedless of what it does to her hair, she begins shaking her head back and forth as a low mutter is lost to the wind and rain. Her free hand lifts to grip Merrisol's collar the way a drowning woman might grip a life preserver's rope. "Kerf! Kerf! I can't be here. I can't. It can't. I have to go!" Go. No matter how hard the wind buffets, Maggie isn't going anywhere with Merrisol holding her bodily into the mud. Gradually she becomes aware of his hand trying to pry her fingers away from the shell. At first, her muscles clench against the attempt. Then, hearing his cry, thin and whispery despite the nearness of his mouth to her ear, she does so.

Merrisol closes his hand around the shell as Maggie's hand opens, separating it from contact with her palm or fingers, and planting his fist against the sloped dirt face of the pit. He lifts his head away with an effort, now feeling the winds filter through Quinlan's field of influence, scooping into the pit for Ruby and Dirk, certainly, but also dragging at his coat and his hair in a powerful updraft. He is made for one blood-draining moment to look upwards at the screeching face in the blackened sky. Then, looking into Maggie's eyes for an end to panic and pain and 'can't's and 'have to's, he calls to her, loudly still so the wind can't snatch away all of the sound before it reaches her. "Where did it want to go, Hotstuff? Where was it making you go?"

Ruby comes up for air and takes in a breath that could be nightmare fuel for the impressionable. Mud and muck are pulled from her round-mouthed visage, perhaps almost in parody of the true terror above. She's still alive so that means only a brief respite before having to sink back into the cold earth, her second least favorite element. She's not entirely sure, but it's quite possible she's missing a few fingernails at this point. The rain actually feels kind of nice as it pummels into her hair and assists in loosening some soil. And then she's back at it, one big scary-looking ghoul clawing at one big communal grave for them all to share.

Nara says, "Okay. All of you who have storm blood. I need you to +challenge 12 using whatever represents your personal willpower to resist influence. :)"

RPG: Maggie challenges a difficulty of 12. Maggie chooses Resolve and the gifts BLD-OB and BLD-PA. Maggie fails.
RPG: Dirk challenges a difficulty of 12. Dirk chooses Wits and the gift STY-LK. Dirk fails.
RPG: Ruby challenges a difficulty of 12. Ruby chooses Wits and the gift BLD-OB. Ruby almost succeeds.

Trumps have never been Ryika's strong suit, and she now can cross the 'shoving people bodily' through them off the potential list when that didn't pan out. Still, no matter that she's on the Dancer and everyone else is in a crazy storm on Antika, she still has the mirror that she used to get to the Dancer in the first place. Perhaps not the /best/ time to return to Minos, but that's never stopped one of this crew before, why start now.

When Merrisol takes the shell, Maggie is offered respite. She does not object when he tries to pull Ruby and Dirk from the pit though it gives her a look at the face above. Wow. That is one scary-mad storm cloud. Stormy, even. Looking back at Merrisol when his face returns to her field of vision, she smiles a sheepish smile at him and her lips part to reply. She gets out, "It wants to go to an isl..." Then her expression shifts and she groans. Her teeth grit and her hand tightens at Merrisol's collar. Her breathing grows shallow and she is clearly struggling to contain some madness. Her other hand lifts from where it was once holding the shell. Her eyes close as that hand curls around the other side of Merrisol's collar. Hissing, she blurts, "island. a diff...different one." Then? Well. She pulls on the man's collar and kisses him.

Dirk looks around and takes off right for Quin. The hair is right and yeah the hair is right. Dirk has a handful of mud and yells at the top of his lungs "quin catch!" he is basically butt naked and charging Quinlan as he throws the mud. If he gets to Quin then they both go down in a happy joyful yelp (from Dirk) and the mud gets allover everything. Dirk hugs Quin tight and says "YOU ARE MY FAVORITE REDHEAD EXCEPT FOR ELLEY BUT SHE LETS ME WASH HER HAIR! CAN i WASH YOUR HAIR QUINOFTHELANOFREDHEADS! ARE ALL PATHI REDHEADS? JUST CURIOUS AND ASKING." He is yelling at the top of his lungs in what might be Quin's ear. Which might be filled with mud. or not. You'd have to ask QUIN about that. He starts to sing

Quinlan was focusing on keeping the angry storm goddess from blowing people away. He's not a bad mage, all in all. Alumnus of Brass, Aeroporos, even a certified battlemage. But everyone has their limits. Quin's is, apparently, "Can't ward off a storm goddess and fend off a Dirk at the same time". When Dirk tackles him, there's barely time for even an 'oof!' - and the wards drop.

Merrisol doesn't mean to be holding Maggie down now that he's done wresting the nasty piece of work from her hand, but it's still sort of useful since the storm winds are really trying to bowl them up and out of their muddy trench, like the bugle is playing and it's time for all the poor soldier to go over the top. The others around him: Quinlan protecting them with his power and all his being; Ruby gouging away into the now rather improbably deep dig site like a mad archaeologist; Dirk frolicking like a giant mole rat... um, ew... He can't help them at the moment, not until he's sure Maggie is back, fully, and he can know what the hell this skull shell (almost like a piece of the goddess hadn't Quinlan said?) had done to Maggie, and why. He gazes at Maggie, listening hard, and his gaze narrows in thought when she tries to explain. "Maggie?" he prompts her with concern, as her free will sags away again, noticeably, in her gaze. Island. Another island..? "She wants to..." Is all he can get out, then - liplocked! Mmmmph! He goes rigid with surprise and distress, and his free hand flounders a bit before going to her face to hold even that part of her down while he /tries/ to disengage. Yeah, it's THAT kind of a kiss.

Ruby stops her mad digging and crouches in the mud like some ancient beast. A prehistoric monster on hands and knees and absolutely filthy. She slowly begins to rise up, very much like an ogre of fairy tales. Her clawed hands, bloody and muddy, rise up towards her throat. Her mouth opens in a bestial howl, eyes staring up towards the Goddess in the sky. The tendons on her neck stand out like grimey little worms, her muscles contracting to a hideous degree. Everything hyper-defined. After the howl scrapes out her esophagus she lowers her head to those other living beings she shares the pit with. A terrible grin of lust and fury transforms her features. A well timed strobe of lightning would accentuate the all-consuming passion absolutely pulsing from her. Her hand reaches up to her collar and viciously tugs at the neck of her shirt, well on the way to irrevocably tearing it asunder and revealing her bare chest. "Who's first? Who's...first with Rubaaah!" she pants and trembles. Her tongue juts out from her lips like an eel, waggling obscenely. "Time for a grind'n! Line up or all at once, darlings!" she prepares to pounce and do unspeakable things. A feral and hungry growl peels through gnashing teeth as she locks her gaze onto the nearest victim while she wrenches at the thick belt at her waist.

Thankfully for all the people not dealing with lust soaked brains, and those are are as well, when Quinlan's deflection of the winds drops, every one of the people who were digging are bodily lifted off the ground by the winds. They are thrown toward the harbor and come down about 100 yards from shore with a loud splash.
And Maggie also.

Quinlan, being jolted abruptly out of intense spellcasting, is at first aware of just sudden tacklement, losing the spell, and then being airborne. But the splash into the water, wrapped in a more-Dirkish-than-usual Dirk, clears his head right up. He starts struggling to get loose, and it's not playful struggling either. Firmly growled, but easily audible to Dirk, is a tone that is almost vulpine growl. "So help me if you do not *let me go* I am going to *bite your godsdamned balls off* and get you disowned *again*, are we *clear*?"

Dirk is starting to calm a little. "Mine." He stares right in quin's eyes and tugs on his hair. "MIne all mine." Its not Quin who is the target of Dirk's lust. Its Quin's hair.

Yes, it is that kind of kiss and while Merrisol tries to hold her head down, Maggie tries to maintain that contact. Initially. Then, with a growl of irritation, defiance, or frustration, she slowly turns her head to release Merrisol from the kiss, though she holds onto his collar still. And that is when thet wind lifts everyone up into the air. Tumbling willy-nilly across the interveining mudpits, Maggie gets flashes of Ruby, Quin and Dirk, Merrisol, ground, sky, ground, angry face up... She inhales in an attempt to shout something at the goddess when she is dropped. *SPLASH* Down she goes beneath the surface and blast it all, she is so used to Rebma, she starts to inhale. Here, though, the results are less than stellar and her goddess induced reactions are momentarily forgotten as a different sort of panic rises within.

Once he is dropped into the harbor, the storm driven waves continue trying to force Merrisol, current holder of the skull shell, out of Antika into open waters.

Ruben upon seeing most everyone pitched into the water, takes off sprinting down to the shore.

Merrisol gasps in air once Maggie voluntarily releases his mouth, and stares at her a second, eyes wide with shock and also with fear, for her. Only Ruby's bellowing from so close behind him, and.. what she's yelling.. gets him to tear his attention away and over his shoulder. What he sees is /deeply terrifying/ but also fleeting, as a gale of epic force plucks Ruby, him, and also Maggie from the pit like sand toys and hurls them out over the water. While they are flipped, cartwheeled, and tumbled through the air, he has a moment to figure out trajectory and velocity and gravity and how they apply to himself and Maggie... he straightens out and stretches into exactly the right angle to follow her into the same spot of ocean, arms sweeping over his head into a dive. He grabs the struggling, panicking, drowning woman in his arms as he goes by, and pulls her into a kiss.. the other kind now. The one with benefits! Momentum is abruptly interrupted as a storm-inspired undertow grabs at him and begins to drag them both down the channel. Merri releases Maggie to head to the surface if she can, while he tries to deal with the immense tidal drag on his own.

Ruby cries out in intense frustation as she's catapulted and then dunked in the cruel, and shockingly cold water. Earth, sweat and phermones get a good soak while she sputters and flails about like a wild animal. Even when she finally kicks to the surface, upright and floudering, she has to concentrate to avoid finding the most likely candidate to rock their world. Her red-rimmed eyes try to seek out a likely object to mate with. She shouts to her general vicinity, "C'mere! Oh you...You're all in for it! You all want a piece!" she shouts and swallows some of the water. She kicks up and smashes down with wide sweeps of her arms, sending out great splashes. Exerting herself thankfully helps to occupy her immense compulsion for now. She screams, the ululation like a banshee wail to threaten fragile glassware on shore. She keeps on assaulting her immediate situation until she is panting. Starting to shiver, she trembles and treads in the cold water. Angrily. Very frustrated and balancing on the tipping point. Probably for the best she's temporarily isolated.

Quinlan's eyes narrow. "No," he says to Dirk flatly. "When you come to what senses you have, I want you to remember that you owe me an apology, given *we have had this discussion* already. And 'no' still means '*no*'." With that, he casts a new spell. A bright spell. A *hot* spell. The mage has encased his entire body in white hot flames - yes, including his hair, and including the parts of him that are under water, which is resulting in a lot of steam. And if Dirk tries getting within a *foot* of those flames it's going to take him months to regrow whatever part of him was so incautious.
He is, at least, one bright steamy beacon in the meantime, for those that might need one.

Dirk lets go and moves out of the way to not get burnt to a crisp. He starts to swim around but still keeps an eye on Quin's hair.

As Ruben reaches the water boundary of the bay he takes a leap and dive into the water, transforming into his seal form during the plunge. Beneath the waves he swims at his full speed to Merrisol's position and tries to rise up beneath him. Offering additional thrust for the return to shore, should it be needed and/or accepted.

Swept into Merrisol's arms before she can inhale even more water, Maggie clings to him throughout the more beneficial kiss given beneath the waves. She begins to relax when the undertow plucks at both of them. Released, she swims strongly against that undertow in a bid for the surface. A growing sense of urgency coupled with a tug on her heart strings or that pull in her blood lets her know that Merrisol is not following her upward. The sleek form of Ruben-the-seal zipping past her draws her gaze downward and she upends in a mid-level dive back down again.

Dirk swims around circling Quin like a shark.

Merrisol is Rebman, yes. But he is not a jet-propelled torpedo, and that is perhaps what he needs to be to fight against this current, especially while fully clothed, one hand still fisted over around a small insidious artifact. When he sees the sleek slippery seal zipping along the same insistent currents to reach him, he just looks at it uncomprehendingly. Then... oh right! He resumes his stroke and tries for a while, then calls out a garbly, "Dive! The storm can only reach down so low!"

Ruby continues to marinate until she can get semblence of control over her urges. Her clothes feel a bit too porous for some reason. That's going to be an issue. And this doesn't help her attitude. She rotates as she treads, and spies the former Green man become Burning man. Another spectacular transformation. She grits her teeth, growls and slowly cruises towards both Quinlan and Dirk, eyes just above the waterline as she pulls herself closer. It wouldn't look quite so predatory if she'd just blink.

Quinlan for his part is ...not *swimming* for shore. Swimming would imply his arms and legs move. No, the burning mage and his attendant clouds of scalding steam are *propelled* through the water, toward the shore.

Oblivious to the burning man, Dirk-shark and unblinking Ruby above, Maggie continues to dive after Merrisol and Ruben. Now that she is not in any danger of drowning, she grits her teeth against compulsions and urges still pounding her brain and blood as viciously as the rain was pounding the island above. Then she is caught by the undertow once more so descending becomes easier.