Observations in the Observatory

[rassafraggin]

...And Plans in the Planetarium.


Once Merrisol dives down out of the current and begins to descend beyond the influence of the top winds, the undertow forces dissolve and flow randomly, as though searching and hunting for the lost target. He maintains his position just at the edges of the storm's turmoil, looking upwards, and spots Maggie. He waves her downwards, closer.

Riding the undertow down and down, Maggie scans the bay for signs of Merrisol. Her gaze is drawn by movement and a smile warms her expression as she is spilled out of the undertow. Flipping away from the randomly seeking whispers of flow that is all that is left of the strong current. Having reached the limits of the storm's influence, Maggie pauses and a blush flames her cheeks to rival her hair for brightness, "Kerf..."

Unseen by companions and unreachable by hostile currents, Merrisol and Maggie are maintaining their positions within a tenuous margin of safe waters, at a depth normally well beyond a storm's influence. From the bottom of the bay, the jagged masts of storm-sunken wrecks reach up from the inky gloom, winding tendrils of rope, ghostly sails, webs of rigging, and other treacheries.

Quinlan - surrounded by his protective flames and thus also columns of steam - swims for shore.

Rabe seems to have positioned himself at shore, near Quinlan, waving him over. "Here, Quinlan, over here," he calls loudly. Makes no move to jump into the water though.

Dirk is having a good time in the water swimming around and eventually also heads to shore...

Merrisol, looking at Maggie in the gloom of the undersea, cannot quite make out (no puns!) her mood, despite her speaking his name so plaintively. The bottom of the harbour bay is littered with the recent sunken wrecks, most all victims of the storm, barely visible hulks reaching up to them with their ragged masts.

Maggie twitches a smile to Merrisol, her hand lifting toward him. Drifting closer, but holding the urge to sweep him into a normal hug at bay, she flits her glance upward, then back again, "I'm free, my heart. She cannot reach this far down. I am so sorry..." That much is offered before she stops her forward motion, letting him know that he can choose to come to her or not. She will not try to force anything.

Quinlan is more than willing to angle his swim toward his Custos. At the moment he could probably use all the assistance he can get.

Dirk follows Quin to shore cute Jaws theme.

Rabe glances at the Dirk following behind Quinlan, frowning. "Trouble?"

"I had to set myself on fire to get him to let me go," Quinlan growls as he steps ashore. Now that he's in range of Rabe, he lets those flames die. "And now he wants my *hair*. The storm's screwing with all the stormborn. More or less literally, though in Dirk's case it's hard to tell."

Dirk keeps following Quin and catches up closer now the fire is gone.

Rabe raises an eyebrow at Quinlan, and Dirk coming closer gets the Custos's golden sword out and pointed down at the ground. "Oh, no. You stay there," he tells Dirk firmly. "No come near my Ward, savvy?"

Quinlan scoots back, letting Rabe do what he's trained to do, and turns his attention on his surroundings. "...The shell."

Dirk says "He's got red hair." He says calmly to Rabe.

Rabe keeps himself between Quinlan and Dirk. Sword is not yet pointed at Dirk. "I don't care. My job is to protect him, and you are not coming near him, understood?"

Merrisol surges forward with an extra pulse, reaches out, and takes her hand in his free one, giving it a squeeze. "Good. What she tried to make you do.." he says forcefully, to project his voice through the disturbed water, but also from raw, rough emotion. His other hand, still clenched in a tight fist, rises into view but doesn't come nearer. "Does it still call to you? Your blood?"

Maggie's smile warms as he rushes forward to take her hand in his. Her eyes remain on his, the pulse of that squeeze returned in kind. Slowly, the smile fades and a blush tinges her cheeks, "Um. No more than usual, Kerf." She too projects to send her voice through the water to him. "It... It isn't what it seemed." Which is probably both a good thing and a confusing thing. By the depth of her blush and the look in her eyes, it is an embarrasing thing... Then, her gaze flashes to the hand closed around the shell and she grits her teeth for a moment, "The urge to take it somewhere else is back, though."

Mercier steps down from his position at the observatory, watching the whole mess, Mercier comes down to the beach, buttoning up his raincoat as he does so, glancing up at the sky, "Well that was bloody intereasting..." He notes, moving towards the dock, looking around, "Where are our friends, the Captain and Mister Lirre? Or Ruby? Last I saw her.... well I lost track of the lot of them after that gust."

Dirk says "He's got red hair." Dirk is on hyperfocus drive today.

Quinlan points out to sea. "We all got blown out," he says. "Still need to get the shell off this island though, I think. The one we were digging for." He gives Rabe a hopeful look. "You can manage the, um...Dirk?"

"I'm pretty sure the barkeep had red hair," Rabe counters. Quinlan gets a nod. "Dig away."

Dirk says "But its not quinlan's red hair. Is it?"

Merrisol listens quietly, watchfully, but doesn't let go with his other hand. He diverts a bit of attention to make sure they haven't drifted any further down the harbour channel, or risen to the point that the storm can make a grab down at them. Merri thinks about it for another moment, nodding decisively. "Now I'm doubly glad that you gave it to me to hold, way back then. Or... by now, there'd be another island completely surrounded by storm." He's completely sure of it. "Likely Hacha. And the Wave Dancer trapped inside the harbour, like the other stormcraft ships are here. The goddess is... seeding, Maggie. Using the storm-born to spread her power around Minos."

Maggie tears her eyes up from his closed hand to his eyes, for even with the pull of her storm blood, her heart is his. Drawing a deep breath, she does not interrupt while he verifies their position. When he speaks, her initial reaction is oddly one of consternation though that is banished quickly. Then she listens and the concentration in her being is clear to see. She means to hear him and understand even around the compulsion to try and snatch the shell. Blinking, she lifts her head, the movement similar to someone being slapped. Only then does she speak, "I... I think you are right, Kerf. I am glad that I gave you the shell to hold as well. But, what can we do? What happens if we destroy the shell?"

Quinlan looks toward Rabe, and Dirk. "...Let's see if we can get him to return to his senses," he says. "What he has of them."

"Well, I have the flat of my sword," Rabe suggests, cheerful.

Dirk says "Are you really threatening me who falls into volcanos and gets out of them unhurt, who decapitates large groups of people in one fell swoop?" He sounds rather interested. "Bring it."

Mercier just watches, and looks to Dirk, "Theres worse things then a fight. We've got serious business to be about, milord. Theres no time for that."

Quinlan shrugs. "I just want you to focus on the job at hand and not my *hair*," he says. "And if we can sort you out, we've got a chance at snapping the others out of it too. You just happen to be in range."

Rabe glances back to Quinlan. "Got any ideas?"

Dirk says "We need to go dig in the mud ."

Quinlan looks to Rabe. "You're the one trained in breaking enchantments," he points out.

Rabe hrms, looking at Dirk. "I'm not convinced it's something I can break. Offensive magics, yes, wards, yes, enchantments? Harder.."

Dirk says "Can you make yourself into a red head?" He chuckles.

Quinlan says, "No," firmly. To Rabe, he adds, "The problem beyond that is if it works I'm not sure we'd be able to tell. Dirk tapdances on the definition of insanity on a regular basis."

Mercier shakes his head, "If he'll allow, truss him up, but finding something in that mess would be bloody near impossible."

"Maybe we should just knock him out. Perhaps a firm blow to the head will fix everything?" Rabe suggests.

Quinlan shrugs. "If you can? He tends to be resistant to anything of the sort."

Dirk says "no I dont tapdance on it. I stomp on it." He says "You can try I bet you will miss."

Dirk points to Rabe. "He need to have red hair then I'd leave your hair alone. not that I want to take your hair just touch it. You know you're hair is very attached to you so I wouldn't hurt you QUinoflthelan because you are a friend."

Mercier sighs, looking to Dirk, "Milord, we're not hear to challenge you... can you help look for the Captain? If you find Lirre in the process.... well I suppose he was lucky to be with her when the wind went."

Merrisol watches her reactions as much as he can, although it's really the bodily gestures that he can see more clearly. He keeps up his kicking, and a rhythmic pulse to his core frame, making their way back into the bay with the secondary goal of trailing the long dark red mass of her hair behind them, instead of letting it cloud upwards into the storm-current's reach. When the snap-back of her head sends a ripple through her hair, he headtilts at her sternly, but relaxes when it seems she's overcome her natural instincts once more. "I don't know, Only. She might only create another and lure another of your blood to that shadow island, to carry on the mission." He tightens his grip on her hand at that notion. "Let's try to call Quinlan, see if he can trump us to someplace safe, back to the Observatory perhaps.. it has strong storm measures in place. We need to explain this to the group, and plan from there. And.. you must fight her, Maggie."

From over the water...from a lone boat in the harbor...come the screams of the damned.

Maggie clearly does not want to go any closer to the island than she already is so her drifting with him is reluctantly done. Still, the notion that the storm might bugger another storm blooded into doing her dirty legwork stiffens her spine and she nods, "Right. We can't let that happen, O and O. No one else should be subjected to this. It... Sort of burns." Sidling a glance toward him, she nods again and the motion sends an echo shiver through the long trailing tendrils of her hair. "I can trump him. Just..." That is when she remembers, "Ah. I can't. Ryika has my trumps." All of them. "Oh, bloody blast." Leaning a bit closer, she touches a kiss to his cheek though the motion almost surrounds them in a cloud of her hair when she backs up again. "I will hold your shoulder while you call him?" Then, more softly, "I will try to fight her, beloved. I will. Just please forgive me in advance if I am not strong enough."

Merrisol can feel her reluctance, doing the swimming for both of them. The channel is shallow as it comes back into the bay, and to avoid the obstacles of sunken ships and drifting debris, they are obliged to rise ever nearer to the turmoil of the storm. He listens to her with a darkening expression of determination, unhampered by uncertainty or loss of trumps. He watches her draw near warily, however the brief chaste kiss to his cheek both disappoints and angers him, somehow, a very Lirre-ish look flashing into his gaze. He shakes his head. "No forgiveness is necessary, Maggie. You are strong enough.. you can resist me, and her hold over you cannot be deeper that what we have." It can't. "I meant what I said." Which? Back at the steps to the Cuckoo's Nest? Or something else. Or.. everything? He casts a glower upwards, beyond sea, above land. The hand with the shell draws down and with several nudges, tucks the artifact snugly into the hip pocket of his trousers. He retrieves his trump tin, letting them lose 'ground' as he stops swimming to make sure no cards escape the tin while he draws out Quinlan's, resealing the tin afterwards and stowing it.

Maggie does see that disappointment and anger and a blush flares across her cheeks. There is the strong temptation to kiss him. Really kiss him. A deep, prolonged, full kiss that leads... She closes her eyes as a faint groan escapes her lips, "That? Is just it, beloved. She uses the depth of that connection. It is not... Just a whatever sort of lustiness. It is... what fuels passion. And that? That is you." The confession is given with a slow deliberation as realization comes in a wave of sluggishness. In fighting this compulsion, she is fighting both her connection to him and the storm adding to it. Following his gaze upward, she sends a silent curse up to the storm, then moves to rest her hand on Merrisol's shoulder once more, "Let's... see if we can use any of this to put a stop to her."

Merrisol's expression changes while she explains, accepting it with a slight smile that seems a bit sad. So is that why she still came after him in the current, after he released her..? But he knows it's not fair to ask her that, and doesn't. Instead, he holds up the card and says, "Make a fire air bubble so you can see it clearly. I want you to make the call for us." He draws her closer, and holds her from behind while he extends the card before them.

Nodding, she lifts one hand to call first the air bubble from oxygen in the surrounding water. It takes a moment, but then a rose of flame blooms within the bubble as though in answer to her revelation. Turning a smile over her shoulder, she nods, "Okay. But before I do... I love you, Kerf. More every moment. And the storm is still far above." Then, she nestles her head next to his and focuses on the card.

Quinlan pauses, stepping back away from Dirk and the question of his questionable wits, addressing the air. "Yes? Hello?"

To the image of Quinlan, Maggie is floating deep in the bay, the fire of her hair floating around both her face and Merrisol's. He is just behind her, sharing the trump call through a variety of contact points. "Hey, Quin. It's Maggie. Kerf has figured something out that we need to share. Can you all please go up to the Observatory? There is some storm shielding there. If you would then pull us through, we can talk this through and see if it gives us an edge against the storm." There is a tiny rose made of flame floating near Maggie's shoulder and lighting the trump with a soft glow. The wee flower seems to be encased in a bubble of air.

Quinlan blinks. "That's a good trick. Sure. We'll see about getting up there." To the others, he calls, "Hey. We need to get to the Observatory."

To the image of Quinlan, Maggie nods, "Okay. Please trump us in once you all get there. Okay?" She and Merrisol continue to sort of tread water far enough down that the storm's influence seems to be either non-existant or lessened considerably.

Dirk says "cool beans." He starts back towards the obnservantory.

Quinlan does as well, though he's careful not to get anywhere within arm's reach of Dirk.

* * * * * * * * * *

For lack of knowing where else to find people, Ryika heads to the observatory to take just a few moments looking through the telescopes herself. Out over the land and sea, as well as up into the heavens. There's more food, she never turns up without food for distribution these days, but it's already been distributed.

Quinlan arrives not long after Ryika, taking out his cards and focusing on Maggie's. "All clear. Ready to come through?"

To the image of Quinlan, Maggie answers the trump call quickly, "Hello? Ah, good. We are ready, yes. Thanks, Quin."

Dirk is somewhere doing something that is not involving QUIN's hair

Merrisol is already joined to the trump connection when Quinlan contacts Maggie. He insists on Maggie going through first and waits to know how being in the observatory affects her, before he brings himself and the shell through. The theory was Farsight, among other structures on the island, was well shielded from the violent effects of storms. It might then prove to be a safe spot in which to make their plans.

Better than a ship on the water, anyway.

Maggie steps through the rainbow hued sparkles into the observatory. A slosh of salt-water comes with her, sending a splash along the floor to sparkle in the light. Her hair falls from a billowing cloud to lanky trails of heart-fire red and autumn auburn turned dark by the water it holds. Stepping away from Quinlan, she narrows her gaze to see if the storm's compulsion remains. Waiting... then she shrugs and turns to Quinlan. "Please let Kerf know that I think it is okay here. To please come on through."

Quinlan nods. "Maggie says all clear," he says to the other end. "C'mon through." To Maggie, he adds, "Want to be dried off?"

Mercier steps into the observatory, rubbing some water out of his hair, before he snags his bowler from the place that he left it, after having hurried it down to the beach. He looks at Maggie, and gives a top of his hat, though its less formal, more grateful to see the woman, "What in creation happened down there?"

Ryika glances over from where she's looking rhough a telescope and working on a star chart as people start arriving. "Everyone alright? Even a little?"

Dirk says "I am."

Merri gets in more or less upright, squelching onto solid floor after being in a nebulous environment like the bay. Poor man does appear to have lost his galoshes after all that hard pitching, tossing, and swimming, however. A quantity of transferred seawater also comes with him and drops in a sheet as gravity exerts its pull. He's not obviously holding anything, but then his remaining clothing does have various pockets. Once arrived on Quinlan's hand, he pauses to see if his presence is going to jeopardize the safety of the Farsight haven.

As soon as Merrisol comes through the storm begins battering the observatory in a fashion that would likely make Eamonn very angry if he were still here.

Dirk is in very wet and muddy boxers.

"More or less," Quinlan sighs. He, at least, is somehow quite dry. Arcanis, probably. He looks around. "So one shell it loves, and one shell it hates."

Dirk nods "So we have the shell and the anti-shell?"

Ryika is dry. Warm. Comfortable even. She also gestures towards a pile of towels that came from.. goodness only knows where, really. Not Minos. "There's towels, although Quin's more efficient." She glances up as the storm intensifies, and she looks over to Merrisol for a few moments before looking over the rest of the group. "There's another shell?"

Maggie glances over to see Mercier enter. She smiles at him, inclining her head. Speaking softly, she replies, "Kerf saved my life. I was drowning." And that? Is the truth. Turning as Merrisol comes in, she shakes her head. "Not... Not exactly, Quin. I'll let Kerf tell you as he is the one who figured it out." Glancing first to Ryika and then to the towels, she gives the woman a grateful smile, "Thanks. At least two, yes." Walking to the towel pile, she takes two. One is taken back toward the group and offered to Merrisol.

Dirk yawns and stretches' What happened?"

Merrisol casts his gaze up and around the interior of the shuddering building, warily, shaking his head a bit at the unrelenting wrath of the storm goddess. "It's not that.." he says aside to Quinlan. And.. "Yes," to Ryika, quickly, "Recall Captain Dark's association with our friend Dirk here, that island stopover in shadow, and his bringing Dirk to Minos, to Antika, whereupon the storm manifested." He gives that brief synopsis, trusting her to be able to make the necessary inferences. "Very quick thinking on the trump from the Dancer, by the way. Thank you." He looks around at the others present. "Where is Ruby..?"

Mercier steps foward to snag a towel from the pile, as he removes his oilskin jacket and hangs it somewhere, followed by his coat, revealing the waistcoat and sleeve garters beneath. He dabs here and there to dry him off, nodding to Maggie with her information. He doesn't smile at that, nor Merrisol, but doesn't look displeased by the situation either. He keeps his impassive mask on for the topic, looking to Merrisol for more information. He shakes his head, "Looked like she went off to sea, from here... its a bit concerning."

"Under the circumstances I'm hoping the rain cools Ruby off *before* she runs into us," says Quinlan quietly. "So. About the shells...?"

Merri takes a moment to open his trump tin and find Ruby's card. "I'm sorry.. one moment. I don't want her out in the storm alone, not now that we know what the goddess is capable of doing." He concentrates on the card, and after a moment says, "Ruby. What.. where are you? No, nevermind, I don't really want an answer to that. Are you quite well now?" You promise?? "Then if you would care to rejoin us. Yes, best keep that on. I suspect it's yours to keep now." He steps back and extends his hand.

"Ahh." Ryika nods as she does, indeed, make the leaps in logic as needed from Merrisol's brief descriptor. She sets her pen down and shakes her head. "I haven't seen Ruby yet, but I havent' been looking. I'm glad it worked, Lirre. Let's just put it that way. So we've got a couple of shells, at least. Clearly she's not keen on at least one of them. Still." She gestures vaguely up at the crappier weather. "Any thoughts on where to go from here? Does she want the shells /back/?"

Mercier shakes his head, "Just what went /on/ down there?" The merchant asks, "I saw the bosun rip off her shirt and go running off after.... something, then a big gust of wind..." Mercier frowns, "Do we have both shells now?"

Maggie lifts one hand, "Hold on a sec, please. It would be better to explain this once. When Ruby gets here we can go over it all." Looking up at the ceiling, she listens to the battering of the weather. The frown that grows fades as Mercier speaks. Looking down at him, she shakes her head, "No, I don't think that we do have both." Which might not answer either his question or Ryika's, "But Kerf believes he knows what she is doing and I think he is correct." Then, a blush begins and she sidles a glance over to Merrisol, Dirk, then Quinlan, "Uh. She... Can reach through those of us with storm blood. Make us feel certain things very intently. It is... extremely difficult to resist. So. uh. It was a very uncomfortable time down on the beach." Nuff said? Yup.

Dirk says "I wanted red hair."

Quinlan coughs. "The giant wind would be when Dirk tackled me and I lost the wards. Sorry about that."

Mercier looks at Maggie, then Dirk, then glances down to consider something. Understanding dawns on his face, "Ah.... huh. Only to those with your blood though..." He takes a deep breath, "Well, thats certainly... troubling, to say the least."

Ruby clasps Merrisol's hand and steps through the Trump and into the observatory. Thankfully free of mud she lets go of the hand as soon as she's able. Unthankfully, she's mostly free of her previous garments. The large woman wears an assortment of replacements to retain her modesty. They're also a tad stretched, but serve well in their torment. She stands very still and her head sweeps the room, eyes turning in her sockets like those of a doll. She rests them on each person present. A very stony expression. Statuesque if you will. A veritable blank slate of neutral expression. After a small grinding sound she says flatly to the room in general, "Wind was...fierce. Ripped me kit to...tatters. S'okay. Found some...others." With that extremely detailed bit of info out of the way, she narrows her eyes and seems to dare anyone to ask further. She takes in a large breath and lets it out slowly, the next order of business to take in the current situation.

Ryika quirks a brow, looking between the crew of them and then she cna't help but start to laugh a moment. "I /see/. Right. So She's manipulating you guys, but do we know how to get her to relax it back a lot of notches and stop beating the snot out of this island?

Dirk is in his muddy boxers and has no problem with that.

Merrisol looks up at Ruby, holding her hand firmly a moment to say without words: We will never speak of that again. Then he releases her, pauses as she blusters out her version of events to the room, and wordlessly walks over to one side a few paces. He looks up again, watching one, then other of the wind-buffeted windows, thankfully thick and protected by outer bars. Eamonn would definitely be kicking them all back down the hill if he were in his precious observatory right now. "All right, so. We know that Dirk found and brought a shell to Antika, and put it in the ground near the harbour, because it 'felt right'. There were already some bad storms brewing in Minos, but this was the first instance of a whole island being swallowed up. This had already happened when Maggie found her shell in a similar manner, however, it came into my possession shortly thereafter, and nothing came of it. Today, when Maggie went back to the Dancer for it, at the behest of the storm, she was overcome with a compulsion to take it, not to here, but to another island entirely. If Ryika had not trumped me, she would have already been on her way to Hacha, the next closest island from where the Wave Dancer was sheltering. I think this goddess is meaning to seed all Minos with her storms. Antika is just the start."

Dirk says, "Can we get these shells to Banyan?"

Mercier blinks, and looks at Dirk, "There are people living there, milord, it seems unnaturally cruel to put these storms somewhere else." He looks back to Merrisol, "So what of the storms around Minos? Does that mean theres some... larger shell out there? Or will they just get worse?"

The merchant looks towards Ruby, and her clothing, and gives her a glance up and down. Reaching up, he simply tips his hat to her, in a gentlemanly fashion, as if she was the most proper lady.

Dirk says "we need to get the shells out of Minos and I cant think of a more evil and corrupt place to put them."

"Taking them elsewhere doesn't seem to help the storms in progress. although I suppose the Dancer is in Minos still." Ryika gives a little shrug on the notion of taking them to Banyan, a faint twist of a smirk at the mention of 'evil' and 'corrupt'. "Although certainly they get worse when the shell is /here/."

Maggie watches Ruby join them. Her attire does get a brief glance and a blink, but that is all. Looking up at the woman, she nods, "It was a fierce wind." And that is all that needs be said on that topic. Clearing her throat, she looks slowly back to Mercier. Shaking her towel out, she bends forward to let her hair fall down from her head to the floor. Wrapping the hair with the towel, she stands up again. The towel is set on her head like a towel and hair turban. "No... no. If we take the shells somewhere else, we run the risk of having the storm inspire some other storm blooded to go there to get them and bring them back here. No, we need a way to end this here and now." Looking at Dirk, she considers him, then shakes her head again, "I'm sure that there are plenty of normal folk there too, Dirk." Looking over to Ryika she considers a moment, then speaks, "I think that the storm is worse when my shell is here because she does not want it to be here. She is trying to drive Kerf off the island so the shell can be taken to Hacha or somewhere not here."

Ruby eyes Mercier's curteous response with some apprehension. She's not going to just look away. But the tip of the hat does break of her rigid stance. Perhaps misinterpreting the gestures, she starts to adjust her clothes, and this sets off the need to get at an itch along her side. Her nostrils flare and she suddenly turns about, walking deliberately towards the nearest window to peer out. She does give a curt, and not unfriendly nod to Maggie as she goes. She checks the sky for faces and imminent doom. She rasps a blunt opinion, "Smash'm. Burn'm. Feed'm to a leviathan."

Dirk looks up to the sky and says ""Storm goddess person, will you please stop hurting my people. I'd really appreciate a clear sign of what you want to do in order to make the storms stop?" Hey asking can't hurt?

When Dirk asks for a clear sign, he briefly has an almost overpowering desire to take the shell from Merrisol and deliver it to another Minosian island.

"I've heard its a mad place, but I could make good arguments, along the same lines, to shove it in Montavno, or, by Gods, just leave the bloody things here, since this country seems to produce more dangerous pirates then any other place about. But that ignores the good people in both locations, who, I would assume, make up the majority of the population." Mercier says, looking to Dirk, before cocking his head at Maggie's response. He provides a simple, comforting smile to Ruby. Say he was a sanctimonious ass, but don't call him anything but a gentleman.

"As much as I don't mind entertaining in Banyan, that's not /exactly/ the most ideal invitation list." Ryika quips at Maggie's comment about storm blooded headed to banyan to retrieve shells.

Dirk walks over to Merrisol and grabs for the shell. He grabs hard and fast.

Merrisol is listening to the others, making note of the questions and ideas put forth that ought to be addressed. He nods to Maggie's explanation about the current fury of the storm, though, and narrow-eyes patiently as Mercier gets in his jab at the pirate community, of course he does. He's just shaking his head at Dirk's supplication to the heavens, no no, don't you get it man! when the fellow abruptly turns and walks at him. Merrisol looks at him directly, warily. He's already been over this very thing with Maggie, doofus, and not about to let any other stormblood paw at him. Once Dirk is close enough to make a grab, he's close enough to be in reach of Merrisol's own arm, and he swings a backhand at Dirk's jaw without hesitation. "Snap out of it, Dirk!" He is certainly strong enough to put weight behind his intentions.

Quinlan considers. "We could take the shells to Alhambra..."

OOC> Nara says, "For the record, no person with blood of storms who touches that shell will be able to take it out of Minos."

Dirk says "One to each place?"

Maggie shakes her head at Dirk, "I tried that. Remember? It just said to take the shell to another island." She sighs when Dirk heads toward Merri, "Stop... Please don't..." Merri's backhanded aim, "Okay, stop. Don't try to take the shell from Merri, please, Dirk. Taking it to another island is not going to work. Taking it to Alhambra would.." She nods to Quinlan. "We need to figure a way to break the storm's power, not spread it." Though she sounds a little uncertain. "Then again, Dirk did ask how to make the storms stop."

Yes, of course he does. Sadly, the work in Antika has provided Mercier with little in terms of sympathy for that group. He frowns, "Have we tries just.... breaking the shells? Putting them on the ground, applying heel, crunch, ecetera?" Mercier says before dropping his hands to the side and taking a small step forward, ready to help subdue Dirk if... necessary.

Quinlan spreads his hands. "I can destroy air," he says simply. "But I'm honestly against destroying a being that's acting according to its nature. Here, she's destructive. But Alhambra is both parched and *full* of gods and powerful spirits. If we send the storm goddess to Alhambra, she's not going to be the only power there by a *long* shot."

Dirk dodges and says "give me the shell, I fucked uop and started this and now I am going to end it."

Ruby turns around, eyes narrowed and her tone harsh. "Who in their right bloody mind would trust an answer from that bloody thing!" she smacks her palm against the window she's been peering out of, making a dull thwunk sound on the reinforced glass. She presses her lips tightly together and then opens her trap for more. "Just because you asked all sweet'n silky? I'm with the blinkered idea of doing what it /doesn't/ want. Aye, take it to the bloody desert. That'll soak up a bit of crazy!" spittle flies from her mouth and she hastily wipes with the back of her hand.

Merrisol's backhand swishes through empty air as Dirk bops away it like it ain't no thang. The request seems to suggest the man isn't actually acting under alien orders, so he merely fixes the man with a glower, seeing in his periphery exactly one person had stepped forward to help... and it's Mercier. Good lord. "/Your/ shell is still at the bottom of the hole you buried it, Dirk. We tried to get it out, remember? Kindly step back from me." By the trajectory of Dirk's grab attempt, it is fairly clear that blasted shell is tucked deep into the hip pocket of Merri's wet trousers. He may need to rethink his stash practices after this.

Dirk says, "I didn[t bury my freaking shell. Butt head. I placed it on the ground near the tree."

"And it's still there, Dirk," says Quinlan quietly. "The shell Lirre is holding is not the shell you brought to Antika. If you want to 'finish what you started', go down to the place *your* shell still remains, and dig it up."

Maggie moves forward again, astonishment that Dirk dodged clear. She fully expected her cousin to go down. That he hasn't is... startling, "Dirk. Stand down right now. Do not call people names. It is rude. You did not start this, the storm goddess did. The shell that Kerf is holding is the one I was led to and he has my permission to hold onto it. Leave it be." While she is trying to keep a level head, her anger at Dirk is growing. Sidling to Merrisol's side, she tries to stay between the two men. "Good idea, Quin."

Dirk says "No she wants his shell moved."

Dirk adds "Maggie were there storms before I brough the shell to Antika?"

"We've got to work with each other here, there's an island to save, milord." Mercier notes to Dirk, "We have the honor to be in a position to help, but we all help together." Mercier notes, taking another step forward, "What the goddess wants is irrelevent. Why she wants it is far more important... but we can't just go and do what she says."

It's a good thing those windows are triple thick and protected from debris because the observatory is really taking a beating. In fact a couple of the telescopes can be seen shaking slightly in their mounts from the pounding.

Ruby watches the confrontation with a bit of a gleam in her eyes. She watches like a hawk, or perhaps a vulture would be more apt. Eye flick from one to the other while her fingers curl into her palm, relax and then do it again. She had been maintain a position by the wall, but the noise outside and the disturbances involving the telescopes has her thinking being so close to a window may not be very smart. She grimaces and steps away, instead seeking the center of the room now.

Quinlan looks around, studying the building. "...I think I'd better put my Arcanis to work reinforcing this building," he says. "While you all decide what to do. I have to wonder where she's getting all this magical energy *from*, you know. Was there any legend of a permanent storm in Minos before now? What is she *feeding* on?" And, conundrums posed, he gets up to quietly go about the business of mending any cracks and strengthening any weakened supports. With what? With *anything* that isn't nailed down or clearly useful, actually.

Maggie shrugs to Dirk, "I don't know. Maybe. I know that there were rumors of storms gathering on the periphery of the shadow." Lifting a brow slightly, she still tries to stay between Merri and Quinlan, "Uh. The whirlpool in the center, Quinlan. It is not a perminant storm, but it is a perminant fixture, I think. Though I have not sailed by it for a while. It has been there for a long long time, regardless."

Merrisol hasn't moved or backed down, a study in male pigheadedness. He only seems to drop his confrontational aspect when Dirk's arguments are diffused amongst more participants, particularly when Maggie vouches for his having the shell with her permission.. as it's likely quite true. With a look around at each person, trying to catch up with the main flow of conversation, he pauses at Mercier, and nods. "The why of it is of key importance, Templeton," he agrees. "Is it a vendetta against another deity, or is she claiming the realm as her own, in imperialistic fashion? If she has this affinity with Minosians already, why is she attempting to drown them all? More specifically.. why was she so perturbed that Maggie's shell ended up here? Perhaps.. there are only so many created.. that if one is wasted, her efforts is in vain," he ruminates, hearing Quinlan's intentions of fortifying Farsight, and nods. "Once Maggie appeared with us in that pit, she wanted us out of there, to the extent that she seized our storm-blooded members, and simply put, sent us flying." Why..?

Dirk says "Maybe she's wanting more than one temple to her wonderfully wet self.?"

Quinlan muses, as he carries a heavy wooden chair toward a wall, "Gods can make tokens...like holy symbols, sort of. That contain part of their essence. These shells are of the storm goddess. I don't think they'll be easy to destroy, if you're set on that - but I'm also pretty sure they weren't easy for the goddess to create. Especially if she isn't a very strong deity. She may *need* the shells to anchor or maintain her power, or her connection to a locale."

Dirk nods "So what would happen if we threw the shell into the whorlepool?"

"But... she has to have been here before, if we take into account that she's a goddess. Assuming this shell was brought here on impulse... perhaps she's not controlling the shells?" Mercier frowns, buting the bottom of his lip, "If has existed, and the shells are her manifestations, then perhaps by moving them, we've altered something, some balance. What if she is the storms here, and by concentrating her power, its caused increased intensity? Perhaps she wants to resume some kind of balance?"

Maggie folds her arms in front of her, keeping her attention on Dirk so that hopefully he can't skip past her to get at Merrisol. "Okay. Given that she..." A blink and a frown, "Wait... wait. If she is ancient, as Quin said and if these are part of her power and if she needs one on each island, could she be re-establishing her base? Every god and goddess needs worshipers. No one will doubt her existance now. If she is just trying to establish something, perhaps it is her own existance."

Dirk walks up to Maggie.

Quinlan gently pushes a hardwood desk vertically into a wall. Really into it, too; the wall seems to absorb the desk into itself. Good luck getting *that* back without an axe...but Quinlan's frowning, distracted. "Going with observable data. One shell here, one shell she wants moved elsewhere. But she doesn't chase; she stays by the first shell. And her force increases *dramatically* with the presence of the second shell, nor does it seem to be dying down. Hypothesis: The shells are a power source. Based on this hypothesis, planting the second shell on a nearby island would allow the storm's power to expand. With two populated islands under her cover, it may prove easier for her to manifest a third shell. Ancient this storm may be but I'm thinking she's been planning this for a long time. Saving energy. And she wants her plan to succeed." He pauses, with the desk vanished into the wall, and looks at the others. "That sound right? Any countering evidence?"

Maggie eyes Dirk as he moves closer to her. She does not step back or move to the side. Her gaze remains on him though she nods to Quinlan's thoughts, "I don't see anything to counter that. Unless she is just mad that the shells are both here and has increased her power and fury just to show her displeasure." Then, almost in the same breath, she adds, "Please back up, Dirk."

Dirk backs up a step. "ok?"

Merri looks pleased by the momentum and direction of the discussion, and even if they might not be provably accurate, everyone's ideas now contain licks of logic and truth to them. And that's interesting. He folds his arms across his chest and assumes a more relaxed stance, nodding here and there. To Quinlan's question, he says, "Yes, in combination with Maggie's theory they are anchoring points, captured flags if you will, perhaps giving her control of the local forces.. energies that have always existed here as part of nature. And yes, overbalance of those forces in one area would not suit her purpose, Templeton. A stronger hurricane would end up destroying the island instead of..." Of what? He shakes his head thoughtfully, venturing, "..Instead of merely wiping it clean? In any case, it feels like we're on the right track. And even if I remove this shell, we have got to uproot that first shell.. the lives on Antika depend on it. What if.. I.." He suddenly stops, and lowers his gaze a touch. "I don't know if this is paranoia.. but when it comes to strategy.. let's not discuss those right here." Like, right under her bloody nose, here. "Even the shell might be her listening device," he grumbles.

Quinlan mms. "Give it to me. I can surround it in soundlessness. She won't hear anything through it." Something's definitely nagging at him, though. "Maggie...the books of lore are unclear. I have two questions, if any here can answer them. Why is the Minosan line the 'blood of storms' - and does the name Auribald Racine ring any kind of bell?"

Dirk walks around to see if he can get out.

Mercier frowns as things go to... magic and legend. Not exactly out of his expertise, but certainly something he hasn't had the time to bone up on. His head was full of the history and circumstances of his former home, and that was often useless. "I was considering the fact that overbearence of forces is not her intention, at least at a base level. We can assume several divergent motivations, and frankly, I wouldn't go about knowing how a god thinks, but, she could garnering power. Or she could simply be trying to restore a balance. Minos has always had storms. Who's to say she isn't the embodiment of all of them?"

Maggie nods to Dirk, "Thanks." She watches him for a moment, then turns her gaze to Quinlan, "Um... Give me a sec." A frown touches her brow and she slowly, unconsciously, lifts a hand to her temple. "Um. Mom used to talk about storm blood as though it really meant something more than just an afinity for storms. And... When I was first sailing, she would go with me just to be sure that I wasn't going to kill myself or others. At night, we would sit around telling stories. I... remember that there was an old sailor aboard. He always treated us with deference and when I asked him why, he looked at my mom as though she was remiss. He said... He said that Rilga and Stormalog were decended from gods. And that, as Rilga's decendents, so were we." A brow lifts at that and she flickers a glance over her shoulder to Merrisol. The glance is brief, however, "Racine? Um. No. That name is not familiar. Unless...?" She frowns again as something prickles at her memory. Prickles, but dies without releasing anything useful. "No... I can't find it. Sorry." Looking over to Mercier, she shrugs, "She could be. Or she could be the one and only storm goddess Minos has ever had."

Merrisol looks at Quinlan with a noticeable quieting of his brightly inquisitive mood, giving him a sort of closed-in, wary air once more. Give The Precious to Quinlan, seriously..? "It's fine where it is for now, we just need to discuss our plans elsewhere.. aboard the Wave Dancer," he suggests. Then...... blinks. In alarm and disbelief. "What in the deep blue blazes.." he exclaims lowly, and leaves Maggie's side to approach Quinlan, digging into his pocket, and palming it into the mage's hand. "Here. Take it. Keep it safe until we have something worked out." He backs off, glancing at Maggie, looking spooked.

Quinlan accepts the shell - immediately encasing it in a little ball of turbulence that one can see by the way it tosses the shell as if it were on spin cycle, but oddly soundless. "If she is ancient, and she speaks to your blood...perhaps, united, you can also speak to her and make her hear you?" he asks. "Gods can be destroyed. I understand they did that over in Lyonesse, though I've never quite understood why. Jealousy, possibly. Still; proof it can be done even for the ancient powers of Golden Circle nations." He peers at the shell tumbling above his hand. "A piece of a god, that the god speaks through. Should've invited Liam along, the theological recursion would've been *interesting* to watch. But we do still need the other shell."

Maggie nods at the notion that they need to take the shell back to the Dancer and then wonders if the nod is her own or the storm's. She frowns at herself, but then startles as Merrisol moves to give the shell to Quinlan. Her lips part as Quinlan encases the shell in something that makes it spin. Taking a step toward Merrisol as something in his expressoin catches her attention, she lifts a hand toward him and simply nods.

Merrisol catches the offered hand like he was already reaching for it. "Excuse us, we have... talking... to make," he tells the others, while walking Maggie swiftly across the room into one of the offices Quinlan had ransacked of its furniture and crockery.



Food. Coffee. Juice. Food for everyone! And a bunch of people who have reconvened at the observatory. There's been people coming and going, adding in their two cents of whatever relevant currency (or not), and then regrouping. The current spate of people at the observatory have snacks at their disposal, and hopefully Quinlan left a table /somewhere/ to write on. Ryika has surrendered on such things as tables, she's settled on the floor with her notebook, flipping back apparently empty pages and reading and then flipping forward again as she drinks coffee. "If it wasn't trying to kill us, it feels like the start of a joke.. two shells and a pissed off storm goddess walk into a bar.."

Dirk bounces around. "Why don't throw them both in teh whrilepool? Maybe she will chase after them.

Quinlan has hit on the idea of a light barter system for visitors; if they come for food, bring something (anything) that can be used to reinforce the Observatory's structure. Metal cookpans, ceramics, even buckets of - thick - mud are acceptable to the mage. He does his best to preserve the place's elegant appearance, but as he talks he's also flying up and about the walls and ceiling, using whatever arrives to keep the storm from breaking the building. "Dirk, I've got a challenge for you. That shell you set under a tree is now deep in mud under ground, but we need it. We'll have to leave the observatory to get it. Got plans for how?"

"She hasn't chased after any of them so far, I don't think she's about to start now.. but she's likely to send one of you guys to your doom doing it in her stead, which isn't /great/." Ryika notes to Dirk and watches Quinlan fly about and frowns a little, flipping back through her book. "I cna't argue on the point that it feels as if we're missing something obvious, that there should be an 'ah ha! But of course!' moment here, but damnned if I know what it might be. Do we think there's only two shells, or do we figure there's a shell for every island?"

Dirk says "Can I go out and talk to the storm? She liked me and I always have liked the rain.

Dirk says "I will go dig for the shell and talk to the rain goddess."

"You are welcome to go chat with her, Dirk. If she tells you anything useful, I'd love to know. If you need help, yell." Ryika comments with a little shiver at the notion of going back out in the cold and driving rain, Rebman or not.

"There comes - at least for me - a point in every investigation where the questions heavily outweigh the answers," says Quinlan, floating past a chandelier to shape a frying pan into a bar that fills in a crack in the upper level. "When that point comes I've tended to find it useful to set the questions aside, and drop back to what we genuinely know, have seen, and can demonstrably prove, and use that as the basis for forward motion. What we *know*, for example, is that the shell Dirk placed here is important to the storm. That she'll fight her hardest to keep us from retrieving it or moving it. I'd say that makes 'obtaining that shell' a viable goal."

Dirk walks out into the storm staying close to the observatory.

Merrisol and Maggie had gone off to one of the deplorably empty offices for a little while after handing off the shell to Quinlan. Now Merri is prowling the perimeter again, casting occasional glances to the occupants whenever someone comes up with something intriguing. He listens for a while, then takes in a long steeling breath. "Dirk.. the goddess is using you, against your own people. The merest directive from her sent you accosting your own friends." Plus one butthead, evidently.. "Please. Do not trust her." He looks at Quinlan. "I have a plan to propose, but.. can you soundproof the observatory, in part or whole, just in case we are being monitored in more ways than just the shell?" he questions.

Ryika flips a page or two ahead in her notebook and settles to writing down the knowns. "We also know that she can manipulate the emotions of the stormblooded, yes? But.. it's not even emotions, per se.. she manipulates their desires." She glances over to Merrisol at his admonishment to Dirk and nods her own agreement there.

Quinlan finishes setting the reinforcing bar into the wall, and drops down to the ground. "I can put a bubble of soundlessness around us for a while," he says. "But that won't stop magical scrying per se, and I can't soundproof the building more than the work I've been doing already does. That would be runesmithing, which while a fascinating skill, is not an area of study I've had time for as yet."

Dirk is immediately attacked by the storm upon going outside the observatory.

Dirk looks up and says "Please? If you stop this..." He closes his eyes against the cold and wet. "I will set up shrines to you through out shadow."

Merrisol nods to Quinlan's limited assurance, distractedly watching Dirk traipse out the door. "Alright.. just a moment.." He leans to a window to see what's become of Dirk. "He's communing, although she's pounding on him." He watches another minute, then goes over towards Quinlan, with a beckon to Ryika if she's not close enough in range to be contained within the proofing field.

Ryika and her notebook comes closer and there's a little sigh. "If you can, make sure we can hear Dirk yell if she beats the snot out of him. At least he's fairly resilient." She mmms thoughtfully and makes another couple notes in her book.

Either the storm isn't listening to Dirk or she doesn't like what he's saying because he ends up on his back after a particularly hard gust of wind.

Quinlan smiles slightly. "I can *try*," he says. "No use being an Air Master if I don't push my boundaries." He murmurs a spell and the air around them...flickers. Momentarily. As if it weren't air, exactly, but looking through a heatshimmer. Or glass.

The pounding on the observatory lessens slightly as a portion of the storm's rage follows Dirk away from the observatory.

"I'm not sure that's a good sign." Ryika comments quietly as she looks up towards the ceiling at the slight lessening of the storm. "We really don't have a lot of known quantities here. It's a short list."

"Add that Dirk is inherently uncontrollable," says Quinlan, almost gently. "The storm can influence him but his wits are scattered. I doubt even the storm can predict *how* her influences will play out on him."

Merrisol looks up, hearing a bit but mostly visually observing the lessening of the storm's force, as Quinlan's bubble forms around them. "That was convenient.. I was intending to point out that our unfriendly host seems to channel a measure of force on certain targets, such as the stormbloods, but most obviously the holder of the shell, or those going after said shell." He nods upwards, indicating the less put-upon structure around them. "How many moving targets do you imagine she could follow? If we could divert her attentions enough, it would perhaps be easier for the rest of the group to grab that buried shell."

"That.. sounds like the sort of crazy ass dangerous plan I've come to know and expect and they irritatingly work by and large." Ryika comments quietly. There's a flicker of a rueful smile at Quinlan's comment on Dirk's unpredictability and nods. "It's true. Although I really fear how it'll play out when she manipulates their desires, but distractions just might work."

Quinlan smiles. "I've one shell here. I can go with Rabe to wherever you think best. She definitely won't like either of us, but we're not entirely defenseless. And not storm blooded, so her influence is likely to be lessened."

Ryika mmms softly. "I'm not storm blooded, I don't have a shell, she's got no reason to poke me, other than if I try and grab that buried shell. But I pop around the island so much, I might manage to get closest before she realizes.. I just don't have a lot of strength for digging. I mean, I can lift a shovel, but you guys dug a /lot/ and didn't find it, didn't you?"

Merrisol sideglances at Ryika... expect from whom? Surely not him. His ideas are very sound and perfectly safe. Right? *crickets* "That's true, Ryika.. Maggie, Ruby, Dirk.. their blood could betray them, if they did hear our intentions. Perhaps.." he sighs.. "They don't need to know exactly why they are running around the island with the wind whacking after them." Bleh, though. He nods to her again, then glances at Quinlan then. "Your earth magic would really help at the dig site, though.. not to mention your air manipulation protecting the others if she does detect us and brings down holy heck. Ryika's popping around by mirror.. particularly with the shell in her possession, could really play silly buggers with the goddess," he smirks.

"I can do one or the other," Quinlan warns. "I can protect against the wind, but not the rain or help dig. Or I can help dig, but you're on your own against the wind and rain."

"I can only work with the sea. When the water's airborne, it's outta my realm." Ryika gives a little shrug on that notion. "No earth moving, no wind protection. I'm very mobile with mirrors, but I have to get to one. I can't just pull one out of thin air quickly. Still, I do pop all over the place. I'm making the offer, if there's a better choice of person to dig.. I will totally help play leapfrog with a shell, or just wait with bandaids and towels."

Quinlan mmms. "Too many plans again," he says. "And this shell we have, is the shell the storm WANTS taken off the island. About the only way to annoy her with that is to try taking it to the center of the island, I think."

Dirk keeps trying to move up the hill towards thee tree where the stone is buried.

Finally the storm simply reaches down as with a hand and scoops Dirk up to throw him bodily down the hill once more.

Merrisol sits for a few moments in silence. "When I pulled Maggie from the Dancer into the pit, the sky turned black and for a moment, I did see a face in the storm.. I'm not certain there /is/ an angrier face than what she was showing. She took drastic measures to make sure we were all pulled out of that hole, not just me," he points out, frowning.

Dirk gets thrown down the hill and laughs like a happy muddy wet kid. He waits and then starts to roll over to keep trying. He sings "I love you goddess I really do. I want to worship you and only you."

Quinlan blinks at Merri. "What's your theory?"

Merri is quiet, shrugging slowly after a moment. "Maybe it was just a bonus effect - she wanted Maggie's shell planted elsewhere /and/ wanted us to stop digging. But getting you to drop the defenses in the first place, and the additional force she must have had to generate to pick us all up and out.. that far. Compared to everything else we've endured, that felt like.. an act of desperation. So.. what if it was the proximity of the two artifacts to one another that set her off?"

Ryika is quiet as she listens, making a few notes and soft little 'mmm' and 'uhhunh' and watching Quinlan and Merrisol. "Is there a place of power in Minos? Or in Antika? Somewhere to take both shells? Or all the shells, if there's more than two. Which we've no indication that there are, save for my sense of symmetry."

Merrisol tilts his head curiously. "I don't recall if there are any, even if I used to know, Ryika. What's the reasoning behind taking them there?"

"If we're thinking that we need to gather them all together, however many there might be, doing it at a place of power, or sacred space feels.. respectful? Even if the storm goddess is playing the part of pyscho bitch in this story, there's something to be said for having some respect for Minosian beliefs. I just dont know what they /are/." Ryika tries to explain, with pauses and hesitations as she clearly is thinking aloud.

Quinlan hns, and (briefly and with care given the force of the storm outside) opens the door momentarily to let in a bright red foxbird. Parchment and ink and flat surfaces are in his bag, so he sets about writing things down. "This goddess isn't doing the people of Antika any good," he says quietly. "And the people she CAN talk to, she's not communicating any helpful information to. She could use her abilities to tell you stormborn what would make her calm down and leave the people here be. At least enough for them to be able to walk outside on their own. But she's not. She's telling you how to expand her power, and as far as I can tell, that's all she seems to want of you. She's not providing any *good* reasons to indulge that request."

"No, she's not. She's being the bad guy here. See the aforementioned psychobitch comment." Ryika notes thoughtfully. "But in the balance between things, it can't be all happy shiny rainbows. Yes, she's a rampaging storm bitch who is trying to exceed her grasp, and I'm in favour of smacking that down, but I dunno." She pauses and then shrugs. "Sacred spaces tend to work better for epic tasks. But I'm probably talking out my arse anyhow. I keep relating this back to other mythologies, and it probably means I'm on crack."

Merrisol looks in agreement with Quinlan although he continues to watch Ryika curiously throughout her speeches, some of which tends towards a 'sympathy for the devil' slant.. if one squints. He settles back on his hands, turning his gaze towards various observation decks to gauge their shakingness. Dirk must still be communing. "So.." He looks to Quinlan and his foxbird. "Are we agreed to keep our stormbloods in the dark as to current strategy?"

Ambassador Maereina:

Pardon the intrusion; I'm Quinlan, a mage of Pathi, working with the Pathfinders. And currently on assignment in Antika. A situation update seemed in order.

1) Antika is pretty much deluged in stormy weather. Significant property damage, most of the residents can't leave their homes. Ryika has been bringing in food and supplies by mirror, but again, people are having trouble just getting out of their homes, so there are delays in getting food to them.

2) Stormborn (bloodline of Stormalog and/or Rilga) are able to navigate, but as it turns out, this storm is a sentient storm *goddess* and is able to exert influence over the desires/will of stormborn. This should probably be something other stormborn are warned about. She's also rougher on stormborn than on others (mostly). Possibly because they're more immune to what she can do, but that's just a theory.

3) The goddess seems to be fixated on a few shells of her own creation. We're still working on that part, but the presence of one of the shells on Antika seems to be why she's not budging. She's proven able to throw people a considerable distance out to sea for trying to move it.

4) Er. Plz forward my apologies to Commodore Eamon for using the furniture in his observatory to reinforce the structure of said observatory. On the plus side the storm hasn't blown it down yet?

Will send more as more develops, or answer questions if you have them (I'd imagine you do but I can't guess at what they are just now).


Quinlan nods. "Though I'm admitting I'm not sure I'm clear on what it is. Send stormbloods in every possible direction and anyone who's left, dig for the remaining shell?" Finishing his report, he gives it to the already-bedraggled foxbird, and turns bird and message loose outside. "Quick line to the Minosian ambassador," he says. "Can't hurt, not entirely sure how it can *help*, but can't hurt."

"I think we're in a better position if we actually have access to both shells." Ryika nods in agreement. "Regardless of what we actually end up deciding to do with them."

Merrisol nods back, thoughtfully. "Specifically, Maggie, Ruby, and.. well. Let's lock Dirk in a closet," he says darkly, "but the others fulfill a worthy goal themselves. Such as.. find other storm-blooded on the island and warn them about the goddess's powers of compulsion, perhaps convince a few to join them outdoors," he suggests cautiously. "We can get a census list from the Commodore." Well, maybe he or Ryika can. Quinlan would probably er, quail and confess, er, everything he's done to the furniture! "Meanwhile, Ryika can take Maggie's shell and make like a whack-a-mole around the island.. it may take a bit of planned mirror placement.. we don't want you coming out into a depot full of storm-bloods, or come out too close to the dig site. The rest of us.. Quinlan, Rabe, Ruben, Templeton, and I, will make another run at that buried shell. Use Earth magic, then switch to Air defense if we're found out too soon. Once we have the shell, we get it out off the island by the most expedient means possible, and regroup." He subsides, watching Quinlan and Ryika expectantly.

Quinlan coughs. "Um. Not to get really personal here, but...how do we find out who on the island is storm blooded?"

"Look for the ones getting their arses handed to them?" Ryika speculates and nods to Merrisol at his suggestion to use her, and a shell as bait. Works for her. "I've got them in fairly quiet spots, by and large.. my mirrors that is, because I'd rather they not get broken, or stolen."

Dirk knocks on the door to the observatory.

Merrisol listens to Ryika with totally paternal concern, and may just check on those mirror placements himself! He nods though, and glances back at Quinlan. "The Commodore once told me there were less Stormborn on the island than on Cameron. He must have some manner of records to determine that."

Quinlan smiles. "Thank goodness paper doesn't make a great reinforcing material?" he says, indicating all the relatively barren rooms.

"I can ask him, if I can find him. We've rather taken over his island, which I can sympathize isn't awesome for him." Ryika muses thoughtfully. "Should I try and go to other islands? Have a peek? For what I've no clue, especially as they aren't all screwed up and caught in a storm."

Merrisol smiles back at Quinlan before turning to Ryika. He nods, pausing to explore the depths of his own sympathies for the Commodore. Hmm. Who the hell owns whole islands anyway. Only despots, commodores, and mad goddesses! "Hmm? Can you reach the other islands..? You'd need to have a mirror placed there prior."

Dirk opens the door and is soaked in his boxers and muddy too. He looks happy.

Ryika looks over as the door opens and eyes Dirk all muddy and happy. She starts to say something and then simply closes her mouth. "You alright, Dirk?" She asks and then looks back to Merrisol. "I don't quite know /how/ I'd get to another island, but of anyone, I'm likely the most able."

Dirk nods "yep I am fine. Not in the harbor not dead. I got to go play in the rain and mud. It was fun."

Merrisol signals for Quinlan to drop the sound barrier in time to catch Dirk's words, and gets to his feet. "You're alright with closed-in spaces, Dirk, right?" he asks offhandedly.

Dirk says "why?"

Merrisol mumbles, "Because you appear to appreciate the wide open outdoors? I wondered how you felt about the opposite."

Dirk shrugs "its okay I guess, I don't know."

Ryika stays settled on the floor, her notebook in her lap, a few more star charts tucked into the back of it. She flips to them and considers. "Lirre.. do you think there's navigational star charts between islands on Minos in here somewhere? Are the islands far enough apart for star navigation, or is it all landmarks?"

Merri nods preoccupiedly over Dirk's reply. He turns, looking down at Ryika. "I haven't noticed any myself, but there are two telescopes pointed into the sky for stargazing. If the charts aren't here, there is bound to be an astronomer on the island who uses Farsight and could accommodate you. The islands are quite a distance apart, yes." He gazes inquiringly at her, in case she is of the mind to explain her interest.

Ryika mmms thoughtfully. "It's not fast, but I might be able to get to the other islands based on their stars. I just am not sure if they're distinct enough to register, so to speak."

Merrisol's head tips slightly, then. "You know even a non-Minosian shouldn't be..." he starts, then stops abruptly. He glances at Quinlan, then excuses himself to go locate the others.

"Shouldn't be what?" Ryika asks as she sets her notebook on the floor and wanders over to look through the telescope herself, to consider the stars. She looks through, and then up and then through and frowns.

Dirk says "What's going on?"