Here Comes The Rain Again

[rassafraggin]

And so it is, after preparations have been made that Robert Feldane, beloved husband of Taleyn Feldane, adopted son of Fiona finds himself heading towards the mainland with the skull. It does not go well. Every seen a royal fly? You have now.

Once Robert has gotten himself back in mostly one piece he approaches the goddess again, but this time the action is less gung ho. It's the old push-me-pull-me trick again as he tries to discern what is wanted of various things by a long series of yes and no questions. It takes some time, but the Feldane finally has his answers.

Quinlan emerges on deck, stretching sleepily. "Afternoon everybody."

Merrisol is on shore as well because, well, that's just how it works. He keeps from interfering since it looks like Robert has a.. /process/.. for succcess.

Amy just stays where she can monitor the life forces, since there was no call for her to get involved otherwise. At least not yet.

Ryika watches, waits and watches as apparently Stormy plays with the brothers about the same. She looks over to Quinlan as he emerges on deck. "Robert's chatting with Stormy. Your landings are better."

Drenched, sodden and looking somewhat worse for wear? Lord Feldane heads back to the ship finally. There's a nod to the crew as he comes back aboard, and then one to his brother. "You're not going to like this," is the first thing out of his mouth, but the man looks to be determined. "The skull need to be buried on one of the islands, not here. Save Antika. We are to take the heart back there and re-bury it."

Merrisol climbs up from the boat in time to catch that, and sigh. Very dryly. Basically back where they started, then. "Hacha would be the place for the skull," he says, simply.

Lisette lifts her brows... then nods ruefully.

Quinlan blinks. "Why Hacha?"

"I think it's got the least potential for getting smeared off the map." Ryika answers. "And you're right, Robert. I don't like it. I don't think that changes anything, but I'm willing to say it."

"Because it is the most prepared island to endure any storms that will result from this action." And Robert seems pretty sure that there will be storms too as he starts to shed wet clothing without much ado onto the floor. Better to be drier and less clothed from the looks of things. "Can we set sail? Or are there easier methods to cross the distance?" He nods to Ryika. "I am aware, but both artifacts need to be placed. And I have no doubt it will cause issue in the short term."

Merrisol nods to Quinlan over Robert's explanation. "Violent weather has always been a condition of that area. Additionally, Ambassador Maereina says so." He considers. "We'll set sail and do Hachaa first, as we know what happens when Antika gets the heart." Wall o' Storm. "Then, Ryika, if you still have a mirror on Antika, we'll go there next. Agreed?"

Quinlan shrugs. "If that's the plan then let's be about it," he says. "How can I help?"

"I can head to Antika anytime, yes." Ryika nods at the plan, such as it might be. "Does it matter who puts it wherever, as I can basically put the heart back where we found it, if the tunnels' still open."

Robert nods to Merrisol. "And the heart will need to be fetched from Alhambra, will it not?" He looks around to his brother and issues a dark chuckle. "Brace yourself, little brother. This might well be worse than witnessing one of Mother and my fights." He shakes his head then to Ryika. "So long as it is buried there? No, it matters not who plants it."

"Is there any indication of how rapidly a response might be noticed?", Lisette asks. "It would seem sensible to ensure that anyone on burial duty has at least one means of very swiftly leaving the area once the task has been performed."

Merrisol has gone to the aft rail to call out an order to weigh anchor and haul ass. The crew is only too happy to comply, after all the zombie shenanigans and the storm punching matches. He turns back to watch and listen for a moment or so. "As Maggie has theorized, planting the skull might have some effect on the intellect of the storm," no, he doesn't know exactly what that might entail, "as the heart conveyed Stormy's rage via weather. Quinlan, if you would be on hand when it is laid on Hacha, to take a reading and attempt to communicate? You might get better results this time."

"No, the heart doesn't need to be fetched. We could bury them both simultaneously if we wanted to." Ryika answers Robert with a little shake of her head. "If she's ticked, she replies generally pretty much immediately."

Quinlan nods. "So. Let's get started." He looks around. "Eh. Need a good wind for the ship? Or is Maggie handling that?"

Robert glances around. "As far as I am concerned the sooner they are both buried the better. And yes, I expect there will be storms as responses, nothing has been indicated otherwise. For that? My apologies. I am still convinced that this is the right course of action. And if not no doubt you people will remind me of it for eternity. Everyone who is placing the thing should have some method of escape."

Lisette looks around the group. "So... how many of us have means of swift escape? I do, if necessary, though it's not a route I like to use."

"I do," Amy says, a bit wryly. "At least if you consider trump cards to be a means of swift escape." She's been quietly watching, all this time.

Merrisol nods to Quinlan. "Once we're headed in the right direction, if you please. It's not too long a jog, and if we don't send a message ahead, there should be no angry mobs meeting us there to stop the 'planting'," he says with a pensive rumble. Since they /are/ anticipating some terrible effect, it could well be argued that they do not necessarily need to be told that Hacha is being singled out in particular. "We won't be anchoring at harbour, for the Dancer's safety, but either rowing or flying in, Quinlan and I will be in that team, and you as well, Robert, if you like. Ryika will mirror into position on Antika, with Amy and Lisette. That should give us all a good several means of transport, should the islands become surrounded the same way as before. Sound like a plan?"

Robert nods as he listens to things being reeled off and people volunteering abilities. "That sounds like a fine plan. I do not mind being left to plant one on my own should it be necessary." Which may not mean the Feldane makes it out alive! Shock. Horror! "I would rather that than risk too many people should there be cause to think in those terms."
Quinlan slants an odd look at Robert. "All right. I guess we're set. Um." He looks at the ship, which is not of Pathian make and requires sailors to make it go properly. "yeeeah. You guys do what you have to."

"Let's try to avoid anyone being left behind, if we can. Or having just the one way out of trouble," Lisette gently admonishes her House regent.

Merrisol shakes his head, then glances to Lisette with a nod of agreement. "That should not be necessary, Lord Robert, although it sounds nicely morbid and lonely." Feldane Emo is so poetic. "Ryika has handled the heart all this time, she can put it back. I have held the skull.. too long, however as one of Minosian blood it did once manage to instill an idea in my head and might be able to tell me where to place it, as the heart once told Dirk." As the ship starts on a SW heading from the mainland, her stormsails are unfurled and fluff out with the help of QuinlanAir(tm).

Amy's gaze goes from one to the other. "Right, so I'm just going along for a quick escape route. If you're planning to trump Maggie, then I should perhaps trump someone else, yes?"

Quinlan wrinkles his nose at Amy. "And also in case the goddess takes control of everyone with Minosian blood aboard. It could get nasty."

"In theory, we left a mirror right /in/ the tunnel. I can just pop in and pop out of there, if its not been moved." Ryika points out. "Although a light would be handy. So I should, in theory, have a quick in and out without any fuss. Trump, and extras are just insurance."

Lisette looks impressed. "Can you check whether the mirror's intact, or even see out of it, without having to step through?"

Quinlan smiles. "Light, I can do," he says. "Want me to lend you my staff?"



The ship arrives off the coast of Hacha, no intention of going to port. Merrisol has the skull shell, and the team of Quinlan and Merrisol either row to shore or fly-trump in. This time, Merrisol holds the shell in his bare hand and concentrates on it to see if it will tell him where to put it.

The Wave Dancer maintains a distance, such that if the predicted storm ring forms around Hacha, it is most likely on the outside of that cordon. There are several individuals on board with both Quinlan's and Merrisol's trumps to transport them back out. There is also a mirror on board used by Ryika to get back to any number of mirrors left on Antika.

Ryika looks to Amy and Lisette. "How about I try it by mirror, but with a connection via trump to Amy? So if something goes weird, you can pull me through. That work? I can't take anyone with me by mirror, that's the challenging bit." She has Quin's staff for light, and has already checked to ensure tht the mirror in the tunnel, while dark and dusty, is still in the tunnel.

Unfortunately since Merrisol has no storm-blood the shell as no good way of communicating any desires to him.

Quinlan has his storm silks on, staff in hand, and is definitely not happy. But - well, what else can be done? "Just remember where you put it, Merri. In case we have to go digging for it later."

Merrisol hesitates while looking at the shell uncertainly. "Awkward. I thought it had imparted a directive back on Antika. It must have been my own imagination all along," he says sourly. He looks left and right around the beach, gauges angles, and settles for another 'under a dead tree' location beyond the sands. Hunkering down, he touches the shell to the bare soil.

At much the same time, Ryika (with Quin's staff) is stepping through a mirror into the tunnel in Antika. With the heart shell. She's not expecting any directives, she just simply reaches to put it back where they found it.

The moment the shell touches the soil of Hacha, clouds begin to gather over Hacha and a bell rings somewhere on the island. The few people who hadn't already taken precautionary shelter make their way to storm shelters as the winds slowly begin to pick up.

Lisette reluctantly nods agreement to Ryika's plan. "It sounds sensible," she concedes.

Thunder cracks over Antika and weary residents take shelter once again. The storm closes in much faster there.

Quinlan eyes the inclement weather. "...Not good. Really, just not good." He shakes his head. "Best move quick, Merri. Weather's happening."

Merri lifts his hand until just his index finger is poking the shell downwards, making a groove in the soil to hold it in place, before he stands up. "Sense anything new, Quinlan? Same old angry gal forming up?" he wonders as he backs away towards Quinlan. "I'm done," he notes. Landmarks fixed in his mind. "Trump your brother."

A moment after Merrisol stands a gust of wind SLAMS into the shell shoving it quite violently beneath the surface of the soil.

Ryika tucks the shell into place and then steps back. "It's done here." She notes into the trump connection and moves to step away and towards the mirror to come back. "Is it getting stormy?" She is in a tunnel, far underground, there's not a lot of weather right there.

Amy's gaze is on her trump, and that's what she's focused on, making sure that Ryika is okay, ready to pull her out if need be.

"Weather all around, guys," is Quinlan's verdict. "Are *both* shells planted?"

Merri doesn't so much 'back away', as jump back involuntarily, as the ground ripples away from the impact epicenter. "...Right," he resumes, glancing at Quinlan with his brows hoisted. "Ryika's way there was quicker than ours, and she knew where to go. Let's head back."

Ryika's way is much quicker, and in lieu of risking the mirror, she just holds her hand out to Amy. "Might as well just pull me through, save us one spot that can go odd."

Amy promptly reaches a hand out for Ryika, as requested. "Sure thing," she replies.

Once the shell has disappeared beneath the soil the winds begin to pick up more quickly and the skies darken precipitously. Rains begin to fall a moment later, lightly at first then a sudden drenching downpour. Over Antika, it starts with drenching downpour.

"Somehow, I foresee the Commodores being really *pissed* at us, very soon," says Quinlan, summoning wisplights so he and Merri can see their way back.

A wind swirls around Merrisol as they move away from the shell. It seems to whistle in his ears and he can ever so faintly seem to hear the words 'Thank you.'

"Maggie will be disappointed. She was so sure there was going to be an intelligence spike if we planted the..." Merri is remarking... but the sentence chokes off as he hesitates in the personal flurry. "Did you.." he starts to say stupidly to Quinlan, then shakes his head. "All right." He studies the debris fleeing through the rising wind. "You want to try flying through that?" he raises his voice. "It might still be safe to trumpcall.."

Once she is above ground, the same wind swirling effect happens to Ryika and she too seems to hear a Thank you very softly in one ear.

Ryika leans on the edge of the railing, watching after she's pulled through, watching. "So.. now we wait? Watch as the weather gets awful?" She squints out, trying to find Merri and Quinlan in the rising storm.

Quinlan shrugs. "It's what I wore stormsilk for," he says, taking off for the ship.

Lisette somewhat warily moves up to the rail beside Ryika, though she spares more than a few dubious glances for the tossing waves below.

Quinlan alights on the deck, and trumps Merri to bring him over. "Looks like really crap weather all around," he says. "How long do we want to give it?"

Once Ryika is clear, Amy takes a good look, and her breath inhales sharply. "The life force in the storms just skyrocketed."

Ryika looks up at the sky. "You can thank me by not obliterating your own islands!" She calls up towards the storm, as if that's going to make a whit of difference. She looks over to Quinlan and offers him his staff back. "Visions are absolute crap about timelines."

Merrisol waits on shore, watching the green crusader forging through the wind and rain, until the dimming visibility makes that impossible. He slogs into the shallows since he's soaked anyway, and waits for the trump summons. Strangely, his long-lingering misgivings have ebbed, and once dripping on board, he looks at the others, and then at the sky thoughtfully. "Perhaps as long as it was raining on Antika the first time.. perhaps shorter, now that both shells are in. I'll get us heading for the stormwall to the east of Hacha.. see if it's passable now."

Quinlan nods, pensive now that the results are being seen. He heads up into the bow, to see what his senses can tell him that his eyes aren't going to.

* * * * * * * * * *

Merrisol spyglasses the Hacha storm as they go by around the western edge, moving north in the direction of Whitehold, though the stormwall might be seen to stand in the way, even from this distance. He eventually finds Quinlan on his vigil, and asks, "Anything interesting?"

"All of this is the goddess," says Quinlan quietly. "It's all her. All the storm."

Merrisol folds his arms, settling his hip against the rail. "And the mainland? She was there, too, yeah? That ancient source of power in pieces and that massive one covered with zombies."

Quinlan looks wry. "When we go back around there, I can tell you then."

Merri nods slowly. "Did you want to go back, for that?" He scrubs both hands back through his hair. "Maggie thinks it was her. I don't know what that says about the zombies."

Quinlan nods. "I think we should," he says. "So far, doing what the goddess wanted made *only* the goddess happy. It'd be nice to find that there's fewer zombies on the mainland. Or *something* positive, at least."

"That's why we're headed straight for the wall," notes Merrisol in anticipation. "Putting the heart on Antika the first time made the wall stronger. Pulling the heart out of Antika made the wall nigh-impenetrable. There's no following that logic, but the hope is that putting both shells in their respective spots has done the reverse again. Times two." He sights ahead to the horizon. One thing's certain: It's still there.

Quinlan smiles a bit. "All right then," he says, getting good and wedged into the bow, and getting a good grip on the ship. "Into the storm then."

Merri regards Quinlan's security measures with a bemused smirk. "We're not.. ramming our way through." Or divebombing, either. "If it's the same or stronger, we'll get chewed up when the gale turns us out of the water. Oh, and it might still have adverse effects on our Stormbloods," he recalls, then pauses a while with his thought progression marching comically across his features. "Maybe we'll check on the exposed mainland first. Yes. Once we get out, I'm not sure we'll be coming back in right away. I'll.. just measure wind speed while we're here."

"Whatever you need to do, man," Quinlan says simply. "But at the moment my faith in this deity's intentions has reached a new low."

Merri turns back from wandering off and regards Quinlan. "It wasn't just your brother's word we were going on. There was Ryika's vision - that there'd be rain, lots of it, but after that, there would be abundance." No timeframe on that, though. Merri leans the rail again, nearby. "For Lord Robert's part.. he felt sympathy for the goddess. Saw a kindred spirit, with pieces missing."

Quinlan nods. "What we *have* is torrential rain and storms," he says. "The rest...we're kind of taking on faith. Which I don't really have a lot of, in this case. We've got no idea how long the rains will last, or how much damage will be done on the way. Or, for that matter, what this goddess considers 'abundance'." He shrugs. "I've agreed to wait and see, man. And I will. I just don't feel really optimistic about it, you know? Divinities have been known to have *very* skewed ideas of what is good."

A wind swirls around Quinlan and very softly in his ear he hears, 'Mind your tongue, mageling.'

Quinlan tilts his head as the wind whispers. "Really?" he asks blandly. "You're going to have problems with people *disagreeing* with you? You *do* realize what Shadow you're in, right? D'you *know* how often Minosans agree on things? Anything? Are you *aware* their general attitude to people-not-their-captain giving orders is to tell you where to shove it?" He shakes his head. "Well. If you're not, I'm sure you'll work it out eventually."

Merrisol is silent while he gives the angst its due consideration. He, of course, angsted quite a bit, before. Keyword: before. "Yes. I've met a few, and people who figured they were close enough as to make no technical difference... beg pardon?" He frowns at Quinlan, narrow-eyeing the mage until he works out he's not the target of the emphatic rhetoric. "Uh... oh." He looks around worriedly. "Big Sister is Watching? Is that what this is now?"

Quinlan nods. "The lady has language now. And ears. And apparently," and for a moment the illusionist takes on a very Darth Vader voice, "finds my lack of fath disturbing."

Amy is on her own on the deck, probably halfway down, away from the forecastle. She is practicing with the sword that Merrisol insisted she bring along. Every so often she stops, looks out at the storms, and then shakes her head.

Yet again the wind swirls around Quinlan, enough wind to ruffle his clothing this time but again it leaves only a whisper in his ear, 'You no longer wish to talk?'

Merrisol mulls that over. "I.. suppose so. So it wasn't my imagination /that/ time, at least. Look... this, this thing," he waves nebulously at the capricious air, "It would have been around months ago already, had I not interfered with Maggie's holding the shell and unknowingly put an end to its influence and ability to get planted to an island."

Quinlan has that head-tilted listening pose again. "What the goddess wants hasn't been in question or doubt, Merri. Only what she'll do with her power once it's returned. *That* is what I'm waiting to see." Speaking not to Merri now, but to the atmosphere and all effects therein, he says, "Honestly? You've heard my concerns. What I want to do is *listen*. And witness. And if you find my lack of trust or faith upsetting, I can only tell you I've got some pretty stellar Complete Lying Bastards on *both* sides of my family tree, so I try not to believe things just because I'm told them. It's not personal. I'm just...waiting. And frankly, hoping my mistrust isn't justified. There are a *lot* of people under your umbra now."

This time the winds pick Quinlan up off the deck ever so slightly. She whispers 'I am incomplete. My control is incomplete as well.'

Amy finishes her practice, and turns to look again over the ship and out at the storms. It has her move up towards the forecastle, so she can sit up there, and watch the storm.

Merrisol looks just a bit alarmed when Quinlan looks to be swept slightly higher by the focused wind current. "Hey.." he scowls. At this point, however, Mr. Anderson calls out to him, asking for direction on how to proceed, now that they are close to the event horizon for entering the stormwall's windy scope. Damn it.. got distracted by the disembodied drama up here. Merri casts a glance to the towering turbulence that blots out the horizon and much of the sky ahead, and mutters, "Hold on, Quinlan.. we're turning aside and heading back to the beach." He passes Amy on the way down to the main deck. "Careful where you step, we've got 'company' on the bow," he says to her.

Quinlan nods slowly, unconcerned about being briefly picked up. Well, he *is* a flying mage in stormsilk, so. "So there are more shells to recover and place?" he asks. "Where are they, and where do you want them to be?"

Ryika emerges up onto the deck to find Quinlan flying. Again. And talking to himself. She arches a brow, and then looks to Merrisol and Amy with a questioning glance.

Amy blinks at Merrisol's comment, giving him a startled look. "Company? But - " The Mandrake now even more curiously goes up to the forecastle to see who is there. "Hey, Quinlan. What does Merrisol mean about company?" Course, if she spies Quin in the air, she just assumes he's done that himself.

The winds swirl about him more gently, almost caressing now, 'Only my children can find them to bring them home.'

Merrisol looks in a hurry towards the helm, shouting the order to strike the sails, and prepare for a hard turn to port side. He pauses to lean down and murmur to Ryika, "Stormy has a voice.. have you heard it? I did, after doing the shell bit. She's here and talking to Quinlan.. not sure about her range, but keep an eye on things while I pull us away from Hacha." He straightens and runs off to the aft deck.

Quinlan takes a tiny step toward the first probable conclusion. "The stormblooded?" he asks. "Children of Rilga's line, or Stormalog's?" To Amy, he says, "The storm goddess has vocabulary now. And ears. Of a sort."

Amy stares at Quinlan a little more. And then a little more. "Oh. Quinlan, you appear to be a bit surrounded." And then realization strikes and she nods. "So I /see./"

Ryika nods to Merrisol, her own answer a quiet murmur. "I heard it too." She confirms for him as she hunhs softly, moving over towards the railing and near to where Quinlan is chatting with her, and listening. And generally watching. A lot of watching.

Suddenly there is a loud crack of thunder from all the storms in Minos and the words, 'TRAITORS! ALL OF THEM!' boom across the archipelago.

Amy looks over at Ryika, shrugging a bit cause she's not at all sure what to say. She's somewhat startled by the clap of thunder, eyes widening. "Okay, that's different."

Merrisol takes over the helm, calls out sail adjustments into the turn. There's voices raised in shock and trepidation from the crew when the heavens ring with that damning accusation. Merri's gaze darts up, then across the deck at his companions on the forecastle. Reiterating his command angrily, he lets the officers take up the cry and pull men back to their senses. He spins the wheel hand over hand, without flagging once, and the Wave Dancer skims an arc alongside the storm, rain pelting the deck. Another command, and the sails come down again to catch the wind and propel them forth.

"Well, I think we know her opinion on.. stormblooded." Ryika comments dryly as she looks out over the water and the thunder rumbles over the entire shadow. "I'm going to guess stormblooded at least."

Quinlan nods. "I wouldn't mind knowing what they did to make you call them so," he remarks to the storm. "But if they aren't your children, then who?"

The wind whispers again, 'They are. They did this to me.'

Amy stays where she is, not getting close to Quin, but watching the life force she can see. "That's got to be painful," she murmurs.

The Wave Dancer pulls back out of the storm and settles into a straighter heading, west by south west with Hacha's storm behind them and the wall running parallel off the starboard bow. Also gaining distance more gradually. Merrisol checks the sails, gives the wheel back to the helmsman, and goes to cross the deck again. "That yawp from all corners doesn't give me hope, but hopefully we'll find a spot of quiet once we've put her behind us a pace."

"The stormblooded tore her apart," says Quinlan, to everyone now paying attention. "She says there are still more pieces, and only the stormblooded can find them and put them where she needs them to be."

"That's got to be nervewracking," Amy's not much on deep thought, but the dragon-blooded Mandrake at least is paying attention. "Do we know how many more pieces at all?"

Merrisol shakes his head, "That's been the pet theory for a while.. and now it's been confirmed, by the goddess herself. Doesn't exactly make this any easier to help her out." He listens while more questions surface from the others. "I want to see if there are any quiet zones, so feel free to keep asking while we put both of her," gestures to the separately manifesting storms, "to our rear horizon.. let me know if you stop hearing anything," he says to Quinlan.

Quinlan mmms. "Storm, do you know who did this?" he asks. "I mean, if word reaches, say, Caine, or Gerard, is that going to be an issue?"

Amy shrugs, looking at Quinlan and then at Merrisol. "No clues here," is all she says. "I just - hope everything works out alright."

"At a guess, I'd say there's 3 more pieces," says Merri, waiting it out while Quinlan listens for a breezy whisper. "One for each of the remaining islands."

Quinlan shakes his head. "Silence off the bow, captain," he says to Merri. "No more chatting tonight, I think. Or tossing."

"Seems we learned quite a bit," Amy says after a moment. "So that is great. I guess you all will be able to hopefully help more." She pauses, and then she shrugs a bit. "Not sure if I am going to be able to help, even if I did bring a sword with me." A sidelong glance over at Merri with that comment.

Merrisol glances over 'his' crew as sailing operations resume normalcy. Hardy, seasoned bunch, although perhaps one of the officers had to be removed below once the rain from the stormwall hit. He turns back, catching Amy's eye, but nodding to Quinlan first. "Sooner than expected, really. Didn't want to have to drift into The Maw just to be able to talk without surveillance." He turns to look back at Amy, blinking. "You have already helped us a great deal, Amy, without having to swing the sword." Mmm.. sword. Someone's been raring for a fight? "That trip out over the mainland.. I don't know if anyone has ever gotten that far inland before, or discovered new aspects to the source of the goddess or infestation. Are you saying you need to go? We should have a drink or two before you do." He glances at Quinlan again. "That question about telling the Uncles about Stormy.. a subtle threat?"

Quinlan blinks. "Hardly," he says. "Though it would serve both as that and an illustration of my trust issues, I'm sure. No, I asked because when she said it was her children who'd broken her, and separated her pieces, my thoughts rather immediately jumped to my elders' usual response to competition in the games of power. Which *is*, 'dismember it'. But I'd rather thought my Uncles-via-Rilga were too young to be involved in this specific caper. Still doesn't hurt to ask."

Amy sort of blinks at that, staring at Merrisol. "Huh, I didn't know that," she says, being quite honest. "But then I am glad I could help, and perfectly willing to help more. I just don't see what I can do - you all seem to have it covered really well." A glance at Quinlan and Amy flashes a grin. "Not that I have to go. Just I'd rather not give any extra targets for anyone to throw through the air or anything, if there's not a reason." She nods to Quinlan as she considers that. "They must have learned that response from somewhere." A pause. "And I hope we don't learn it over time, assuming we haven't already."

Merrisol's turn to be stunned. "Really - we look like we've got a handle on this?" Hmm. Someone ~belieeeves~ in them. He glances at Quinlan, nodding understanding at the reply. He smiles at Amy. "This might turn into a waiting game, since only Stormborn can get the things Stormy needs. Could be this is a good time to take leave of Minos and look in on Kitezh, if there are still things we could do as Pathfinders Corps."

Quinlan nods. "See to other business, restock, rest up, dive back in. I have some jobs that I've left waiting, to see this through."

Merrisol watches Amy depart to check on the affected Stormborn of the officer crew.. a lady! So she's safe. Maybe. "As do I," he agrees with Quinlan. "One more check on the state of the undead, before we part ways?"

Quinlan nods. "Good idea. Just to see what effect, if any, there has been on the population."

"I heard that Amy declared there was a large spike to her lifesense readings when the storms brewed up today. I wondered if that means less life force on the mainland... as though it has escaped to Sea, so to speak."

"The life she's sensing may be the goddess herself," says Quinlan. "I've noticed her scent's gotten rather...pervasive."

Merrisol nods. "Might have to draw up a new map. A 'Before and After Capitulation' set," he smirks, then adds, "Come down and have a drink. Should still have some wine you'd fancy in stock."

Quinlan smiles. "Thanks," he says, and unpeels himself from the bow to join him.

* * * * * * * * * *

The storm of Hacha is a distant smudge on the horizon when the Wave Dancer hooks north and comes upon the exposed strip of mainland between the Minos stormwall ends. The plan is to take another sense reading of the mainland to see if something has changed in the zombie infestation, and to gauge the concentrations of the goddess's alleged power and life source.

Amethyst is on the deck of a ship, looking at the strange storms. She's leaning against the rail, behind her the view of the deck of a perhaps Minosian ship. She's wearing a thick tunic and tights, sword sheathed at her side. "Oh, hello? Viktor? Is all well?"

Ryika leans on the railing, watching the horizon and the sky and the water. She's fufilling her primary occupation of being professionally decorative with aplomb.

Quinlan is waiting in the bow, watching the ship's progress. "Time to see what can be seen. Or smelled, I guess."

Amethyst glances over towards the rail, catching sight of someone there, and then she says, "I am just helping out a bit in Minos, but at the moment, we're in between storms." Literally. "How are things in Kitezh?"

Ryika turns her head to look over to where Quinlan is lingering and nods. "See if we broke Minos any more than usual before we head home again."

Quinlan nods, a bit unhappily, at Ryika's remark. "Yeah. That would be good to know."

Merrisol takes the ship in a fraction closer this time before turning the port side inward as before, and dropping anchor. He walks across the main deck, seeing the team a bit scattered hither and thither, one of them on a call. "Misplaced our Feldanes again, I understand," he observes, standing at the gunwale at some central point. He glances over at Amethyst once more, then settles in to wait.

Amethyst chuckles softly. "We appear to have misplaced our Feldanes," she repeats, glancing over at Merrisol. "So what's the plan?" And then obviously not to Merrisol, she says, "There are some nasty stormwalls, that appear stationary, I think imbued with, created by and maybe even inhabited by a storm goddess in pieces." Not to be confused with a chandelier in pieces. "But the team here is figuring things out, and I'm glad I can help."

"Easy to misplace, I suppose. Ghostly and all that." Ryika comments as she watches over towards the land. She lets Amy ask about plans, leaning on the railing.

Merrisol takes that aside from Amethyst as a cue to go ahead, shoehorning his remarks in between Amethyst's dialogue as politely as he can. "Is there a need for the shoreboat? Ryika and I can both monitor your flights by trump, and pull you back if necessary."

Amethyst blinks and looks over at Quinlan and Merrisol. "If you think it might help, King Viktor is offering to speak with her. And no, I don't think we need a shoreboat. Flying ought to work hopefully as well as it did last time."

Quinlan shrugs. "I have no idea," he admits. "One god to another, maybe? Hells if I know. But I'm ready to overfly the land to see what can be seen."

Amethyst's glance goes one way and then back. "Viktor, we're not sure, but we'll let you know, if that's okay?" she asks. "We're ready to do the fly-by. And - oh. Really? A gift for me? That's very kind." She tilts her head briefly and then she smiles. "Alright, I'll trump you back once we're done."

"So far she's really only chatted with Quin and Robert." Ryika comments thoughtfully. "They've been the ones who've made the most effort, though."

Merrisol steps away from the railing to retrieve the map in its foldout frame, for the recon team to familiarize themselves with landmarks and the relative distances between such, along with the past conditions regarding magic power (gold), contagion (red), and life readings (purple, natch). He pauses over Amy's offer on her betrothed's behalf. "I know he's been hailed as a god, but is he?" he asks quietly. "We know Stormy wasn't quite happy with the idea of there being other gods besides her, let alone as mighty as her," he muses, then nods to Ryika. "She interacts with the Stormborns too, in a sense."

Suddenly a wind swirls around Merrisol and whispers in his ear, 'My name is Minos. Stop calling me that silly name.'

Amethyst's eyes widen and her mouth opens in surprise. There is a moment of a smile, before it's hidden with a toss of her head. "As I can," she replies to whatever Viktor says. "Take care." And then she very swiftly turns her attention to her recon mission, no matter what the hunky Kite is up to. First to Merrisol - "He glows, I can tell you that." A shrug, and then to Ryika, a nod. "Maybe they're just the most interesting. Or the best listeners?"

Quinlan looks wry. "There are a lot more gods than just Viktor about," he says. "At least Viktor earned it."

"If someone asks you if you're a god.. just say yes. I'm pretty sure that's the prevailing theory." Ryika nods to Merrisol. "It's true, she intereacts with the Stormborns, but not exactly in a good way, generally. There's not a lot of love there."

Merri's jacket tails twist and he firms his grip on the map frame slightly more when the breeze singularly picks up around him. His hair fluffs and flutters, and he takes a sharp breath as though to speak. "...So, Ixnay on the Ormy-Stay.." he says with forced lightness. Ormy-Stay.. that's much better. "Amy.. Quinlan. I'm reminded.." he says, frowning, "there's something other than the undead you need to be wary of, over the mainland."

Amy stares at Merrisol for a moment, and then she says, "Did she give you a name? Cause if it was me, and you just said that, I'm pretty sure you'd be in for a tail swipe." She takes a moment to shift to dragon shape, so she's ready for flying, and then she rumbles, "That is true, Quinlan. And Ryika, that might be a good thing, so long as you don't then have to live up to it."

Quinlan gets to his feet. "All right. Time to go take a peek. Call me on my trump when you're ready." With no further ado, he launches himself skyward, heading over the mainland.

"Oh, she's hit me before... and that /had/ been for asking for her name," Merri informs Amethyst. Thus reminded, he moves the fine map away from his body so if she does hit him it doesn't make a big perforation in the parchment to boot. Now he looks like a matador, ole! He watches Quinlan take off with determination. "She would prefer to be called Minos, in fact, and.. I'm /not/ certain that's going to go over well at the registrar's, much less when the Commodores get wind of it." He starts over to the rail again.

Amy snorts at that, shaking her head. "Right, that could get really entertaining, depending on your definition. But first, flying." gathers herself and takes off, launching into the air, wings flapping.

Merri sets the map down in the lee of the gunwale, and takes out his trump tin, sorting Amy's out, while Ryika holds on to Quinlan's, for note-taking the observations.

Amy flies out, following after Quinlan. She'll let Merri figure out trumping time, answering once he calls. And as she heads over the mainland, she makes her first discovery. "Interesting. The tiny points of life I mentioned last time - they are bigger. Now there are definitely stars in my eyes."

"The zombies haven't changed. Neither stronger nor weaker. Still focused where the source of the goddess magic is. But the goddess magic is a lot stronger now," adds Quinlan.

Merrisol takes in Amy's initial report with interest, even if it's not exactly comforting news. Catching some of Quinlan's through his contact with the other half of the flight company, he narrow-gazes a moment. "Go on.. anything else?" He's just listening and holding the connection for a quick escape route, but on the off-chance his monitoring is itself being monitored, he says aloud, "What's buried there of yours..." There's a beat of rumination, and he manages to add, "...Minos?"

"And the life pulse is stronger," Amy says, as she gets to where she can see it, catching up a bit. "At the source, the life force is definitely stronger."

Quinlan flies over to Amy. "The source of the goddess magic is that way. Is the life force stronger that way also?"

Merrisol actually gets an answering whisper from the wind, 'Nothing of mine is buried there.'

Amy's head twines towards Quinlan, picking up his question. "Yes," she replies. The life force is definitely stronger at the source of the goddess magic."

OOC> Merrisol wonders if that's something that Amy would have heard too.
OOC> Maereina hmms. Could be since she's connected via trump, but not necessarily. People on a trump don't hear it when a person standing beside you talks in your location unless they are touching you.
OOC> Merrisol ohs, didn't know that about the local chatter.

Merri gazes at the dragon form even while the card in his hand shows Amy's human-self. His focus wanes a touch while receiving the answer, and his expression turns puzzled and annoyed while he shunts concentration back to Amy. Takes a moment to recover from having his prevailing beliefs corrected, but then he asks aloud, "If it is not yours, then whose is it?"

This time the wind whispers, 'My only faithful lover.'

"Emanations are her power," says Quinlan. "Lots of."

Merrisol looks bemused by that, frankly, all irritation swept out by the unlikely admission of sentimentality. "From what I'm hearing, things are coming back to life over there, in a manner of speaking. Your power, your... army?" he hazards.

Quinlan starts heading back to the ship. "Or her prison guards," he offers. "Her power's increased. Zombie contagion's unaffected."

The wind sweeps around Merrisol idly, 'Unintentional but useful.'

Merri is silent as Amy banks to follow Quinlan. Useful zombie army, there's a word combo that ought to send chills up the spine. "Are they your people from before the Sundering?" He lowers the card when he catches a glimpse of Amy and Quinlan in real-mode, returning to the ship.

The wind swirls several times around Merrisol now before whispering, 'Not all.'

Quinlan lands lightly on the deck, eyeing the zombies on the shore. "Figured we're safe enough since they don't swim out, and we're not tromping in by land this time," he says. "Aaand you look distracted."

Merri looks noticeably more ruffled and swirled than his usual sense of decorum allows, yes. "Oh.. right, because they followed.. I forgot." Obviously. "The legend referring to the Sundering of Minos.. that was you. Or did the land itself break apart as well.." He looks at Quinlan again, frowning, but keeping his sensibilities intact while speaking with something seemingly as vast and pervasive as the sky. "The zombies are.. guarding.. a, uh.. a loyal lover. Not a Stormborn, then.. they're all traitors, if I recall hearing that correctly," he notes wryly.

The wind swirls around both of them almost shoving them into each other and they both hear, 'I was one with land and sea. Sundering me broke the land. They do not guard my lover. It belongs to him.' It is difficult for wind to sound annoyed but somehow she manages it.

Quinlan tilts his head. "Well. If she's sharing, take notes to fill us in?"

Merrisol might have been willing to suffer some clothes-riffling and creative new hairstyles for the sake of learning, but he resists the push mulishly at first. He likes Quinlan, but not that way! "Unh," he realizes then, after the lengthier whisper tickles the inner ear. "She only has two settings.. like, indoor voice and outdoor voice." He settles for standing quite close to Quinlan, although the mage is free to take ten steps back. "Her Sky, his Land.. and.." he mutters, thinking. "I wonder if we need to visit the Maw at some point, after all."

Quinlan mms. "Your reason?" he asks. "And I'm personally wondering if the faithful lover is Stormalog."

Merrisol rumble-sighs, considering that. "Faithful? His Queen.." he starts and immediately trails, like riiight, he's really going to bring up Rilga right now. Changing subjects, he says, "If we're characterizing the Sky and the Land.. seems only right to do the same for the Sea." Doubly so as he's Rebman. "The Sundering scattered pieces of her, broke him. It there's a manifestation representing the Sea, the vortex would be it."

"Such a division is ancient and across Shadows," Quinlan nods. "But we could also just ask." Tilting his head back, he asks, "What is your faithful lover's name?"

Either she's stopped listening again or she's not answering that one.

Merrisol willingly waits a bit for that answer to make its way into their ears, but he doesn't look too surprised when it doesn't. "Showing too much of her hand at once," he suggests. "The notion of the undead gaining more..." he word-searches, "coherency, with that life spark Amy sees getting stronger, it doesn't paint an idyllic picture of the endgame when all the pieces have been retrieved and planted.. unless it is possible for a zombie to come fully back to life."

"Only, I suspect, if they're not really zombies - that is, the dead variety - in the first place," says Quinlan. "Feldanes speak of a 'door'. You can get near that door, as I understand it, but once you go *through*, you don't come back." A brief smile. "My brother would be much more knowledgable and I confess probably a lot more accurate, but that's my understanding. Death, like life, has stages. But there's also an endpoint. Sort of like birth, I guess." He eyes the heavens. "We've committed to the course. We're going to get the pieces and restore her. What happens *after that* depends entirely on her."

Merri nods a few times during the inexpert explanation. He'll certainly find time and opportunity to speak with Feldanes again, as the mainland remains an exploration option to his mind. When it gets to the ominous sky-gazing, he hums with dark amusement. "The zombies, she says, are not her doing, and yet, the changes to her power affect them too. There would appear to be other agendas intertwined with her destiny - and what I thought was reassurance in Ryika's vision that the island populations would survive to a new age dawning," he says slowly, weighing his words and the choice to freely speak them, "could now mean the people she saw were not the islanders after all." He straightens away from Quinlan and glances around for Amy, making sure she's come in for a landing. "I'll see if Maggie wants to be the one to recruit your storm-blooded cousins to the task of finding the other shards. But for now, let's call it a day." Or a week.. or a month.. But who's been counting.

Quinlan nods. "Indeed. I have people I've promised to sail to Pathi, for one thing."