The Winds of Oblivion

[AlphaLuke]

Briny sea fog rolls in off the docks into the Coins in a damp, fetid miasma. The cool fog catches the first rays of pink and golden light as it plays across the morning air. It’s breathtaking.

Absalom, the City at the Center of the World, is slow to stir. Don’t misunderstand my meaning. Plenty of her inhabitants were busy till the morning’s first light, but her true heart only begins to thrum with the rising of the blazing sun. Priests of Sarenrae sing from their minarets in lilting Qadiran tongues, a call to the faithful for morning prayers. Bakers, up for hours, open their shutters to let the morning breeze cool their sweltering kitchens. Fishermen, nursing the curse of the cup, stumble out of public houses and shady brothels, making their meandering way back to their ships.

As the city slowly stretches and rubs the sand out of its eyes, a rare sight sends a ripple of laughter and excited whispering through the districts. An airship has flow into port. In a city where Cyclopses have been known to walk through the marketplace, winged pseudodragons hunt rats as voraciously as cats, and every culture and god has at least one representative, an airship might not be seen as such a strange sight. But, even in Absalom, airships are the exception. The city’s port is glutted with conventional seagoing vessels but bears only a few towers capable of docking aeronautical transportation. What’s more, this ships flies not with the bloated gas-filled balloons of the Alkenstar airships, nor with the fiery rings of some of the Casmaroni geniebound vessels. It floats upon a keel of glowing blue Auran runes. Those runes send scholars in the Arcanamirium into a frenzy when they receive their morning reports. A single word seems to be on everyone’s lips: “Shory”.

The airship, Apparition in Time, shortly has contracts posted with both the Pathfinder Society and the Aspis Consortium.

Looking for Crew
Apparition in Time
Thunderhead Class Airship

In search of untethered souls to ride the winds in search of adventure, treasure, and knowledge. Must have adventuring experience.

In need of:
Deckhands
Shore Party Soldiers
Cartographers/Navigators

All qualified hires will receive a full share, a bunk, and three meals a day. Exceptions will be made for exceptional applicants. Applicants should inquire with Kalinda at the Lost Tome Inn in the Coins District.

[DeathbyFlossing]

Storms-As-He-Walks, of no quah in particular, is very, very tired. He is tired because he slept poorly the previous night. He is tired because he exerted himself greatly the previous day.

But mostly, he is tired because eight different people have tried to kill him in the past week, three of whom struck at lunch yesterday.

I need to get out of town for a while, Storms thinks, as he walks through the docks. Spying the ad for the Apparition, he heads to speak to this Kalinda. This might be just the opportunity he was looking for.

[Pent]

"Fired?!" Zephyr (https://i.pinimg.com/originals/77/64/5e/77645e87b1f62b3c9e1d3f612fa5e679.jpg)asked.
Captain Cramer frowned. "I'm sorry lad. But after that Whale Killer shored our mast and ruptured our hull, the Celeste is on dry dock for the better part of a year. Insurance isn't covering a boat the size of the Celeste, and not all my crew are needed for a smaller ship."
"But the Celeste would have been sunk if I hadn't been there to fend it off!" Zephyr protested as he adjusted his glasses.
"Aye, and I'm grateful. I'll be happy to write a letter of recommendation for you to give to your next captain. You're a good lad, a decent deck hand if you could keep your focus on-"
Zephyr looked up and saw an airship docking at the sky ship towers in the Absalom docks. Those runes! He thought he might recognize them!
"...the task at hand." The Captain finished, shaking his head and smiling at the same time. Same old Zephyr paid more attention to the clouds than the seas.
"Uh, right, I understand, good luck Captain," Zephyr said.

Zephyr made his way toward the airship towers. He passed by the help wanted bulletin boards on the docks. They were always milling with deckhands looking for a contract. Extra crowded right now because of this new addition. Zephyr was imagining what it would be like to sail an airship when he heard a word from the crowd and it stopped him dead in his tracks. It was a word he'd heard frequently. Studied often. His father was the preeminent expert on the subject. But it was never a word he heard on the docks. And the sudden comingling of worlds rooted his feet and mind.
"Shory".
It was just a mumble. Just a little word as part of a thousand conversations, but Zephyr heard it like it was shouted by a giant.
He made his way to the bulletin board and saw the post from the Apparition in Time. People often thought that Zephyr didn't have focus. But he did, when it was something that interested him. And right now Saranrae's revisit to the Inner Sea couldn't distract him for answering the request for deck hands.

Finding the Coins district was easy enough for Zephyr, if Zephyr had one city he called home, it would be Absalom. But he wasn't immediately familiar with the Lost Tome Inn, most times he slept in Absalom was either on a ship in the dock or at the Arcanamirium dorms. Still, a little help from a Constable once in the Coins district led him to the Inn easy enough.

[AlphaLuke]

The Lost Tome is a clean, if modest Inn. The Innkeeper directs Zeph and Storm to tables in the common room, which looks rather full. It would seem that many men and women have seen the add placed by the new airship and have come to interview. Zeph notices that most of the men seem to be your standard adventuring types. Pathfinders mostly, although a few shady looking Aspis Agents keep to their own conversations at the fringes of the room. Storm's mask draws more than one inquisitive glance, but it's not so rare in Absalom that it deserves more. Mwangi warriors occasionally venture north to see the sights of the City of the Gods.

After a few pints, Zeph and Storm are led into a side room with a couple other eager young applicants by one of the bussboys. The side room has a single table covered in papers, schematics, runes, and maps. A bottle of wine sits open on the table alongside a couple of loose quill nibs. All eyes, however, are drawn to the imperious woman standing behind the table. (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/58/a1/8b/58a18b8719147a332111102f68bba7b7.jpg) The woman bears the dark skin of a Garundi, but the regal bearing and crisp naval uniform of a Taldan marine. Her sword is drawn and she slices the air to point at a small, inconspicuous candle burning in the corner of the room. "Won't have any liars aboard my ship. If you can't speak your mind under a Zone of Truth, then you should leave now. No hard feelings." Her accent is hard to place, but Zeph places her from somewhere in Taldor. A shifty looking Aspis Consortium agent leaves the room at her opener.

So . . . a magic truth candle, Storms thinks. Smart.

"Alright then. I am Kalinda Waycrest, First Officer of the Apparition in Time. It's the Thunderhead Class airship some of you may have seen in the docks. I'm looking for loyal men and women to replenish some crew we . . . lost, recently. I won't lie to you . . . can't with the candle burning. Our Captain pushes the boundaries of what's safe. We're no merchant vessel. We lose sailors every mission. If you aren't comfortable with the idea of falling for half a mile only to visit the ground in a very violent and very brief meeting, walk out."

Two younger looking lads grow paler by the word. When Kalinda gives them an out, they take it. Only Zeph, Storm, and a weathered looking old salt are still standing before the First Officer.

Kalinda looks the three up and down. She then turns to the old salt.

"We're heading for the Worldwound."

The man's eyes grow wide as dinner plates and he turns on his heel and walks out of the room.

"And then there were two . . . " Kalinda muses. "Tell me about yourselves. Why should I hire you onto my ship? No lying, remember."

[Pent]

Zephyr takes a moment to ponder the question. He recognizes that answering the question should be a priority...but... he vomits out all the questions running through his head in an almost manic state.
"Why are we going to the Worldwound? I don't mind, I've read the first hand reports how the physical world is under constant flux. I have lots of experiments I want to run there! ....I'll need some frogs... I see by your uniform that you're in the esteemed Taldor Marines. Very crisp uniform, by the way. I can tell you take care of it. If you take care of your crew and ship like you do your uniform I think I'll be very happy serving under you! Is the Apparition in Time a Taldor vessel? Does Taldor have airships now? What kinds of missions are you running that you lose sailors every mission? Are you or your Captain looking for input that might lead to less deaths? I'd love to study your mission logs and offer advice. If your Captain bushes the boundaries of what's safe, what motivates you to continue serving? You seem rather disciplined and measured."
Its obvious that Zephyr feels embarrassed by the barrage of questions.
"I'm sorry, that was quite rude of me. I think your truth candle if having an extra effect on me. It's working wonderfully, you should know. To answer your question, there are numerous reasons why you should hire me to join your crew. First..." Zephyr looks around the empty room. "It sounded like you lost more than two crew members, and there's only two of us at this table. You did an exemplary job of weeding out the candidates that wouldn't work, therefore reason dictates that those who remain are the candidates you want. Second you never have to worry about me plunging to my death. Third, I'm a scholar who has a vast amount of experience on expeditions into dangerous territory into the Mwangi territory - no offense lad" Zephyr interrupts himself to nod at the masked man at the table. "Osirian ruins, all sorts of dangerous dungeons in the search of more knowledge. Fourth, I've been working as a deckhand for a merchant on the sea for years, and he said he would write me a letter of recommendation - shoot, I should have gotten it from him before. But lastly..." He paused to phrase this correctly. His cadence is much slower, and his voice deeper. "I've heard rumors of your ship being of Shory origin. I'm the second most preeminent scholar on the subject, and have a particular interest in the people. To not hire me would be stupid, and I can tell you are not a stupid woman." Zephyr motioned for a waitress "Water, please?" he asked her.

"Oh," he chuckled at his absent mindedness. "My name is Zephyr Leornian, pleased to meet you."

[DeathbyFlossing]

The Shoanti shrugs, speaking with a voice so deep and gravely it makes one’s chest vibrate.

“I have a very large hammer, and I hit things very hard with it. I have a cat who is very good at tracking. Also mauling things, but mostly tracking. I practice a magic very rare in the world, one not seen since the days of the Angazat. And as the excitable one said, we were the only ones who stayed when the risks were laid out. If this is not enough to satisfy you, then I will go. I have no name, but you can call me Storms-As-He-Walks.”

[AlphaLuke]

Kalinda seems amused by Zeph's unbridled curiosity and enthusiasm. She tries to answer each of his questions but is immediately cut off by his next one. Finally, when he stops and introduces himself, she shakes his hand. She has a firm grip.

When Storm speaks through his mask, Kalinda listens carefully. He notices that despite him showing now outward signs of hostility, she keeps her hand on the hilt of her sword. A lion roars from outside the building, where Storm left him to sit obediently.

"You two men look to be of the right sort. Strange, for sure, but I think you'll find that the norm aboard the ship."

"Mr. Leornian, to answer your questions in order: We are going to the Worldwound because that is where our next mission lies. You will need to procure your own frogs. Apparition in Time is a free vessel, not owned by the Crown of Taldor. You are correct in your observation, however. I call Oparra home and served the Crown before signing on with the Apparition in Time. Taldor has a modest flight of airships, but they are not of the same design as the Apparition in Time. We run dangerous missions. The Captain and I would welcome any council or advice you might have, but please ensure that it runs up the proper chain of command. You may not have access to previous mission logs unless you have the express leave of the Captain. The crew and myself serve because what we do is important. We all know the risks. I have heard of your father. He's a good man. If you're half the man he is, we'll be happy to have you aboard. "

"Mr. Storms-As-He-Walks, I would ask that you secure the appropriate provisions for your companion. We keep mostly non-perishables aboard the ship, and I doubt we will have the meat your lion will require. Additionally, I trust that he is well trained enough to not attack any of your fellow crewmates. The Captain isn't terribly fond of animals and the inverse is often the case. You will be responsible for the actions of your pet. As far as your magic, I an unfamiliar with Angazat, but I trust he has no relation to Angazhan. We'll have no Demon worshiping aboard the Apparition in Time. Is that clear?"

"If you're ready to move, I'll walk you to the Apparition in Time. There you can get yourselves settled and meet the Captain and the rest of your crew."

Storms, can you please link your character sheet in your signature? Additionally, can you remember to describe not only what you are doing, but where your animal companion is in your posts? Finally, do you have a character portrait?

[Pent]

"We're hired?!" Zephyr's glasses almost popped off his head. "WE'RE HIRED!" Zephyr's leap of joy was so high he hit his head on the ceiling.
He pestered the poor first officer with more questions.
"What's the Apparition's altitude ceiling? Maximum wind velocity? Rate of ascent? Descent? Do we need more crew? Will you let me know if my questions are too annoying? Did he say he has a lion? Do lions like airships?"

[AlphaLuke]

Kalinda (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/58/a1/8b/58a18b8719147a332111102f68bba7b7.jpg) smiles and shakes her head without answering the eager mage's questions. "Those are questions for our chief engineer. You're going to get along famously with old Throki. He hasn't had a scholar to talk to about this stuff in ages."

After agreement from everyone, the First Officer begins the walk toward the Docks.

Along the way, she calls out to several people in the street. She waves greetings to some and shouts half-hearted insults at others. Some, she calls to follow.

"Alessia (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/79/c2/80/79c280284f51944c892e9bf7e1b713ed.jpg)! C'mon! You can do more shopping later. We need to get these last two crew aboard before the Captain gets too antsy." The Catfolk woman moves away from the market stall she was examining and begins to follow the group. She makes sure to pocket the amulet she was holding so the shopkeep can't see it, but makes no attempt to hide the lift from her crewmates. She bends toward Storms' lion and scritches behind his ears. The two seem to get along quite well.

Kalinda makes a short stop at a local tavern and a few moments later a stumbling, hiccuping strigine man (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/ec/32/18/ec3218fe5ab6264b334086eb5c34f6fb.jpg) is pushed through the swinging half-doors to the street. " . . . damned fine mate, Archelos, you'd be out on your ear by now, you hear? I swear to Abadar, I leave you alone for five minutes and you've already found yourself to the bottom of two bottles and racked up half a dozen debts. Now get yourself together and let's get a move on."

As the motley crew makes their way closer to the docks, they steer away from the more conventional shipping births and make their way toward a tall and impossibly thin tower. Docked atop is the magnificent ship, the Apparition in time. They step aboard a small platform slotted into a rail on the side of the tower and Kalinda pulls a gem-encrusted level. In a second, the platform begins a steady climb up the side of the tower. When they are partway up the tower, Zeph notices a squat man suspended by ropes and working on the underside of the vessel. Blue sparks emanate from some tool in his hand as he replaces boards and attaches metaling panels. Kalinda calls out to the man. "Throki! (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/43/1f/67/431f676608a78768f790985aee11318c.jpg) I have a greenhorn who wants to talk schematics with you!" The dwarf turns and his eyes light up as he sees the group.

"Sir? Wonderful! Wonderful. Just as soon as I fix this keel and shore up some of the secondary lines. I'll be right up to talk."

[Pent]

Zephyr has half a mind to fly off the lift and talk to Throki, but he needs to follow the orders of his new boss. And...and he's itching to see the airship up close!

[DeathbyFlossing]

Storms is rather intrigued by how... diverse the crew of this ship is. He also makes a mental note to explain the role of the Angazat in Shoanti history, because he really had to bite his tongue when Miss Weycrest casually compared them to Angazahn; his time in the Mwangi Expanse had left him with a bitter hatred of the monstrous ape-demon.

[AlphaLuke]

The platform finally reaches the top and the newly hired crewmen are led aboard the Apparition in Time (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/b8/73/93/b87393b7dce08eb57bb125a42f3abda6.jpg?b=t) by Kalinda. The ship is magnificent. The two men couldn’t really grasp the size of the vessel from the ground, but it easily holds several dozen crewmen, two full broadsides of cannon, and a significant amount of cargo. Its powerful and unique design draws Zeph into near thunderstruck wonder.

Alessia (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/79/c2/80/79c280284f51944c892e9bf7e1b713ed.jpg), the Catfolk woman, and Archelos (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/ec/32/18/ec3218fe5ab6264b334086eb5c34f6fb.jpg), the drunken Syrinx, make their way into the hold of the ship.

Several human, half-elf, and elf deckhands, regular men and women of obvious seagoing experience, tack lines, swab the deck, carry freight, and generally make themselves busy. Several nod or salute Kalinda, some even adding a respectful “Sir”.

A few standout crewmen walk up to Kalinda and her party. The first is an imposingly tall human man with hair that looks grey before its time. Even without armor or weapon, Storms can smell what this man is, and it boils his blood: Hellknight. The way he walks, the way he looks at Storms and Zeph. He exudes the stench of Hellknight. Scar-Eye’s hackles rise, and a low rumbling growl radiates from the lion. The man seems to take no notice. He salutes Kalinda in greeting. She returns the gesture.

“Mr. Mournholdt (https://i.pinimg.com/originals/c3/0f/45/c30f45d64390598cf877f63413c40730.png), how go the repairs and re-supply?”

“Almost done, Sir. Throki should have her back to fighting form in a few hours. The provisions you requested are already in the hold. Master Gent is already complaining about the new deckhands ruining his ‘system’.” He rolls his eyes when he says the word ‘system’.

Kalinda nods in approval, then turns to the rest of the group, “Men, this is Lictor Cassius Mournholdt. He’s the Master of Arms aboard the Apparition in Time. If you have need of arms or armament, he’s the one to go to. Mr. Mournholdt, this is Zephyr Leornian and Storms-As-He-Walks. That,” she motions to the lion, “is Scar-Eye. He’s the responsibility of Mr. Walks.”

Zeph can’t help piping up in question before the Master of Arms even has a chance to respond, “Lictor!? Isn’t that the highest rank in a Hellknight Order? Why are you aboard a ship instead of in your Order’s stronghold? Where’s you armor? What is your order? Do you –“

Mournholdt cuts off Zeph with a curt word and stern scowl. “MISTER Leornian. I earned the rank of Lictor due to battlefield promotion.” When Zeph doesn’t seem to grasp this, he continues, “When a commanding officer dies, the next highest rank assumes the command, and so on and so forth. I am of the Order of the Vice.” He nods to the men in a quick and clipped motion and moves to turn and walk away, but Zeph can’t help it.

“But . . . there is no Order of the Vice . . .”

The Master of Arms half turns his head back to the group. “There is one. I went from rank-and-file Hellknight to Lictor in a single night.” He returns to walking, moving to inspect the cannon.

A tanned human man with a nervous expression approaches Kalinda almost immediately, like he was patiently and fearfully waiting for her to be done with Mournholdt. He bears several dozen bottles on him, either tied to leather thongs and jingling around his waist like a belt of wind chimes or on a small tray he carries carefully and with perfect balance.

“S-sir? I . . . I just can’t . . . we need more Marrowroot. And I barely have enough Angelstep and Leechwort left to last this season. We used all my Bone Reed during that last engagement and I’m precariously low on Aether Paste. Please, sir, there must be something . . . I mean . . . if I were just properly supplied . . .”

Kalinda holds up her hand and the man immediately clams up, “I’m sorry Mr. al-Aruni (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/96/2c/55/962c55574163ddf7294d6913401aab54.jpg), but you’ll just have to make do. We were able to acquisition much of what you asked for, but your list was three feet long.” She raises her eyebrows in a slight gesture of reproof. “We are never going to have everything you say you need.”

“I dooo need it! B-but if I could just get . . . you see the Worldwound . . . it’s just so dangerous!”

Kalinda shakes her head before waving her hand at the man, “Gentlemen, this is Mr. Abu Mutaa Adeeq al-Aruni of Thuvia. He’s the ship’s medic and chemist. He’ll patch you up when you get wounded, just never expect him to be happy about it.”

The nervous man makes a quick and jerky bow toward the two new crewmen but dons a genuine smile. “N-nice to meet you. Most people just call me Abu, or “Doc”. P-please report to the medical bay for your pre-flight examinations after you’ve gotten yourselves situated. Can’t have you bringing any pathogens on board, now can we?” He looks pointedly at Scar-Eye, “or animal born illnesses heretofore undiscovered.”

After several more unsuccessful attempts to convince Kalinda to procure more supplies, the medic walks away disappointed and dejected. The First Officer then leads her new crewmen and lion belowdecks to the crew’s sleeping quarters. The space is cramped with hammocks and footlockers taking up every square inch of space, but at least its well-lit, with a glowing white prism affixed to the deck overhead. She shows the men their hammocks and footlockers. She’s about to leave when a massive golem of a man blocks the doorway. He wears a ruinous scowl and fingers a knife as long as Zeph’s forearm. His mustache is nearly a foot wide and his arms are tree trunks covered in tattoos, burn scars, and coarse hair. Zeph and Storm almost draw their weapons, but Kalinda seems unintimidated.

“They’re ruining my system, Sir.” The low rumble of the man’s voice sounds like thunder and could shake dust and rubble off a stone wall. He doesn’t shout, only speaking in a low and dangerous growl. “They put the bloody barley next to the bloody pickles. Now I don’t have to explain to you how extremely slag-headed that is, Sir. My hold is an absolute travesty, Sir. A travesty! A mockery of perfection, it is! And now I have to do a complete inventory of the larder and the hold, I do. Weeks of careful order, dashed in a bloody instant. And -” It’s at this time that the bear of a man seems to notice that he and his First Officer are not alone. Kalinda capitalizes on the silence.

“Mr. Gent (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/5f/63/58/5f63581c158221020335a20fe87c911e.jpg), these are our last two new crewmen, Misters Zephyr Leornian and Storms-As-He-Walks, as well as the later’s lion. Gentlemen, this is Mister Gregor Gent, ship’s Cook and Quartermaster. If you need supplies, you ask him.” Kalinda looks at the man, easily thrice her size, and raises a single dark eyebrow in challenge.

The Cook blows out a great sigh of exasperation that sends his mustache fluttering. He then sheathes his knife in his belt and walks over to the two men with a massive smile and outstretched hand. He eagerly shakes both men’s hands. They’re not quite crushed in his grip. “Pleasure to meet you lads, a real right pleasure, it is!” His voice is still as deep as a mine shaft, but now it’s filled with warmth and a jovial timbre. “Happy to have you aboard the old Ghost, it is. You three make sure you ask me if you are needing anything, hear? Always happy to help new family find their bearings.” He turns to his First Officer and offers the crispest salute Zeph and Storm have seen yet. “Sir.” Kalinda returns the salute and the Cook moves further into the ship, presumably towards the galley.

“You’ll have to excuse Mr. Gent. He’s extremely passionate about his work and it occasionally gets the better of him.” Kalinda says. “You two may get settled here. At three bells the Captain will address the crew and we’ll get underway. After that, you’ll get your crew assignments from Alessia. You met her earlier in the Market. If you have any questions, feel free to ask any of the officers and they’ll make sure to point you in the right direction.” With a quick nod, she turns and head back up to the main deck.

[Pent]

Zephyr's eyes are about as wide as the lenses of his glasses as he takes it all in. He blinks a few times and starts to store his gear away in his footlocker.

"Storm?" Zephyr asks in a quiet, calm voice hereto unused today. "Can you tell me why you and Scar-Eye reacted like that to the Hell Knight?"

[DeathbyFlossing]

Storms doesn’t mean to snap, but wasn’t expecting to run into a Hellknight, and before he can stop himself it all comes pouring out. He turns to Zephyr and says, in a manic, clipped tone;


”Imagine the worst of all possible social orders, where the right of the strong to stamp upon the faces of the weak is enshrined in law, bureaucratic corruption is total and absolute, and honest bureaucrats don’t just get hedged out, they don’t exist, because honesty and virtue have been replaced with tyranny oppression, and it will never get better,
can never get better, because it isn’t just a tyrannical, oppressive society, it is the very archetype from which the concepts of tyranny and oppression spring.

That is what Hell is. And that is the ideal society that the Hellknights seek to emulate. They will tell you they are devoted to order above all else. They lie. Oh, I’m sure some of them buy it; dupes are always useful. But never forget that the Hellknights consider Hell the ideal society. And it is Hell’s ideals they strive to emulate. Never forget.”

He pauses, let’s put a shuddering breath, and continues “The Hellknight order of the Pyre has harassed the Shoanti since their inception, considering our spiritual practices nothing more than blasphemy, no better than demon worship. The Order of the Chain has dragged thousands of innocent people to their doom for no greater crime than trying to escape a life of slavery. The Order of the Gate have killed thousands of sorcerers they deemed ‘too disordered’ to be worthy of magic.
The Order of the Godclaw have butchered, revolutionaries, freedom fighters, and even simple entertainers whom they deemed guilty of spreading anarchy.”

Through gritted teeth, he growls “I will, grudgingly, admit that there are a couple of minor Hellknight orders that do some good in the world, chiefly the the Torrent, who rescue the abducted, including slaves, oddly enough, and the Wall, who focus on defense of civilization, which usually boils down to ‘fend off orc and bandit raids’. Wether I can work with this particular knight will depend on how tolerable the tenets of this ‘Order of the Vice’ are. So , if you will excuse me, it would be prudent to find out if I can work with the man before we leave, so I’m going to go track him down. Besides, I need to pick up some meat for Scar-Eye.”

And with that, he nodded at Zephyr and turned to leave the hold in search of the Lictor.

[AlphaLuke]

Storms-As-He-Walks lives up to his name. Crew seems to part in front of him like surf off the bow of a ship and Scar-Eye prowls in his wake. He finds the Lictor on the gundeck dressing down a skinny, frightened looking boy.

"-and if I catch you one more time, I'll flay you myself and use your hide as a sail patch! You hear me, son?!"

The boy shakily nods before saluting and running away.

Mournholdt (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/b0/b4/6d/b0b46dfc822b3cf3c381930844c1cef9.jpg) turns to face the Storms and Scar without fear. "I thought you might come to have a chat. Shoanti, right? Or is it Mwangi. Can't hardly tell with that mask. What can I do for you, crewman?"

[DeathbyFlossing]

Storms gets right to the point.”I have never heard of the Order of the Vice. What are it’s goals? It’s tenets?”

[AlphaLuke]

The Lictor is silent and stone-faced for a long minute. Then, very quietly but very pointedly he speaks.

"You have never heard of the Order of the Vice because fifty years ago it was wiped off the face of Golarion. Citadel Darvhage was our stronghold. My brothers and sisters numbered in the hundreds. We were devoted to assessing and combating the threat of the Great Beyond. The darkness between the stars. We were arrogant. We did not, could not comprehend that while we were looking at the Great Beyond, it was looking back. In a single night, our Citadel was brought to ruin. Rubble and ash and blood. I alone survived because I was studying . . . another path." He pauses for a moment.

"When we were whole, we followed the Measure and the Chain, just as all Hellknights must. We also held the following tenets:

I will watch the skies, that I might see wickedness before it falls upon the unprepared.
I will be a vice that closes the gaps of reality, sealing the cracks of space before they shatter the world.
I will be unimpeachable in my devotion to the Material realm. No being of the Great Beyond shall threaten the world I seek to create.
My mind is a fortress. Impregnable and sovereign. When a fortress is captured by the enemy, it must be burned to the ground.
Cults of the Great Beyond must be excised like a gangrenous wound to prevent the decay of society. No trace of the infection may be left to fester.
The beings between the stars are treacherous and sly. I will be every wary of their tendrils invading the hearts of men."



He recites them all like they're written on the backs of his eyelids. Like he's said them a thousand times.

"And now that I am the last member of my Order, I, as Lictor, have added another tenet: I will avenge the victims of the Great Beyond. I will not have them think our realm weak, that they may strike us with impunity."

[DeathbyFlossing]

Storms is silent for a good minute then two. His mind raced, trying to calculate the odds, but in the end, he decided to come clean.

“Let me tell you a story.
Once there was a foolish Shoanti boy whose name has been forgotten. His father was a war-leader of Lyrune-Quah, the most proud and noble of the Shoanti tribes; his mother was a Vudrani sorceress who came to Shoanti land seeking lost knowledge, and never left. She was a skin-shifter, a fanglord; the blood of weretigers ran in her veins, and her son inherited that blood.

When the boy was twelve, he underwent his tribe’s rite of passage, the Black Walk. On a moonless night he journeyed through an unlighted cave complex. It was there that he had his first vision of his ancestor, the Azghat known as Alazni, whose wrath shook the heavens and crumbled mountains. And he had a vision that he would bring ruin on his clan, a vision that came true two years later.

There was a ruin under a hill near his village that he had always been told never to go near. It was evil, his mother had told him. One day the foolish boy did not listen, and went to explore the ruin. He did not remember much of what happened within, only that he awoke hours maybe days later, in the smoldering ruins of all he had known.

Fearing he had released a demon, he fled. The cowardly boy tried very hard not to think about the fact that it was his fault everyone he knew and loved was dead- he simply ran; for five years, he ran, across Avisan and beyond. And the thing he freed gave chase.

He had many encounters with the wretched villains called the Hellknights, and learned to hate them even more than most Shoanti; he learned he posessed an ancient magic not seen in the world in time immemorial.

And he learned that the monster he had freed had come from beyond the stars.

It was in the Mwangi Expanse, at the very school of magic founded by Old-Mage Jatembe, that the weary boy learned a magic that could hide him from his pursuer. He crafted a mask of wood, woven with spells, and as he put it on he renounced his name. Now the boy is no more. There is only Storms-As-He-Walks.”

Storms is silent for a moment, wondering how to phrase what’s going through his head, then continues,“I do not like the Hellknights as a general rule; Hell is quite literally the worst possible society, the archetype from which concepts like tyranny and oppression derive, and the fact that they hold it as an ideal to strive towards has always seemed to me to be like holding up Norgerber as the icon of honorable conduct.

But you strike me as one of the rare Hellknights whose pointed himself in the right direction. It appears we share a common interest. I support your goal, Lictor. It is one very close to my heart. Perhaps I could interest you in a friendly spar after we launch?”

[AlphaLuke]

Mournholdt listens with stoic curiosity and focus.

He gives nothing away. No nods, no blinks, and no sounds of affirmation. When Storms asks for a friendly spar, a smile whispers past the corner of the man's lips. All he says is, "Perhaps."

He then nods and turns back to his cannon, effectively ending the interaction.

[Pent]

Zephyr had followed behind Storms up to the main deck. No to spy, but to get to the safety rigging to go meet Throki. While he was rigging up he had heard the bass-only conversation between the Hellknight and the masked man.

He considered flying down on his own power to talk to Throki, but it seemed premature without having met the captain, and unnecessary. There was after all, safety rigging.

Zephyr took the time to make sure he was wearing it properly, and all knots were secured. Time on ships as a deckhand had taught him how to secure a good knot. He stood atop the deck rail. He saw the birds overhead and smiled. He jumped.

After he jumped he realized this was not at all the intended use of the safety rigging. after a sudden jolt at the bottom of the rope, he felt why.

Still, he laughed like a boy.

"Hi!" he said through his laughs to Throki. "I'm Zephyr! This is a beautiful ship you maintain!"

[AlphaLuke]

Zeph sees the engineer hanging under the ship with his ruddy hair and beard. He has some kind of monocle device on his head, using it to look at several Auran runes which glow far less brightly than others on the underbelly of the ship. His right hand is covered in some kind of glove or prosthesis. A brass mechanical hand with a blue electric apparatus. The hand seems to bear several inbuilt tools and gears to allow it a greater rnage of motion than would otherwise be possible. The dwarf engineer (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/f0/26/33/f026335fb98c305c158a382fda81fd04.jpg) stares at Zeph, mouth half agape, "By my beard, son, you'll break your neck if you try that stunt again! These harnesses are designed to hold your weight, not arrest your fall." He stares at Zeph for another second before a smile breaks his scowl. "Still, if was a damned funny thing to see. I wonder if you could rig a cascaded pulley to bounce . . . Ah never mind. Pleasure to meet you, Zephyr! Throki Ironblood at your service. And old Ap is more than just a ship. She's my one and only love. I patch her up best I can. You look like you have some skill, mind handing me that resonator? It's the last piece I need to set up the series." He points to a netting bag hanging near Zeph bearing several blue glowing crystals.

[Pent]

Zeph grabs a crystal out of the bag.

"Fascinating!" Zephyr says as he flicks down his own glasses and examines the crystal. He flicks his glasses back up and passes it to Throki. "Sorry. Can you tell me how this all works? What makes her fly? Do you know who made her?"

As Zephyr asks his questions he examines the runes, trying to see if he can make sense of them.

[AlphaLuke]

Zeph, feel free to make a Linguistics check to decipher some of the runes (you get a bonus of +4 is you speak Auran). You may also feel it helpful to cast Detect Magic to examine the craft's underbelly. A Spellcraft check will tell you more after you cast that cantrip.
Throki accepts the crystal thankfully. "What makes her fly is a right complicated question, lad. It's the essence my whole job. Suffice to say it's an interaction between the keel and the earth below." The engineer begins to use the crystal to infuse the runes with more light, gradually draining power from one and suffusing the other. As he works, he talks, "My forefathers used to tell a story about the Dwarves and the Quest for Sky. They spoke of passing through vast caverns of iron where loadstones the size of houses could float in midair. The force was called magnetism, and it was different from magic. Some folk on the surface noticed this force and used it to craft things like Wayfinders and compasses, as it extended far beyond the surface of the world. Some took it a step further and infused vessels with powerful magic to amplify and direct the force, sending their crafts into the sky. The Shory perfected this magic, mixing it with Aeromancy and focusing it into a usable technology. They lifted their cities with it. They built their ships. Ap, s'far as I can tell, is built using that same tech. Dunno if the Shory actually built her, but she's based on Shory work for sure. I'd bet my beard on it. I presume the Captain might know her provenance, but if he does he isn't sharing. Maybe he'll tell me one day. Haven't been working on her that long. Only been aboard for eighty years."

With a final twist of his crystalline tool and a thrumming vibration that runs through the entire hull, Throki finishes his work. The whole keel lights up with dozens of large, Auran runes. Upon inspection, Zeph can see thousands upon thousands of tinier runes are carved into the underside of the main hull. Every board and plank bears at least a dozen runes no bigger than his thumbnail.

[Pent]

Zeph stares at the tiny rune, and tries to sense the magic in them.
He flips down his glasses to get a magnified look at the tiny things.

Zeph casts detect magic
Linguistics check = [roll0]
Spellcraft check = [roll1]

"If these are on every plank, then after we take a cannonball through the hull, do you have to inscribe the rune on every new pla- wait did you say eight-EE years?! And you've been serving under the same Captain all this time? And he still won't tell you the origins of the ship?!"

[AlphaLuke]

Zeph's eyes flash as he casts his spell. The entire ship is alight with magic, although the spells woven into the hull shine brightest to his eyes. He sees spells of levitation, obviously, but also spells of strength and protection. His spell allows him to see the complex web of magic interconnecting the runes in a massive geometric pattern. It would seem that the runes form a lattice, where redundant pathways are set up to compensate for any damage the hull might take.

"It's true that the damaged hull needs to re-inscribed, but she'll fly without. At least well enough to get us to port where I can do proper repairs. And the aegis should protect the hull from most standard weapons. If a shot tears through hull, we've got a bigger problem than me needing to inscribe new runes."

"Aegis", Zeph thinks, "That must be the protection magic I'm seeing. Something like a shield to absorb impact and redistribute the force over a larger area."

When Zeph shows his incredulous response to Throki's years of service, the dwarf just smiles and shakes his head. "Humans. So short sighted. Eighty years is a short time to a dwarf, lad. The Captain keeps his own council. S'not my place to argue with the man. He hasn't steered me wrong yet, and I'll trust him till he does. One day, he'll tell me when I need to know. Till then, I keep her flying with what I do know just fine."

[Pent]

"The Captain sounds like a fine leader to have earned your continued service for 8 decades. I'm excited to meet him. Is there anything I need to know? Other than the obvious rules aboard any vessel, extra or peculiar rules I need to be aware of before we get underway?"

[AlphaLuke]

Throki wipes the sweat out of his eyes and begins to ascend his harness back up to the deck.

"S'long as you follow orders and keep yourself useful, you should fare alright, lad. The Captain may be an intimidating man at first, but he knows what's right. Follow his orders on the first call. There isn't often time to make a second. The crew's mostly good folk. They take care of each other. We're awful alone up in the sky, so you have to be able to trust your family. Don't cheat or steal. Should go without saying." He reaches the gunwale and hoists himself up before turning to Zeph with a sober face.

"Oh, and don't go in the engine room."

[Pent]

Zeph smiled. "But that's your rule, not the Captains, right? Can I ask why I'm persona non-grata in the engine room?"

[AlphaLuke]

Zeph expects another easy smile from Throki, but recieves none.

"Not my rule. Ship rule. Ap flies just fine without having to mess with her core. Only the Captain has a key. I've never had to go in. No one has to go in. Don't go in the engine room."

[Pent]

"Oh, uh... understood. Will stay out of the engine room. Thanks for the heads up. How else can I help while I'm down here?"

[AlphaLuke]

Throki's smile returns, "I'm done! You've been plenty of help, lad. I'll be sure to call upon you when we're skyward should I have the need for anyone fool enough to jump off the side of the ship."

The engineer then pulls a rag out of his pocket and begins to polish his eyepiece while walking toward the crew quarters.

[AlphaLuke]

Almost as soon as Throki disappears from sight, three clear bell tones ring from the mainmast. Zeph hears a dwarven curse from the hold and a pained squawk from the crow's nest, Archelos' apparent chosen perch.

Alessia (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/c9/9b/63/c99b6365befc344a1bea104cb4222a84.jpg)stands by the bell amidship and shouts, "All hands, to the main deck. All hands, main deck."

Crewmen and women begin to gather, looking toward the stern of the ship and the door to the Captain's quarters within the poop. Kalinda stands outside the door to the Captain's quarters at attention. Storms and Scar-Eye find their way up to the deck with everyone else. The crew is surprisingly quiet for such a large group. Everyone seems intimidated by the imminent arrival of the Captain.

Once everyone crowds onto the main deck, Kalinda knocks on the Captain's door with three sharp raps.

A few moments later, the door opens to reveal a nearly pitch-dark room and a pair of glowing orange eyes.

The man that steps out of the doorway (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/e5/7b/a7/e57ba76621be7eaf7741188961ee8541.jpg) is, to all appearances, human. His skin is scarred, weather-worn, and sun-beaten. He bears a grey beard the color of wood ash and a curling mustache that frames his cracked lips. Those lips hold the suggestion of a smirk and are wrapped lovingly around a lit pipe. His clothes and hat are worn and weathered, but clean. His luminous orange eyes slowly scan his assembled crew. He locks those eyes with every man and woman aboard. Storms and Zeph both feel the powerful desire and complete inability to look away when the Captain's eyes fall upon them. After what feels like an age, the Captain speaks. He speaks slowly and deliberately, pausing between each sentence to allow his booming voice to echo in the air.

"I know some of you. Some of you are family. Brothers and Sisters. We have fought and flown and bled together. Yet there are some among you that I have yet to meet. To you, I say welcome. I am Domino Francisco de Espiritu Morales, Captain of the Apparition in Time. You may call me Captain or Sir. Aboard my ship you will follow my orders and the orders of my officers. If you do so quickly and well, you will be richly rewarded. If you fail to do so, you will be punished; by the gods or mine own hand. You all know which wind we're sailing. We head to Sarkoris, what most of you know as "the Worldwound". We sail into rough skies. When we get there we will complete our mission. Some of you will stay there, for Pharasma to judge and the crows to feast. Those who return with us will be the better for it. While we're sailing, if you have a question, ask. I'd rather a crew of inquisitive and competent sailors than silent idiots. First Officer Waycrest is my right hand. She'll give you your heading if your spun about. Her Boatswain, Madame Alessia Silvana'sha'atai will assign you all your duty rotations. I wish you all Abadar's fortune, Cayden's luck, Gorum's strength, and Irori's wisdom in the weeks to come. May Gozreh be merciful and give us smooth winds." With that, the Captain turns to Kalinda and nods.

She immediately turns to the crew and begins barking orders. "Alright you lot, let's get ready to cast off. Archelos, eyes on the sky. Deckhands, begin stowing the mooring lines. New crew, report to Alessia for your duties. Dismissed!"

With a sudden flurry of motion, people begin to move.

[Pent]

Zephyr finds Alessia through the crowd of crew all rushing to their duties. He navigates through the crowd.

As he negotiates through the people he decides that the Captain appears human but is not purely human. Two reasons: (1) Throki had been serving under the Captain for 80 years. (2) Those orange eyes. Maybe he was a fire-elemental-human? Could be almost any outsider through, from Aasimar to Tiefling. That part wasn't really important. Actually none of it was important, now that he thought about it. He was the Captain, whatever his heritage, he was the source of orders.

He stands at attention in front of Boatswain Alessia. "Miss," he says.

[AlphaLuke]

Alessia looks Zeph up and down, unimpressed. "Mr . . .?"

"Leornian!" Zeph says quickly. "Zephyr Leornian."

"Leornian . . ." Alessia looks down at a clipboard while speaking. "You will address all officers as "Sir" despite their apparent gender. It cuts down on the confusion when dealing with non-human entities and when shouting orders and answering in the affirmative. 'Yessir' rolls off the tongue and all that. Let's see . . . you aaaaaarrre . . ." She flips the paper, "Navigation! You must be booksmart. You'll be up on the poop deck then, next to the helm. You'll read the charts up there and help the pilot with his bearings."

[Pent]

"Thank you sir." His foot twitches. He almost left, but he wasn't dismissed yet. He's trying REALLY hard to not screw anything up. Being on this ship means everything to him. He's not letting his usual habits run his one chance.

[AlphaLuke]

Alessia nods, "Dismissed."

[Pent]

Zephyr nods "sir" and moves towards the poop deck to take his new station.

[DeathbyFlossing]

question: since we appear to be casting off, can we just hand wave that Storms picked up meat for Scar-Eye before he came aboard?

Storms walks up to Allessia and asks, ”Orders, sir?”

[AlphaLuke]

Of course. Let's assume that Storms was able to get two weeks worth of jerked meat for Scar-Eye.
Alessia looks at Storms and Scar-Eye. "Name first, Mr. Expressive."

"I have no name. You may call me Storms-as-he-Walks. This is Scar-Eye."

Alessia bends down to skritch Scar-Eye behind his ear. The lion proudly allows this. He's definitely not purring. That must be the ship's resonance . . .

"Oh I know this one," Alessia coos, "But, Mr. Storms-as-he-Walks. Let's see what to do with you . . ." she consults her clipboard. "You're to report to the Quartermaster. Seems he needs help in the hold. Scar-Eye can stay here with me if he likes." Scar-Eye looks to Storms for confirmation, but seems happy to stay in the sun. After getting a decision from Storms, Alessia dismisses the crewman to his duties below deck.

[AlphaLuke]

Zeph makes his way up to the poop deck and the navigators station next to the helm. His station is covered in maps, charts, weather forecasts, and brass instrumentation. Standing at the impressive, polished hardwood helm is none other than the drunk owl-man, Archelos (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/9a/d4/91/9ad491db7a1da2bf7e93082ed5012808.jpg). He looks significantly less drunk now than when Zeph first encountered him, but has replaced his innebration with a solid dose of hungover.

Kalinda calls up to him from the main deck. "Mr. Archelos! Once the mooring lines are cut, take us out of dock. Steady as she goes. Mr. Leornian, if you would please plot Mr. Archelos a course for Sarkoris. You'll find all the charts and instruments you should need at your station."

Archelos calls down a surprisingly steady "Aye, Sir!" and takes the helm. Then, more quietly to Zeph, "Just give me a heading, kid. We'll need to course correct for weather once we leave Absalom anyway."

Zeph, you may make a Kn. Geography and Prof. Sailor checks to plot a course north toward the Worldwound. You're also welcome to interact with your crewmate.

Storms finds his way below deck toward the hold. It's dark and stuffy, but an illuminated oil lamp sends shadows dancing across the hull. There, in the darkness, the massive Quatermaster (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/5f/63/58/5f63581c158221020335a20fe87c911e.jpg) is busy lifting boxes the size of small horses, stacking and restacking them in very precise piles. "I already told yee, I don't have any blasted time for your . . ." he turns to see Storms. "Ah, Mr. Walks is it? 'Bout time they sent someone down here to help me. Would you be a gem and grab that barrel of pickles behind you? Blasted new deckhands couldn't pack a hold if it was already full. We're looking for a barrel of apples and a bag labeled 'flour'. I always make my apple spice dumplings at the start of a new voyage and twoud be terrible bad luck to go without. Grandma's recipe, you know! All the way from old Varisia. Tough old broad. Could pull nails out of boards with her teeth. . ."

Storms, you are welcome to make a Strength check and a Perception check to help organize and search the hold. You're also welcome to interact with your crewmate.

[Pent]

Zephyr scours the maps. The first map he sees is of the larger region. Sarkoris is North of Absalom. Very, very, north. But what we need to do first is get out of dock and follow the designated lanes out of the dock. Zephyr had never seen a map for skyships before, he has to imagine the travel lanes are marked with elevation markers of some kind. He hurries to read and understand the map to give Archelos a heading. He recites it once he finds it.

kn geo [roll0]
prof sailor [roll1]


He dictates the heading aloud. In a clear voice that Zephyr had heard other navigators give helmsman to make clear they could be heard against the wind and waves.

He reviews the maps for the next northerly region for any obstacles they have to avoid. Are there no-fly zones maybe?

Once Archelos seems between moments of ship steering Zeph strikes up a conversation.

"Mr. Archelos, I'm Zephyr Leornian, pleasure to meet your acquaintance. Do you need me to fetch us some coffee from the galley, sir?"

[AlphaLuke]

Soon, the Apparition in Time lifts free of the docking tower and begins a very slow float north, over the city.

Kalinda stands nearby, the Captain at her side. "Steady, Mr. Archelos. One quarter power. Runes only. We don't want to make wake in the city."

"Aye, Sir. One quarter. Runic lift only."

Archelos begins a slow climb. They clear the tallest buildings and floating private islands and Zeph sees his favorite view of his home city. Perhaps his last now that he thinks about it.

Zeph calls out the heading, "Heading three-three-eight-point-two."

Archelos responds, "Three-three-eight-point-two, Aye."

Kalinda looks to the Captain. The man seems to ponder the heading for a moment before nodding his assent. Zeph has chosen a suitable tradewind, it would seem. Kalinda takes the nod as confirmation.

"Open her up, Mr. Archelos. Lateral fins."

"Aye, Sir. Lateral fins."

The pilot pulls a lever to the side of the helm while steering towards Zeph's heading. Two massive lateral sails like the wings of a great bird extend from the port and starboard side of the ship. These stabilize their climb and they begins to make real forward progress. Then, with a call from Alessia in the rigging, crewmen begin to unfurl the mainsail. The Apparition in Time begins to pick up speed. Wind whips Zeph's hair and he feels the freedom of flight. Interestingly, none of his maps or charts are as blown by the wind as they should be. He suspects enchantment. The ship rockets forward faster than any ship Zeph has ever seen. Faster than he can fly on his own. It's amazing.

Zeph looks back to his maps. There don't seem to be any "no fly" zones. But, it would be wise to avoid certain countries if possible. Andoran should be a safe first port. Almas, the Capital, should have a skydock and it's a good first point for a plotted course. From there, Zeph's not sure about how they might manage getting over the Five Kings Mountains, but doesn't feel like flying over Isger or Galt are safe choices either. Perhaps later he'll plot three course and give the options to the Captain! No use worrying about it now, they're still days away from nice, safe Andoran.

Kalinda and the Captain move off the poop deck. The Captain returns to his gallery in the sterncastle, while Kalinda strolls the ship, listening to her Boatswain call orders.

Once Archelos seems between moments of ship steering Zeph strikes up a conversation.

"Mr. Archelos, I'm Zephyr Leornian, pleasure to meet your acquaintance. Do you need me to fetch us some coffee from the galley, sir?"

Archelos chuckles, "You can call me Archie. I'm not really an officer. Just a pilot. And I think you'd be hard pressed to find Mwangi coffee in our galley. Cookie hates the stuff. Says it's too bitter." He pulls a lever that seems to stabilize their course and turns to shake Zeph's hand. "But thank you for offering. I'm fine. Just a might bit hungover. Nothing I haven't tried before."

[Pent]

Zeph tries to find the most political way to say this.

"Most helmsman aren't fit to pilot a ship as complex as the Apparition after waking up in a bar. And most first officers wouldn't allow such behavior." he lets the statement hang in the air instead of following up with a question.

[AlphaLuke]

Archelos doesn't seem to take offense, instead simply chuckling and turning back to the helm.

"Most helmsmen don't have as much to drink about as I do. Heh! Kalinda and I go back. She knows when I'm good to fly and when I need more time. And sometimes, yeah, she finds me at the bars. It happens. I'm a Syrinx, Zephyr. Flying's as easy to me as walking. I could fly Ap with my eyes closed. You don't go worrying yourself about me. I've got this."

And, to Zeph's eyes, he does. He flips complex levers and switches without looking, deftly navigating air pockets, clouds, and invisible turbulence. The man . . . bird . . . thing does seem to have an inborn talent for flying.

[Pent]

Zeph chuckles. "Archelos, I'm impressed. And glad. I had a feeling that the first appearance couldn't be completely accurate. You might be the best flyer I've ever met. I bet I could learn a lot about flying from you. Could I get some flying lessons from you some time?"

[AlphaLuke]

The pilot shakes his head with a smile. "Archie. Only person aboard who calls me Archelos is Kalinda. And unless you grow wings, not much I can do to help you. Takes a lot of training to learn how to fly a ship like Ap. And the Captain doesn't exactly let people do joyrides."

[Pent]

"No, not the ship. Fly fly. I don't have wings, but I get by."

[AlphaLuke]

Archie takes a long look at Zeph. "Magic? I mean, if you're a wizard that would explain the robes. It's just . . . most men don't fly enough to want lessons."

[Pent]

Zeph nods. "I am a wizard. But in addition, I happen to fly better than most men. So, lessons next time we're off duty?"

[AlphaLuke]

Archie looks skeptical, but nods in agreement.

[DeathbyFlossing]

Storms nods at the quartermaster and starts moving crates and barrels.

Strength check [roll0], perception check [roll1].

[AlphaLuke]

Storms begins to work even while Master Gent (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/28/b9/9c/28b99c4485f03dd274ffa457340168b2.jpg) continues talking.

". . . whole family you know. My brothers are even bigger! Well, Reg and Lars are. Walt is half an inch . . ."

Storms finds the barrel of apples and rolls it over to Gent. The massive man keeps talking.

" . . . best recipe in the Inner Sea, I swear by the pillars. Ol' Gran perfected the spice mix . . ."

Storms helps the Quartermaster move a spectacularly large box full of extra sailcloth and notices a tattoo on the inside of the man's wrist as he does so. The massive cook bears dozens of tattoos, mostly the standard tattoos of a seasoned sailor: compass points, "mother", skull and crossbones, etc. However this tattoo sticks in Storms' mind for both it's placement and it's auspicious design. An eye in the center of a triangle, surrounded by a sunburst. (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/9c/a8/45/9ca845e3c0bfec864d6bb9a34add5a98.jpg)

Shortly thereafter, Storms is able to find the flour and carries it to the galley, following Master Gent. Gregor barely seems to fit in his workspace, yet moves with practiced efficiency. He chops apples and sets his tiny oven ablaze with a quick strike of a match.

"So, Storms-as-he-Walks. I feel like you should be havin' a shorter name. Not to disrespect your culture, mind. Just for ease of conversation. You mind if I call you something a might easier to roll of the tongue? Like "Storm" or "Walker"? Somethin' like that." He peels and dices and apple with a shortsword-sized knife without even looking at his hands.

[DeathbyFlossing]

”Storms is what people usually go with”, Storms replies as he packs away the last of the supplies.

[AlphaLuke]

The Cook considers his stoic friend's response carefully, nodding in deep thought.

"Storms it is then! Pass that bowl, Storms. We're on our way and the crew has a powerful need for dumplings."

The two brutes then proceed to bake a batch of apple spice dumplings that are both delicate and bold.

. . .

In a few short hours, the Apparition in Time passes over the charred and haunted Cairnlands and approaches the towering Kortos Mounts. A call rings through the ship for all deckhands to keep a weather eye, as marauding harpies are known to attack aerial travelers passing through this mountain range. Zeph feels a chill run through the air as Archie climbs in altitude to avoid the need to weave through the lower mounts. The air grows thinner, and several men who were killing time on deck move into the lower decks to avoid the chill and breathe conjured air.

On the northern horizon, Arazlant Mox towers through the clouds. Over five miles high, the highest mountain on the island looms over the ship like a giant standing next to a gnat. A roar of something large and hungry echoes on the wind, but no creature shows itself to the lookout.

When Storms and Gent come up to the main deck carrying steaming trays of apple dumplings, it's a welcome sight. The thick apple jam and peppery spices filling the buttery dumplings both fill the stomachs of the crewman and warm their chilled bones. Even Alessia and First Officer Kalinda enjoy some.

After some chilly but uneventful hours in the Kortos Mounts, the land begins to flatten once more and a line of blue dominates the northern horizon: The Inner Sea.

It's well into the evening by this time and Archie is relieved by Kalinda at the helm. She course corrects for windage, checks Zeph's heading, and flies the Apparition like a seasoned salt, although not with the ease and familiarity of Archie. The Syrinx motions for Zeph to follow him below deck for another dumpling and a long-awaited drink at the end of his shift.

[Pent]

Zeph hungril grabs a serving of apple dumplings. He takes a bite and is not at all surprised to taste how delicious the meal is. Clearly the Captain and Kalinda have a discerning eye for talent, and hire the best possible in all positions. Zeph feels confident that Kalinda made no mistake hiring him, too.

"So Archie, how long have you been serving on the App?"

[DeathbyFlossing]

Feeling the need for some conversation, Storms walks up to Gent with a couple of dumplings (and a bit of steak for his cat) and asks, ”So, Master Gent, I notice you have an abundance of tattoos. Would you mind sharing some of the stories behind them?”

[AlphaLuke]

Archie chews happily on his own steaming dumpling. "Thirteen years this spring. Cap was running a job in northern Arcadia and I had the bright idea to take a floatskiff and rob him. Flew circles around him while my boys nicked his cargo. We actually managed to get away, but he tracked me down a few days later. I had drank my take and was face down in a bar when I felt Kalinda's blade in my feathers. They gave me a choice: die a thief's death, or work for them as a pilot. See, Kalinda was flying Ap at the time and it seems she was more than a little cross at how easily I had outmaneuvered her. The Captain was likewise frustratingly impressed. I've been flying the Apparition in Time ever since."

. . .

Master Gent seems elated to talk. He eagerly begins pointing out tattoos and launching into detailed stories about each. He even pulls down his britches at one point to reveal a tattoo in a sensitive spot. "- this one in Ol' Azlant, on one of the Mordant Spires, you know. Them elves wear masks a bit like yours now I think - one the last ship I served on, name was the Dread. Nasty bit o' work - for me loverly muver *sniff*; she'd be so proud if she could see me now - took a scar fighting a Kraken, so I figured I best mark the occasion - "

Through each story, Storms notices the cook deftly keeping his triangle and eye wrist tattoo out of sight. He either neatly covers it with his apron, shirt, knife, or dumpling to almost imperceptibly keep it out of Storms' sightline. The man is far more adept at sleight of hand than Storms would have previously thought and he makes a mental note not to play cards against the ship's cook.

[DeathbyFlossing]

Noticing that the cook seems to be hiding something, Storms wonders how to approach the subject a bit before going for the direct approach.

”Fascinating stories, Mister Gent. What about that triangle one on your wrist? You seem somewhat embarrassed by it.”

[AlphaLuke]

The mess of the ship begins to fill with the sounds of laughter and camaraderie as afternoon turns to evening. Gregor's smile at Storms' question doesn't touch his eyes. "Oh! This little one?" He finally reveals the tattoo, "I picked it up - well, you'll never believe - a story for the ages, it is - you see, first you need to hear how I -"

"Captain on deck!" Alessia suddenly shouts. Crewmen and women stop whatever it is their doing and stand straight-backed in place. Cups clatter to the planks and music stops mid-note. Gent clams up and stands with the rest. The Captain strolls down the ladder and over to Master Gent and Storms. He says nothing, but nods appreciatively at their work in the galley. He doesn't partake in a dumpling. Instead, he once more glances at every man and woman in the mess with those unnerving eyes.

Then, very slowly, he draws a piece of folder parchment from his inner jacket pocket. "At ease," he says to his crew, "Tonight's poem is called 'Moonlight over Alistair' . . ."

[Pent]

Zeph is a little shocked. he has no doubt its showing on his face. He'd never had a ship captain read poetry. They were always salty sea dogs. Zeph looks around and doesn't see anyone else any signs of perplexion. He settles in, and is eager to hear the poem.

[AlphaLuke]

The veteran crewmen sit back at their drinks, but still continue to pay rapt attention to the Captain. The new hands seem . . . confused.

The Captain reads from his folded parchment,

"The trade winds off Sarusan
blow hot
and wet
and sweet
behold the spires of Alistair
pallid white
the bones of a titan
long devoured
a city where the moon shines green
and the streets glisten red
hot
wet
and sweet . . ."

Silence hangs in the air for a pregnant moment before the Captain folds his paper, places it back into his jacket poket, and walks toward the tankard of watered ale in the galley. He pours himself a drink and raises it to the mess.

"To the lost."

The veteran crew joins him in a silent toast.

Then, after draining his tankard, the Captain retreats back up to the main deck, presumably to his cabin.

[Pent]

Zeph thinks on the poem for a few moments.

Colors of red, white, and green.

A green moon? What's that about?

Spires of Alistair are the bones of a Titan.

Wait, I know Sarusan. It's s a lost continent. No tradewinds allow passage to the place. No expeditions had ever returned there. So why did the poem start with the trade winds of Sarusan?

Was the titan named Alistair?

Eventually the chatter of the dining room returns.

"Archie..." Zeph starts, phrasing his question carefully " Has the Apparition been to Tian Xia recently?"

[DeathbyFlossing]

Stoms ***** his head. The captain certainly has odd taste in poetry. Turning back to Gent, he says, ”Well, that was interesting. But back on topic. I believe you were about to tell me a tale, Mr. Gent?”

[AlphaLuke]

Archie turns from his tankard and looks toward Zeph. His eyes droop slightly. Kalinda had made it quite clear earlier in the evening that she would tolerate drinking, but not drunkenness aboard the Apparition in Time. It seems that Archie is already toeing the line. "Well, yeah. We *hic* we had a mission in Xa Hoi just last month, I think. At least, I'm fairly sure it was Xa Hoi. I remember sake *hic*. Then we took a trip south. I remember south. . ."

. . .

When Storms turns back toward Master Gent (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/28/b9/9c/28b99c4485f03dd274ffa457340168b2.jpg), the man is already on the other side of the mess, policing dishes and making sure the crewmen have all the food and drink they need at the end of a long day's work. The cook moves toward Alessia (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/c9/9b/63/c99b6365befc344a1bea104cb4222a84.jpg)and begins a hushed conversation. The bloodrager moves to get up and resume his line of questioning, but pauses as he notices something. Alessia, the catfolk Boatswain, bears an interesting pattern in the striations of her fur. Near the base of her neck, the black marking seem to form the same symbol he found on Gent's wrist. A triangle with an eye (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/9c/a8/45/9ca845e3c0bfec864d6bb9a34add5a98.jpg). Following a hunch, he observes the other officers nearby. Throki (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/f0/26/33/f026335fb98c305c158a382fda81fd04.jpg) bears the symbol engraved onto his clockwork hand, hidden among a permanent cheat-sheet of engraved formulae and equations. Abu (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/41/51/50/415150420800f3681cb565b5730459a9.jpg) has the eye as a medallion, jingling among a dozen others around his neck. He can't observe the symbol on Archie, and Kalinda and Mournholdt are on the deck above, but he's bet his last copper they bear it too.

After her quick and hushed conversation with Master Gent, Alessia nods and speaks to the mess. "Alright, you lot! Finish your drinks. Then, we start the night watch rotation. McGreggor, Knut, you two are at first watch. Loran, Regaro, you're on deck. The rest of you, get some shut eye. We have a full day of sailing tomorrow."

[AlphaLuke]

The crewmen called for the watch quickly down their tankards and hop to it.

The rest of the crew makes busy heading toward the bunks or cleaning up the mess. The officers seem to gather and all head toward the Captain's cabin.

[Pent]

Zeph gives a quick glance to Mcgreggor, Knut, Loran, and Regaro. Names he'd not heard before.

KNUT?!

Zeph figures he'd better stop by the Captain's quarters, in case that was expected. Maybe he'd overhear something before being turned away if he wasn't?

[DeathbyFlossing]

Storms is... concerned. He does not know what the eye-in-pyramid symbol means, but it clearly indicates the true masters of the ship.
...
Frankly, as long as fiend worship isn’t involved, Storms doesn’t really care. Still. It would probably be best to simply be upfront about his concerns rather than let them think he is plotting something. If nothing else, he can always jump ship at the next port.

Storms turns and heads to the captains’ cabin.

[AlphaLuke]

The four men called to duty are all old salts. None of them look particularly interesting or special. The Apparition in Time has dozens of crewmen. Most are only aboard for one or two trips. A few are veterans. The men and women who make up the majority of the crew are unskilled laborers or rank-and-file sailors. Zeph and Storms are different; seasoned sailors with special skills.

It's a coincidence. Knut is a fairly common Ulfen name and I just let it slip. What I'm basically saying is the officers and named personalities so far are the people with character classes. The rest of the crew is comprised of lvl 1-3 NPC classes. If you want to learn every name on the ship, more power to you; but it won't a particularly rewarding endeavor.

Storms may make a Knw Planes, Religion, or Nobility check if he has them trained. Otherwise, he's left to wonder about the symbol, unless he enlists the help of someone more scholarly.
Zeph and Storms both find themselves walking together toward the Captain's cabin slightly after the officers. Kalinda continues to man the helm, but takes no notice of the men. When they approach the door to the Captain's cabin, which stands slightly ajar, they catch the sound of conversation. It sounds like Alessia, Throki, and Cassius having a heated debate. Alessia's voice rings clear,

" - like him. He's the best. And, he's the only person alive that's been there. You just have to suck it up, Cassius. He's coming aboard."

"It doesn't mean I have to like it." Lictor Mournholdt's stern basso cuts in. "I trust the Captain's judgement. I just wish there was another way."

A rumbling of assent from Throki, "Aye. Took me three weeks to properly align the conduits after he "fixed" them the last time. Said it was all in good fun. We were running at half power for a month!"

"He's the key. He's a friend of the Order. We need him. End of discussion." Alessia's tone brooks no argument.

Then, the Captain's deep tone silences his officers. "She says we need him. She's never wrong. Same for those two we picked up in Absalom today. She says they're important. Mr. Gent, how was the Shoanti?"

Gregor Gent's voice is clipped and formal. "Was a great help, Cap'n. Man knows how to follow orders, Sir. Observant too. Noticed my mark faster than any recruit I've ever seen. We'll see his true worth in the first engagement, I'm sure of it."

There's a moment of silence before the Captain's voice re-appears. "Mr. Ironblood. Master Archelos. How about the Garundi?"

Throki's voice sounds like the dwarf is smiling. "Smart as a tack, that one, Sir. Picked up on the aegis and the power lattice right quick. And ballsy too. Leapt into the air like he didn't fear the reaper, he did."

Archie's voice sounds significantly less slurred than it did at dinner, almost like the simple presence of the Captain has a sobering effect. "Laid a good course, Captain. Knows his trade. He asked me for flying lessons, too. Something no human's ever done, mage or otherwise."

The Captain seems to chew on these reports for a long few seconds before saying, "These two men are to be recruited. She deems it necessary. Do what you must to evaluate them further over the next few days. I'd like to fill them in on more operational information before we make landfall in Almas. Lictor Mournholdt, I'd have you judge their combat readiness if the opportunity doesn't arise organically in the field. Dismissed."

There's the sound of shuffling feet from the other side of the door.

[Pent]

At the mention of mark Zeph looks over to Storms and silently mouths "Mark?" Storms, as per usual doesn't show any response.

He smiled at being called ballsy.

At the end of the discussion, and the sound of approaching feet, he approaches Kalinda at the helm.

"So, I've never had a Captain read poetry in the mess before. Seems common on this ship. What did you make of the one this evening?"

[AlphaLuke]

Kalinda responds without taking her eyes off the horizon. The stars guide her way.

"Tonight was shorter and darker than most of the Captain's work. Still, I think it was well-received. And it's not every night he reads a poem. Sometimes he sings." Kalinda smiles. "He's an old soul, the Captain. He needs a creative outlet. Most nights he's quiet, but occasionally he regails us with something like what you heard tonight. Dinner in the mess is when most of the crew gets to rest after a long, hard day. Someone usually takes a stab at entertainment. Master Gent's a fair juggler. Mr. Ironblood knows the poetic eddas by heart. 'Course their all in Dwarvish. I'm sure you'll be tapped before long." She pauses to take her eyes off the cloudline. "You did well today, Mr. Leornian. Best you get a good night's rest. I'm sure you'll have a full day tomorrow."

[Pent]

"I hope so sir, I'm looking forward to it." He snaps her a perfect salute. "Thank you, for today. Being here is a dream come true."

After, he heads down into his hammock, and falls asleep mentally reviewing all that's he's learned. He puts names to faces until he falls asleep.

His last thought is to ask Storms about the mark.

[DeathbyFlossing]

Storms wonders at the mention of an ‘order’. He’s sure he’s seen that mark before.

...

Damnit all, he can’t remember. He’ll have to ask Zephyr about it in the morning. He seems like he’d know some odd lore.

With a sigh, Storms heads to bed.

darn it, I only have knowledge (Arcana) :(

[AlphaLuke]

The sounds of gulls and the smell of cold salt air awakens Storms, Scar-Eye, and Zeph. The Apparition in Time sails along above a seemingly endless expanse of blue water. Coming above deck, the mates see the Captain himself at the helm. Master Gent hands the men a steaming pork bun and a chop of raw pork to Scar-Eye.

Alessia assigns them their duties for the day: Storms is sent to the rigging to help trim and tack under her command. Zeph is to help Throki with some de-icing beneath the ship.

Storms, please make a Prof. Sailor and a Survival checks. Zeph, please make Climb and Knw. Engineering checks.

[Pent]

Kn Engineering - [roll0]
Climb - [roll1]

[DeathbyFlossing]

Profession Sailor [roll0], survival [roll1]

[AlphaLuke]

Zeph begins to put on the harness next to the chief engineer while Storms climbs the rigging. Zeph is excited to get under the ship again, to feel the wind on his face, to feel nothing beneath him but sky and sea. Throki hands the man a heavy mallet and the two of them begin walking with the jingling of carabiners and harness clamps toward the port side of the ship.

. . .


Storms makes his way up the rigging slowly. Alessia shouts something to him, but the wind drowns out all but the most basic commands. " - tack - - line - - - arm - - - stow - " He looks toward the horizon and sees something that catches his eye. A line of clouds that seem to be piling atop themselves. Thunderheads.

. . .

Zeph lowers himself over the side of the Apparition in Time alongside Throki. The rudders have, indeed, been covered in a thick layer ice. Perhaps cloud cover condensed upon the metallic portions of the mechanism! he thinks to himself excitedly. The increased elevation and decreased barometric pressure would account for the icing. But, of course, they could avert this problem by running a heating coil - his foot slips. He feels open air. Zeph isn't so much afraid as surprised. He hears Throki shout as the safety lines snap taut and halt his fall with a painful jerk. The heavy mallet he was carrying slips out of his hands and tumbles toward the endless blue below until its speck is invisible. Zeph can't even make out the white of the splash.

"Hang on, lad! I'll be right there and we can ascend your harness!"

. . .

Zeph stares intently at the storm clouds. Is that something sailing in their shadow? A ship? Alessia scurries up the rigging and shouts something panicked and angry at Storms. "You daft, tattooed lummox! Hoist that line or the boom will - " Too late. The line snaps. A length of rope the thickness of Storms' wrist whips across the deck, a heavy block and tackle swinging from its end like a giant's flail. Men and women duck for cover.

. . .

Zeph looks up to see Throki's metallic hand reaching down for him. He sees the block and tackle swing over the port bow. He watches in horror as the heavy chunk of metal and wood clubs the engineer savagely and sends his limb body spinning in its harness. He also sees the ropes draw against each other so hard and so fast that smoke begins to form. And then, with the smallest sound, Throki's safety lines shear. He begins to fall, just as heavy and just as uncontrolled as Zeph's mallet.

[Pent]

Zeph is not a normal human. He's is overly chatty, curious, and extremely intelligent. But all of those qualities are within the scale of human normal. What makes Zeph different is two big things. First is that his body is much, much older than the young adult he looks.

Zeph watches in horror as Throki plummets to his almost certain demise.

"Throki!" Zeph yells as lightning flashes out of him. Electricity singes, smolders, and then ignites the harness tangling him up.

Zeph falls free of the mess of singed rope and leather. "Now we're talking," Zeph says to himself. He calculates his own falling speed (9.8 meters per second per second) versus how long Throki's fall speed. (The same). And how much longer Throki has been accelerating than Zeph (too long). Zeph will need to speed up his fall in order to catch the Engineer.

The other, is that Zeph is a Shory.

Zeph flies. His accelerates past the speed Throki would have hit. "It'll be okay!" Zeph yells as he gives Throki bear hug.

The ground is coming up too fast. Zeph tries to pull out of the dive into a lateral flight.

fly check to catch Throki - [roll0]

Fly check to pull out of the dive - [roll1]

[AlphaLuke]

Crewmen react with astonished gasps as Zeph literally disintegrates the harness around him and falls after the engineer. Storms sees as the dwarf drops and Zeph dives after him.

Zeph's acceleration leaves a rolling taurus of cloud behind him. He easily catches up to the unconscious Throki and wraps his arms around the flailing man. Then, in a graceful and smooth arc, he pulls into a lateral trajectory. There's a general hoot and hollering from the deck of the Apparition in Time as men and women cheer the sight.

[Pent]

Throki is pretty heavy, but Zeph can hold on to him for a little bit longer. He begins a more leisurely ascent up to the Apparition.

[DeathbyFlossing]

Storms stares agape both at the near disaster and at his own foolishness, being so preoccupied with shadows that he wasn’t doing his job. It rams home hard that he isn’t a sailor, and he’s completely outside his normal skill set.

Well. He’ll fix that.

This isn’t happening again. As soon as this mess clears Storms is going to learn every rope and plank of this ship. His foolishness has cost too many lives already. No more.

Storms resolves to spend the rest of the trip’s downtime retraining 3 of his ranks in Spellcraft into Profession Sailor.

[AlphaLuke]

Zeph lands on the deck like a petal on the wind, clutching the limp engineer. He is quickly swarmed by crewmen. The shouts from Dr. al-Aruni cut through the commotion.

"Let me through! Please! Let me pass, please! T'harukun bi'suraten! Move!"

Storms begins to climb down from the rigging. Alessia makes a flying leap and lands nimbly on her feet, of course.

Abu finally makes it to the bleeding and unconscious Throki. He, alone, seems unconcerned with Zeph's superhuman save and focuses all his attention on his patient. He speaks to himself while running his hands over the man. He quickly feeds him a small bottle of thick, red liquid and the active bleeding stops.

"Contusion to the left temple. Broken zygomatic. Concussion. Possible hemorrhage. Daw 'althatiri, we must get him to the infirmary at once. You, you, carry him carefully, please." Two crewmen immediately pick up Throki and begin to move him below deck. They're followed by Abu and Alessia.

Zeph is surprised to hear the meek doctor speaking so forcefully. It's good to see that he'll be in good hands if he ever finds himself injured aboard the Apparition in Time. Suddenly he remembers that he never showed up at the doctor's infirmary for his pre-flight examination. It's something he'll have to remember later.

Storms makes it to the deck and is immediately confronted by first officer Kalinda. "What in the nine happened, man?!"

Meanwhile, Zeph feels a hand wrap around his upper arm. When he turns, he sees the Captain's glowing eyes staring through him. "Damn fine catch, Mr. Leornian. Mr. Ironblood will be fine in the good doctor's hands. If you would kindly follow me to my ready room. We need to talk."

[Pent]

Zeph's eyes are wide as he follows behind the Captain.

His secret is certainly out now. Should he be prepared to lie? No way. Those eyes. The warriors of this crew. The close-knit structure they have? Lying about who he is will be death later.

Skirt the truth? Maybe...not about being Shory. Though, that's obvious.

His body's age? Doubtful. No shory have been around in several Ages.

His heirloom? Maybe his heirloom.

Although he can't think of a benefit to hiding its nature, he can't think of a benefit to revealing it, either.

[AlphaLuke]

The door closes on the Captain's ready room (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/77/e7/a6/77e7a6c61a456e4d4e6209665343bb37.jpg) and Zeph gets a good look around. This seems to be an antechamber before the Captain's actual cabin. It's where Zeph and Storms overheard the officer's talking last night.

The room itself seems too large in comparison to what its outside dimensions would suggest. Too large by several times! Dimensional compression! But I've never seen it used on such a large space! And in such a nuanced fashion. This is subtle and beautiful magic.

The wood floors are a deep red cherry and the walls are covered with ornate and ancient maps. The entire area is filled with wondrous art, unique trinkets, and arcane instrumentation. Zeph considered himself well-traveled before entering this room. Now, he's confronted by sand sculptures from the Padishah Empire, Wyrwood carvings from Arcadia, a porcelain tea set from Tian Xia, clockwork instrumentation from the Mana Wastes, and a thousand other items he cannot identify.

"Is . . ." he pauses in disbelief, "Is that a Mammoth Skull hanging on the wall?"

The Captain smiles slightly. "It is. Got that in the Realm of the Mammoth Lords. Rare Dire Mammoth. Almost took me through the gut with those tusks."

The Captain says all this with the nonchalance of someone who could have been recounting a relaxing fishing trip to a quiet pond.

He moves to the porcelain tea set and pours two cups of piping liquid. He offers one to Zeph and nods to a small ewer of cream and a bowl of sugar. He, surprisingly, takes three heaping spoonfuls of sugar in his tea.

"Now, Mr. Leornian," he says after taking a sip. "I make it my business to know all there is to know about my crew. Within reason, of course. Having a Shory Windrider aboard was a surprise to me. I'm not often surprised. I must ask, to what do I owe the honor? We aren't close enough to the Expanse for you to be a holdout from one of the ruins and the Aeromancers of Yjae don't venture this far West. So, pray tell, how are you alive and on my ship?"

[Pent]

Zeph sucks on his lips for a second as he considers the question.

"Sir that's a great question. And the short and still truthful answer is: no one knows. First Officer Kalinda said she heard of my father, I'm assuming she briefed you. Mosbius Leornian, the preeminent scholar of the Shory? Well, some decades ago, before he was known, he had his own share of adventuring spirit. He found a Shory ruin, one that hadn't been discovered by any other archaeologist. he found something in that ruin that had never been found in any Shory site: a stasis pod. Still active too. Inside was...well. Hi.

I was just a babe. My father adopted me, raised me like a human, and I try to keep a lid on my nature from most people because of its uniqueness. He studied the pod as best he could. Couldn't figure out why that pod still worked after millenia. There were no other clues that told him about its occupant, or what I was doing in there. He took diligent notes and etchings. i've reviewed all of it and I concur.

How and why I'm still here is a mystery to all living souls. On your ship specifically - I heard rumors at the dock that the ship's design was Shory. And I always wanted to fly. I just had to be a crew member. There's no real mystery to unearth there."

[AlphaLuke]

The Captain listens thoughtfully to Zeph's recounting. He doesn't interrupt and doesn't reveal any of his thoughts through any subtle movements. Zeph briefly thinks that the man must be a phenomenal poker player.

When Zeph finishes, the Captain wats for a solid twenty seconds before blinking those unsettling eyes. "I believe you."

Zeph breathes a sigh of relief and realises he was holding his breath in the silence.

"You're young. Even though your people are old. You're looking for answers to some very old, very big questions. I know of your father too. I've had Mr. Ironblood consult with him several times to answer some questions about the Shory craftsmanship aboard the Apparition. He's very knowledgeable. I see you take after him, blood relation or no. I can't promise that you'll find your answers here, but I can tell you that you'll find a kinship with the crew aboard this ship. We tend to collect the odd and unique, drifting on the winds. You see - " he pauses, and for the first time in Zeph's short time knowing the man he looks uncertain. "You see, this ship. This crew is - " a loud boom interrupts the conversation and sends the ship rocking.

Storms, feel free to response slightly back in the timeline. Back before the boom.

[DeathbyFlossing]

Storms jumps down from the rigging, heedless on the danger, and runs up to Mr. Ironblood to make sure the results of his mistake weren’t fatal. He is deeply relieved to see he is ok.

Still. It shouldn’t have happened.

After the doctor leaves with Mr. Ironblood, Storms makes his way to Mr. Kalinda. Approaching respectfully, he says ”I made a blunder that nearly cost a life today because I don’t actually know much about sailing. I figured I’d learn on the job. Today has driven home that a flying ship has rather tighter safety margins than a normal ship. Would it be possible to assign me a tutor so I can get familiar with my tasks as quickly as possible? Because I don’t want this to happen again.

What I’m trying to convey here is that Storms has a bit of a guilt complex. Having people suffer because of his mistakes is a bit of a trauma button for him, so he’s trying to minimize the odds such a mistake occurs.

[AlphaLuke]

Kalinda (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/e9/5d/a6/e95da691b5428382e91219226d7b3b87.jpg) listens to Storms' excuses, her hackles almost visibly rising. Although she's a woman, she's clearly not one to suffer fools or incompetence aboard her ship.

When Storms finishes, the Taldan officer speaks in short, clipped sentences.

"I don't have time to babysit my sailors, Mr. Storms. My Boatswain will ensure that this mistake doesn't happen again by keeping you out of the rigging. I'm sure you mean well, but you made a mistake that could have cost us our engineer. What matters is that you learn from it. Your talents aren't in the masts. Mr. Ironblood will live. You will learn as you go on the ship, but no one will hold your hand as you do so."

She turns to look at the rest of the crew milling about, she starts to shout orders, then she spots the thunderclouds Storms saw earlier. He eyes go wide with sudden recognition. "All hands! General quarters!" She rings a brass bell affixed to the mast and people begin to run about, unplugging cannons and handing out weapons. "Mr. Mounholdt, you have a shock trooper!" She shouts towards her Master of Arms and nods at Storms and Scar-eye. "Mr. Archelos! Evasive action! Take us away from that thunderhead!"

"Aye, sir!" Archie (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/9a/d4/91/9ad491db7a1da2bf7e93082ed5012808.jpg) shouts, spinning the helm. "We're heading into the wind, sir. S'robbing us of our speed. Thunderhead's about to overtake!"

Storms is confused. "Wait, what's going on!? . . . uh, Sir," he adds, belatedly.

Kalinda turns to Storms while drawing her sword. "Those storm clouds. They're moving against the wind. They're illusions, Mr. Storms. A mass of illusions that we're about to fly right into. We're under attack and we need our best fighters ready for boarders. That means that when Mr. Mournholdt gives you an order, you need - " She doesn't get to finish her sentence. A flaming boulder the size of a full grown sheep hurtles out of the dark thundercloud and smashes into the upper deck with a raucous crash. Men scream and are thrown back by the force of the blast. Blue runes etched into the planks flare to life. They seem to protect the wooden ship, and she only suffers some minor scorching.

Lictor Mournholdt (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/b0/b4/6d/b0b46dfc822b3cf3c381930844c1cef9.jpg) holds out his hands, palms up in a gathering motion. As he does, shadows coalesce around him like deep black smoke. When the shadows solidify, the Hellknight stands in his full armor (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/cf/ee/43/cfee435a5bb379d3ec0a280c9cf8ad06.jpg), wielding a sword made from that same shadow-stuff.

A second catapult stone, smoking and flaming, arches out of the faux cloud and streaks toward Storms.

[DeathbyFlossing]

”Look out!” Storms cries as he plants himself in front of Kalinda and and draws on the ancient power that seeps through his veins. A rush like nothing else he has ever known fills him as he speaks a word found in no living language and swells to the size of an ogre, the amulet around his neck glowing as he does.

ok, first try on the Spheres of Power stuff. Storms spends 1 spell point to activate Size Change, growing to Large size. As a result, he takes 1 point of non lethal damage from his Draining Casting Drawback and must check for addiction as for his Addictive casting drawback vs Dc 10 ( [roll0] ) or gain a minor addiction to casting spells. He then tries to tank the boulder to shield Kalinda.

[AlphaLuke]

Storms grows to massive proportions, and crosses his forearms in front of his face as the massive fireball slams into him. He grunts through the pain and absorbs the blow.

Storms takes a direct hit, because he was trying to.

Storms takes [roll0] bludgeoning damage and [roll1] fire damage. He acts as full cover for Kalinda, who makes her Reflex save.
Zeph rushes out of the cabin right behind the Captain in time to see Storms take the blast.

Maps incoming. Not in initiative yet so feel free to post at will for now.

[Pent]

Zeph looks around to try to understand the situation.

[roll0]

[Pent]

I swear today has not been my day.

[DeathbyFlossing]

Grunting from the pain, Storms pops a potion and assesses the situation.

potion of CLW [roll0], Perception check [roll1]

[DeathbyFlossing]

Storms digs deep into his power pouring it around himself in an aura aligning him toward Good. He then speaks in a terrible voice, saying NONE SHALL HARM THE CREW OF THIS SHIP.

Storms spends 1 spell point and uses the Hallow talent of the Fate Sphere, Aligning himself toward Good and gaining a +1 sacred bonus on attack rolls, AC, and saving throws agains Evil opponents for 3 minutes. He also gains immunity to mind influencing effects originating from evil opponents (basically a protection from evil effect.) he then casts the Judgement talent of he Fate Sphere, creating a 20-foot radius sphere around him where a specific action is required of prohibited. In this case, he prohibited harming the crew of the apparition. He is casting the latter through concentration, up to 3 minutes. He can also spend a spell point to have it last for three minutes without concentrating.he also takes 1 point of non-lethal damage and must make a dc 11 save to avoid addiction.

[DeathbyFlossing]

forgot to actually roll the save. Fortitude save DC 10 [roll0]

[AlphaLuke]

The fire engulfs Storms. He shuts his eyes against the flash. Feels the scorching of his skin. Smells his hair burning. For a moment, his mind stops. His heart races. He wants to run. He remembers fire. The Cinderlands. The screams. He squashes the instinct to flee. Instead, he intones words of power that wash over the crew around him. Golden red energy swathes the area around him in protective light. Scar-eye roars nearby and rushes to the side of his master.

The bloodrager quaffs a potion to heal the most minor of his burns. Then, he looks around. The fire continues to fall. The thundercloud looms closer and closer. And no enemy is yet visible.

Storms, you are currently under the effect of your Burned Drawback (https://www.d20pfsrd.com/traits/drawbacks/burned/).

When you use the Judgement talent, anyone trying to defy your Judgement gets a Will save. Please provide that DC.
Zeph sees the stormcloud spitting gobs of molten death in great, horrible arcs. He hears the screams of crewmen and the scrambling for weapons. He smells the ozone and burnt sulfur in the wind. He notices the wind, still blowing against the onrushing thundercloud. An impossibility. Thunderheads follow the wind. This is an illusion. A massive illusions behind anything he's ever seen, but an illusion nonetheless. That means that there's a source. A caster. Zeph's mind's eye opens to the flows of magic. It nearly blinds him but he's able to divine the weft and weave of the magical eddies swirling around him. The fire is magic. The stormcloud is magic. The ship is magic.

And the dragon flying toward them through the storm is magic.

[Pent]

That illusory thunderhead is preventing the crew of the Apparition from engaging properly. Zeph can help!

Zeph casts Dispel Magic at the illusory thunderhead.

Just a caster level check, right? [roll0]

[AlphaLuke]

Zeph fires a bolt of disruptive energy into the thunderhead. It fizzles, unable to overcome the magic.

Failed dispel check. Having interacted with the illusion, Zeph is entitled to a Spellcraft check to determine the spell and see what could possibly counter it.

[Pent]

Zeph peers deeper into the invisible swirls of magic to see how the illusion can be countered.

SPELLCRAFT [roll0]

[AlphaLuke]

Zeph sees the subtle weavings of a Major Image (https://aonprd.com/SpellDisplay.aspx?ItemName=Major%20Image), stretched thin and broad. The spell is relatively common, but the caster has shown only the front of the thunderhead and thus increased its efficacy against the Apparition in Time. From only slightly to the side, the illusion would be quite useless. Additionally, from his memory of Illusions courses at the Arcanamirium, image spells react poorly to being struck. No crewman has opened fire on the thunderhead because one doesn't shoot clouds. But, if attacks, the figment would vanish and the true enemy would be revealed.

[Pent]

"Captain!" Zeph yells as he points at their enemy. "That thunderhead is an illusion! One shot should be enough to dispel it!"

[AlphaLuke]

Captain Morales turns those ember eyes towards the cloud. He doesn't question Zeph. Not even for an instant.

"Mournholdt! Main guns! Target the cloud!"

"Aye, Sir!" Mournholdt shouts back, though his voice is rather muted by his helm. "About starboard! Prepare for broadside!"

Archie pulls a hard turn and shows the Apparition's broadside to the coming storm. Four thick guns sit on the starboard side of the main deck.

"FIRE!"

What happens next is an orchestra of pure violence.

The four guns are too loud. Zeph has heard cannon before, and more than four, but these are thunderclaps directly next to his ear. Their report shears the air even as their heavy shot shears into the cloud. And the cloud dissipates! It unravels like some great tapestry. On the other side, a dragon (https://i.pinimg.com/originals/2b/ff/08/2bff08a817cd85fea87058362a344481.jpg) flies straight for the Apparition. The beast's scales are a dull reddish purple, the color of a fresh bruise. Astride its back, a rider prepares to hurl another flaming sphere at the ship.

Now we can roll initiative. The dragon ain't landing yet so there's no need for a battlemap.

[Pent]

Zeph initiative [roll0]

[DeathbyFlossing]

the save for Judgement is 15, FYI. Initiative roll [roll0]

[DeathbyFlossing]

Storms-as-He-Walks gathers power in his hands, preparing to unleash a blast of energy the second his target comes in range.

Storms readies an action to cast the Crafted Blast talent at the dragon’s rider as soon as said rider is within 60 ft.

[AlphaLuke]

Storms draws a bead on the dragon rider, waiting for him to come in range of his magic. First Officer Kalinda shouts orders to soldiers rushing to and fro, but they're lost in the din of battle and the roar of gunfire. Mournholdt leads the gunnery teams, shouting at them to reload faster and aim for the dragon. Archie turns the Apparition about, letting Mournholdt's port-side cannons get their shots. They crack with the same ferocity of the starboard salvo, but this time they're aiming at something. They fire in a measured sequence, rangefinding and leading their target. Still, it's a dragon on the wing 200 feet away. All four shots hit nothing but air. The order to reload is given. The Captain climbs the aftcastle to stand near Archie. He places his hand on the pilot's shoulder and speaks calmly into his ear.

The dragon roars and flies straight for the Apparition. Its rider tosses another flaming boulder at the deck, sending deckhands sprawling and screaming. The dragon unleashes its breath, strafing the ship. It breathes a cone of rippling gas down to the deck. Men and women begin to choke and cough as the gas pushes the breathable air away.

Desperately attempting to concentrate, Storms unleashes his blast.

Storms and Zeph both need to make Fort saves. If either of you try to cast, you'll need to make concentration checks.

Roll your ranged attack roll, Storms. After it's resolved, it'll be Zeph's turn.

[Pent]

Fort save - [roll0]

[DeathbyFlossing]

Storms struggles to work through the pain and get his spell off.

Fort Save [roll0], and casts Crafted blast for 1 spell point, taking 1 non lethal damage and a dc 13 Fort save to avoid magic addiction [roll1]. Ranged touch attack roll [roll2] and as it is a Crafted blast, I substitute Slashing damage for the default bludgeoning and treat all rolls of 1 or 2 in damage dice as 3s, so I will roll the damage dice separately: [roll3], [roll4]

[DeathbyFlossing]

also since I don’t think I mentioned it, the destructive blast power of the destruction sphere, which Crafted blast is an enhancement of, has bypassing dr/magic as a basic feature. Just in case that’s relevant.

[AlphaLuke]

Storms-as-he-walks muscles through the gaseous attack, holding his breath and grunting out the final words of power to unleash his destructive blast. Blades of translucent power rip through the air in front of Storms' outstretched hand and tear into the rider atop the dragon. A shout and a spray of blood, but the rider stays astride his dread mount.

Zeph sees the dragon flying overhead and gasps involuntarily . . . exactly when the dragon breathes out a choking cloud of gas onto the main deck. Zeph gets a lungful of something cloying and thick. Something that sucks every breath out of his muscles. Other crewmen cough and choke. Zeph flounders.

Zeph, you unfortunately crit failed your save. You are Sickened for [roll0] rounds. Sickened: The character takes a –2 penalty on all attack rolls, weapon damage rolls, saving throws, skill checks, and ability checks.

It's your turn. The dragon and it's rider are 60ft away on the starboard side of the ship.

[Pent]

Oh my gods I'm dying! Zeph tries to get good air into his lungs.

It's not working too well.

Finally he's able to get a good breath. As he does he tries to remember what he knows about this kind of dragon.

[roll0]

[Pent]

Kn arcana roll = 17. Didn't see that sickened affected skill checks too.

[AlphaLuke]

Zeph catches a glimpse of the beast as it wings over the deck of the ship. Ventral ridge, webbed toes, fluked tail frill. But the color's wrong. And . . . no, it can't be. All Zeph's years of schooling tell him that this should be a Bronze Dragon. But Bronze Dragons aren't bruise colored terrors. They don't wantonly attack unprovoked and they aren't evil creatures who's breath draws the oxygen out of one's lungs. Still, this creature has the anatomy of a Bronze, even if it's phenotypically distinct.

Skill check result too low to find any useful vulnerability or ability info. But, you are able to determine that this dragon is unlike anything you've seen in any book you've read thus far.

Based on a very general assessment, Zeph can recall that Bronze Dragons are immune to electricity, paralysis, & sleep.

[Pent]

Zeph is ill prepared for this dragon. But he can make the ship safer for those can hurt it. Zeph pushes a blast of wind through the deck of the Apparition to clear the deadly vapor.

Zeph casts Gust of Wind (http://www.d20pfsrd.com/magic/all-spells/g/gust-of-wind)

[Pent]

[roll0]

if Sickened affects concentration checks, subtract 2.

[AlphaLuke]

Zeph muscles through the intense pain in his lungs and the fits of coughing to thrust both hands out in an arcane gesture. The winds obey his command and he sends a massive gale of wind howling across the deck to clear away the poisonous air. The crewmen cease their choking and hurriedly begin to get back to their stations.

Zeph's Gust of Wind spell has cleared the hazard form the deck of the ship. Due to his crit failure, he still maintains the sickened condition for [roll0] rounds.

Storms' turn.

[AlphaLuke]

Nevermind, Storms delayed his action. My turn.

[AlphaLuke]

Kalinda recovers from the choking gas quickly and rushes to the starboard gunwale. She begins to help Lictor Mournholdt with the gunnery teams, aiding the teams to reload their guns as quickly as possible. She orders the crews to load chain-shot. Mournholdt rises from the deck a fair bit slower than his first officer. Still, he croaks out orders to his gunnery teams and drops his shadowy sword. It dissipates into black smoke before it hits the deck. Replacing it, Mounholdt conjures a smoky javelin, long and wickedly barbed. His helmed gaze turns toward the dragon and its rider. Archie yells from the aftcastle, which was thankfully unaffected by the gaseous attack of the dragon's strafing run. "Transferring power to the starboard aegis! Looping for feedback! Prepare for another strafe, lads! Heads on a swivel!" He spins the helm, and pulls several levers, Captain still at his side.

The Starboard guns crack in a ripple of thunder. The whirring drone of spinning chain shot sounds unlike anything Storms or Zeph have ever heard before. Like monstrous wasps streaking toward their target. Three out of the four shots hit empty air, but one well-aimed crew manages to hit its target. The chain shears through dragonflesh like a hot sword through butter, amputating one of the great beast's wings with a visceral spray of blood. It immediately begins to falter and flail through the air, losing altitude. A great cheer issues from the crew.

The Captain, for his part, seems to be assisting his pilot, pulling levers and reading out the instrumentation measurements. As the dragon falls, he follows its descent with his glowing eyes. "She's not dead yet, men! Mister Archelos! Dive and pursue! Finish her off!"

"Aye sir! Diving! All Hands, BRACE!" Men and women hurriedly grasp ropes and gunwales as Archie takes the Apparition in Time into a stomach-floating dive.

The dragon roars and cries as it falls, it's rider still firmly attached to the riding harness. The Apparition gains upon the creature as it dives under more power than the embrace of gravity. The rider is seen weaving some kind of magic, infusing the mount with sickly purple energy. Mournholdt takes his shot, throwing his javelin with practiced precision. The shadow weapon leaves a black smoke trail as it streaks toward its target. Then, it buries itself in the back of the rider, sending a mist-fine spray of blood trailing behind the falling mage. The rider seems extremely injured, but still maintains enough strength to remain saddled.

The dragon and rider took a chain shot care falling. The Apparition in Time is diving after, 30ft away. Acrobatics skill checks or Reflex saves are needed to brace for the quick dive without warning. Zeph, you can avoid the brace altogether by making a Fly check if you want to take to the skies. Casting while in this dive requires a concentration check for vigorous motion (DC 10 + the level of the spell you’re casting) or lose the spell.

Storms' turn. Then Zeph's. You all are about 4 rounds of falling from the water's surface if that's relevant info.

[Pent]

Zeph feels a familiar, and not unwelcome lurch in his gut as the Apparition begins a dramatic dive. Zeph instinctively uses his flight ability to keep with the Apparition without losing his footing.

[DeathbyFlossing]

Storms lurches as the ship suddenly begins to dive, flailing for a handhold.

reflex save [roll0] to catch himself in the dive.

[AlphaLuke]

Storms is just barely able to grab a loose rope and halt his fall.

[DeathbyFlossing]

Storms charges a spell and hurls a blade of glowing energy at the dragonrider.

[roll0]Concentration roll against dc 11 or 12 (10 plus 1/2 SoP caster level of 3 but I can’t remember whether to round that up or down) And spends 1 spell point to cast crafted blast and another to deal one die of damage per caster level or 3d6 damage, treating rolls of 1 or 2 as 3 due to Crafted blast. [roll1] ranged touch attack, [roll2], [roll3], [roll4]

[AlphaLuke]

Storms is able to concentrate enough to configure a whirling blade of force to hurl at the dragonrider. The wind, however, throws off his aim significantly and his blast swings very far wide. Its spins into the air before dissipating.

Miss. Zeph's turn.

[Pent]

"Asphyxiate, beast" Zeph mumbls as he waves his hands casting an arcane spell. The wind is his to command. he commands it to leave the body of the dragon. He can't let it get another poisonous breath off.


Concentrate: [roll0] (again, not sure if Sickened affects this, if so, subtract 2).
Casting steal breath, Fort DC 16 negates. (https://www.d20pfsrd.com/magic/all-spells/s/steal-breath/)

[AlphaLuke]

Zeph reaches out to steal the air from the dragon's lungs, but is rebuffed by the sheer physical fortitude of the beast. Dragons are tough creatures, and this one is no exception.

Dragon saves. My turn.

[AlphaLuke]

Kalinda continues to direct the gunnery crews. Even though the Apparition in Time bears no chase guns on her bow, the crew might catch the plummeting beast in time for another broadside and she wants to be ready.

Archie hangs on and steers through the incredible turbulence of such a steep dive. A loose bit of rope whips him across the face and he jerks involuntarily at the slashing injury. Even that minor tweak to the helm causes the Apparition to swerve precariously and one poor soul screams as he's thrown loose from the rigging. The unfortunate sailor seemingly falls up as he's shaken free from the Apparition's momentum and slipstream.

The ship draws slowly closer to the falling dragon and its rider. Creeping up on their descent velocity.

The Captain pulls an Alkenstari pistol from a sash around his waist and levels it at their foe. Zeph and Storms have no idea how the man intends to hit his target in the midst of all this wind and the erratic motion of the diving ship. Still, a crack of gunpowder issues from his hand. A split second later, the dragon's rider arches like his spine is full of lightning and then goes slowly limp. He is pulled unceremoniously and clumsily from his saddle and streams behind the falling dragon, held by nothing but the leather strap of his riding harness.

The dragon, feeling the death of its rider, suddenly shifts. It shrinks quickly from the size of a bull elephant to the size of a horse. Then to the size of a man. Its wings disappear and its riding harness slips off, sending the attached corpse of the rider spinning into the wind. The dragon takes the shape of a man and stabilizes its fall with its arms, splaying itself and quickly rising through the air to let the Apparition dive past it.

Lictor Mournholdt shouts orders back to the helm while tossing another shadowy lance at the quickly retreating dragon. The lance of darkness misses and the dragon makes a rude gesture as he slowly continues his relative ascent.

Archie almost failed his operator skill checks mightily and we've lost a sailor in the air above us. Captain hit with his attack. Rider is dead. Dragon changed his shape into that of a humanoid and the App's velocity quickly outsped it. Mournholdt misses his attack. The now-humanoid dragon is 50ft away and climbing.

Storms' turn, then Zeph.

[DeathbyFlossing]

Storms blasts the dragon-man with a spear of conjured power.

[roll0] Concentration roll against dc 11 or 12 (10 plus 1/2 SoP caster level of 3 but I can’t remember whether to round that up or down) And spends 1 spell point to cast crafted blast for piercing damage and another to deal one die of damage per caster level or 3d6 damage, treating rolls of 1 or 2 as 3 due to Crafted blast. [roll1] ranged touch attack, [roll2], [roll3], [roll4] Storms is now at 4/12 spell points.

[AlphaLuke]

Storms tries to unleash his magic death upon the humanoid form of the dragon, but the buffeting wind, diving vessel, and unsteady footing cause him to lose the spell mid-cast.

Concentration check failure. Zeph's turn.

[Pent]

Zeph looks over at the man-shape dragon, considers what spells he has prepared. He looks up at the clouds where the falling crewman was. Zeph lifts off the deck of the Apparition and flies towards the crewmember.

I certainly am solidifying my role on this ship, Zeph thinks with a smile. He's happy with the role.


Perception: [roll0]
Fly: [roll1]

[AlphaLuke]

Zeph takes off with the practised grace of a lifelong flier. He finds the flailing man spiraling through the clouds above the ship. He decides that a rear arm lock will provide the best control to save his poor airsick victim. He easily grabs the man and starts the controlled fall.

[AlphaLuke]

As Zeph pulls his crewmate onto the deck of the Apparition, Archie pulls the ship hard out of the dive and almost everyone is thrown down to the deck. The keel of the ship skims the waves and there's shouting and commotion from the crew and the officers.

Storms and Zeph are able to see the humanoid form of the dragon disappear in a bank of cloudcover. One of their assailants has disappeared. The rider, however, floats lifelessly in the surf a short distance away.

Kalinda begins shouting for damage and casualty reports as sailors begins running around answering orders.

Thanks for giving me some time to post. I was traveling for business and got caught up in work. Combat over. Post at will.

[DeathbyFlossing]

Storms shrinks down, muscles deflating like sad balloons as his power leaves him. He calls out to Zephyr, ”Hey, Zeph! Grab the rider before they sink, we might be able to get some information out of them!”

[Pent]

It was a good idea.

Zeph lifts off and flies towards the unconscious rider. There were a lot of questions from this attack. leaving them unanswered would be maddening.



fly check 1 [roll0]
fly check 2 [roll1]
(2 rolls, just in case)

[AlphaLuke]

Zeph pulls the lifeless corpse of the dragonrider out of the waves and lays it upon the deck of the Apparition in Time. The rider wears an iron mask that completely covers his face and bears a strange glyph (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/53/c6/51/53c65149f438f4376ed2de3dee76a1e3.jpg).

The rest of the crew gathers around as the waterlogged body is displayed. It seems that the crew took no fatalities form the attack, although several wounded sailors ar being helped down to the doctor's infirmary.

[Pent]

Zeph racks his brain in case he's seen this glyph before.

Knowledge check Arcana, Nature, or Planes: [roll0]
If the check is not one of those (ie Engineering, Dungeoneering, Geo, History, Local, Nobility, Religion), subtract 2.

Zeph also casts detect magic on the corpse.

[AlphaLuke]

Zeph looks at the symbol carved into the iron mask and remembers some obscure scrap of planar lore he ready while studying at the Arcanamirium. Something about the Outer Gods? Maybe the Great Old Ones? He's fairly certain that this symbol has some meaning to those mad cultists who watch the places between the stars, but he's unsure as to the specifics.

When Zeph looks at the corpse through his third eye, he's shocked to see lines of power running all over the man. Like the ship, this man has hundreds of specific magical points apparently running beneath his clothes. Most of them look to be utilizing the Abjuration school of magic.

[Pent]

"That is fascinatingly curious!" Zeph exclaims as he fiddles with his glasses so they rest more comfortable on his head. "I've never seen anything like it! Why would a man be covered like this? And after death! It seems to make no sense!" His tone is best described as glee. In the end, there will be an answer to why he's covered in abjuration magic, and Zeph will find it.

[Pent]

Zeph begins to undo some of the straps holding his armor together. "What is the source of all these connections? It doesn't seem particularly tied to his armor, so this should be safe.
Even if it was, its abjuration, not evocation..."

[AlphaLuke]

Kalinda tries to stay Zeph's hand, but the young wizard's enthusiasm makes him to quick on the draw. Undoing the rider's armor and mask, he finds that his foe was an Ulfen man absolutely covered in strange tattoos (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/e0/c7/00/e0c70097bb255002c5e60adddb039d6a.jpg). Each runic tattoo glows with angry purple energy. Zeph can't read the writing, as it's of no language he knows.

Spellcraft can now tell you more about the magic tattoos. Linguistics might tell you what language they're in.

[Pent]

Without touching him, Zeph traces the lines with his finger, hoping that a puzzle piece comes together in his mind.

Spellcraft: [roll0]
Linguistics: [roll1]

[AlphaLuke]

The magic woven into these tattoos seems to be dwindling now that their wearer has died, but when they were active they protected him from the intense cold and suffocating lack of oxygen at high altitudes. He may have even been able to survive the vacuum of space for a short while! Additionally, they seem to have a failsafe fall protection woven into their design, allowing the rider to fall safely from a great height.

The language is completely arcane to Zeph. He's never seen it before.

[DeathbyFlossing]

Storms walks up to the body, cursing under his breath as he sees the attacker’s is already dead. ”Damn, he’s already passed.” Turning to Kalinda he asks, “Ma’am, with your leave, I’ll haul him to the infirmary. If the doc can keep him fresh until we get to Almas, we can have a Pharasman interrogate his ghost.”

[AlphaLuke]

Kalinda doesn't look up from the face of the corpse as she speaks. She seems horrified and stunned. Like she's running through possibilities in her head.

"S-sir, Mr. Storms. You will address all officers as sir, regardless of gender. Doctor al-Aruni is busy with casualties right now. Including Mr. Ironblood. Sko - this man, will keep for the time being. It's a fine suggestion, getting the Pharasmin clergy to help us interrogate him. I'll tell the Captain."

"I heard it." The Captain calls over the crowd. "I agree we should question him. But, I think it might be too delicate to involve the Church of the Lady of Graves. Officers, make your way to my ready room after you've seen to your duties. Storms-as-he-Walks, Zephyr. You two as well." He sounds angry. Rageful, actually.

The Captain turns and storms into his cabin before roaring back, "AND BRING THAT DAMNED TRAITOROUS CORPSE WITH YOU!"

[Pent]

Judging by the reaction of Kalinda unable to tear her gaze away from the corpse's face, and Captain's use of the word traitorous, Zeph feels its a safe assumption that the rider is former crew of the Apparition.

The patterns of magic on his skin did bear a strange resemblance to how hull of the Apparition is woven together.... Throki could probably understand how the magic is interconnected...but he wouldn't have great expertise with how its incorporated into a person. Maybe Abu?

Given the reaction of the Captain, these are dangerous questions not to be asked on the deck of the ship. He'll wait for the meeting to share his meager conclusions.

[Pent]

Zeph looked at the glyph on the helmet, and something seemed familiar. "Cults of the great beyond". He muttered his thoughts to himself aloud. Someone just mentioned cults recently.... who was that?...hmmm..

[AlphaLuke]

The officers give orders to take off and maintain a hover while their main engineer is still under the ministrations of the doctor.

Eventually, the corpse of the dragon rider is moved into the Captain's ready room and Kalinda (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/e9/5d/a6/e95da691b5428382e91219226d7b3b87.jpg), Mournholdt (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/b0/b4/6d/b0b46dfc822b3cf3c381930844c1cef9.jpg), Alessia (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/c9/9b/63/c99b6365befc344a1bea104cb4222a84.jpg), and Gent (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/28/b9/9c/28b99c4485f03dd274ffa457340168b2.jpg)all stand around the table, looking at the corpse and the back of their irate Captain (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/e5/7b/a7/e57ba76621be7eaf7741188961ee8541.jpg)as he rummages through a sea chest stuffed with what seems to be random bits of junk. Qadiran silk scarves, leather pistol holsters, a glass eye; all are tossed over the Captain's shoulder as he searches through the chest.

Zeph, Storms, and Scar-eye stand with the officers.

Finally the Captain pulls out a small glass vial (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/fb/ad/d3/fbadd30f2cf09fbf9fb2a8cfc43c7c65.jpg) that holds a single pinkie bone. It's tied to a leather thong and the Captain grunts in half-triumph, half-frustration as he pulls it from the chest.

[Pent]

Zeph watches carefully to see what the Captain does with the reliquary.


Knowledge Religion: [roll0]

[AlphaLuke]

Zeph's completely in the dark as to what the little wondrous item might accomplish. He watches, fascinated, as the Captain holds the little reliquary by the leather cord, dangling it over the corpse's face. He intones gravely words in a dark tongue, closing his eyes and letting the words echo and fill the too-large space of his ready room.

When he stops, nothing happens. For a long minute, not one person in the room makes a sound.

Then the corpse takes a sharp gurgling gasp and spits seawater into the air. "Blarglhspaaa!"

The captain leans in close to the corpse, whose eyes are still a milky white.

"Hello, Sköll. Welcome home."

The corpse immediately begins to thrash on the table before being restrained by master Gent and Kelinda.

The Captain look between his officers and his two new crewmen. "He's alive. Well, undead technically, but alive enough to question. Ask what you can while you can. He'll be dust by dawn."

The Captain wraps the cordage of the reliquary around his hand before tossing the little item back into his seachest.

"Master Leornian. You're a diviner, aren't you? Divine this scallywag's purpose for coming back to his old crew and attempting to slaughter them atop a bloody void dragon. Ought to be interesting. Storms, you're welcome to question him as well, but if he tries anything violent, smash his bloody brains out with that bloody great hammer."

[Pent]

"Skoll..." Zeph says, slightly mispronouncing the name.

Because I'm not looking up how to type the umlaut.

I'm sure my time is limited, corpses don't reanimate forever... I wish the Captain had told me everything he knew, I wouldn't have to risk wasting time asking questions he might know the answer to. Like, 'what's your name?'

So Zeph asks the one question that is every question:

"Why did you use a silver dragon to attack the Apparition?"

Purposefully using the wrong dragon type should get him to correct me. Cracking open an answer. Once he starts talking, he'll feel compelled to keep answering.

[Pent]

I don't know if the dead can lie, and my modifier's only one, but what the hell:sense motive check [roll0]

[Pent]

We killed him, his dragon. Storms is right behind him with a hammer a radius the size of the dead man's femur. I'll try to scare the info out of him.

Intimidate[roll0]

[DeathbyFlossing]

Storms steps back alarmed as the corpse reanimates, but after a moment sees the wisdom in this method. They will probably get more than half a dozen questions out of the spirit now, and they might not be as cryptic. Storms moves to assume a position directly behind the corpse, poising his hammer to smash its head if it tries to break free.

I see that Hellboy reference:smalltongue:

[AlphaLuke]

The corpse looks at Zeph disdainfully before spitting seawater at him.

"Tarminilax was a bronze dragon, idiot. Before his mind was freed. Before he looked into the beautiful void and saw the universe in a single, blissful instant."

Sköll looks at the two officers holding him down and sneers with wicked glee. "Hello Kalinda. Long time. Fancy a roll in the hold for old times sake?" The first officer's mouth distorts into a disgusted grimace, but her grip doesn't loosen.

"Greggor! Look at you. C'mon old buddy. It's Sköll! You're friend. You wouldn't hurt your friend, would you?"

Greggor's face is weary stone. "You were my friend, Sköll. No longer. You betrayed me, you did. All of us. We were so close. You were-"

"That's enough, Mr. Gent!" The Captain cuts in. "Do not entertain his childish torments. He is dead, and he was lost to us long before his current condition took root. To reminisce is folly."

Sköll turns to the Captain, but his grissled vissage holds no playful banter for the old salt. Only pure hatred.

"You would have kept me in the dark. All of us, in the dark. But I looked for truth. And I found it. So many have found it. You'll see it too, eventually. When you stop intentionally blinding yourself."

[Pent]

Well he's certainly chatty enough...

"Teach me about the void. What's beautiful about it? It can't be so beautiful that its worth betraying the Apparition."

[AlphaLuke]

The once-man looks to Zeph with eyes that are too wide. A grin that is too sharp.

"The Void. The stars are not gone. They are only waiting. Prepare, for even they look hungrily upon the light. This world, it was betrayed by this lot. This ship. They fight what cannot be fought. Like crabs thinking they can stop the tide. I saw truth, and so I prepare myself and others. The world must be made ready."

[Pent]

Zeph looks around the room briefly. Then he leans down and whispers into Sköll's ear "Have I doomed myself by allying with them, brother? Can you help save me?"

If this were Kotor it would read as "[Persuade/Lie]".
Bluff check: [roll0]

[AlphaLuke]

The Captain looks intrigued by Zeph's gambit, but betrays nothing to his former crewman.

Sköll looks briefly skeptical, but the madness buried in his eyes eventually sees truth in Zeph's lies. He leans in conspiratorially.

"Flee while you can, seeker of truth. The Captain's enthralled to the Oracle's spell. I don't mind telling you that I think he's . . ." he whispers lower, ". . . mad! I escaped. And some others too. Go to one of the black stones and see what is real and what is fantasy. Then, I will call you brother."

[Pent]

Zeph straightens up and moves next to the Captain.

"Captain, I'm suffering from a lot of ignorance about what happened to your old crew mate. Can you help cure my ignorance? Can you tell me what happened before Sköll betrayed you? Who you encountered? Did it relate to a cult worshiping the void? Who is the Oracle? What are the black stones? Was Sköll a man stupid enough to attack a warship alone before he betrayed you? Or has his void cult lobotomized him?"

[AlphaLuke]

The Captain stoically listens to all of Zeph's questions. He gives nothing away while smoking steadily on his pipe. That is, until, Zeph asks, "Was Sköll a man stupid enough to attack a warship alone before he betrayed you?"

With that question, the Captain's eyes widen and he stops puffing. "No. He wasn't."

He moves faster than a dust devil to a speaking tube on the wall. "Doctor! Get Mr. Ironblood up and awake!"

A distant, tinny voice echoes back: Dr. al-Aruni. "Captain? It really would be better if he could rest, sir. He's still - "

"Now!" The Captain roars.

There's a sound of hurried clattering from the other end of the tube. Captain Morales spins on Sköll, wild-eyed. The undead man smiles at his former Captain before simply mouthing one word: "Boom."

The world abruptly becomes light and sound and pain.

Sköll explodes in a fantastic blast of purple fire, sending ichorous chunks flying around the Captain's ready room.

All the officers inside are blown off their feet, and it takes both Zeph and Storms several long seconds to realize what has happened. Their ears ring and deafness very slowly gives way to the sounds of screams, shouts, and additional explosions outside. The Captain is on his feet shouting about something. It's all very muffled. Scraps of flaming paper float gracefully around the cabin, adding a discordant beauty to the horrific scene.

"--- up! G---up! Get up!" The Captain's voice eventually reaches the men's ears as he offers hands to help pull his injured officers to their feet.

[DeathbyFlossing]

Storms realized they were tricked. The attack was a diversion.

...what was it diverting from?

Storms rushes grabs Zeph and rushes toward the deck, crying ”We need to get topside, NOW! I will bet my last copper that was a distraction, or a signal for an ambush!”

[Pent]

Zeph's ears rung. He watched, but not heard, Storms yell something. As his hearing returned he heard more explosions from outside.

He looked around the Captain's quarters and helped anyone else get back on their feet. They were all needed outside to fend off another attack.

[AlphaLuke]

Both Zeph and Storms bear minor injuries from the blast. Mostly scorches and bruises. The dazed effect of the concussion quickly abates.

Both Zeph and Storms take [roll0] bludgeoning damage and [roll1] fire damage from the blast and are Dazed for one round (already gone).
The crewmen help the officers to their feet. Kalinda & Mournholdt both look rattled, but not seriously injured, their armor taking the brunt of the blast. Alessia and Scar-Eye seem to have avoided the explosion altogether, and nimbly extricate themselves from behind an overturned table. Gent grunts and groans as he is helped up by Mournholdt, while clutching at his side. His shirt and apron are stained with dark blood and his hand gingerly wraps around a large shard of table sticking out of his gut. The gigantic man grunts at the Captain, "S'nothin, sir. Splinter's all."

Captain Morales nods grimly and draws his sword, which promptly lights itself aflame. Then, he kicks open the door to his ready room and leads the charge onto the main deck.

[AlphaLuke]

The scene of chaos on the main deck is overwhelming.

Men and women of the Apparition in Time battle against a veritable horde of beastly creatures only superficially resembling men. Where they should have hands and arms, some bear tentacles; others spindly claws. Some have bulbous eyes while others sport black specks. Still others have no eyes at all, only bare flesh where eyes would be. They fight without handicap, despite their deformity. They wield wickedly curved and barbed blades. Blades that bend backwards or in dizzying spirals. These instruments of death are no less effective for their paradoxical design. They kill men just as easily. The crew puts up a good fight, cutting down their invaders with ferocity and desperation, roaring as cutlasses send wriggling parts to the deck. But the fight is slowly turning toward the advantage of the invaders.

Initiative please.
Battle Map (https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1lYpZf-l0-1IcZuIRsz3OqaIjMrwgLIhwHa554wilUNo/edit#gid=0).

[Pent]

[roll0]


Zeph is bewildered. There is no earthly reason for the weapons to have this shape.

Maybe the reason isn't earthly. Its almost definite that the void cult is behind this. Maybe the scientific rules from the void don't follow euclidean geometry....

Theories of explanations for his observations rule his thoughts for a moment before he takes action.

[DeathbyFlossing]

initiative [roll0]

Storms recoils in horror at the twisted flesh of the attackers, memories of the thing that destroyed his clan flashing through his mind. Horror.

Then anger.

Storms-as-He-Walks squeezes the haft of his hammer as pure ragebegins to boil in his blood.

[DeathbyFlossing]

initiative for Scar-Eye[roll0]

[Pent]

Zeph lifts off. He flies straight up 30 feet to get a better view of the battlefield.

He scans the inhuman invaders.

Kn Planes [roll0]
Kn Arcana [roll1]
Kn Religion [roll2]

[AlphaLuke]

Zeph takes to the skies and surveys the melee.

The attackers outnumber the crew, but they aren't fighting with any clear plan beyond "kill" and no leader to be seen.

They seem like most of them were once men, elves, or dwarves. Some force or corruption has twisted their bodies and minds into mockeries of life. They wield weapons built by some mad genius, but they are no more or less effective than standard swords or spears. They're simply harder for conventional fighters to predict because of their alien geometry.

Alessia leaps into action, making a stunning and acrobatic flip over the deck to swiftly disembowel one of the closest assailants.

Captain Morales and Kalinda both move to the starboard side and flank one of the monstrosities, working in tandem to attack it from two angles. They make short work of the creature. The Captain shouts to the crew, "Lay into them lads! No quarter!"

Scar-Eye growls, but stays by his master's side, awaiting his command.

Scar-Eye delays his initiative until right after Storms because he has no commands.
Storms' turn.

[DeathbyFlossing]

Once more, storms reaches into the well of power within himself, speaking an ancient word as he grows to the height of a giant. He finally lets out the fury boiling in his blood, and charges at the three mutants threatening a crewman by the hatch, whistling for Scar-Eye to get the one by the aft starboard cannon.

standard action to cast the Alter Size Talent to grow to Large size, spending 1 spell point. 3 left. Addiction save (which I just realized I’d been forgetting about) dc 14 [roll0]. Move action to move 25 feet south and 5 feet west to square AO19. Handle Animal check [roll1] to command Scar-Eye to move to square AM17 and attack the mutant in square AL17.

[DeathbyFlossing]

Scar-Eye sprints into battle and leaps at the mutant his master indicate, teeth flashing.

Move action to move up to the mutant at AL17. Bite attack[roll0] damage [roll1]

[AlphaLuke]

The lion tears into the fleshy appendage of the pirate, ripping and snarling. Black blood sprays from the wound, but the foe keeps fighting.

Lictor Mournholdt summons a great black sword and moves with speed up the the poop, where Arcelos and a few others desperately fight to maintain the helm. Gregor Gent follows, a long knife in one hand.

The creatures fight with insane ferocity and several crewmen fall beneath their twisted blades.

Scar-eye his for 7 damage. Zeph's turn.

[Pent]

Zeph swirls his hands in arcane movement, chanting arcane words. A sphere of pure wind is created on the deck, Zeph calculates the momentum, trajectories, and the best angle to blow one unreal creature off the deck. The winds are his to command. And his command is to rid the Apparition of these illogical impurities.

He then pulls out his crossbow, readying it for use.


Standard action - Zeph casts Gusting Sphere (http://cse.google.com/cse?cx=006680642033474972217:6zo0hx_wle8&q=Gusting+Sphere) at AK24 (placed on AL24 on the map).
Bull Rush CMB to push that enemy off the deck: CMB = +6 (caster level) + 2 (str per spell desc) [roll0]
nonlethal dmg = [roll1]


Move action to equip his crossbow.

[AlphaLuke]

Zeph's whirling mass of air and debris buffets the monstrous invader, sending it careening off the deck into open air. It screams a shrill and somehow melodic wail as it fall to the water below.

Alessia moves from her slain enemy and leaps up the the narrow gunwale. She runs along it with uncommon ease, like a . . . well, like a cat. She drops down in front of a boarder on the port side of the ship and lays into him with flashing daggers.

Several of the creatures pour down from the forecastle, having slain many of the crewmen at the prow of the ship. They bear down on the few remaining crewmen at the front of the main deck.

The Captain and Kalinda work with a Scar-Eye and their remaining crewman to take down on of the more resilient foes and each move to their own opponent near the middeck. They each score powerful strikes, but earn slashes of their own in the duels.

Zeph is successful in his bullrush attempt. Combat Map (https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1lYpZf-l0-1IcZuIRsz3OqaIjMrwgLIhwHa554wilUNo/edit#gid=0) updated. Storms' turn, then Scar-Eye's.

[DeathbyFlossing]

Storms explodes, the rage within him flowing forth through his arms in into his hammer’s swing as he takes a striding swing at the freak’s head, whistling for Scar-Eye to flank it.

Storms enters Bloodrage. Five foot step and full attack action on the monster in AN21, attack roll [roll0], damage [roll1]. Also, the size modifier to Str isn’t showing properly in the sheet, at least not on my phone.

[DeathbyFlossing]

Handle Animal check [roll0] to command Scar-Eye to flank the freak.

[DeathbyFlossing]

Scar-Eye runs ups to the freak’s back and takes advantage of its distraction to maul it.

bite attack [roll0] damage [roll1]

[AlphaLuke]

Storms-as-he-walks roars a bestial call as his earthbreaker crashes down on the skull of his foe, smashing it into a fine, red pulp.

He whistles an unfamiliar call to Scar-eye and the beast looks quizzically at him for a moment. The lion instead moves toward one of the monstrous men dueling the Captain. His jaws tear a chunk out of his quarry's leg and it falls to the deck flailing.

Storms kills the baddie he hit, because he was effectively swinging a baby grand piano with those damage dice.

Scar-eye doesn't know the "Flank" trick and you didn't roll high enough to push him with your Handle Animal check. Instead, he's decided to continue with his previous "Attack" command and attacked the nearest obvious enemy, killing it.
Lictor Mournhold whirls in great cleaving arcs, sending severed appendages writhing and wriggling to the deck. Arcelos holds back a ferocious attacker, but sustains a heavy gash to his wing. Gregor Gent sends knives hurtling through the air to land with heavy thumps into the flesh of his targets. Even though he's throwing with only a single hand, the quartermaster moves with a grace that belies his size.

The aberrant men left on the main deck slice down the majority of their opponents and converge on the largest target in view: Storms. They tear into his flesh with hooked and twisted blades, sending thick droplets of blood spilling to the deck.

A lot of crewmen lost their duels (or were flanked and outnumbered). A whole mess of enemies converge toward the officers and Storms in particular. Storms takes [roll0] points of slashing damage and [roll1] points of bleed damage that will hit every turn until it's healed.

Zeph's turn.

[Pent]

Zeph focuses his hands on controlling the Gusting Sphere.

He moves it through three of the enemies sticking their unreal blades into Storms.


30' of move lets me take the sphere through the enemies in spaces AO20 - AO22.

I don't know how to show this on the map without borking it all up.

non lethal damage roll [roll0]

Also, there was some fire on the deck that the sphere picked up, and now does an additional 2d6 damage.

[roll1]

there was also some discarded knives that got picked up in the sphere. for umm...2d10?

[roll]2d10[roll]

[AlphaLuke]

Nice try. :)

[Pent]

Zeph focuses his hands on controlling the Gusting Sphere.

He moves it into one of the enemies sticking their unreal blades into Storms.

He summons a blast of air directly underneath another infernal attacker.



30' of move lets me take the sphere through the enemy at AO22.

I don't know how to show this on the map without borking it all up.

non lethal damage [roll0]

casting air geyser underneath enemy at AP22. Reflex DC 17. [roll1]

[AlphaLuke]

Zeph's sphere of hurricane force wind lifts the writing, gibbering man into the air before slamming him down on the cross grating. He separates into neat chunks that rain into the deck below.

Alessia spins like a dancer, neatly slicing the throat of the creature nearest to her. She then looks to the forecastle and grimaces. Four of the horrible deformed borders have swarmed and cut down the last remaining crewman up there. They turn to leap to the mid-deck, where they would surely overwhelm the officers. Looks to the cannon beneath her, makes a snap decision, and turns it toward the forecastle . . . and fires.

A blazing sphere of angry red light streaks from the barrel of the cannon and detonates with a bang so loud that it deafens Zeph and Storms. The foremast is completely splintered by the point-blank shot and the shrapnel tears through the four horrid creatures like hot daggers through tallow. Nothing remaining on the foredeck moves.

The Captain and Kalinda are both stunned by the explosion and shake their heads to clear their ears. The Captain cuts down two enemies before turning toward Kalinda and shouting something that's lost in the din of battle. Kalinda nods before skewering a foe of her own.

My sincere apologies for the unannounced sabbatical. I know you both understand what's been going on in my life. Anyway, let's get back to it. This ship still needs saving.

Storm's, you and Scar are up.

[DeathbyFlossing]

Storms brings his hammer down on the feak before him with a thunderous crash.

Storms attacks the enemy in space AO 21. Attack roll [roll0], damage roll [roll1], skip move action.

[DeathbyFlossing]

Scar-Eye mauls the mutant before him, raking it with his claws and fangs.

Full attack action with natural weapons.
Attack roll(bite, primary) [roll0], damage [roll1], attack roll (claw, secondary) [roll2], damage [roll3], attack roll (2nd claw, secondary) [roll4], damage [roll5]

[AlphaLuke]

Storms' hammer comes down with a satisfying *squelch* as he smashes the man thing before him down to the very deck. The only thing left is disjointed limbs and a lumpy pulp. Then, looking to the only other enemy before him, he whistles to Scar-Eye with two sharp notes.

Scar-Eye immediately leaps upon the creature and begins to maul it with fang and claw, but the creature's leathery hide seems to stave off the worst of it.
Storms kills the baddie he hit. I added a command to Attack. Please try to remember that Scar isn't autonomous. He needs commands to act.

Scar-eye doesn't hit with any of his three attacks.[\spoiler]

Lictor Mournhold grabs and crushes the skull of his opponent with a great, gauntleted hand. Archie desperately and wildly swings a long knife, favoring his injured wing. He catches a lucky strike that the Hellknight capitalizes upon. He runs the tentacled man through with his blade of shadow.

Master Gent sees the writing on the wall for the creatures on the aft deck. None will survive the remaining crewmen's sabers and pikes. Instead, he turns to look down at the single foe near his captain. With a hefty grunt he hurls his meat cleaver and with a sharp *thock* the blade sticks into the back of the creature's skull.

The remaining few creatures slump to the deck, writing and bleeding, but the battle is won.

[spoiler]Combat over, post at will.

"Won", Zeph thinks as he looks around. "Barely". The bodies of Apparition crew are scattered all over the deck, almost as thickly as the bodies of their attackers. The foremast is shattered, and the ship is tipping precariously forward, making a slow descent to the rough seas below.

The Captain doesn't give anyone time to rest. "Mr. Archelos, put her to rights! Level us out!"

Archie's voice sound high and weak from the helm. "Can't, Cap'n. She's got no foremast. Best I can hope for is a controlled descent . . . but I," he falters and nearly falls before the Lictor can grab him.

"Thrice damned," the Captain curses. "Doctor! We need you on deck!" He shoults down the ladder. Doctor al-Aruni's voice echos up, rushed and harried. "As soon as I can sir! We have wounded down here too!"

Alessia hops off the gunwale and hurries over to Kalinda. The two women examine the cuts across Kalinda's arms and chest, none of which seem fatal. Still, Alessia begins to apply a strongly scented oil from her belt to the wounds and pulls clean bandages from a small pouch in a cupboard of the deck before wrapping the first officer's slashes carefully.

"Aye, 'less, I'll be fine. Tend to Archie and Greggor. They look a bit worse for wear." Kalinda's voice is pained but familiar. A stark departure from her normal clipped tone. Zeph has also never hear his first officer use the crew's familiar names before. Always the formal. She must be rattled.

Lictor Mournholdt supports a limping Archie as they make their way down the ladder to the mid-deck. The Syrinx looks like he's on the verge of unconsciousness. "Mr. Leornian. We need a helmsman to help control our descent. Mr. Archelos is in not state and both the Captain and First Officer need to tend to more pressing matters. You're up. Try to land us softly. If you can, look for land where we can dry-dock."

The Quartermaster also makes his way down to the mid-deck, albeit with difficulty. He clutches a massive red stain in the side of his gut, holding on to it like his life depends on it. He moves toward Storms. "Don't suppose you have any field medic craft, lad?" Seeing Storm's shake his mask-covered face he sighs. "Aye, didn't think so. I seem to have taken a small stitch to me side and could use a careful hand for tendin'. You think you can give me a hand till the good doctor finds it in his heart to prance his padded slippers up 'ere? Oh, and fetch me cleaver. Don't want it going to rust in that man's head over there."

[Pent]

"Aye sir!" Zeph responds. Despite the chaos and carnage, he finds the bright side to look at - without his help, the Apparition would surely have been lost.

He takes control of the helm, and does his best to glide the ship along gusts, instead of fighting them. He pushes his glasses further up on his face as he searches for a landing spot.


Perception[roll0]
Profession [roll1]

On the deck of the ship, he also watches carefully that the bodies of all the attackers aren't disposed of. He would love to study a corpse in case it reveals a clue.

He also makes a mental note to follow up with the Captain about what he was about to say when the attack happened.

[AlphaLuke]

Zeph makes his way up the ladder to the helm, careful of the slippery, blood-drenched deck. At his navigator's station he finds a map of the surrounding sea. It seems that there's a small archipelago of islands no more than a nautical league north. Small and storm-battered, they don't have any notable settlements. Still, it's something. He runs through rapid calculations in his head, doing math behind his eyelids that most university students would have difficulty doing with a blackboard. "We should have enough forward momentum, and the windage is in our favor . . . yes!" He begins the slow and steady descent, using the prevailing winds to help him glide as far in the air as the Apparition will let him.

The crew, what remains of them, are too busy tending to the injured and dead to much worry about the bodies of their attackers. Still, they make sure to set at least one aside for Zeph's examination later.

Doctor al-Aruni's medic bay is quickly overfilled, and he set up a triage on the main deck, flitting back and forth between injured men laid out in neat rows.

Gregor Gent and Archelos are some of the worst, both requiring extensive alchemical and magical remedies for their injuries. Zeph sees the bandaged head of the Chief Engineer pop out from the lower deck.

"SHE DID WHA' TO MAH SHEP!?!?! I'LL GUT 'ER!!! I'LL TURN 'ER GODS BLASTED TAIL INTO A BELT!!! WHERE IS SHE??!?!?! NO! GE' OFF ME, GE' OFF ME! I'M FINE! JUST A BUMP! I'M FINE!"

Throki makes his way up to the main deck, followed by a pleading crewman. His head is bandaged and his face is beet red. That is, until he sees the wreck that remains of the foremast. Then, all the color drains from his face entirely and he falls to his knees.

"Mah girl! Wha' have they done to you? Oh, lass. Danne you worry. We'll fix you up soon as we can."

[DeathbyFlossing]

Shrinking down to normal size, Storms retrieves the cleaver and does his best to lend an extra set of hands where he can.

[Pent]

"You can't be mad at Alessia!" Zeph calls from his station. He doesn't take his eyes off skies, or his hands off the controls, but Throki knows who Zeph is talking to just the same.

"She made a snap decision to save lives. The monsters, these...things, they did this. They forced the situation. As soon as I set her down, I'll help you in your repairs. How's your head? Are you concussed? "

[AlphaLuke]

Throki turns his gaze up to the helm with renewed rage. "I can yell at whoever I godsdamned please, Mr. Leornian! And my head feels as dull as a bag of hammers and rings like a bell when I turn my head faster than half the speed of smell -" as he takes in another breath, ready to launch into Zeph again, he catches himself and deflates like a bellows. "Agh, I'm sorry, lad. You dannae deserve tha'. Doc tells me the only reason I'm not seven fathoms under is because of you. Thank you."

Zeph lets his peripheral vision climb into the rigging and he sees Alessia wrapped around the yardarm, higher than would be strictly necessary. She warily watches Throki like a kitten treed by a barking hound.

[DeathbyFlossing]

”So does anyone have any idea what those things were? Because I will eat my shoes if those abominations were people. Once, maybe, but definitely not anymore.” Storms says as he starts laying the bodies of the attackers on in a row.

[Pent]

Zeph pulls his hand off the helm just long enough to give Throki a "don't worry about it" wave with a smile that said "you'dve done the same for me".

Zeph then nods to Storms' comment. Its absolutely one of the next things to do once he sets the App down safely.

[AlphaLuke]

The Captain looks pointedly at Storms. "Aye. Not men. Not, at least, anymore . . ." The Captain lets the statement hang in the air like the final note of a very sad song.

The crew works in silence for the remainder of the descent. Zeph sees the jagged rock formations of the archipelago (https://cdna.artstation.com/p/assets/images/images/006/603/014/large/duong-son-nam-92-bridge.jpg?1499857013) and is able to deftly settle the damaged Apparition high upon the sandy shore. The entire maneuver was beautifully handled, and both Archelos, his wing in a sling, and Throki look to Zeph appreciatively.

Once they make landfall, Kalinda begins to shout orders to the few remaining crewmen to go ashore for provisions and scouting. "Don't dawdle, men. Won't be ambushed again. Not while we're grounded."

The officers, while wounded, all seem to be stable. Gregor Gent is the only one still confined to his bunk, nursing a severe gut wound. The Doctor looks harried and exhausted.

[Pent]

Zeph approaches Throki stepping down from the helm with a supernaturally light step.

"Sorry for the yelling, didn't mean to come off as angry. I just wanted to make sure you heard me, and I couldn't step away from the controls..." Zeph looks around awkwardly. "I suppose I can look over the corpses of the attackers once we're she's made whole again. How can I help repair the foremast?"

[AlphaLuke]

The engineer waves his hand in a vague dismissal at Zeph's apology.

Throki then laughs mirthlessly as Zeph's offer to repair the mast. "Lad, unless you're hiding two tonnes of skyship grade timber in your trousers, I dennae think it'll be quite tha' easy. Not only tha', but we'll need new capacitors and runelines to make the mast move with the rest of the ship. All told, losing a mast is a week-long job in the most well equipped shipyard this side of Absalom. On a deserted island, it's damn near impossible. Best we can hope for is to shore up the two masts we have remaining so she'll fly level. I appreciate the offer, but you might as well examine those bodies while they're fresh. I'll grab you when I can get my tools together and start working on the reinforcing runes."

[Pent]

Zeph makes a show of patting his pants pockets. Nope, no timber here.

He heads over to an attacker corpse and kneels down next to it. He uses his Mage Hand to make simple movements to the corpse (move a limb around, check in pockets, etc) to do a cursory examination without actually touching it himself.



Perception: [roll0]
any other skill check you may want: [roll1]

[DeathbyFlossing]

Storms flexes his jaw in thought. ”I wouldn’t pretend to know what kind of timber qualifies as ‘skyship grade’, but there may be trees on the island of fine enough quality that we won’t need to dip into the ship’s stores, or at the very least replace some of what we do use. Turning to the captain, he says, Sir, I could take a party ashore to look for some. I can swing an axe with the best of them, I just need a guy can show me what trees to cut, and a couple extra hands to help haul it.”

[AlphaLuke]

Zeph makes a careful examination of one of the attackers' corpses. When he does, he's glad for the extra precaution. The "man's" body is riddled with pustules, sores, and open gashes. The entirety of the body looks full to bursting with tumors and cysts. Some foul corruption was putting this poor creature through more pain than Zeph can sanely imagine. The clothes that the man is wearing seem to be simple homespun. Something a farmer or fisherman might wear. They are threadbare and smell to high heaven. They haven't been washed or mended in ages. In one of the corpses pockets he finds a length of fishing line and a bone hook, confirming his suspicion.

These men were fishermen once, he thinks to himself. Maybe they were transformed somehow?

Doctor al-Aruni step in front of Storms and squares his shoulders. It's a comical expression from the meek doctor, as Storms stands a full head-and-a-half taller than the man. "Absolutely not! You are still injured, and I can't have you running off to chop down trees when you look like that. Not until you're patched up."

The Captain smiles. "Have to agree with the good Doctor, Storms. You look like you got the rough edge of one of those sword. And your still bleeding, look!"

Storms looks down to find that the captain is right! A small, barely noticeable trickle of blood is running down his leg and leaving sticky footprints on the deck. The doctor begins to fuss at the wound. "You aren't clotting. Damn. This . . . this complicates things. Get down to my infirmary. Now!"

[Pent]

Zeph holds the hook with his Mage Hand as he ponders his findings.

Something about this screams abduction. The fishing supplies on their person, the painful corruption. Zeph imagines fishermen on their boat, enjoying their freedom when they are attacked, and shanghaied.

If this corrupting force...these beyonder cultists.... need to abduct people to serve as shock troops, there's a certain sense in targeting fishermen out at sea. Where all hands lost can mean a ship lost to a storm or monster, and no investigation would start.


If his theory is right, maybe it possible to determine a geographic location of the abductions. So far the only tools he found are generic fishing materials and clothes too threadbare to bear any possible identifying information... but maybe its enough. He examines racial characteristics of the men (what can be determined behind the corruption), the properties of the fishing tools, and the type of clothing used to determine where in the inner sea these men are from.


Grasping at straws, but what the hey.

Knowledge check Nature: [roll0] (maybe to theorize the size of the fish based on the fish hooks)
Knowledge check Geo: [roll1] (possible climate of the home of the fisherman based on their clothing)

[AlphaLuke]

Zeph's knowledge of fishing is very basic. He is able to tell that these hooks are home-made, rather than some forged works. They seem to be whittled from bone, rather than drawn from steel or iron, which might indicated a lack of mineral resources or technology. The hooks look large enough to catch some of the sea bass or salmon common to these waters, but too large for river or stream fishing. These were ocean fisherman.

His examination of the attacker's physical phenotypes, however, reveals a wealth of knowledge. These men were divided between Varisian and Shoanti bloodlines. Perhaps with a dash of Chellish. More importantly, they all share similar distinct characteristics, indicating a smaller gene pool than might be present in a city or even a town. They all bear distinct markings, tattoo it looks like, beneath layers of scar tissue and polyps. These tattoos aren't magical, instead seeming to belong to a culture of inner sea fisherman. He remembers reading about some of the subcultures on the small islands of the inner sea.

Tau - no, Torlin! These were some of the Torlin peoples of the Whitefoam Islands. A small chain north of Escadar, the Whitefoams don't even appear on most maps. They have no important trade goods, no open port, and an estimated population below 100. Originally founded a little over two centuries ago, the Torlin people settled the rocky and barren island in an attempt to escape some type of religious persecution in Andoran. Since then, they've remained isolated, xenophobic, and mostly out of the public eye. Occasionally, a Torlin fishing boat will arrive in Escadar and trade fish and ivory scrimshaw for items they can't fabricate themselves, but it's always a brief visit and never more frequent than once or twice a season.

Zeph looks around at the rocky islands he chose for their landing pad.

This might be one of the southernmost islands of the Whitefoam chain, actually. The geographical markers are right. Basalt spires, scree grass, and high winds. Yep, this is definitely one of the Whitefoams. These men aren't far from home.

[DeathbyFlossing]

Blinking for a moment, Storms belatedly realizes he is, in fact, badly injured. He must have lost more blood than he thought.
Meekly, he follows the doctor to the infirmary.

[Pent]

Zeph jumps to his feet with a start. This is an exciting discovery! He needs to find the Captain and brief him on this! They may be right on top of the base of operations for this cult! Just before he gets to the Captain he realizes something.

That works both ways... those cultists are here. All of them. And they have a big advantage... they know where the Apparition is. But the Apparition has no idea where to start looking for the cultists.

Just the same, he's eager to brief the Captain on what he's learned.

[AlphaLuke]

Storms stumbles down the ladder to the infirmary. It's the first time he's seen the doctor (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/41/51/50/415150420800f3681cb565b5730459a9.jpg)'s workplace and it looks to be a converted officer's cabin on the mid-deck. The typical bed and furniture has been replaced by three low cots, a high surgeon's table, and a workbench crowded with various bottles and other glass instrumentation. Powerful, whiteflame, smokeless torches blaze on the walls, giving the room an aura of daylight without any of the heat or smoke that would normally accompany so many lights. The entire area smells powerfully of antiseptic, and the wood boards have been scrubbed smooth and nearly bleached by hours of thorough sanitization. The doctor ushers Storms to the surgeon's table and has the man lie down, insisting that Scar-eye waits outside.

"Don't know what you were thinking, walking around, lifting things, all while you were still bleeding." The commentary seems to be more to himself than toward Storms, so the bloodrager lets him talk without interruption. "Anticoagulant and analgesic. Mosquitoes? No. No lingering anaphylaxis. Mayhap bat saliva . . . yes, that might explain it." All through his running commentary, the normally meek and reserved doctor works with an intense focus. His fingers quickly and deftly clean Storm's wounds with some kind of clear liquid that burns like alcohol. Then, with a shiny silver needle and strong thin filament, he begins to stitch. Storms has been sewn up before. He usually isn't one to mind a little pain, but this is another experience entirely. Fire lances up his side where the doctor stitches his gaping rib would. It's all he can do to not punch the tiny man. "My word! A parasympathetic reaction. Maybe . . . no. It's too soon to say. Still . . ." He carefully lets his needle and thread rest against the surgical table and turns to his workbench. He begins to rapidly mix ingredients and then, in the span of under a minute, holds out a glass full of seafoam green liquid. "Drink this. All of it. Best to do it in a single downing." Storms sniffs curiously at the small glass before immediately regretting his decision. It smells of old loaves of bread and the rot that some men get in their feet when they don't change wet boots frequently enough. He looks at the doctor with a horrified expression that is only mostly hidden by his mask. The doctor's face holds no sympathy. "All of it." Storms shoots the vile liquid, trying his hardest to completely avoid his tongue in the process. It burns like cheap whiskey and he coughs like a young boy taking his first drink. "Good," al-Aruni says perfunctorily. "Now, lay back. It should start worki . . ." the next few words sound like they're coming from underwater. The lights of the room begin to bleed into one another before a warm, swift sleep takes Storms.

. . .

Zeph turns to find Captain Morales (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/e5/7b/a7/e57ba76621be7eaf7741188961ee8541.jpg). The man is up at the pilot's platform, speaking to Kalinda and Alessia. He dismisses both officers as Zeph approaches. "Mr. Leornian. What can I do for you?"

[Pent]

Zeph is excited. "Sir! I did a close examination of the corpses of our attackers. And I discovered a LOT! These men were corrupted. Corrupted with a force completely foreign to us. To this realm, even! But, behind that corruption, I saw telltale signs that these men are fishermen. From the Whitefoam islands. Where we are now! I believe the ones who attacked us were fishermen that were shanghaied, corrupted, and set loose on us. And we're docked at their home.

If the cultists are taking people from here, then their base of operations can't be far. If their base isn't far...then I think we're under high risk for another attack."

Zeph drops his voice into a lower tone and speaks more slowly. "And sir, I would like to continue our conversation from earlier at your convenience."

[AlphaLuke]

Captain Morales stares at Zeph, clearly impressed. "You were able to glean all that from examining those creatures? Impressive. Actually, that's a damn sight more than impressive. It's brilliant! Well done, Mr. Leornian. Damn fine job." The Captain turns and calls down to Kalinda, who's organizing some of the remaining crew into duty shifts. "Kalinda, double the watch! We could be expectin' company!"

Kalinda spins and snaps a sharp salute. "Aye, Sir! Shifts'll be long as it is, Sir. We lost the better part of a dozen men. And four more are in no shape to work. All told, we've got Lanham, Gellert, Pollin, Shrake, Kovar, and Moneth. Truan, Uvani, Lordern, and Yor are down in the good doctor's care. We'll be short-handed for a while, Sir."

"Understood," the Captain barks, "Won't be forever. Just have to make due. I know he won't like it, but ask the good doctor if we can get some wide-eye for the more healthy men."

Kalinda nods before spinning on her heel and relaying orders to the men gathered around her.

The Captain turns back to Zeph. "That'll have to do." Noticing Zeph's eagerness to return to the previous conversation, Morales nods and holds his hands up. "I understand that we were cut short, Mr. Leornian. But I think we should wait until your deckmate, Storms, is out of the woods. I suggest you follow me down for now. The other officers have things handled up here."

And with that, Captain Morales begins to stride down to the infirmary, expecting Zeph to follow.

. . .

Storms awakens like emerging from a fog. A dizzying and nauseating fog. He moves reflexively to turn to his side and vomits violently on the deck. When he opens his tear streaked eyes, he's surprised to find a chamber pot already in place to catch his sick.

"The nausea is to be expected. It'll wear off in a few minutes."

Storms looks to see Doctor al-Aruni working on something at his workbench. He doesn't even turn around when he assures Storms.

The bloodrager lays back, feeling the cool breeze on his face. It's sweet and clean. The good doctor must have some magical way of circulating the air in his interior room. Then, Storms sits up with a sudden start. The movement elicits a painful stab in his side, but that's the least of Storms' worries. Cool breeze. Unhindered sicking up. His hands streak to his face and his fear is confirmed. His mask is gone.

[DeathbyFlossing]

OhMeRcIfUlGoDsWhErE’SmYmAsk!?!?!?!?


Panic burns through his veins like boiling magma.

Without the mask, he isn’t Storms-As-He-Walks, magic warrior of Maagyamba.

Without the mask, he isn’t even Azgat-Blooded, warrior of Lyrune-Quah and wielder of strange magic.

Without the mask, and the protection it gave, he is merely Akrem, the stupid, stupid boy who got his whole clan killed because he was too stupid to listen to his betters.

Without the mask, IT CAN FIND HIM, WHEREVER HE IS.

”WHERES MY MASK?!?!” Akrem bellows, as he hauls himself to his feet, heedless of the nausea, knocking the chamber pot over in his desperate rush to regain his defense. ”Where’s my MASK?!?! I need my mask!!! IT CAN FIND ME WITHOUT THE MASK!!! WHERE’S THE MASK?!?!

[AlphaLuke]

Doctor al-Aruni spins, breaking a beaker and spilling its contents across the workbench. His eyes go wide at Akrem's bellows. He hurriedly reaches to a drawer and pulls out the frenzied man's mask, handing it to him quickly. Akrem slaps the mask to his face and pants, slowly but surely becoming Storms-as-he-Walks once more.

"I - I'm sorry. I needed to assess your vitals and place a breathing tube for . . . The - the mask was in the way. I - I didn't realize. I apologize."

Storms' breathing is ragged and harsh. How long had the mask been off? How long had he been unprotected? How long had he put this ship and her crew in danger?

Right as he's about ready to speak, the Captain and Zeph open the door. The Captain steps into the room before picking up his boot and looking at the bottom, disgusted.

"Captain! I'm terribly sorry, sir. I'll -" The doctor grabs a short and simple wand from a shelf and points it at the floor and the boot. The sick is vaporized in a sizzling flash.

"Sorry, sir. I usually keep my infirmary spotless. This is a terrible breach of -" The Captain cuts his doctor off with a wordless gesture. "I know you keep a clean surgery, doctor. Think nothing of it. How's our patient?"

The doctor smiles slightly at the Captain's forgiveness and spins excitedly to grab something off the workbench. "I noticed that he had deeper and more profuse bleeding than any of the others. That, combined with the reaction to begin sutured, indicated a foreign body. Under surgical examination, I was able to find these." He holds up a lidded jar filled with what look like three wriggling blue-green maggots the size of small sausages. "They must've been implanted somehow during the fight. Though I don't see how they would have been missed. Look at the size of them!" The doctor looks altogether too giddy as he holds the jar up to his eyes for a closer look. "My guess would be that they were in a spore or larval state when they were applied. Then, once introduced to a host, they grew with tremendous speed!"

The Captain looks warily at the jar. "And you got all of them? You're sure?"

The doctor looks slightly offended. "Of course I'm sure! . . . sir," he adds meekly, remembering to whom he's speaking. "I did a thorough exploration of the cavity and all adjacent systems. Then, I administered the most powerful antiparasitics, antifungals, and antibiotics I had just to be sure. Covered all the bases."

This seems to satisfy the Captain, and he nods with a gruff grumble. "Thank you, doctor. If you wouldn't mind, may we have the room?" The doctor seems slightly taken aback, but nods obediently before beginning to shuffle out. "Leave the jar." the Captain orders. al-Aruni sheepishly places the jar on the workbench before closing the door behind him.

The Captain looks to Zeph and Storms seriously, letting the silence grow in the room like a droning swarm.

[Pent]

Zeph twitches slightly, keeping his mouth shut. Is this one of those situations where he speaks only when spoken to? He's pretty sure it is. But there are so many questions!

[AlphaLuke]

The Captain seems to notice that Zeph is practically bursting and rubs and the bridge of his nose like he's getting a headache. "I think it'll be best if we start with your questions. That way, you won't keep thinking of new ones before I've answered the old. You two have proven yourselves enough to get some straight answers. I won't lie to you, but you need to accept that there are some things the crew knows, some things my officers know, and some things only I know. You two are capable enough and gods know I'm shorthanded enough. You two'll make good enough officers for now. Mr. Leornian, I hereby give you a field promotion to Navigator. You'll report to Mr. Archelos. Mr. Storms, you're going to be my new Assistant Gunnery Sergeant. You'll report to Lictor Mournholdt. Now, what do you want to know?"

[Pent]

Zeph inhales.

[Pent]

He starts counting on his fingers.

(1) What in the name of Saranrae's Spheres were those gastropods?!
(2) What is your experience with the slugs?
(3) Were you expecting an attack of this kind?
(4) Do you have special insight into our attackers?
(5) What is the full story of the dragon rider? In all the commotion I've forgotten his name.

Next hand.
(6) What were you going to say about the crew of the Apparition before the attack?
(7) Thank you for the promotion, you won't be disappointed.
(8) That wasn't a question. Did the dragon rider - Skoll, his name was Skoll - was Skoll acting alone when he left the Apparition?
(9) Why are these cultists so rallied against you? What threat do you face to them?

Zeph pauses before deciding with a nod to himself that his these questions will need answers before he has any follow ups.

[AlphaLuke]

The Captain smiles and his luminous eye flare in amusement. He holds up his fists and begins to raise fingers as he answers each question slowly and methodically.

"(1) Those wriggling little puss sacks on the workbench aren't, in the strictest sense, gastropods. They're the larvae of something much closer to a cephalopod, but not quite.
(2) Like I said, not slugs. But, in my experience, they can be uncomfortable right up to the point where they're deadly. Then, when they're full grown, they're a whole new layer of terrible.
(3) I'm always expecting an attack. I was caught off guard by this one. Perhaps I was surprised by the coherence and planning involved. Typically, these folk have far less sense than a bag of moldy peaches.
(4) I do. They were, at one time, men. Seen it only a couple times before. Through mad fervor, rampant experimentation, or simple bad luck, they were befouled. Their minds went first, then their bodies. Men like that get that way through contact with one of the Outer Gods or a Great Old One or one of their agents. Mostly rage, madness, and adrenaline by the time they're done with 'em.
(5) The full story of the dragon rider, Sköll as you correctly remembered, is too long a tale for this conversation. Suffice to say, he was my first officer before Mrs. Waycrest ascended to the role. He was my friend. And he betrayed everything we believe in. When he left, we all felt it powerful hard. None more than his former paramour, Kalinda.
(6)"

The Captain hesitates on this finger and says, "Let's move this to the end, shall we?"

(7) You don't need to thank me. Good work invites more work aboard the Apparition in Time.
(8) No, it wasn't. Yes. He left alone. It was bad enough that he left. Don't expect we'd know what to do if he'd taken anyone with him.
(9) These cultists. Sköll and the lot that attacked us. They're part of the bigger picture."

The Captain puts down his fingers. "I don't suppose either of you know much about the Outer Gods or the Great Old Ones, do you? How about the Dominion of the Black? The Black Truth? Ringing any bells? Surely you've heard of the Aucturn Enigma? Well, all of these things are connected with what I . . . what we do."

He pauses, starting both men in the eyes with his own blazing orbs of light. "What I'm about to tell you is a secret, known only to a choice few. All my officers know. And we have a few friends on the ground, but the majority of the crew doesn't. It should stay that way." He continues. "The Apparition in Time is a vessel in the service of the Order of Oblivion's Eye. Some may mistake us for the Esoteric Order of the Palatine Eye, but in truth we are far older and far more important to the survival of Golarion. We sail the world looking to thwart the efforts of the Night Heralds. To that end, we are gathered by . . . well, by the Oracle. Each one of us fits into her vision of the future. The future that will save our world from the predation of the things that slither in the Void."

Storms' and Zeph's minds reel as they process.

You are entitled to Knw Planes, Religion, History, and Arcana to know more about what he's said. You can also ask follow-ups.

[DeathbyFlossing]

Storms snaps out of his haze of dread at the mention of the Black Tapestry. That’s where IT came from. It was one of the only things he knew about it. He couldn’t even clearly visualize it.

“All due respect captain, before we proceed there is something you must know. There once was a boy, a- a stupid, stupid Shoanti boy who was too stupid to listen to his elders about not going near the old ruin beneath the hill. And one night he tried to explore it, and... and released something. He did not remember what happened; only that he awoke in the smoking ruins of the only home he had ever known, surrounded by the mangled corpses of everyone he ever loved.

The coward ran. He ran for five years across Avistan down into Garund, and the thing that he release pursued him the whole way.

It was in the Maagyamba where he finally got help, where the descendants of the students of Old-Mage Jatembe taught him the secrets of the Nameless One. They taught him how to forsake his name and bind it to a ritual wooden mask, so that he ceased to be the foolish boy when he wore it. He became Storms-As-He-Walks. Became me.

The doctor removed my mask while I was out, and once the mask came off, I stopped being Storms-As-He-Walks. I’ve got the mask back so I’m protected again, but for however long the mask was off, IT could sense it’s prey’s location.

I don’t know how bad that is. It could all the way in Tian Xia, or it could be here on the island. But the one thing I know for certain about that horror is that it came from the Black Tapestry.”

Storms flexes his jaw a couple times then shakes his head.
“I don’t know what to do with that information, but you needed to know.”

Storms is too overwhelmed to properly process what the captain said at the moment so with your permission Luke l’ll hold off the Knowledge Checks until the next scene or so when he’s had time to process it.

[Pent]

Knowledge check Arcana: [roll0]

Knowledge check Planes: [roll1]

Knowledge check Religion: [roll2]

Knowledge check History: [roll3]

[AlphaLuke]

Knowledge check Arcana: (1d20+10)[15]

Zeph knows that the sheer amount of arcane power required to warp those men into what he saw is staggering. Whatever or whoever did this to them was very powerful.

Knowledge check Planes: (1d20+10)[23]

The Outer Gods, the Great Old Ones, and the Dominion of the Black are all references to the Dark Tapestry. Not truly another plane, little is known of the Dark Tapestry—the darkness between the stars where inhabitants of Golarion believe true madness lies. The few beings able to survive in the vast, cold void of space are too alien for even the gods to comprehend, and present one of the greatest threats to the known universe should they wish to do so.

Knowledge check Religion: (1d20+8)[15]

The Great Old Ones are poorly understood beings who are said to dwell in the darkness between the stars, a place known as the Dark Tapestry or the Dominion of the Black. What is known is that they are truly ancient, and probably predate not only the world of Golarion but also its more human-like gods. They are thought to be of a vast, alien intelligence which mortals investigate at their own peril. Those who follow them and draw magical power from their worship are almost always insane, believing that these ancient beings will one day return to unmake the world.

The Night Heralds are an organization of magic-users that seek to summon and control inhabitants of the unknowable void known as the Dark Tapestry, in the hopes of gaining eldritch power and knowledge. The Heralds often deal in magical secrets, as well as ancient artifacts and relics of the Great Old Ones and Outer Gods.

Knowledge check History: (1d20+8)[25]

Osiriani legends speak of the mysterious Dominions of the Black and their possible connection to the enigmatic planet of Aucturn. Members of the mythical Dominion serve as emissaries and heralds of their unknowable masters and are said to reside among the darkness between the stars, sustained by the very forces that drive them to madness.

Azathoth, an Outer God, is indirectly linked to the destruction of the flying Shory city of Ulduvai during the early years of the Age of Destiny. Cultists of Azathoth were contacted to help unlock the mysteries of a recently discovered artifact known as the shoggoth stone. Upon activation, the shoggoth stone transformed nearly the entire city into heaps of undulating, rotting viscera.


The Captain listens intently to Storms' story. When the man finishes, he takes a deep breath.

"Thank you, Storms, for telling me. I am sure that you are doing it out of concern for my ship and her crew. You, believe it or not, are not the first Nameless One I have ever met. I am familiar with the baggage you all carry. I will say that this ship is powerfully warded against magical detection and scrying. If you were below deck when the doctor removed your mask, you should be alright for now. However, I would appreciate it if you didn't remove your mask while on deck . . . just to be sure. I will inform the doctor to not remove your mask in the future. He's complain, but he'll adapt."

[DeathbyFlossing]

Relief surges through Storms’ veins, and he takes a deep, steadying breath. He had not doomed them all. Not yet, at least. With his most pressing concern settled, his thoughts turn back to what the Captain had said. They... this ship... was devoted to fighting things like IT. He... he could deal with that.

[Pent]

Zeph had to take a few moments to process all of this. A few pieces are put together. He's a lot more somber now, as the details and their implications flood his mind.

"Captain, thank you for giving us an idea of your mission. I get an impression that the Order of Oblivion's Eye is dedicated to keeping the madness of the Outer Gods out of Golarion, a noble and needed cause. I have a few more questions:

First, I'm out of date with my astronomy. How close is Aucturn to Golarion at the moment? Is the 56-year gap between Conjunctions at an end?

What do you suspect the Night Heralds are planning in Sarkosis? (our original destination, correct?)

If the Night Heralds are conducting their nightmarish business in Sarkosis, then why did they ambush us here?

And lastly, who is The Oracle?"

[AlphaLuke]

The Captain smiles at Zeph's questions. "Smart as a tack, Mr. Leornian. Smart as a fresh tack, but not completely on course. It's true that we fight against the Night Heralds and their dark masters. But we aren't "keeping the madness of the Outer Gods out of Golarion" as you so eloquently put it. Our end goal is to cast those eldritch horrors into oblivion itself."

"You see, the Outer Gods and Great Old ones, powerful as they are, still require mortal agents to do their bidding, advance their goals, and, perhaps most importantly, think on them. It is mortal consciousness and attention that grants these beings a large percentage of their power. True, not nearly as much as the gods you or I might venerate, who's power is derived almost entirely from worship, but still, a measurable chunk. If no man or beast knew the names of the ones they call "The Black Pharaoh" or the "King in Yellow", how would they affect the world? Who would inscribe their signs or summon their minions. No one. And so, they would fade into the dark from whence they were birthed. And be lost in oblivion. That is our goal. To wipe all knowledge of the horrors from the mortal and immortal planes. And when there is no one left who knows their secrets, we too would forget their names, and thus cast the final mooring line off, sending their screaming souls into the depths of oblivion."

The Captain lets that sit for a few seconds in silence. He's talking about eradicating all knowledge of a god-like thing from the minds of the infinite planes. He is talking of Oblivion, in its purest and more absolute sense.

The Captain cuts the silence easily, but harshly with his next answer.

"You're right to wonder about The Stranger. It's conjunction with Golarion is set for this fall. Six months, twelve days, and . . ." he checks his pocket watch, "three hours and twelve seconds. As far as the Night Heralds, I don't pretend to know their plans. I'm sure they have agents in Sarkoris, but that's not why we sail there. We need to pick up a passenger in the Worldwound. A colleague who, despite my best efforts, has never become a permanent member of my crew: Jasper . . . i don't rightly know his last name. Anyway, Jasper is a lettered archaeologist, experienced Osirionologist, purveyor of fine antiquities, and an accomplished smuggler and fence. He's also thoroughly mad. He's the real reason we need to head north."

The Captain pulls a small, torn, and water damaged scrap of paper from his pocket and unfolds it. Inside, in a small, cramped, and frantic hand, a message is written:

"The Temple of the Black Star. The Stranger breathes upon our neck. Our Lord is Risen."

"This is a message we intercepted shortly before we made landfall in Absalom. It details a Night Herald plan. By the mention of The Stranger, we assume it's to take place during the conjunction. The problem arises when we look at the location. The Temple of the Black Star is reported to be located in Osirion. But the Temple bears a powerful defense against detection. It can only be located intentionally by people who have already been there. To anyone else, it appears to be an unremarkable expanse of sand. Were we ignorant of the temple's existence, we might stumble upon it if we wandered Osirion for a dozen mortal ages . . . maybe. But without a living guide, we have no chance of finding it. That is why we need Jasper. He's been there. It's what shredded his mind."

"I have no doubt that the Night Heralds seek intelligence on the Oblivion's Eye as much as we seek intelligence upon them. Likely, they sent Sköll ahead of us to scout and intercept. In waiting for his prey, it's possible he capitalized upon local resources and interacted with the natives. Perhaps he found a local cell and co-opted their congregants to serve as a strike force."

[Pent]

Zeph's voice is lowered to a whisper through fear. The stated goal of this order Zeph is now married into is the DESTRUCTION of KNOWLEDGE. This stands against EVERYTHING Zeph has ever believed in, and what's worse. Zeph now knows enough to be the target of the Order.

"Captain, is my life now forfeit because of what I know? Will I be executed once the Oracle deems me completed? How many innocent scholars will have to die because they've read of the Old Ones? Who is this Oracle?"

[AlphaLuke]

The Captain lets out a loud and jovial laugh. "Good gods above, man, no! No. We Aren't genocidal villains. We don't murder scholars just for learning. We do our part to remove knowledge, yes, but not at the cost of our souls. This, Master Leornian, is the long game. We burn unnatural tomes of eldritch horror, we crumble monuments and portals, and yes, we sometimes kill those depraved souls who've thrown their lot in with the Void. But for scholars and innocents, we have the gift of forgetting. A simple and thoroughly non-lethal magical method of making people forget what they have seen or heard. You are a member of my crew, and so, you will be one of the last to forget if we are able to get to that point. We remember so we can purge reality of the knowledge of the beings of the Dark Tapestry. When we believe we have done our job to the best it can be done, we consult the Oracle. She remembers last of all. She is the final bastion of knowledge. While we forget, she remembers for as long as she deems prudent. Then, when she is convinced that there is no missing bit. No remnant of the cancer. She forgets too and casts off the last mooring line."

[Pent]

Zeph breathes a sigh of relief. He was thrilled to hear that his first understanding was misguided, and this organization is more wholesome than his worst fears led him to believe.

As far as destroying knowledge, it seems its not just simple names and folklore. Its deep, depraved, inhumane knowledge. Zeph wavers and internally recognizes that not ALL knowledge is sacred. He tries to think of other exceptions to the rule, but can't. Certainly by the descriptions of the books that the Order is targeting they're not tomes he'd ever want to spend time studying...

Last, he notices that again, he's not heard any details of this Oracle. Instead of pressing one last time, Zeph accepts that its a rule like "stay out of the engine room", he's just going to have to accept that he's not getting his question answered right now....right now anyway...

"Thank you sir, that is a relief to hear. If you're offering an initiation into the order, I accept. Is there an oath to swear?"

[DeathbyFlossing]

Storms regards Zeph’s exchange with the captain with silence and interest. He’s already thought of a number of questions Storms would not have thought to ask, and this description of the Oblivion’s Eye is... interesting. There’s an old saying Storms heard once from a drunk scholar in a bar in Absalom: ‘you can’t kill an idea, not unless you kill everyone what knows about it’. If the Outer gods need mortal intermediaries, and there aren’t any... then the threat they post would be neutralized. A very interesting idea.

”I’m in too, sir, if you’ll have me.”

[AlphaLuke]

The Captain nods somberly. "There is something I need you two to do. But you have to trust me. And follow my orders without question. Follow me."

The Captain waits for both men to assent before turning on his heel and leaving the infirmary. Outside, the Doctor wait patiently. He attempts to say something but is cut off by a short gesture by the Captain. The Captain actually beckons to Scar-eye and the large cat prowls over to walk beside Storms. In silence, the three men and one feline walk down. Down, past the Mess, down the ladder to the lower deck. Throki looks up from a workbench, his glimmering eyes magnified to an absurd degree by crystalline goggles. He almost says something before catching his own tongue. He places the complex piece of clockwork down on his bench, removes his goggles almost solemnly, and nods to the Captain. Then, without any further preamble, he climbs the ladder to the mid-deck, leaving his work behind.

The Captain waits for several seconds, then turns to the Engine Room door. The door that was expressly forbidden to Zeph during his first day aboard. Never having been to this part of the deck, Storms and Zeph are surprised to see a sheer, metallic plate where the door would be. The plate is the size of a standard door but bears no hinges and no handle. In fact, it bears no obvious method of opening at all. The metal seems to hum with some kind of harmonic resonance that Zeph can't quite place. If Throki's lessons are to be believed, behind this door is the core of the ship's engine. The thing that powers all its powerful magic. The heart of the Apparition in Time. The Captain steps forward and draws a small pen knife from his jacket pocket. With the point of the knife, he punctures the tip of his own right thumb. He squeezes the ruby dot until it's the size of a pea and then brings it quickly to the door. With his bloody thumb, the Captain begins to write. Draw? Something. The scrawl the Captain paints with his blood is unlike any language Zeph has ever studied. It's almost like an alchemical diagram. Almost like a physics formula. The Captain moves with dizzying speed and precision. And, in short order, a runic symbol the size of a wagon wheel is painted upon the matte grey door. Then, without any change in sound or flash of light, the blood disappears. Sucked into the grain of the door like water into a sponge. The Captain sucks the prick on his thumb and motions for the men and their animal companion. "Walk through the door."

Zeph wants to ask "How?", but the Captain seems to anticipate the question. "Just walk through as if it wasn't there. One foot in front of the other."

Ship's Layout (https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/17GhuU8TAOABrkF67i2F3u0J50R-Qo9c5HrkpLa8I9VQ/edit#gid=0)

[Pent]

Zeph inhales, closes his eyes, and his insatiable curiosity pulls him through the solid metal door.

[AlphaLuke]

Storms and Scar-eye are on the man's heels. When they reach the solid door, there's a strange feeling. The metal of the door ripples like poured quicksilver. It bends around the entrants and flows through their hair, giving the odd sensation of floating. Like swimming through ice-cold syrup.

On the other side of the door, neither man can believe what they see.

. . .

They feel the slow, cool metal flowing over their bodies once more and are standing in front of the Captain. In the lower deck. Spinning around, they realize that they have just come out of the Engine Room. The Captain smiles slightly.

"It's disorienting, I know, but you're taking it better than most." Seeing the confusion still painted across their faces, the Captain shakes his head. "No, I can't tell you what just happened. All I can say is that you three were in there for the better part of an hour. Then, you exited. I was beginning to get worried. Most of the others only took a few minutes. Alessia took nearly twenty. Still, you all made it out. Can't say the same for everyone who walks into the Core." Then, the Captain stretches out his hand, palm up. In his glove are two silver rings (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/da/a0/02/daa0023fac8da108199e6591f9cc19db.jpg). "You can choose new ways to bear your symbol as you wish. Most members do. But the rings are traditional for new recruits. They'll let other members of the Order see you and offer help if they're able."

[Pent]

Zeph shakes his head, trying to get his bearings.

It shakes something loose anyway.

"This is what it feels like - to be made to forget something? That's part of the Order's methods? I'll be honest, I don't like this feeling."

Any other questions now seem pointless. If it was knowledge he was allowed to keep he'd have it. He grabs a ring anyway.

[AlphaLuke]

The Captain nods. "It's a far stronger version of the magic we employ. Most of the time, we're just changing the memory. Sometimes we wipe it, but there's always a risk of collateral damage there. What we want is for people to not even know they've forgotten. Obviously, with the initiation, the process is a little bit more intense. You all were in there for forty-eight minutes. In that time, you were judged worthy to join the Order. If you rise in the ranks, perhaps you'll be judged worthy to learn more."

[Pent]

Zeph dons the ring. "Sir, what questions could we ask you about the initiation that we could receive and remember straight answers to?....and failing that, what's next?"

[Pent]

Zeph makes a mental note to magically examine the ring later. Doing so in front of the Captain would be borderline treasonous, showing a lack of trust in the man. But after getting his memories erased, Zeph isn't feeling too trusting at the moment.

He's fairly certain it wouldn't contain any ill effects, so donning it now shouldn't be a problem.

[AlphaLuke]

The ring seems to bear no magical or extraordinary properties upon a cursory examination and donning. The Captain nods at Zeph's questions. "I understand the need to know, Mr. Leornian, but even I don't remember my own initiation. Suffice to say, you were weighed by a ship of the Order and found to be worthy. The core mechanics of Order ships is a high secret and known only to the Captains and their First Officers. Ms. Waycrest is only to use this knowledge upon the event of my untimely demise. Still, you are right to question. You have been changed through your initiation. Magically and powerfully. You now bear indelible markings that all Order ships will recognize automatically. Only Order members can effectively pilot Order ships, use certain Order technology, and enter certain Order strongholds. That's part of what made Sköll's betrayal so damaging. He bore the same markings."

He continues, all while unbuttoning the white shirt he's wearing under his jacket and jerkin, "The ring is so we fellow Order members can identify you. The marks are so our ships, weapons, and safe houses can identify you." The Captain bares his rugged and hairy chest. At first, Zeph and Storms see nothing. Then, the Captain's supernatural eyes begin to flare with amber light, brighter than anything they've seen yet. Brighter than a candle. Brighter than a torch. As he does this, lights begin to appear through the skin of his chest, like sunlight through a leaf. They get brighter and more focused as the Captain continues to brighten his eyes. Eventually, it becomes clear that the markings have a very distinct pattern. Zeph nearly chokes. His ribs (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/ba/47/40/ba47408b6ceb6c28be6a24cc7e4a192a.jpg). Carved into the very bones of the man's ribs are sigils of arcane power. They glow with that same amber light suffusing the Captain's eyes.

[Pent]

"All of us? On our very bones?!" is all Zeph managed to squeak out.

[AlphaLuke]

The Captain nods while re-buttoning his shirt, his eyes fading to their regular glow."Aye. On your bones. It's that way so the ship can see it, but ne'er-do-wells can't."

[Pent]

Zeph starts thinking aloud. "To inscribe us in less than an hour...(and other crew members in even less time), erasing our memories... awfully powerful spells. I'm thinking that The Oracle herself is in the Engine room. If that's the case, then the amount of people in our Order can't be much more than who we have on the ship at present. Further, if the markings are inscribed on our bones, and we've already shown how easy it can be to resurrect the dead, we must make sure that our crew's bodies are disintegrated.... but I don't think I've seen that command given... Maybe the markings wear off after expiration...

If the magic is THAT complicated, wouldn't it have been easy to incorporate tracking runes into the markings so Skoll could have been located after he left? I wonder if there are any other effects these marks have on us..."

[AlphaLuke]

The Captain shakes his head and gives Zeph a puzzling look. Like he's examining some mechanical curiosity in a tinkerer's shop. "Too smart by half . . ." He smiles, "I can see why she likes you. No, Mr. Leornian. Good guesses, but you've lost some in the weeds. Firstly, not every member of this crew is a fully inducted member of the Order. A long time ago, that's how things ran on some ships, but the world's a might bigger now. Can't have every man that we want. No, only the officers are members. Ones you've seen bearing the eye, if you've looked hard enough. As far as the Oracle; it wouldn't be half smart to carry around our leader and greatest weapon on a vulnerable and dangerous mission, now would it." The way the Captain lets the sentence fall makes it very clear that it's not a question.

"No, the Oracle isn't on board. And as far as the markings are concerned: the ones on your bones are only the ones you can see. They're actually tethered much faster than that, otherwise every broken rib would send the whole lot into disarray. Like how Master Ironblood showed you the sigils on the bottom of the ship. Wouldn't be a very good system if the whole bloody ship fell out of the sky every time we took cannonfire to the hull, now would it? The rib markings are visible. But you have other markings on the other parts of you. Your mind . . . " he pauses. "- and your soul. When you die, the markings on your ribs remain, but part of the spellcraft travels with you to the Boneyard, making you useless to the enemy as an undead minion. Likewise, if your mind is corrupted or not your own, the markings upon your mind go inert. Without all three parts of the arcane formulae, it's all so much gibberish."

He breathes for a moment, obviously trying to calm his anger. "Sköll is a case not seen in a long time. He wasn't dominated. Wasn't killed, not by the enemy at least. He chose to defect. His mind was warped, but still, technically, his own. It was a huge blow to the Order. Moreover, he was a First Officer. He knew the inner workings of how our cores function. He knew safehouse locations. Ship routes. He was able to enter over a dozen safehouses and slay dozens more of our brothers and sisters before we were able to get the word to everyone of his defection. All told, his betrayal was the greatest blow the Night Heralds have made against the Order in over nine centuries."

He grimaces, and both Storms and Zeph can see a slight wetness at the corners of his eyes. "The leaders of the Order proposed tracking marks like you mentioned after that. The Oracle said no. Her word is law, and so, we do our best with what we have. The Oracle always has her reasons."

[DeathbyFlossing]

Storms listens silently. The experience was... interesting. He chews on the many revelations while he listens to the exchange between the captain and Zeph. By and large, Zeph is covering all the questions he had, so he doesnt feel a need to contribute quite yet, and he has a feeling his most pressing question- the nature of the Oracle- will simply go unanswered.

[Pent]

"Thank you Captain, you've greatly put me at ease. I don't think I have any more questions...for now..."

[AlphaLuke]

The Captain nods, hands Storms his ring, gives Scar-eye a quick scratch behind his ears, and walks up the ladder without any further ceremony.

The newly ordained members of the Order of Oblivion's Eye follow the Captain back to the main deck, where Kalinda immediately begins barking orders at them. "Mr. Storms! Mr. Leornian! Where in the nine have you been? We need - " she stops short when she sees the shine of the rings on the men's fingers. There's recognition there. Her hand unconsciously goes to the hilt of her swept rapier and both men can see the symbol molded into the pommel. The triangle and eye. Kalinda looks up to the helm, where the Captain stands. He's barely a silhouette in the dimming evening twilight, but his eyes stand out like fireflies. The fireflies nod. Kalinda turns back to the men.

"Sorry. What I mean to say is - " she stumbles, and for the first time since meeting her both Zeph and Storms see their First Officer flustered. "Welcome," she finally manages. "Welcome aboard." These words come out in far quieter voice. Like she's welcoming a dear friend back home in the dead of night.

"We're doing a night watch. We're shorthanded, so everyone is going to take a turn. That is, everyone except whomever our Chief Engineer conscripts to work on the ship. He's still working out the full extent of the damage right now, so we have a little time to prepare for the night. Master Gent has made some dinner. Best you get some before the night chill hits you. Then, you can report to Alessia for your duty assignments. Dismissed."

[DeathbyFlossing]

Storms salutes and goes to get dinner. He’ll get his assignment once he’s had something to eat.

[Pent]

Zeph fidgets with the new ring as he makes his way to the mess hall. He wonders if he's ever read forbidden knowledge in his studies but had his memories erased...

[AlphaLuke]

The men move down to the mess and are greeted by a bleary-eye Gregor Gent (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/28/b9/9c/28b99c4485f03dd274ffa457340168b2.jpg). The gigantic man hands each of them a wooden plate, laden with food. Roasted chicken with plenty of rosemary and pink salt, a mound of boiled and buttered potatoes and carrots, warm oat bread with honey, and a clay cup filled with cold cream ale. It smells like the seven heavens and it a feast compared to what the men are used to aboard ships. Most crews make do with thin stews, hardtack, jerky, and pickles. Things that keep. But somehow the Quartermaster has created this magnificent meal of fresh food.

The long tables of the mess are filled with scattered groups of sailors, most eating quietly. At one of the tables, the officers sit. Two spots are conspicuously empty, giving Storms and Zeph their cue to sit.

At the table sit the officers not currently on deck, seeing to the ship and the on-duty crew: Alessia (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/c9/9b/63/c99b6365befc344a1bea104cb4222a84.jpg), Throki (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/f0/26/33/f026335fb98c305c158a382fda81fd04.jpg), Archie (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/9a/d4/91/9ad491db7a1da2bf7e93082ed5012808.jpg), Mournholdt (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/b0/b4/6d/b0b46dfc822b3cf3c381930844c1cef9.jpg), and Dr. al-Aruni (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/41/51/50/415150420800f3681cb565b5730459a9.jpg). After a few moments of seeing to the other men, Gent (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/28/b9/9c/28b99c4485f03dd274ffa457340168b2.jpg) takes his seat as well, causing the whole bench to rock precariously when he does.

Archie makes what must be his version of a smile with his beaked face and attempts to raise his glass to Zeph and Storms when they sit, but winces and puts his wing down in haste when he does. The doctor looks reproachfully at Archie, but then nods somberly to the two new officers. Alessia smiles a sly and devilish grin, and her tail's tip twitches anticipatorily behind her. Throki smiles warmly and nods to both men before turning his eyes back to a spare bit of sigil work he's etching into a glowing blue stone, his food largely untouched. Gent gently slides the dwarf's plate across the wooden table until it's directly below his eyeline. The Chief engineer doesn't even look up or stop working, he just leans his mouth down and bites a hunk of potato without using his hands. Mournholdt scowls into his own potatoes, cutting and chewing his chicken with unnecessary hostility.

[Pent]

Zeph sees that no one else is talking. And maybe he should take a hint. And it would be stupid to talk openly about the Order of Oblivion's Eye in front of the regular crew. But he has a hypothesis that only a few words will elicit different reactions from the officers. And he conducts an experiment. Still, something about all this makes him feel off. Somber. Its the dozens of unanswered questions. The thousands of follow up questions he can't even ask. The lack of answers of means to get them is weighing on his mood.

"Forty-eight minutes." he looks around the table to see what reactions are.

[roll0] sense motive
[roll1] perception

[AlphaLuke]

There are 8 torturous seconds of silence before Alessia parts her smile to say. "Nineteen minutes."

There's a round of quiet chuckling from around the small group. Even Throki chortles through a mouthful of chicken.

"Seven minutes," the doctor says bashfully.

"Twenty-three," adds Gregor.

"You didn't!" Archie gawks, nearly dropping his drink.

"As I live and breathe, I did. Twenty-three minutes and not a second less."

"I heard your fat arse couldn't even fit through the door. Probably took an extra five minutes to walk in and out," Alessia goads. This elicits a round of heartier chuckles and a choking sputter from Throki, who receives a good clap on the back from Alessia.

Throki smiles through a beard full of potato bits, "Lass you haf ta' warn me before you go off like tha'. Coulda died!" Still, he says all this with the widest smile Zeph and Storms have seen since coming aboard. "Three and a half minutes."

This brings a round of jovial boos and a hail of tossed potatoes. Throki fends them off with a grin. "I hold it as a mark of efficiency. I was in an' out 'for anyone knew what was what."

Archie pours himself more ale out of a clay pitcher, "I bet that's what all your dates say." This brings more jeering and a bright red flush to the Chief Engineer's cheeks.

"Seventeen-and-a-half," Archie says smugly.

"Age you were when you finally learned where eggs come from." Alessia quips. This brings with it another round of genuine laughter.

The group then turn expectantly to Mournholdt, who hasn't joined in in a single bout of laughter. The Lictor looks up from his food. "What? Orders are to keep quiet about the engine room in mixed company." Alessia gives him a withering stare, one furred eyebrow raised.

Somehow, Mournhodlt’s scowl deepens. “Twelve.”

Alessia scoffs. “That’s it?! Why so cagey, Cassius? Twelve minutes is nothing to be – “

“Seconds.” Mournholdt interrupts. “Twelve seconds.”

The words hang in the air for a ponderous few seconds before an explosion of laughter erupts from the table. Archie snorts his ale. Alessia grabs at her side, literally rolling on the bench while cackling. Gent pats the Lictor’s back supportively.

Through bouts of teary chuckles, Throki turns to Storms and Zeph. “But you two went through together. Tha’s an odd sight. Desnae happen very often. Still, forty-eight is a mighty peck a’ time. Proud time. Well done lads, well done.” They all, save Mournholdt, raise a glass to the two newest officers and drink to their success.

The rest of the mess seems to have taken their cue from the officers and begun talking, singing, and drinking a little more.

[Pent]

Zeph smiles warmly.

But inside he's so confused.

His experiment indeed returned the best kind of result, the unexpected kind! Apparently long times are the goal. But the captain had said that no one remembers what the initiation consists of. So, either they have been told what happened behind the door, or they just decided its some kind of endurance test without ever knowing what's really happening. Sailors applying any meaning to the unknown just to give it a frame of reference is practically maritime law, so Zeph is hoping that's all he's seeing here.

The opposite means what despite all his questions he still didn't learn what's happening...

Unless...

There are ranks in the order. Maybe he'll learn what happens during the initiation when he reaches a higher rank. This is another acceptable explanation, in his mind. And the fake smile he had on while he pondered turned into a real smile.

[AlphaLuke]

The meal tastes better with friendly faces, and all the officers take their turn congratulating their two new mates in their own way. Even Mournholdt gives a firm handshake to each man and a nod to the lion. When the food is finished, Alessia sends most of the officers to bed, only asking Mournholdt, Zeph, and Storms to stay awake for the first duty shift.

"Zephyr, I need you to take a look as some of the charts of this area. What we have, at least. They aren't well explored. That's part of why you're on first shift. We need you rested in the morning so you can take a quick glance of the nearby islands. Archie and the Captain tell me you're comfortable in the air, so we're going to need you scouting at altitude. Let us know if you find anything notable. Resources, settlements, hazards, etc. The more knowledge the better."

"Storms, I need you and handsome," she smiles warmly at Scar-eye, "to disembark and scout the immediate area. I know it's dark, but that should provide you the cover you need to move slowly and quietly. Let us us know if you spot or smell anything nearby. If you run into trouble, send up some sort of signal light with your spellwork. Got it?"

Alessia entertains any questions the two might have before dismissing them to their tasks.

Zeph, I need Knw Geography tonight and Fly and Perception checks in the morning.

Storms, I'll need Survival, Stealth, and Perception checks from both you and the kitteh.

[Pent]

Zeph quickly examines the maps. At first he was going to ask how far out he'd have to search, but he realizes that its a stupid question. It's a not a distance question. It's a velocity question. How much ground can he cover in his short flight span? 6 minutes a day isn't a whole lot.

He thanks Alessia, retires to his cabin, where he plots out the most efficient route island hopping, estimating how much ground he can cover in his short time tomorrow.

Then he falls asleep in his hammock.



I'll get all 3 checks out of the way now.
Knw Geography [roll0]
Fly [roll1]
Perception [roll2]

[DeathbyFlossing]

”Yes, Sir,”Storms says as he snaps off a salute. “Come on Scar, let’s go take a look around.”

Storms makes sure all his gear is where it should be and walks down onto the beach.

skill checks for Storms: Perception [roll0], Stealth [roll1], and Survival [roll2], skill checks for Scar-Eye Perception [roll3], Stealth [roll4], and Survival [roll5]

[DeathbyFlossing]

Also, have my spell points and stuff reset from the rest I had in the infirmary?

[AlphaLuke]

Zeph does the calculations, thinking over and over how would be the best way to see the most land with his limited flying time. The speed at which he can move, while useful in combat, is not suited for long soaring. He falls asleep slightly uneasy about the task ahead of him, but excited for the morning.

Storms and Scar-eye make their way off the ship and into the dark of the island. As Scar-eye prowls ahead, his chuffs and growls alert Storms to any potential pitfalls or hazards in the way. The lion moves like a shadow, barely disturbing the grass he walks through. Storms, however, moves like he's strapped windchimes to his arse. Vaguely, he wonders if he should have removed his armor before coming on this mission, but just saunters on noisily through the wilderness anyway. In his scouting, he finds a smooth pool of seemingly fresh water, several rocky outcrops, and a complete lack of habitation.

When Storms returns, he reports his findings to Alessia (the officer on duty) and makes his way to his new officer's cabin in the mid-deck.

Storms, you had the size of your character still at large. That's why you were at a -8 Stealth. Next time, just remember to turn off the buffs after combat.

You had not regained your spell points in the infirmary, but will the following night.

As you all sleep, something very important happens. You gain a level!!!

Zeph, I'll let you keep that prodigious Fly check, but you can ask anyone you like for advice or help extending your flight time.

[DeathbyFlossing]

Storms-As-He-Walks sleeps. In his dream, he stands at the mouth of a cave. Behind him, his clan- Owl Caller, Grin Eyes, Blood Rider, Hearth Tender, and all the others- shelter, while before him waves of enemies assault him, trying to breach past Storms’ guard to reach the people he loves. But he stands as a mountain, upon which they break. He defends them. He is a hero.

... The moment when he awakes and realizes it was just a dream, and they are all still dead, breaks his heart in half all over again. But this dream is not uncommon, and he is getting used to it. And he thinks he may be starting to learn something from it...

Storms had expanded his facility with the Guardian Sphere upon level up. I had forgotten how many cool abilities he had:smallcool: hopefully now i’ll remember to actually use them.

[Pent]

Zeph wakes, and prepares his spells for the morning. While studying his spellbook and other arcane texts, he realizes he can better understand and make use of text he had saved in an archive. Outstanding!

Once complete he examines his maps of the area again, and the plans he had made last night. After a night's sleep he's accepted that he doesn't have the skills to accomplish his mission as he is at the moment. He needs much more than a handful of minutes worth of flight. He hopes that Archie's habits have left him in a favorable state to answer some aviation questions.

He also decides to ask Throki if he's capable of making a glider. Some sails and thin wood would give Zeph all he needs to extend his flight time exponentially.

Zeph heads to the mess hall for breakfast and hopes to run into Archie.

[AlphaLuke]

Zeph, Storms, and Scar-eye make it out of their cabins to the mess for breakfast. Gent peeks out from the galley and gives them a hearty "Ho!" as they sit down at the officer's table next to a bleary-eyed Alessia, a slightly hungover Archie, and a crisp and awake Kalinda. Alessia nurses a steaming clay cup of pungent liquid that Zeph and Storms recognized as Kahve: a spiced, creamy, and sweet coffee. Kalinda sips from a cup of strong, dark tea from a plain porcelain cup, while Archie only has a pewter mug filled high with water in front of him. Gregor comes out shortly and places five plates down filled with generous portions of sausages, fried eggs, toast, beans, and tomatoes. Archie looks at his plate grimly. Gent asks each man what they'd like to drink.

[Pent]

Zeph takes a long deep sniff and practically drools. "That Kahve...., please." he responds with desire.

Once the order is placed Zeph turns his attention to Archie. He remembers (just in time) to lower the volume of his voice to keep from irritating him. Zeph is no stranger to hungover sailors.

"Remember that time I asked for flying lessons? I may need them sooner rather than later. You see - I have lots of ground to cover for my reconnaissance trip today and I just- here". Zeph begins to take his maps out across the table. People sound upset as their delicious smelling breakfast is now a topographical drawing. And Zeph forgets to re-attenuate his voice in his excitement. "I can only fly for a few minutes per day, at my top seed in only 7 or 8 minutes I'll never be able to scout out all this area! Do you have any advice for me?"