Cyrus of Chantris

A year ago and change

Tue, 30 Sep 2008 15:32:21 GMT

Benedict's 'birthday' post caused me to check my registration date.

Mine was ten days ago. Woah! This year has gone fast.

Thanks to everyone who has made these last twelve months a lot of fun.

[LOG] In Which Ennisport is Liberated

Wed, 13 Aug 2008 16:43:44 GMT

Dramatis Personae: Caine, Malachi, Dinah, Molly
Setting: The coast of Ennisport

The Golden Apple joins a flotilla of Royal Navy ships led by The Orchid Queen to have a look at Ennisport because it is one of the few port towns to survive the initial invasion.

Other ships involved: The Eregnor, The Kolvir, The Deiga, and The Moon Pass.

This was a two-pronged attack. I ran the ship stuff (which you can find under the cut) and Beatrice ran the ground troops in a separate scene.

Seven ships make their way up the coast towards Ennisport. The town is not yet in sight but even from here things do not look good. The trees on the edges of the settlement are dark and gnarled as if affected by a blight. The soil in which they grow is a sickly greenish-black color and runs into the sea like thick oil. Despite the late morning hour, the area has the feel of a haunted forest at midnight.

At the wheel of The Golden Apple is Dinah. The frigate cuts its way through the water silently, and more than a few of her crew make mutterings about bad omens and ward themselves against wicked things. Even hardened sailors, after all, are allowed to be supersticious.

Caine is aboard the Orchid Queen, taking the role of passenger again on his son's vessel. He stands at the railing, eyes narrowed against the sight of things before he looks ahead, trying to see the state of the town as they move toward it.

Malachi turns over the captain's wheel at the Orchid Queen to his first mate as the frigate draws in sight of the changes to the shoreline. He brings a spyglass with him to the railing near Caine, taking a long look ahead before offering to the other man.

Molly is on the Golden Apple, hanging from one of the rigging ropes to lean across a railing, peering out across the water. Now and again she waves an irritated silencing gesture at the muttering crewmen in her earshot.

Caine takes the spyglass and looks, his frown remaining grim. He says something low.

A few moments after its captain's look out towards the woods, signal flags go up on the Orchid Queen, notifying the rest of the fleet of a potential threat within the trees. Something large.

Dinah's head turns at the sight of raising flags, and her grip on the wheel tightens. "Molly, to your cannons!," she calls out. "Prepare to..." She pauses. "Oh HELL no. Tobias, look over the port for a wake that isn't ours."

Anyone looking towards the coast can clearly make out a large shape moving towards the town. Ennisport itself is not yet in sight but the long piers of her docks are visible in the distance despite an unnatural fog that has blanketed the waters nearby.

Molly gives a sharp nod and an "Aye-aye, Boss!" She jumps down to the deck and limps at-speed over to the cannons, immediately starting to prep them for trouble. "Babies're locked down 'n ready for targeting."

Malachi leaves the railing and spyglass to Caine to send his ballista crews scrambling to their positions, as the Orchid Queen moves from watch status to battle standing.

Caine catches the mood of Dinah's calls and looks to the Apple, watching it for damage as the men work around him.

Muttering to Malachi, Caine frowns suddenly and looks to Malachi. "Mal,... enemy near..." He jabs a finger at the water near his daughter's ship.

Tobias calls back to Dinah, "Naught below, Cap'n." He moves across the deck to view the waters from a different location.

Malachi sends more men aboard the Orchid Queen scrambling with hand weapons towards the stretch of water between his ship and the Golden Apple. The ballistas on that side of the ship begin adjusting their aim for near water instead of distant land.

Dinah's brows lower as if Tobias's words didn't do much for reassuring her. "Molly, keep a firm hand on something. We may have just bumped a rock or something." A signal flag runs up the mast--beware of possible enemies below.

Molly notes Dinah's concern at the water and potential wakes has started pumping up the bellows on one of the cannon platforms, raising and tilting one high enough to potentially aim downwards. She locks it off and takes hold of a railing. "Grabbing on tight, Ma'am. Just try 'n pry me off."

Caine looks nonplussed, but observes the efforts of the Orchid's crew in getting the point across. He also takes a wider stance, but otherwise doesn't brace as a precaution.

One of the small navy ships, The Eregnor, falls behind. From the cursing her captain is doing, this was not his idea.

Caine moves quickly to Malachi to murmur something to him.

Malachi looks to Caine, and shakes his head. He murmurs something back, in a less low voice as he says it while moving to give more orders to his crew.

Caine nods at the response, but doesn't /appear/ to follow the captain. He does take a position to watch what he does, though, with a faint air of disapproval.

Dinah, upon seeing the Eregnor falling back, does not look pleased. She shouts out more orders to her crew, loudly, though they're already in motion to do such things. Her grip on the ship's wheel is a fierce thing, and she looks back towards the woods, not forgetting that something lurks there as well.

The Orchid Queen launches a handful of ballista bolts at shapes in the water, the majority of her ballista remaining loaded and ready for other threats.

Caine frowns and moves to the railing, looking to the area of shore closest to the Eregnor.

The missles from the Orchid Queen churn the water as they break the surface. Something like a dark sort of blood begins to float along the foam.

Molly looks silently out towards the shots fired from the Orchid Queen. She turns back to watch Dinah closely, still keeping a tight grip on her chosen handhold.

Caine peers up at Malachi a moment, before climbing to within shouting distance of the signaler atop the mast. The signaler is gazing down at him. There is some shouting back and forth, though hard to hear above the waves.

Malachi watches the churn of blood, and indicates that the same ballistas as before should fire once reloaded, aiming this time nearer the Eregnor.

The signaler aboard the Orchid Queen begins flapping flags, ordering the Eregnor to turn toward shore and seek shallow water.

The Eregnor comes about and moves toward shore just as the Orchid Queen unleashes more missles. The dark substance once again comes to the surface and the Eregnor lurches to her port side nearly to the point of capsizing. She rights herself and makes for the shore. Several men had tumbled overboard and swim desperately for land.

Caine shakes his head, watching this, and looks to be cursing quietly.

Molly flicks a quick gaze towards the shoreline before returning to watch Dinah, but her head snaps back towards shore before it reaches the captain. Another second or two of looking and a quick glance towards the Boss, and she lets go her handhold and starts shifting aim on one of the outward-pointed cannons towards something woodswards, giving a sharp whistle and a pointing finger out there to anyone caring to notice.

Malachi watches the Eregnor's movement, and signals a third round of bolts out towards any shapes that might be pursuing ship or men.

Caine moves back to the railing to look to the sharp whistling.

The water fills with the dark blood and something that looks like a twenty-food piece of muddy tentacle floats up with it.

While that handful of ballista pepper the water with bolts, Malachi moves to the opposite side of the Orchid Queen, surveying the remaining weapon crews as they adjust their ballistas for firing towards the woods.

Dinah gives Molly a nod--it should be all the Gunner needs to know that the Captain approves of whatever action she deems needed. Another order is given, some of the ballistae aimed towards the water, those on the weapons looking into the water for other dark figures.

Caine glances up at the signaler again and tosses a series of hand signs to the man, who watches intently.

As the signaler atop the Orchid flags for all ships to make for the city docks at haste, there is a brief, wet impact on the side of the ship. The curling end of a truly large tentacle whips up and across the rail, seeking with uncanny accuracy. The hooking motion it makes strikes Caine squarely in the chest as it wraps his torso, and the Admiral is yanked clean off the deck and over the side.

Molly peers down her cannons sights, eyes locked on what she can see of the thing in the woods. The ducks down, gives the brass barrel a little kiss and a whisper, leans back and gives a warning bellow of "FIYAHRINNN'...NOW!" She pulls the trigger and turns to Dinah, already moving to the other cannon.

Malachi stops beside the leader of one ballista crew for a brief word in a quiet voice, pointing towards the woods. The man nods, and adjusts the siege weapon once more. A single ballista bolt launches off the Orchid Queen, streaking towards a dark form within the woods. The aim is less than perfect, sending the bolt towards the wide trunk of a tree--until it swerves to the side in flight, continuing without impediment towards its target.

It's just as the bolt is twitching its way around trees that Caine goes overboard, and Malachi turns in what almost look like haste. His crossbow comes out, and more men that he actually calls with him go running towards the side where the Admiral went overboard.

The water where the Admiral was pulled in roils, but nothing is seen but flashes of dark and signs of water being displaced violently from below the surface. The ship is, naturally, sliding over the spot and soon will leave it behind, as it's more or less stationary.

Dinah doesn't notice her father going overboard on Malachi's ship--which might be a good thing, for it keeps her attention on her own tasks at hand--holding the Apple's course so that Molly can get a clear shot. There's a fierce smile from the Captain as the lightning cracks through the air.

Malachi slows the progress of the Orchid Queen with one curt gesture to an officer stationed near the men at sails, as he sights down his crossbow into the water with no more sign of concern than before.

There is an enormous explosion from the trees as the lightning from the cannon strikes the figure. This is followed by a bellowing howl and the snapping of trees as a huge worm creature begins to slide into the water. A large segment of it has been burned off and it is dong the worm equivalent of limping. It does not make it into the water, however, because the bolt from the Orchid Queen's ballista pierces it cleanly causing it to go completely slack.

A couple of tentacles break water around the spot of disturbance just aft of the slowing Orchid Queen. They are not attached to anything now, but are the circumference of a fat lady's thigh at the severed base.

Malachi slows the progress of the Orchid Queen with one curt gesture to an officer stationed near the men at sails, as he sights down his crossbow into the water with no more sign of concern than before.

The Deiga and the Kolvir have increased their speed and are heading directly for Ennisport. Each ship slows slightly and archers on both ships begin firing arrows into the sea as the ballista gunners take aim. They all look terrified by what they see beneath the surface. The Moon Pass has been bringing up the rear and is, as yet, unaffected.

Malachi directs the Orchid Queen to begin firing more of its ballistas towards the threats at sea, and sends out signals to the Moon Pass for assistance in this matter while the Admiral is momentarily detained.

Molly ducks down to aim again towards the still-moving worm-thing, but hisses a loud, "Yes!" as the Orchid Queen's shot hits home. She starts swivelling the cannon around, dividing her attention between looking out from the boat for new targets, and to Dina for new orders.

Dinah allows herself a little cheer as Molly's shot strikes true and the one from the Orchid Queen finishes off the nasty worm. She gives a grin to her Gunner, and then starts shouting out orders for ballistae to be fired to cover the three ships heading for the docks.

Malachi's crossbow points at the thrashing underwater, not steadily but with a smooth, slow pattern of motion as he follows the appearance and disappearance of some particular point.

Caine surfaces suddenly with a gasping breath loud enough to be heard over the sea, even across to the other ships. Surely it should be an inspiring order that is carried on the winds, but in this case it's more a desperate gasp for a lungful of air. Whatever need for friendship caused the thing below him to grab him is clearly over, as he's coated with sea water and thick black goo. As the rubbery limb twined about him yanks the man under again, he tucks his chin in and disappears under the surface.

Malachi lets loose a crossbow bolt at the creature playing with the Admiral, and doesn't bother to stand around watching the bolt hit as he slaps another bolt in.

Malachi's bolt sinks beneath the water and is seen again as a flailing stump of something breaks the surface with the quarrel biting deeply in it. A body appears, disgusting and slashed open, and then a beak big enough to swallow a human, clacking at the surface. Part of it has been broken and forced inward, perhaps explaining it's behavior. Caine appears again, less desperate now, taking a breath as he strikes out for shore, a tad slowly for his swimming ability. Knives in his hands perhaps slow him down.

Ballista bolts, arrows, and a few pieces of unnecessary cargo rain down on the shapes surrounding the naval vessels. Soon, all ships are free and the sprint for Ennisport is underway. The large piers have rotted beyond all use but there is a small area of the merchant docks still standing which will be just enough for three of the ships to use for disembarking. The rest will have to beach themselves or send men ashore on rowboats. The Eregnor is now bringing up the rear but has poured on all speed.

The Orchid Queen puts speed back on as the Admiral strikes out on his own. Signal flags go up to arrange a speedy docking of the larger ships at the docks without any confusion over where the smaller Navy ships should set themselves.

Caine wades ashore near where the Eregnor has just run aground, limping but moving well enough. He motions for the sailors to join him to move along the shoreline to rejoin the others.

Dinah guides the Apple towards the docks, one hand steering and the other strapping on her weapons belt. And then a brace of daggers. And then another belt with her pistols on it. Her crew prepare for a quick docking-then-ashore approach.

The stragglers who washed ashore earlier meet up with the Admiral and are soon joined by men from the decks of the Eregnor who begin descending the hull on ropes.

Hundreds of sailors begin to disembark but only a few dozen reach Ennisport proper because only so many can leave any one ship at a time. The town is eerily quiet despite the multiple footfalls. Mud is everywhere. There are no people in sight but the sounds of battle can be heard towards the center of town.

Molly moves away from the cannons and heads towards Dinah, giving her own belt a check and her coat pockets a little pat or two on the way. She gives the captain a little smirk. "Got your wedding presents, Boss?"

The Orchid Queen unloads its men at the docks, the marines before the other fighting men of the crew. Malachi is among the first wave down the gangplank, with a single glance thrown towards the men swarming ashore from the beached ships.

Caine is quickly lent a sword, his having been, apparently, chewed off him. He leads the men along that side of the beach and regains the others at the head of the docks, where he drips and bleeds from various places.

Dinah winks to Molly and pats the stormpistols. "They're gorgeous and deadly," she says in praise, storms flashing in her eyes. "Let's go kick some ass."

Beatrice has moved her central vantage point form high up on the hill to up on the walls now that the walls are cleared and most of the bloody fighting in the town is dying down. She is careful not to present a target, but is close enough to see what is happening first hand and for her orders to be carried more swiftly. The Host's numbers are dwindling rapidly. What were once thirty thousand men are now just over five hundred.

An enormous worm easily three times larger than the one which was destroyed on the shore rises from the muck around the Blackhouse and slithers toward it with surprising speed. A few arrows and crossbow bolts appear in its thick hide but it does not appear to notice. The source of the missles is apparent, now. The thundering, screaming horde of Royal navy sailors and Minosian crewmen descends upon the creature.

Niklas moves over to where Rae is, his left arm clutched around his chest. Blood trickles from the corner of his mouth in a thin, but steady, stream. A cough is stifled in a fist that comes away bloody as he looks to the worm, eyes widening. "Fuck me..."

Admiral Caine appears behind them all, soaked and stained with black blood. He eyes the worm thing the men run at a moment, before patting himself down. He finds the second best thing, a silver hip flask, and drains it.

Beatrice issues her orders, whispers over the carnage. To most of her men, to fall back and assist the navy with missiles and munition. To one platoon of a hundred; Onward on the foe. To the Weir, to save the villagers stuck inside the inn before this worm falls and crushes it, or worse.

Some of the Weir warpack have fallen, or are deeply injured. Rae, having disposed of her Twin Foes and left them to their muddy grave together, moves to meet her wounded brother. "Stay back with the others," she says in a fierce and firm tone that brokers no argument. Her Alpha Voice. "Help them." Before he can reply, she's darting forward to follow Beatrices orders, sabre at her side, a chakram in her other hand.

For a moment Niklas just watches his sister go but, perhaps knowing what might happen if he doesn't do what she said, he turns to assist the other wounded.

Quina continues to run through what parts of the city she can reach, a deep, dark brown horse with a white mark on her forehead. Using Life Sense and her other senses, she searches for survivors to bring to safety.

Beatrice is alone, issuing her orders. The spread of her owl's moth-patterned wings can be seen for a moment between the slime-ridden stone crenellations.

Dinah is striding forward with the combined Navy/Minos forces. "Oh what the bloody fuck. These things travel in PAIRS?," she asks of the worm with a wild gesture.

Molly comes along behind Dinah at a fast, rolling limp. "Lets just hope it wasn't a whole family vacation, eh, Boss?"

Malachi travels in the midst of a cluster of men from his ship, sighting up at the worm with his crossbow. "Could be three," he says to Dinah, his voice carrying easily over the noise of the sailors around him.

Dinah *eyes* Molly, then Malachi. "You two did -not- just say that," she mutters, obviously preparing for a third worm to appear.

The worm roars a response to the discussion of its family status and slams its massive head into the inn. Chunks of masonry fly outward but the building holds. For now.

Caine tucks his flask away and draws the borrowed sword, keeping hold of the long knife he holds in the other hand. He doesn't rush forward, however, watching the worm a moment, noting movements, then looking about intently around it. Calling to a group of sailors advancing in a group with their heavy sabers, the Admiral directs them toward a damaged building nearby, held up by a wide porch and beams.

The first mate of the Moon Pass leads a cadre of his men in a flanking maneuver towards the great worm.

Caine's group, oddly, begins attacking a /building/, though seemingly guided by the voice of their Admiral, who has timing ideas about destruction and stands a bit to the side, watching the worm.

Malachi takes a group of men to another side, his sailors peppering the worm with inconsequential missile fire. A concentration on the beast's head suggests less intent to kill than to keep the creature distracted for a time.

Rae is not unwounded, but her injuries aren't anything serious enough to slow the Weir down--not that the blood can really be seen with the mud covering her. Hair and eyes still gleam blood red, though, as she and the Weir travel towards the meeting house, where the pleas for salvation are coming from. "Quina!," she calls out, her own request for aid.

Caine shouts over the wind, "Mal! Trying to bring this thing down on it somewhere, direct it my way in..." he glances to the men hacking away at support beams. "...four minutes?"

Molly gives Dinah an appropriately sheepish look as she pulls a clunky and awkward-looking pistol from one of her pockets. She also gives a quick look-round for the potential other worm before turning back to the one at-hand.

With the worm going after the inn, and there being a fair number of life signs within, Quina heads that way at top speed even as Rae is calling for her. She circles a bit to look for exits that won't get the people using them eaten, and finds a back door. It's locked, but a kick with her strong back legs solves that. The voice that comes out of her mouth isn't that of a horse at all, of course, as she shouts for the people within to get themselves out.

Some of the men trying to bring the building down have realized some flaw in their leader's plan, and unload rope to help bring it down... without being /under/ the thing when they do. Caine leaves out these details sometimes.

Malachi raises a hand towards the Admiral to confirm he's heard the order, and keeps his men moving to get the beast's attention and test leading it.

The crew from the Apple--most of them distinguished from the Navy forces due to their lack of uniforms and, well, looking a lot like pirates, make noises of attack. Crossbows are lifted, aimed, and bolts are shot towards the damn giant worm.

The worm bellows a hellish sound and thrashes its way towards the inn again. The arrows and bolts from the Orchid Queen's men cause it enough discomfort that it turns its attention on the sailors instead of the Blackhouse. One by one the terrified villagers file out but they look uncertain as to where to go from there.

Other Navy sailors pull at ropes and... there is an ominous creak and the damaged building appears to lean forward. Caine waves his hands at them to halt their pulling and looks to the worm. THEN he remembers to move back.

The Weir work to protect the squishy humans that come out of the Blackhouse, Rae perhaps not looking like the friendliest of people to be listening to.

Malachi's men are worm-herding briskly into position, despite their lack of experience in giant animal husbandry.

The worm undulates and rolls over several men from the vanguard of the Moon Pass's crew. Then it sets its 'sights' on the Apple's sailors as they are the ones currently annoying it the most. It rares back as if to strike at them like a serpent. It lunges forward faster than anything that big should be able to and -stops- with a muffled shriek. The remainder of the building the sailors were chopping at has fallen on the worm's tail, pinning it in place.

Since Rae and the Weir may not look the friendliest, Quina orders any coming out with a gesture of her head in the direction they need to go. "That way! Fast!" Of course, those words coming from a horse might give them pause, but compared to all the Black Road ick she probably looks better. She continues trying to get the people out of the inn, forcing herself through the doorway to go help physically herd them.

Beatrice has issued the last of the fully black-clad platoons in to cover the people fleeing the inn. A hundred men in black and silver fighting and dying.

Caine orders his man forward with a sweep of sword and advances, himself, to take advantage of the stationary beast while they can.

Beatrice is quick to regroup her archers and those with heavier missile weapons. Something just over four hundred men remain under her command, and they stand upon the walls, now, and some are loading ballistae and other engines into the town over the mud. The several-score men on the walls with arrows have lost their immediate CO, and so it is at Beatrice's personal commadn that they aim and fire.

Malachi keeps his men moving, a fluid line of constant scatter-shot fire that herds the worm towards other attackers.

Dinah orders for her men and her Molly to attack the worm, with whatever they've got. The Captain herself unholsters her pistols with a wicked grin. "Oh this is going to feel -SO- good," she intones, thumbing one hammer back and aiming...aiming...and letting loose a bolt of white-hot lightning towards the worm.

Molly nods to Dinah and takes a few stumbling steps towards a clearer line of sight on the creature to draw a bead on the its head. She fumbles only a little with the awkwardly-shaped gun and aims more carefully than usual before discharging it at the worm.

The hail of new arrows from the walls signals the beginning of the end for the huge worm and the blasts from the pistols sign the death warrant. The fighters on the ground keep the thing further coralled as it dies a death of a million cuts (and lightning bolts). It takes a long time to stop moving but eventually enough damage makes it through its hide to bring its hideous existence to an end. It lies there charred and full of arrows.

Caine steps back and his gaze goes to, apparently, a headcount. He starts with his kids, naturally, and goes down rank from there.

The officers from the various ships begin bellowing orders for their men to gather up. The final numbers are lower than what each vessel starte with between the attack on the worm and the problems in the water but not as grim as they could be.

Once there is no further need to talk, Quina stops talking. And when there is no further need for rescuing locals, she returns to searching for the injured in order to bring them to the medics.

The monster fallen, a cheer comes up from the remains of the Silver Host -- though the majority of those who are left are in brown or other dull colors. Quietly, Beatrice comes down from the walls, the owl again spreading his wings as she takes her final leap off the ladders to the ground, to stride across the mud-and blood-slogged field towards the others.

Caine counts up his men and finds the captains still alive, and sets them to organizing necessary things while he lights up a cigarette.

Malachi supplements his officers' calls for the Orchid Queen's crew to rejoin with orders to a few of his more eager--or panicked--men to stand down from wasting bolts on the creature once it's dead. That being done, he moves off towards the Admiral at a leisurely pace.

Caine gives his son a casual nod, a nasty gash across his cheek gone puffy.

Dinah starts making a headcount of her own. Dad, check. Favorite Brother, check. Gunner, check. There's a brief look of panic as she looks around for..."Oh. Yeah. No Stormcrow." Satisfied, she starts towards the Admiral herself.

Molly wobbles back to Dinah, following her towards the Admiral. She mumbles, "Bastard went down. Leastways didn't go'n wreck my marriage for nothing."

Rae, even with her human throat, issues a howl that carries over the warpack. The Weir start to move into formation, gathering their wounded and their fallen, and bringing them to their current leader.

Beatrice strides towards Rae first. "All accounted for?" She's been doing her own headcounts, of course, and must know the answer.

Dinah puts a supportive arm around Molly and gives her a curious look. Then a look that clearly states they will Talk on the way home.

Malachi has done a brief familial head-count of his own. It seems to have left him without complaints, as he joins the Admiral with a lit cigarette to consider the battlefield.

"Least it wasn't bugs," Caine remarks, wiping goo off himself with a thumb. He looks much more ripped up and chewed up close. The coat is /ruined/.

Dear Gideon - Bugs...why did it have to be bugs?

Mon, 11 Aug 2008 03:02:54 GMT

Dear Gideon,

Well, this is just great.

I finally get a few hours where I've got nothing urgent to do and I can't get to sleep. So I'm back on the Ten and writing to you. Don't get me wrong, Gideon, you're a great guy but I need to stop being awake for a while. I just can't get my brain to shut off and sleeping alone isn't helping.

The docks are gone.

That's right, the docks that have been there since your grandfather was a boy have been eaten by damned bugs. Huge ones. I saw it happen from the roof of the old Mandrake warehouse by what used to be pier 12.

The Admiral led a counter-offensive (yes, against bugs) which bought us some time but we lost a few ships. I had a good talk with Henry last night. At least I think it was last night. Time's running together, lately. Anyway, I hope he takes my advice. When did I become a guy who gives advice?

The sun is coming up and I've got inspections to do. At least I can see The Apple from here.

Dear Gideon - Tying The Knot

Mon, 28 Jul 2008 19:05:07 GMT

Dear Gideon,

Getting married is great! I can see why you did it four times. I'm just going to stick to the one, though.

Yesterday was terriffic. I slept late, got dressed up in an excellent suit, married Dinah, danced with several beautiful women, and then people said nice things about me and gave me presents!

Addison stood on my other side and Godfrey said all the right words. Everybody I wanted up there with me was. It was perfect. At some point I must have said the right things, too, because there's a ring on my finger and Dinah keeps calling me 'husband'. My memory of that early part is kind of fuzzy.

I'm on the Ten of Swords now. Dinah's driving and I'm crew. We're in a bit of an easy passage right now so I'm

ILLEGIBLE SMUDGE ON PAGE

Whoops. Hit some weather, there. Things are going great. I have no idea where we're going for our honeymoon. We'll know when we get there.

So, when I get back things are going to be even busier than usual. I had a chat with Molly a few days ago where I corrected a huge error. Then I talked to her again at the reception and got the second-best news of the day. This should make my latest client very happy. And that's what it's all about.

Time to sign off. The Captain is calling for all hands on deck. Gods, I hope that's a euphemism.

Dear Gideon -- Marriage, Ships, and Family

Sat, 19 Jul 2008 05:52:49 GMT

When I walk beside her
I am the better man
When I look to leave her
I always stagger back again

Once I built an ivory tower
So I could worship from above
When I climbed down to be set free
She took me in again

Dear Gideon,

One week from now I'll be married. Everything else may still be going to hell but this one thing that's going right more than makes up for it. If it ends up being her and me against the worlds, bring it on. They won't know what hit 'em.

Still no word on The Coda. Kitezh ate my ship. Kynan and Alekera came back with a prisoner but last I saw of him, he was in no shape to talk. At least we know what happened to all those villagers. That's an image that won't be out of my head any time soon.

Dinah walked the Pattern the other day and I admit to mixed feelings. I'm proud of her and I knew she could do it. She's the strongest person I know. But it's the first time she ever took a path that I can't follow. I'm glad Malachi was there to stand with her.

The new ship is nearly done. She's going to be a beauty. Probably our best yet. Too bad I can't keep this one for myself but this is one client I don't aim to disappoint.

[LOG] Montevalno Adventure!

Fri, 02 May 2008 19:34:00 GMT

Setting: Aventia, Montevalno
Dramatis Personae: Lucretia, Theophrastus, Ithunn, Dinah, and Addison

A group sails out from Amber to investigate the plague in Montevalno and an adventure breaks out.

The Ten of Swords sails into the harbor of Aventia without incident. Docking is similarly an easy process. Once two crewmen lower the gangplank, however, it is greeted by two men wearing very fine black clothes. One of them carries a sheaf of papers and a stylus. The other holds a small, leather case under his arm. There are four larger men dressed in less fine but equally black clothing standing behind the pair. The man with the sheaf looks up at the ship and says, "Permission to come aboard." He looks at the man with the case. "Both of us."

Cyrus looks down from the wheelhouse and beckons the two men. He looks wary but is attempting not to let it show.

The two men walk up the plank. Neither seems particularly at home on a ship. The one with the sheaf says in Thari, "I am Fra Pietro. From her Grace's ministry of health. What is your business here?"

Muttering to Lucretia, Theophrastus hangs back near his sister, as he has for the majority of the trip. "... this normal?"

Cyrus looks to Lucretia as if to say, "It's your show." He remains in the background and looks at the buildings in the distance.

Dinah finishes tending to the Ten's sails quietly, working about with the same ease she has for the entire trip. She looks over to Cyrus with a lifted brow, and then to the funeral procession.

Addison tugs on Lucretia's arm and says, "Lucretia. Don't sign anything until you read the entire document."

Lucretia is on the deck, having shouldered her way into a brown leather pack, pulling a hood up over her hair. She shrugs to Theo in a 'your guess is as good as mine' sort of way, eyebrows raised as she turns to the health officials. "Lady Lucretia de'Mandrake and Lord Theophrastus de'Mandrake, of Amber," she greets them crisply. "Our business is closely linked to yours, Fra Pietro; we're here to render assistance in fighting and containing plague. I believe Princess Rosamund sent word of our coming?" The usual carefree flirtatiousness is not in evidence; she turns to blink at Addison, then nods, turning back to the men. "He's with us."

Fra Pietro says, "You have letters?" He nods to the other man who steps forward and hold out an expectant hand.

Lucretia nods, taking a packet from her bag and holding it out to Fra Pietro. "I will require it back, of course," she answers politely.

Theophrastus exchanges very interesting expressions with Addison, then steps up behind Lucretia and tries to look lordly.

Addison just shrugs at Theophrastus and tries not to look like he's interesting.

Dinah continues to tend to the duties of putting things on the ship in order, and tries not to look like she's armed to the teeth.

The silent official takes the packet and opens it. He flips through each page deliberately. He pauses over one in particular, brow furrowed. He whspers something to Pietro who looks towawrd Cyrus for a moment and then nods impatiently. The other man hands the papers back to Lucretia with a curt nod.

Cyrus tries not to look so Cyrus-like.

Fra Pietro says, "Everything seems to be in order." He nods to his silent partner who walks down the gangplank and joins the well-dressed thugs. Pietro continues, "You'll want to see the hospitals, then."

Lucretia accepts the papers back with a placid smile, putting them away carefully. "Among other things," she agrees. "We'd also like the details as to present plague management, casualty rate, affected districts, and so forth. The more we know in advance, the more effectively we'll be able to help you."

Theophrastus says, "Civil matters also. How do your people get their water?"

Fra Pietro bristles slightly and draws himself up to his full, average height. "That information is kept in the Hall of Records. I am afraid your letters of introduction are insufficient for such an intrusion."

Theophrastus glances significantly at Lucretia.

Addison says, "Excuse me, can I see that paperwork?"

Lucretia doesn't stop smiling. "No? I'm sure Princess Rosamund will be sorry to hear that. In any case, there are people presently ill, are there not? Tell me, Fra Pietro, where are your own family members? I do hope they're safely out of the contagion zone. Of course, we'll do everything we can for any of your family members who do get ill." She looks the man up and down, with an equally significant glance to Theophrastus. "You know, you don't look at all well, Fra Pietro. How are you feeling? At a guess, clammy skin, feverish, maybe a bit of a stomach pain?"

Dinah looks over to Fra Pietro at the mention of the Hall of Records, one brow lifted. "I'm sure that the Princessa Rosalynd would be quite upset to hear that we were barred from knowledge that could help us in our matters," she offers after Lucretia speaks. Some how, those simple words almost sound a threat.

Addison steps over to Fra Pietro. He says, "Father, can I have a moment of your time and access to the paperwork, please?

Lucretia calmly and unostentatiously draws the cowl of her gown up over her mouth and nose, adjusting a cinch at the back of her neck.

Theophrastus sighs, clearly regretful. He begins moving throughout the crew of the ship, handing out tightly-woven cloth masks.

Fra Pietro furrows his brow and pointedly ignores Lucretia's questions. He moves toward Addison and hands him the sheaf. He nods sideways toward Lucretia, "Please show this man the letters...milady."

Addison gives Lucretia a nice expectant look with extra look at the glee of about to screw someone over.

Ithunn is with the crew of the ship, plain grey cloak covering her very distinctly Kitezh dress, including sword and arm rings. Her hood is up and she puts out a hand for one of the masks.

Lucretia does not immediately move to cooperate, maybe because her hands are full with adjusting her cowl. "Those are the early symptoms. Early warning, you might say. Depending on when initial symptoms manifested, you /probably/ have between six hours to three days before the manifestation of secondary symptoms : severe cough, bloody sputum, extreme abdominal pains, bleeding sores, and, of course, failure of one or more major organs leading up to and culminating in death." Her eyebrows lift, and she takes the packet out of her bag again, offering it to Addison. "Of course, there's always the cases which buck the odds and skip the intermediary symptoms and go straight for the big finish. Still - we'll hope that's not the case with you, Fra Pietro. Montevalno /needs/ its bureaucrats."

Fra Pietro clears his throat primly and mutters something in his native tongue as he stops beside Addison.

Addison flips through the paperwork. He carefully reads the first page, and then the second page, and then the third. And he says, "Ah, yes, Father, I see that it has absolutely nothing here covering the House of Aventia, only common visitors to these shores. As the future Count of Aventia, and Countess Rosamund's bethrothed, perhaps I can have a word? In private, of course."

Theophrastus hands Addison a mask. "You may want to wear this, m'lord."
Theophrastus says, "Just in case."

Fra Pietro moves with Addison to the port side of the ship. He looks nervously at the mask before doing so.

The brute squad and the silent brother are still on the docks.

Theophrastus hands the last mask to Ithunn. He has kept none for himself.

Addison takes the mask. He puts it on. Theatrically. As if he thinks Fra Pietro is horribly diseased and Addison cannot be at fault with infecting the precious Countess. Then he moves over to one side to have low words with Fra Pietro, the five very interesting loopholes in the paperwork involving the current group, especially the clause for missions of mercy under which this clearly falls, and how the Countess would be ever so disappointed to hear that Fra Pietro, and Fra Pietro personally, will be held at fault should these good people not be allowed to continue on and do what they've come to do. "Disappointed," he says, very deliberately, "in you. You personally." Then he shows how these signatures are quite all in order and how everyone should be allowed to disembark.

Mask on, Ithunn moves up behind Theophrastus and Lucretia. "What's that?" She's pointing across the docks and into the harbor to a burned out hull of a ship. It looks suspiciously like a Kitezh longship.

Dinah smiles at the brute squad, and gives them a slow look over. Her head tilts slightly, and her gaze lingers over on the silent brother. "It's a lovely day, isn't it, boys?" is called down to them.

Fra Pietro clears his throat and looks utterly crestfallen. "Yes," he says. "You're right, of course. How could that have slipped past me?" He tucks his own papers under his arm and looks significantly to the docks where the large, armed men wait.

The aforementioned large men look up at Dinah almost in perfect unison. Their expressions are as impassive as human faces can be. The silent brother, on the other hand, looks nervous.

Dinah sidles on up to Fra Pietro, quietly.

Addison says, smile full of daggers, "Now, now, Father, it isn't so bad. Simply take your men and go your way and this entire incident will be forgotten."

Dinah whispers to the Fra, "Do you need those four to become...indisposed?" She seems to mean the brutes.

Lucretia eyes the armed men below, then glances to watch Dinah's motions. She turns to Ithunn, murmuring something to the thane.

Fra Pietro nods very subtly to Dinah. He murmurs, "No death. If you can help it...If we can be away from them for a couple of hours, though..."'.

Lucretia mutters to Ithunn, "... no... And to think I... worried about..."

Ithunn shakes her head and answers Lucretia quietly. "There's no need to worry about that, Lady. I give you my personal assurances on it. As for this.." she stares at the brutes, then makes her way toward Dinah, whispering something to her.

Cyrus moves about the deck and mutters to a couple of his crewmen as he gives Dinah a significant look.

Dinah, using the Fra as a shield for her hand, draws a dagger out of where it was hidden up the back of her shirt. She smiles, brilliantly. "Oh yes, I'm quite looking forward to setting foot on the ground, here. It's so /lovely/." Leaning over to Ithunn, she lets out a little laugh, tilts her head.

Ithunn purses her lips, replying to Dinah. "Pity that." Her hand moves under her cloak to reach for her short sword, but she keeps it hidden.

Fra Pietro's expression moves from Crestfallen to Terrified but he does not move from his spot which is conveniently blocking the view from the docks of the section of the ship containing Ithunn, Dinah, and Addison.

On the docks, the large men stir but do not break formation.

Addison says, rather helpfully, to Fra Pietro, "If you would like, I can begin writing up imprisonment and arrest letters for her Grace to sign upon my return. I'm sure she'd be interested to hear that you held up medical treatment for her people. Now. We can do this a very easy way, Father. Just turn around, go down to the dock, and take your men. Or we can do it the hard way. If I were you, I would say, yes, I will let you good people through, and perhaps a good word will reach her Grace."

Fra Pietro has all the signs of a man on the horns of a dilemma. A very pointy, uncomfortable set of horns.

Addison reaches out a friendly, comforting hand and puts it on the Father's shoulder. And he starts to guide him, firmly, toward the gangplank.

Dinah switches the grip on her dagger so that the blade is hidden against her arm, and wraps her free arm companionably around Ithunn, guiding the woman around Fra Pietro. "We're allowed to disembark, yes? Paperwork all in order?" She winks down to one of the brutes, a gleam of wicked intent dancing in her eyes. "It's been /so/ long since I've ...sampled Montevalno."

Dinah murmurs to Ithunn, "I'll take the two on the left."

Fra Pietro moves toward the gangplank and nods like a man walking to the gallows.
Fra Pietro says, "Of course. By all means, disembark..."

Addison says happily, "See? Her Grace the Countess will hear all about your fabulous service to Aventia. I will personally make sure of it."

Ithunn smiles pleasantly to Dinah. "Of course our paperwork is in order. Addison arranged it so. And I need to stretch my legs." She gives a hint of a nod to Dinah.

Dinah moves herself and Ithunn infront of the Fra. Her hips hold more swagger to them than is needed as they move down the gangplank. "I wonder if I can take confession," she wonders towards the brother on the dock. "It's been too long since I've had one."
Ithunn follows after Dinah, smiling brightly. "What's that?" she asks in an all too chipper voice. Hidden by her cloak, she has loosened her short sword in its scabbard.

The silent brother looks completely perplexed. For about three seconds. Then he looks to Pietro and moves a step to his left which puts him further from the bully boys.

Lucretia trails behind the other women, something about her eyes suggesting amusement. She says helpfully, "And if you show up at the hospital, I'll even check your lymph nodes."

Theophrastus falls into step with Lucretia, not very amused at all.

Addison leads Fra Pietro down the gangplank, all friendly like.

"It's when you tell a priest all your misdeeds," Dinah offers to Ithunn, sweetly. "Mine usually take a while." Then, lower, "And I feel another sin coming on." She saunters over towards the silent brother, but a last minute shift has her throwing a punch toward Brute on the Left Number 1.

There's a split second of warning as Ithunn turns and hisses to Lucretia and those who follow, "stay back!" A moment later she is rushing down the rest of the way, short sword drawn as she tries to barrel into the brute on the far right.

Addison just lets Fra Pietro go and stands back with the Mandrakes.

The brutes are taken completely by surprise and one of them, the one Ithunn slammed into, is off balance. The three who remain standing rally quickly and draw wicked looking daggers. The guy who was punched by Dinah brings up the rear.

Once the altercation begins, Fra Pietro moves with a grace rarely seen in the holy orders. He runs down the docks beckoning Lucretia and Theophrastus but seeming to include anyone else who wishes to follow. "This way," he hisses.

Theophrastus glances at Lucretia for a brief confirmation, then legs it after Pietro.

Addison gets a rather confused look, but then follows Theophrastus at roughly the same speed, his satchel bouncing along.

Lucretia is all for getting out of fighting range. It might not be the wisest decision - but Lucy's never been accused of -always- exhibiting common sense. Angels of mercy, onwards! She skips off after her brother and her lawyer.

The fight on the docks is nearly an even match now that the fallen brute is back on his feet.

Dinah looks delighted at the sight of daggers. "Oh, good! They drew steel first!," she chimes, even if Ithunn had already drawn her blade. And then Dinah's own dagger is in plain sight, gleaming with its sharpness. Of all the things Dinah is, a clean fighter isn't one of them.

The silent brother stands near a wall, observing.

Fra Pietro moves down the docks and then ducks into an alleyway between two warehouses.

Theophrastus keeps Pietro in sight, trusting his own follower to keep him in sight, thus keeping the chain strong.

Addison keeps after Theophrastus, confident that should danger arise, Theo can light them on fire with his mind.

"Absolutely!" Ithunn answers in reply to Dinah. "I just fell off balance and accidentally knocked into that one." She doesn't take her eyes off the men, waving her short sword at them, trying to press forward and drive them back without actually inflicting any harm.

Lucretia fears no danger. Or not this kind of danger, at least. Besides, if they get arrested, they've got a lawyer with them. Lucy bounces along cheerfully, doing her best to do so /quietly/.

Aboard the Ten of Swords, the crew have moved into defensive positions so as to effectively block entry to the ship to anyone they don't take a liking to. Her Captain is nowhere to be seen.

Fra Pietro leads the Adventurous Professionals on a merry chase through the narrow, dark streets of Aventia's dockside district. After nearly ten minutes of running and ducking about, all four people find themselves in what appears to be the back room of a tavern. They are surrounded by wine casks.

Theophrastus does not seem winded at all, but does seem a little confused by the destination. "Bit of a fuss for a drink, sir."

Addison looks around at the wine casks. "I suppose it is always a rather good time for a drink."

Lucretia leans up against a cask, leaving her cowl laced over her mouth and nose first. "Glad I've been working out with Ras lately. Oof, my side."

Fra Pietro is somewhat out of breath but seems to be recovering. "Something terrible is going on," he says. "We don't have much time."

Theophrastus says, "Besides the riot that's starting on the dock?"

Addison says, "This is a hell of a welcome to the place I'm supposed to be moving to."

Lucretia says, "More terrible than just ordinary plague?" She looks at her brother. "We should've brought a bigger boat."

Theophrastus says, "I'm not the one who hired Cyrus."

Addison is looking at the wine casks. "Nothing wrong with Cyrus except his mind gets all fuzzy around all things Minosian."

Fra Pietro makes a dismissive gesture. "All in a day's work for a Ministry man, I'm afraid," he says to Addison. He nods in the vague direction of the docks, "Those chaps are outsiders." By which he seems to mean 'not from Aventia'. Then to Lucretia, "I need to take you to the Hall."

Lucretia's eyebrows raise. "Oh really? Who are they? And all right. Will there be more armed men at the Hall? I'm not upset, I just want to know how many of my weapons I need to have ready."

Addison has a feeling that going to the Hall means meeting Rose's father ahead of schedule without Rose. He thinks about this for a moment, decides it's a terrible idea, and says, "Then take us to the Hall."

Fra Pietro looks a question to the room at large, seems to get an answer and stands. "Very well, then," he says and walks further into the mass of barrels.

Theophrastus looks sidelong at Lucretia, but follows along. From time to time, his hand brushes his sword hilt.

Addison follows Theophrastus, his hand going into his satchel and withdrawing a perfectly harmless looking letter opener.

Lucretia's hips sway in a way some might mistake as invitation as she moves to follow Fra Pietro. The wiggle, however, seems to aid her in reaching into a cunning pocket; two fingers dip in, pocketing a slender, awkward-looking little knife of the throwing variety. Once an adventuress, always an adventuress, it seems.

Meanwhile, on the docks, the fight is still going on. Dinah seems to be trying mightily hard not to actually switch to tactics that'd leave the brutes in little pieces along the docks, using only the hilt of her dagger when it comes to landing actual blows. The approach leaves Dinah taking a few dagger-cuts and bruises herself, but eventually the fight tilts to her favor, blows being knocked wide. An uppercut knocks one brute back, a left hook takes out the other. "GET ME SOME BLOODY ROPE!," is called up to the crew of the Ten.

The bureaucratic brother fiddles around behind a cask which opens at the halfway point to reveal a narrow tunnel. Pietro lights a torch and moves forward quickly if cautiously.

Theophrastus says, "Secret tunnels. That's good."

A coil of rope sails through the air and lands a yard from Dinah's left foot. There is a flower on the end.

Addison says, "Welcome to Aventia. We have thugs, bureaucracy, wine, and secret tunnels!"

Lucretia's eyes brighten noticeably. "Oh, I /have/ missed this."

Theophrastus says, "Really? I was being sarcastic."

Ithunn has her own hands full, trying to fend off dagger swipes from the brutes, who seem to have figured out that the thane is not in a killing mood. After one particularly daring attack slashes her arm in a nasty cut she roars, rushing foward to close the distance between herself and the brute. The two tumble to the docks, punching and scrambling, Ithunn's sword inches from the man's throat.

Lucretia purses her lips. "Well, I could do without either the bureaucracy or the thugs. But what's an adventure without wine and secret tunnels?"

Dinah blows a kiss up to the deck of the Ten, and takes up the rope. The flower is tucked behind her ear, and she clears her throat. "I just /love/ this place," she chimes, tying up her two unconscious foes.

Theophrastus says, "Safe?"

Addison says, "Comfortable?"

Several minutes of prowling through tunnels later, Fra Pietro stops and whispers, "Up there." He points to a staircase that looks to have been hewn from bedrock. "I can't be seen with you if I want to keep working against the Council. There will be...resistance."

If they were not crawling through a wine tunnel, Theo would give Addison respect knuckles.

The brute with the sword at his throat drops his knife to the wood of the docks and tries to move away from the blade.

Addison decides there is nothing for it, really, and heads up the stairs carved from bedrock. Although somehow he thinks that /working against the Council/ may be naggingly bad.

Lucretia looks at Addison, then at Fra Pietro. "Council?" she inquires sotto voce. She gives Theo one of her 'for THIS I studied to be a doctor?' looks.

Ithunn's sword has clattered aside, but that's probably for the best. She takes out her rage -- and it is slowly starting to turn to the Kitezh blood rage, though it's not there yet -- with fists that bloody her opponent's face, breaking his nose. Then she looks up, lunges for her sword and sets her eyes on the last thug--who is now beating a hasty retreat.

Theophrastus shrugs to Lucretia, with a 'What's a little rebellion?' expression.

Addison gives Lucretia a tiny shrug. "Rose hasn't really told me all that much about Montevalno and I've been too distracted with the secrets of the universe to get past Go! Montevalno. And we all know that guidebooks are bunk."

Fra Pietro says, "Try not to kill anyone." He puts special emphasis on the word Try. "Also," he adds, "I must ask that you not remove any of the records you find in the seventeenth cabinet along the eighth aisle."

Lucretia mms. "Always nice to know where not to look," she murmurs lightly. "All right. Making no promises. For god and for gynoplasty?"

On the docks, the silent brother moves out of the shadows and beckons the two warrior women towards him.

Theophrastus looks at Lucretia. "Ew?"

Addison says, in a tone that he intends to do the exact opposite, "So noted. No removing records from the seventeeth cabinet along the eighth aisle."

Fra Pietro gives Addison a nod of complete bureaucratic synchronicity and moves away from the group.

Dinah gestures to the heap of now-subdued brutes to one of the Ten's crew. "Keep an eye on them, hmm?" Then, smoothing out her clothes and flashing a grin to Ithunn, she moves toward the silent brother.

Ithunn wipes her sword clean on the brute with a broken nose before she sheaths it. She's bleeding in more than a couple of places, blood running down her own face, but she doesn't bother with it--following Dinah to the silent man.

Addison just follows along, certain that he is walking into the Death and Pasta All You Can Eat Buffet.

Lucretia mutters, "Next time I come here, I'll change into my plague-fighting outfit only after I've made sure I won't be fighting for my life." She sighs at her own lack of foresight, moving forward.

The quiet bureaucrat walks slowly but confidently down the docks. He does not look back to see if the ladies are following him.

Ithunn follows, wiping blood from her face with one hand.

Theophrastus says, "I didn't even bring mine. Thought it might have given the wrong impression."

Dinah follows along, slipping her dagger back into its hiding spot, paying little attention to the various cuts on her. "Lovely day," she asides to Ithunn, softly.

The rough staircase leads into an enormous room with high, vaulted ceilings and row upon row of cabinets, shelves, and cubbyholes. The aisles are easy enough to count.

Lucretia cocks up an interrogative eyebrow, casting around for signs of life.

Addison starts patiently counting down the aisles until he finds magic number seventeen. Once he does, he starts hunting for the eighth cabinet.

Ithunn flashes a grin to Dinah. "It's been a pleasure having tea with you, Lady Dinah. We really ought to do this more often."

The silent brother eventually leads Ithunn and Dinah to the grand staircase of a building that looks more like a cathedral than a government office. He withdraws a note from his pocket and hands it to Dinah.

Theophrastus says, "Hey, Addison," his voice low. "Keep it down, alright?"

Addison counts, "Five... Six... Seven... Eight. Eighth cabinet, Seventeenth Aisle." He opens the cabinet and begins to paw through the paperwork in it.

Ithunn looks toward the brother, then toward Dinah. "What does it say?"

The silent brother smiles and bows once to each lady. He gestures toward the building and then begins to go on his way.

Dinah lifts a brow to the brother, then looks down to the note. She unfolds it, slowly. "It's from the Minister of Nautical Affairs," she tells Ithunn quietly, then nods to the brother in thanks.

Lucretia shakes her head a little, keeping a careful eye on the direction of the corner. She takes a step back, throwing knife held somewhat less than casually. "I've heard of needing papers to practice medicine, but..."

The silent brother might have just winked before turning to go.

Ithunn looks surprised at the wink--or what might have been a wink. "Do we go in that building? What does the note say?" She keeps her voice very low.

Dinah just grins as she reads the note. "We go in," she says to Ithunn, tucking the note away and starting up the stairs with a swagger.

Ithunn says, "All right," following Dinah up the steps with a no swagger to her movements.

Addison comes out of the aisle with his hands full of paperwork. "Huh," he says quietly as he approaches the Mandrake's. "I cannot read Montevalnan. You know, we have a perfectly good Chantris with us, but it means going back to the boat. There's something here about land use. Maps and drawings. Also medical information."

Lucretia sighs, holding out a hand. "I can read Montevalnan." She says it almost irritably, though the irritation does not seem aimed at Addison. "...Just, make sure nobody shoots me while I'm reading?"

Theophrastus nods. "No one's going to shoot you."

Addison hands the paperwork to Lucretia. "I haven't actually gotten around to learning yet..."

Theophrastus says, "I'll be right back."

Theophrastus moves away from Addison and Lucretia, cutting across the aisles.

Lucretia does not look keen on Theo's dashing off, for some reason - but he's gone before she can protest. She begins skimming the documents worriedly.

Addison just sort of hangs around looking for anyone who is going to wander in and say 'Hey YOU!'

From several aisles away from Addison and Lucretia somebody says something in Montevalnan. It has a distinct 'hey YOU' tone.

Lucretia hms, reading as quickly and thoroughly as she's able to under the circumstances. "If we can actually get into a hospital and start seeing some actual damned patients, we should be able to figure out treatment. Mayb-" She looks up, muttering something under her breath in a foreign language. It sounds like it might be profane.

The lobby of the Hall of Records is grand. So is the hallway leading from it into the Minister of Nautical Affairs office. The secretary at the desk of that office is less grand. In fact, he's kind of a jerk. "Yes," he sneers. He does, however, say this in Thari.

Dinah is all smiles for the secretary. "Hello," she offers, cheerfully. "I'd like some charts."

The secretary continues sneering. "And I'd like a pony, dear."

"I don't believe you understood," Ithunn smiles at the secretary. She tries hard to keep the threat out of it, probably not succeeding. "She'd like some charts."

Addison clutches his letter opener at ready. This may look a little silly.

In the record room, the sounds of heavy footfalls can be heard very clearly.

Dinah doesn't loose any of her pleasant demeanor. "You're a bit old for a pony," she says with a wink. "And yes, I would like to see some charts." She tisks. "Don't make me invoke the treaty."

The secretary's next remark is cut off quickly. He seems to realize that he is smarting off to a well-armed Kitezhka and her equally dangerous-looking, legally-educated Minosian friend. "What treaty is that?" he asks in a failed attempt to sound brave.

"The Treaty of Antika," Dinah offers, batting her lashes.

The secretary gulps audibly. "Fine," he says. He scribbles something on a piece of paper. "Go down the hall. Third door. Ask for Lucia. She will show you what you want." He looks sick.

Dinah gives the secretary a smile that's all pearly white teeth. "Thank you," she chimes, with the joy of someone rubbing salt in a wound. And so, down the hall, third door, she goes.

Lucretia mutters to Addison, "Quick - what's the proper protocol in order to be legally entitled to be here?"

Addison hisses to Lucretia, "I've no idea. I will make something up on the fly. Dammit, I should have spent some time learning about Montevalno."

The heavy footfalls in the record room are exchanged for the *sching* of metal and the scuffling, shuffling sounds of footwork. Occasional grunts, thuds, and one or two muffled cries precede two much louder thuds.

Lucretia gives Addison an accusing look. "You're the -lawyer-! Fine, fine." She turns towards the direction of the voice, preparing to switch languages to the local one, drawing herself up imperiously. It wouldn't be the first time she's tried to bluff her way out of a bad situation. She pauses, then looks back at Addison quizzically. "...Next time, let's work out some legalese in advance. Sounds like our problem's been resolved."

Addison follows Lucretia and says, "Just because I am Corwin's bloody lawyer doesn't mean that I'm this jack of all trade tool that can be used in any situation or to open any inconvenient bottle, Lucretia! Just... look impressive, yes?"

Theophrastus comes around the aisle, shaking his right hand. "Jaws like damned rocks. Did we find what we needed?"

Addison's eyes get a bit wide. He looks at Theo and says, "I think so. I'm not sure but I think so."

Theophrastus nods. "I'm no expert, but I think they'll probably be coming around within ten minutes or so."

Addison says, "Then we bloody hell need to get out of here, don't we?"

Lucretia draws herself up to her full height, resting one hand on her hip, papers in that hand. She holds the throwing knife up by the tip in the other, a hip jutting out. "Honey, I was /born/ impressive." She turns to Theo, switching to a professional mask without seeming to need to shift gears through third. "Information which if we get to see actual victims should lead to treatment if not cure. Also, the poor are being shunted to plague camps out of the cities; don't know who, but someone familiar with Montevalno should be able to figure it out. Shall we get out while the getting's good?"

A door on one of the far walls opens and a female voice speaking Minosian with a heavy Montevalnan accent can be heard.

Theophrastus says, "Plague camps. Well, that's a mixed blessing. Let's get out of here. Back through the tunnel?"

Addison makes a "ladies' first" gesture toward the back tunnel.

Dinah's boots click distinctively as she walks across the floor. She speaks in Minosian as well, the language rolling off her tongue musically. She looks delighted.

Lucretia holds up a hand. Voice lowered, she whispers to the men, "That's Cyrus' fiancee."

The Montevalnan woman says something chipper and then her footsteps recede toward the door.

Addison asks, "Do you want us to stand here and wait, then? Or get the hell out of here?"

Theophrastus says, "And?"

Lucretia shrugs cheerfully. "If we have the time, I'd say we could arrange a place and time to meet up after we skedaddle? You know. In the interests of not getting separated in the wicked maze of bureaucracy."

The far door closes.

Dinah clears her throat. "Perhaps after this I'll go to that little coffee shop I saw by the docks and have a cuppa," she muses in Thari, before setting to looking through some charts.

Lucretia beams. "A practical woman. Right after my own heart. Right. Let's go." She marches towards the tunnel.

Theophrastus shakes his head, heading into the wine-destined tunnel.

Addison just trails afterward, giving all the nice paperwork a last fond look. If only Mostyn was here.

Dear Gideon - Drunk With Power!

Tue, 29 Apr 2008 20:16:57 GMT

Written in a dark blue, pocket-sized, leatherbound notebook with an embossed dragon on the cover. It was found in a sharkskin pouch. The text has been written in more than one alphabet and has been heavily encrypted.

Dear Gideon,

Heir.

I've got a letter in my pocket that says I'm the heir to the Duchy. It's official and everything. I have always lived with this situation as an outside chance. A never-gonna-happen thing. I mean, Dulcinea would have to enter a marriage contract that takes her out of the running and then Lorenzo would have to be missing for years for this to--

Oh.

So, here I am. A heartbeat away from becoming Lord Chantris.

I've actually got some measure of control over the House. The day-to-day things have fallen to me and I was already in charge of the fleet.

Therefore, I have decided to let this go completely to my head. From this point on, I am drunk with power!

To wit:

-Dulcy's horse is our new harbormaster!

-Everything must be painted green or gold before the next sunrise. Everything. Yes, even those.

-All units of measure on our lands will henceforth be referred to as Cyruses.

-The official language of House Chantris is one I just now made up. Heavy fines will be levied upon those who speak anything else.

-That woman I've been pining for over the last fifty years must be brought to Amber and become my bride!

I'll get Addison to draw up the proclamations and backdate them! Except for that last one. That's just crazy talk. I mean, seriously, what are the odds?

[LOG] Fun and Games in Minos

Wed, 23 Apr 2008 18:13:56 GMT

Dramatis Personae: Malachi, Cyrus, and a bunch of not-so-innocent bystanders
Setting: Cameron, Minos.

Cyrus sits at a table by himself but it looks as though at least two other people have recently departed because there are several glasses and small plates scattered around the table.

Malachi steps inside with a hand on his cloak and a lack of hesitation in his step that speaks to knowing the locale already, and all its exits. Not that this stops him in the slightest from confirming that these things haven't changed as he enters, gaze flicking across the place in a sweep that encompasses Cyrus and moves on to look for other facts of note before returning to rest on the man.

Cyrus nods minutely to Malachi to indicate that he would like to be joined at the table but if Malachi has other business that he won't interrupt. To the untrained eye, Cyrus would not appear to even know who Malachi is.

Malachi takes a seat at a right angle to Cyrus, where they can both watch the main entrance and each other without much indiscreet head turning. If there is any other business, it seems interruptable: he glances about briefly again, but without any particular target in his eyes.

Cyrus waves toward a server who begins clearing the bulk of the detritus from the table. The scent of cheap tobacco and expensive rum still hovers in the air. Cyrus orders a new drink for himself and indicates that he will buy whatever Malachi wants.

Malachi nods slightly in a way that encompasses thanks for the offer, that whatever Cyrus is having will suit him just as well, and a politely restrained curiousity as to how this trip to Minos has been treating the other man, all considered.

Cyrus lowers his voice once the server is away and says, "Things are good, so far. Still have to go to Manzanil, though." His expression shows what he thinks of that leg of the trip. "Still, it's good to catch up with some old friends. You?"

"Dull," Malachi says, and where once there might have been some distantly implied complaint in the adjective, this time there's an equally distant weary approval for a day in which he has not been confronted with anything new threatening to destroy everything he knows. "Dinah?"

Cyrus takes both glasses from the server and slides one toward his friend. "She's got her papers to show that she's the ambassador. And the Salt Queen sent her back to me with a business proposition." He smiles and takes a sip.

Malachi accepts the glass and has a sip, in a way that requests elaboration on that point. Or an indication that elaboration won't be coming, as appropriate.

Cyrus says, "She wants Chantris to deal exclusively with the Minosian whaling cartel."

Malachi ponders the matter over another sip, slow and easy tonight in a way that speaks to either appreciation for the drink, the company, or not being back on the very dull work of the ship. "Likely to take it?"

Cyrus says, "I'll have to pitch it to Dad and Dulcy but it won't be a hard sell. Have you heard what Rebma's charging these days?"

Malachi flicks a gesture that's some commentary on power plays about the nations. "Must think they have backing, to push that hard."

Cyrus shrugs, "They probably do. My people tell me Begma's in bed with them. Personally, I don't give a rat's ass about the politics but if I can save a few coins while giving Rebma a swat across the nose, I'm all for it."

Malachi raises his glass to express a similar sentiment, though the swig immediately following has something about not being able to make any political moves of his own while on navy business to it. "Good work," he says. "Expect Dinah has more than that in play."

Cyrus nods, "I'm sure she does. I know better than to ask." He takes a long sip.

Malachi makes a minute noncommital gesture that begs for a cigarette between his fingers. He has another swig, silent for a moment while politics settle between them on the table like a briskly fluffed tablecloth.

Cyrus leans back and surveys the room as if looking for marks. Apparently finding none, he turns back to Malachi. "You've got the Orchid Queen, now," he says. It's not a question. "How's she handle?"

"Solid," Malachi says. "Poise with her force. Halfway to grace, despite the size. Keel refit since I last sailed on her fixed the stability issues."

Cyrus nods admiringly. "I'm glad they've been treating her right." He sips. "I knew you would."

Malachi nods, lifting his glass again. "Solid enough to last centuries. Gerard doesn't waste what he has."

Cyrus smirks, "That he doesn't. Which is more than I can say for his youngest brother."

That's more than a distant glimmer of darkness in Malachi's eyes. He has a deliberate swig of his drink before saying, "Not much to say for him." The emphasis hovers somewhere between the last and penultimate words.

Cyrus nods and leaves it at that. His expression of distaste conveys more than words could.

Malachi focuses on his drink until any impulse to elaborate has been washed back down. That he looks more than once as if he is about to go into detail says more of his opinion than whatever the details might have been.

Cyrus manages a smile again. He says, "It's good to see you. Especially here." He lowers his voice further, "Interested in a little side business?"

Malachi allows that he could be, through his gaze settling back on Cyrus rather than through any nod.

Cyrus smirks, "I'm not saying we should do anything overt. No need to piss anybody off just now but if the opportunity should present itself..." His eyes dart about the room as if marking a couple of potentials.

Malachi settles back very slightly in his chair, as if relaxing with the drink, though it's a move that would be convincing only to someone watching him from the back and unable to see his face. He considers the occupants of the room in a different manner than he did when he first entered: it's not checking for threats, this time.

Cyrus signals a server as he finishes his drink. She delivers a bottle, a deck of cards, and a pack of cigarettes. Cyrus opens the first and pushes the last towards Malachi. He raises a brow. "Fancy a card game?" he asks. "Or something a bit more daring?"

Malachi draws out a cigarette, and cups his hand about a match to light it rather than indulging in any tricks that keep the flame steady. "Daring," he says, resting an arm along the back of his chair in a way that indicates the direction of the docks and the caveat that he's sailing out again at dawn.

Cyrus smirks and refills each glass. His gaze lingers on a newly-arrived man at a table by himself near the door. Cyrus knocks back his drink and fills his glass again. His lips barely move as a whisper carries itself to Malachi's ears. The whisper says, "Let's drink a bit more." Then "...a fight? Or do you have a better idea?"

Malachi tosses back the rest of his drink, and flicks an ember off the tip of his cigarette in a way that indicates approval for the plan.

Cyrus drinks a bit more but not enough to make him drunk. He waits until Malachi has finished his cigarette before raising his voice slightly. "Well, that's where you're wrong," he says. "I heard it from the man, himself."

Malachi stubs out the last ember, and says in an even voice, "You believed him?"

Cyrus sets his glass down a little too hard. "Are you calling me an idiot?" he says loud enough to be heard across the room. The man at the door and a few others turn towards the pair.

Malachi takes a slow, deliberate sip from his glass. "You're the one who said it."

Cyrus nods slowly and says, "That's how it is, huh?" He pushes his chair back with a loud scraping noise but does not stand. "Fine. If you want out, just say so. Don't try to pin this on the captain." His eyes widen as if he's getting angry.

Malachi leans forward over the table, to make an emphatic gesture with his empty glass. "You can't see the obvious? Don't come crying to me when he breaks. Some of us know better already."

Cyrus does stand now. He throws some coins on the table and moves toward the door. He leans down as he passes Malachi as if muttering something inflammatory to him. What he actually says is, "First strike yours or mine? Your call."

Malachi says in a low voice, "Yours. Something flashy." He shoves his own chair out from the table with an expression veering dangerously close to actually expressing visible anger.

Cyrus pushes Malachi's chest with both hands as if to clear him out of the way so he can get to the door more quickly. Anyone watching closely might conclude that he's doing it with the intent to harm Malachi in the process. Anyone watching from Malachi's point of view would see that he is telegraphing the move.

Malachi takes a half step back, raising his hands defensively, then grabs at Cyrus's shoulder for one of those half-thrown shoves that looks far more impressive if the person on the other side of it is putting a little effort into adding to the distance.

Cyrus is apparently taken completely by surprise as Malachi throws him and he stumbles toward the door. He is unable to stay on his feet, however, and he lands on the fellow by the table. Cyrus begins to apologize to the hapless sailor when the bartender shouts, "Take this outside, fellas!" The bartender hefts a cudgel by way of emphasizing his point.

Malachi stalks forward towards Cyrus, ignoring the bartender entirely, as one hand curls into a fist. To most people, he appears ready to try that move again through something more breakable. To Cyrus, he looks as if he's just starting to properly enjoy himself.

Cyrus has just begun to stand and move away from the man he knocked over as he hears Malachi's foosteps approaching. He attempts to back away from the larger man and succeeds only in tripping over the prone sailor. He puts his hands up in front of himself and tries to get to the door. This puts him right in the way of a man who is running out, perhaps in response to the fight.

Malachi grabs for Cyrus's collar with one hand, coincidentally setting himself in a place that's now blocked the exit entirely with one arm outstretched in front where the running man has no hope of evading short of stopping and going another direction entirely. He could be pulling Cyrus in for a blow, or to clear him from the doorway, though it seems unlikely that many would take the latter interpretation at this point.

Cyrus's head rocks back as he is struck by Malachi. He falls into the man who was trying to escape. Cyrus uses the man as something to push off of as he launches himself toward Malachi. He hits Malachi's chest with one forearm and reaches for his shoulder with his other hand. If he meets no resistance this will take both of them out the door and onto the docks.

Malachi's eyes flick ever so rapidly across the tavern, taking in the likelihood of getting a good fight in there, and then lets himself go stumbling right back out the door with Cyrus onto the docks. He takes the opportunity of the movement backward to grab Cyrus' wrist and twist the man's arm away in a move that looks far more painful than it feels.

Cyrus grits his teeth and makes a pained noise as he flies past Malachi. He rolls onto the docks but most of that roll looks involuntary. He looks around quickly and draws a dagger as he gets to his feet and backs up to put some more distance between himself and Malachi. He might have just winked.

Malachi's hand acquires a dagger from somewhere inside his cloak--it's not the one at his hip--as he comes stalking out after the man. He hooks a foot around a sealed barrel set conveniently near his path, and kicks it off in Cyrus' direction at a clattering roll.

Cyrus takes his eyes off Malachi in order to avoid the barrel. He steps to the side and does not lose his balance but he has allowed Malachi to advance on him and cannot flee effectively at this point. So he moves around behind three men who look to be from the Commodore of Antika's personal crew. One of them sees that he is between two men with knives and quickens his pace. The other two have yet to notice. Cyrus's free hand darts into and out of his jacket.

Malachi advances steadily on Cyrus, dagger in his right hand. Rather than cutting around the two men remaining in the way, he slaps the one directly in front of him out of his way with a blow that could crack ribs. In some matter of kindness, or the night being young, he does so with his unoccupied hand, and so merely sends the man stumbling off into the third, rather than perforating anyone yet.

Cyrus makes an odd move that looks as if he's atempting to help the stumbling man but he's doing so ineptly. He grabs the man and ends up hurrying him towards the wood of the dock. This causes him to fall into the third sailor as Cyrus jogs along to the side and threatens Malachi with his knife. His free hand is open and empty. He takes a half-step forward as his eyes sparkle with suppressed amusement.

Malachi makes a curt "bring it" gesture with his free hand, to all appearances ignoring the three men about them as irrelevant to the fight before him. His dagger swings up defensively, and when he steps to the side to work around Cyrus he's incidentally cut the brighter of the three off from the other two.

Cyrus slashes towards Malachi twice and is parried each time. He gets a panicked look and 'inadvertently' backs into one of the prone men who was just beginning to stand. The man grabs Cyrus's leg to prevent himself from being stepped on. Cyrus reacts to this by kicking the man savagely in the ribs. He windmills his arms in an attempt to remain upright. The other prone man looks up in mild horror at Cyrus's flailing knife.

Malachi steps in with a shoulder check that takes full advantage of his height to send the smaller man falling. On top of the prone men, of course, and with a purely 'accidental' step onto a hand while he helps Cyrus down. He follows down to pin Cyrus over the ground and the men, slamming his dagger into the wood of the docks a finger's length away from Cyrus's ear. "You get my point?" he asks, ignoring the man whose back is now supporting his knee. The man in question has enough wisdom to not offer objection to the liberty Malachi is taking just yet.

Cyrus's knife clatters to the wood as he opens his hand. He says, "Um, yeah. I guess I was wrong, after all." He chuckles nervously as his eyes cant over to the knife beside his head. "Me and my big mouth, huh?"

"Liable to cause you trouble some day," Malachi says, and stands, taking his dagger back up with him. He offers Cyrus his free hand up, with one foot resting on the discarded knife.

Cyrus takes Malachi's hand and pushes off of one of the sailors beneath them as he does so. He makes no move toward the knife. "That's what I get for listening to Rebmans, eh? Won't happen again."

The only Antikan sailor who remained standing mutters darkly about Rebma.

Malachi glances briefly to the sailor who spoke, with no more threat to the look than is inherent in a man holding an unsheathed dagger in one hand. "Mind it doesn't," he says to Cyrus, and moves his foot from the knife.

Cyrus steps back and offers to help one of the Commodore's men up. He mutters an apology for the trouble and he unhooks a small pouch from his belt with his free hand. He tosses it to the standing sailor saying, "Buy yourselves a round on me."

The first prone sailor accepts the help up. He is holding his ribs where Cyrus's foot and then Malachi's knee used to be.

Malachi offers the other fallen man a hand, not stooping to offer it. His "stern" look at Cyrus has a great deal of commentary on the entertainment having come at a quite reasonable price somewhere inside it.

The sailors look dubious as they react to their injuries and go on their way but they don't look interested in causing any trouble. There is a little more grumbling about Rebma.

Cyrus says, "Care for a drink? If I remember the blueprints correctly, the Queen has a nice Captain's Quarters."

Malachi says, "Well-stocked. Could use a shakedown."

Cyrus smirks and retrieves his dagger. "Lead on, Captain."

Malachi nods evenly to Cyrus, and leads the way. That turn at one corner of his mouth is surely only a trick of the light.

Cyrus follows Malachi up the gangplank and into the Captain's quarters. Once they are safely inside he rubs his jaw where Malachi hit it and allows himself a chuckle. He heads for a chair and begins shedding his jacket which looks heavier than it should.

Malachi cracks open a liquor cabinet, and surveys the contents as if it's the first time he's looked inside for longer than to assure himself there wasn't anyone hiding in there. "Rebmans," he says. "Nice touch."

Cyrus smirks, "It just came to me." He reaches into various pockets of his jacket, some of them in places pockets don't look like they should be. He begins placing things on the table. A pouch, a small leather case, two sharkskin envelopes and what looks to be a traditional Minosian wedding ring, well worn.

Malachi returns with two glasses of an excellent whiskey, setting them down near the pocket contents on the table. "Busy night?"

Cyrus takes the glass with a nod of thanks. He sips and nods again as he closes his eyes and savors the whiskey. He opens them and says, "All picked up during the fight. So, half of it's yours, by rights." He points to the ring, "One of the Commodore's men had this in his pocket. Looks like he didn't want the ladies of Cameron to think him unavailable."

Malachi takes up the ring, and turns it about between two fingers as he sits before his own glass. "He's in for a more interesting evening than he thinks he's already had." The ring goes back on the table, and he takes up the sharkskin envelopes to look over the contents as he drinks.

The two envelopes were apparently taken from the same man. Each one is identical except that the orders inside are contradictory. As if his goal was to send to people against each other so that he could benefit from the ensuing conflict.

Cyrus opens the case to reveal several finely crafted scalpels. He raises a brow and looks to the envelopes.

Malachi reads the orders at his leisure, between sips of whiskey, and then turns them over to Cyrus. With no spoken commentary, but a slight lift of his brow as he offers them for a second opinion.

Cyrus slides the scalpels to the center of the table for perusal as he looks at the orders. "Interesting," he says. "Did I just pick your father's pocket?" He chuckles. "No, of course not. He would never be this sloppy."

Malachi takes out a scalpel with some care, considering the heft and make of the blade. "Unless he wanted the pocket picked," he says. And adds, a touch distracted, "Easier then to plant it on someone else."

Cyrus takes a sip and then says, "Good point. I wish I could remember which guy I took those off of. It was one of the ones in the bar. He's sure gonna miss those."

"He'll remember us," Malachi says, not sounding as if this is something of any great concern to him, and sets the scalpel back in its case. "Might come looking."

Cyrus shrugs, "Might be willing to strike a deal. But I'm off to Manzanil in the morning on The Apple. If he's not too embarrassed to have lost those he'll still think twice about stepping onto your sister's ship." He grins, "I'm pretty sure my girlfriend can beat him up."

"Expect so," Malachi says. If that was a trace of pride in his voice, he covers it with more whiskey.

Cyrus weighs the pouch in his non-drink hand and it jingles. He opens it to reveal a collection of coins from multiple ports all over shadow. "Nice," he says. "This is three times what I gave to that Antikan." The fact that Cyrus could toss a hundred of these pouches overboard and not put a dent in his personal finances goes unspoken.

Malachi says blandly, "Good profit." He considers the case of scalpels and the wedding ring, weighing the value of the two against each other, and finally selects the scalpels.

Cyrus pockets the pouch and studies the ring and the envelopes. "Those would all make for good insurance policies if we ever ran into those guys again. Not much value by themselves."

"Expect to?" Malachi asks, arranging the two sets of orders side by side for another moment of thought. "Bad lighting outside," he comments, a finger briefly on the ring.

Cyrus shakes his head. "The tall fella wasn't from Cameron. I couldn't place his accent but he was definitely from one of the other islands. The one who was trying to run didn't speak but he was nervous enough that I'm not worried about him." He finishes his drink.

Malachi shrugs one shoulder, and collects the wedding ring, for all that it's of little use.

Cyrus nods and slides the orders towards his side of the table. "I'd better see if Dinah's back yet. She wants to set sail at first light." He doesn't stand just yet, though. He takes the time to see that the seals on the envelopes are once again watertight.

Malachi turns the ring once more between his fingers, and then tucks it away into an inner pocket. The case of scalpels he sets aside with a more thoughtful glance, as if it might be destined to become a present for someone else. "Same here. Another path grind back to Amber. Manzanil?"

Cyrus nods and his expression sobers. "To meet the in-laws. Well, to see them again. I've met them already. Didn't make a good impression the last few times."

"Heads of their enemies," Malachi suggests, and has a swig of whiskey. "In a sturdy crate lined against leaking." The suggestion is not unsympathetic, nor entirely facetious.

Cyrus smiles, "Dis's gunner recommended spleens."

Malachi says, "More a sack than a crate, with those."

Cyrus chuckles. "Easier to transport, I hear." He stands and extends a hand. "Pleasure doing business with you, Mal. It's good to have one prospective inlaw who only tries to stab me when I ask for it."

Malachi rises, and takes Cyrus's hand. "Reliable that way," he says. He's said too much lately about fate being a bitch to wish anyone good luck, but some of the intent carries through in his grasp anyway.

Cyrus nods and releases Malachi's hand after clasping his forearm with his free hand. "I'll see you back in Amber. Be careful out there." He turns to leave.

Malachi nods slightly to Cyrus as the man goes, a "You too" so brief it'll only be caught in peripheral vision.

Dear Gideon - Jessamine and Deadeye don't kill Cyrus...yet.

Tue, 22 Apr 2008 19:14:24 GMT

Written in a dark blue, pocket-sized, leatherbound notebook with an embossed dragon on the cover. It was found in a sharkskin pouch. The text has been written in more than one alphabet and has been heavily encrypted.

Dear Gideon,

I'm back on The Apple, thank the gods. I survived the talk with Dinah's mother and brother. Jessamine is more formidable than ever and Corbin seems to have taken to the role of Commodore quickly and skillfully. Daggers were drawn but everyone left with the same number of holes we came in with. It's just possible that I may have impressed them. Either way, the last barrier is down and it's all over but the ceremony.

I ran into Malachi briefly in Cameron. He's the brother-in-law I'm looking forward to having around. One out of six ain't bad. Being back in Minos combined with being back with Dinah has got me acting like I'm fifty again. Mal and I got up to our old tricks but unlike so many times before, neither of us ended up in jail. See? I'm growing up.

I did come out of the encounter with a couple of things that might make life a bit smoother in the future.

We're heading back to Amber at first light. Malachi assures me that it's still pretty much the way I left it.

Dear Gideon - Back In Minos

Thu, 17 Apr 2008 18:15:19 GMT

Written in a dark blue, pocket-sized, leatherbound notebook with an embossed dragon on the cover. It was found in a sharkskin pouch. The text has been written in more than one alphabet and has been heavily encrypted.

Dear Gideon,

I'm in Cameron with Dinah. Well, we're both in Cameron but she's talking to Lady Swyft and I'm catching up with old friends. I even made a new old friend. At least, he'll be my friend until he figures out that I'm the one who swiped that manifest from his pocket. There were a lot of whale products listed on it. Go figure.

Speaking of business, there might be more of that to speak of soon. Once I'm back in Amber I need to have a quick chat with Dulcy and Dad. I really hope it doesn't turn into a long chat.

We'll spend one or two nights here and then it's off to Manzanil which is half full of people who want to kill me. About half of the others would move out of the way to make the killing easier. But! The remainder might actually keep the others from killing me. Sure, it would just be so they could have the pleasure of doing it themselves but that's something, right?

Speaking of people who want to kill me, we're going to talk to Dinah's mother. Her brothers are probably in town, too. At least Drake doesn't want to kill me much.

Here's hoping this isn't my last entry.

OOC: A Training Manual

Thu, 17 Apr 2008 15:21:21 GMT

Here's a suggestion for those of you considering combat training with another PC.

[LOG] In Which Cannons Are Charged Several Times

Tue, 15 Apr 2008 05:51:58 GMT

Dramatis Personae: Dinah, Molly, Gilgamesh, Cyrus
Setting: A few shadows over from Shu-Fen

The Ten of Swords leaves the river behind and heads out to sea. The pearl has been delivered to Prince Benedict who has requested that the ship stay in the area for a while to assist in the patrols against further Black Road incursions. The sky is clear and the waters are calm.

Gilgamesh appears on deck. "Headache finally gone...."

Molly climbs up on deck, yawning. "Any more monsters out here?"

Dinah is at the helm once more, hair still drying from the dip in the ocean. "Afternoon," is chimed to Gilgamesh and Molly as they appear.

Gilgamesh says, "So...when is this adventure going to start?"

Cyrus handles the rigging at the foremast again. He hums a shanty as he does so.

Molly leans against the railing and looks out over the water, enjoying the view. She spares a moment for a glare at Gilgamesh, and a snort.

Seabirds sweep over the ship in great circles.

"You missed the terrible beastie, Gilgamesh," Dinah calls down after her own snort. "But I'm sure that we can find another for you, if you'd like.

Prince Benedict said something about dragons..."

Cyrus says, "He did, didn't he?"

Gilgamesh says, "Wha'? I slept through it? Why didn't you wake me?"

Molly heads wheelwards. "Dragons? She asks, entirely too eagerly."

Dinah lifts a brow to Gil. "We were trying very hard NOT TO DIE at the moment." To Molly, she nods. "Aye. Dragons."

Cyrus says, "I guess we'd better make sure the cannons are topped off. Because, y'know...dragons."

Gilgamesh says, "Because, you know, they're bad guys."

Molly nods. "We're down two guns. Not so good if there's dragons." She snickers, "Unless you think sleepyhead here can make up the difference."

As the ship moves on and the land disappears behind the horizon, the number of birds in the sky drops sharply.

"Except that one Benedict was helping out," Dinah says with a nod. "Maybe. But, either way, it's good to have the Cannons ready to go." She considers Gilgamesh for a moment. "Think you could wrestle a dragon, dearie?"

Cyrus smirks, "He survived you, Darling."

Gilgamesh says, "What, and give my father Haley? I think I'll just shoot it."

Molly moseys herself down to her guns and pulls herself up into the rigging. She shouts down, "We got shook up a bit earlier, I' gonna check out the 'rods. Make sure they're still sturdy up there."

Dinah nods to Molly, giving the woman a grin before glaring at Cyrus. "Are you saying I'm a horrible beastie?"

Cyrus blows Dinah a kiss. "Not horrible, Love." He winks. "You need me to help nature along?" He points to the pristine, blue sky.

Molly is back in her element. She moves deftly across the ropes and up the main mast. She yanks and rattles at the lightning rods and makes a few adjustments.

Gilgamesh arches a brow at Cyrus.

Dinah sighs, and turns her cheek towards the blown kiss. She glances up to the sky herself, then nods. "Aye. Not too big of a storm, hmm, luv? Wouldn't want to make the landlubber go green on us."

Cyrus salutes Dinah, "Aye, Captain." He winks at Gil and moves to the port side. "I hope those aren't your nice clothes," he says as he reaches into a pouch at his belt.

Gilgamesh says, "You'll see those at your wedding."

Cyrus brings his hand out of the pouch in a fist. He flings his arm out over the railing and several small stones fly out into the water.

Molly finishes checking up on the rods and slides her way down a rope, she grabs hold of another one and flips end over end on her way down to the deck, grinning like a loon. "Hey Gil", she pipes as she drops down next to him. "Think I could teach yer girlfriend something about rope dancing?"

The sky along the eastern horizon darkens.

Gilgamesh says, "Would not exactly bother me, no."

Dinah's lips curl into a smile at the sound of the rocks hitting the surface of the water and sinking below the waves. "I love this," she says into the air, lifting her head and closing her eyes.

Cyrus moves to the mainmast and orders the two crewmen to man the foremast. Wind blows through his short hair as he inspects the sails and the rigging from the deck. He actually wets his finger, then, and holds it up to test the wind.

Molly stations herself beside her guns, getting them ready.

Gilgamesh disappears belowdecks.

Molly glares at the retreating Gilgamesh. "What the...?"

Cyrus looks back to the wheelhouse with a raised brow and a shrug.

Molly looks up to the sky, assessing. She tugs her hat down firmly on her head and flips up the wide collar of her overcoat, then bends back down to her work.

Dinah lifts both of her brows, watching Gilgamesh go below decks. She shrugs to Cyrus, then tightens her bandana. "Let's do this, then," she calls out.

Cyrus adjusts the mainsail and follows Dinah's orders closely so that they are heading into the storm at top speed. The winds whip around the deck and the waves rise and fall like great, grey hills. Flashes of light can be seen in the distance accompanied by low rumbles.

Gilgamesh reappears from belowdecks, coat on, hood up, and armed with what is likely a bow.

Molly finishes up her prep work and rises. She looks out appreciatively at the darkening water and sky, her hands rise into the wind, catching at it for a moment and a laugh, full of joy bursts from her lips.

"Welcome back, Gil," Dinah says with a grin. She holds to the spokes of the wheel tightly, and her hair dances wildly behind her. Molly isn't the only one laughing, the sound of Dinah's traveling over the deck.

Cyrus is working hard at the rigging and exhorting the other crewmen to do the same but he's got a grin as he does it. As the ship gets closer to the lightning, Cyrus's eyes flash in time to the strikes.

Gilgamesh waves the bow. He pulls out what appears to be a candle, and wedges it in between a belaying pin and the railing.

The winds seem to blow in from all directions but Dinah and the crew keep the ship headed straight into the heart of the storm. The area of greatest lightning is dead ahead. Heavy rain pours from the sky onto the deck as if a switch has been flipped. Soon the rain is flying sideways.

Molly climbs up onto the railing for a better view, grabbing onto a rope for balance. She looks out into the eye of the storm and waits.

Dinah lifts her brows as Gilgamesh brings out a...candle. She doesn't ask, or comment, just concentrates on keeping the Ten on her course. Another laugh rolls out, and Dinah's eyes brighten to a dazzling blue. "No getting hit this time, Stormcrow," she reminds, as lightning touches down a scant few feet from the bow.

Cyrus says, "Aye, Captain," in a conversational tone but he can be heard clearly across the deck.

Gilgamesh hunches over and lights the candle. When he backs up, the weather doesn't put it out. It doesn't even waver the flame.

The flame is not touching the wood.
The Ten does not go up in flames.

Molly glances down curiously at Gil's flame, but soon looks back up to keep tabs on the lightning.

Gilgamesh says, "Um...guys. " He takes out a spool of flexible wire and winds one end around the candle. "Is there supposed to be a guy with a trident up there taking notice of us? Cause I'm not used to this procedure these days."

Lightning strikes the water near the ship. Then another strike and another. The lightning rods begin to hum in sympathy.

Cyrus looks out towards the storm. "What?!?" he asks. He scans the turbulent skies.

Gilgamesh uncovers the bow, begins to twist the lever that tightens the string. "I think we're attracting attention on high."

Molly looks at Gil, brows drawn down. Her eyes widen and she looks around wildly. She jumps back down to the deck, and taking a cue from Gil reaches down for her crossbow.

The sound of thunder is a constant thing now. Then BLAM! a blue-white bolt strikes one of the rods and power courses into the attached gun. The rod glows a brilliant yellow and begins slowly cooling to orange.

Cyrus's hair stands on end and he blinks a couple of times before straining to catch as much wind as possible with the sails.

Molly drops her crossbow and pulls herself up into the rigging. As she reaches the softly glowing rod she pulls on a single heavy glove and yanks the rod out of it's seat at the cannon. She slides down, repositioning the rod in a safer place. She calls down to Cyrus, "I did mention we only had two guns down, right? Only you might be over-doing things here."

Gilgamesh attaches the wire to an arrow, then notches and pulls back, closing his eyes and concentrating on something.

Cyrus shouts over to Molly. "I didn't do it! I don't know what's going on!"

Molly shouts, "Not good!" and scrambles back up into the rigging to watch over the other rod. Her body sways on the ropes in the wind, but she barely seems to take notice of it."

Gilgamesh launches the arrow into the storm. The wire is almost like string...maybe it's fine chain. It arcs out...then lightning zaps it, and there's a glowing filiment as the wire burns away. There's also an exploding candle, very small droplets of wax spreading out in a fifteen foot radius as the candle goes out. "CRAP," is Gil's only reply.

The clouds in one section of sky darken further and begin to form into a large man with a trident. Very large. A booming voice says, "WHO DARES TO CALL STORMS IN MY DOMAIN?"

Gilgamesh's reply is mostly lost in the wind. "That Black Rrr.....Mage....over...there......"

Molly glares up at the sky. "I thought you were kidding she yells down to Gil."

"I don't think this is good," Dinah whispers, though it carries well over the sounds of the storm.

Gilgamesh shakes his head.

Cyrus shouts, "Oh, come on!"

Dinah mutters to herself, "... go... said...."

Molly points a finger up to the sky and tells Dinah, "That is not a dragon, Boss."

Gilgamesh squints, trying to make SOMETHING out.

The trident-wielding giant booms, "YOU HAVE NOT PAID TRIBUTE."

Gilgamesh says, "Does he want rum? Cookies?"

Dinah offers, "The blood of innocents?"

Cyrus snorts, "Good luck with that.'

The wind stops.

Molly yells down, "Just to clarify, someone just told me yesterday I wasn't passing as innocent! Just in case anyone has any funny ideas."

Dinah looks up at the sails, as if silently praying that they've got their own personal wind propelling them.

The Ten of Swords is now in the eye of a great storm. All is calm nearby but a wall of cloud, rain, wind, and lightning courses around her.

Dinah nods to Molly. "Aye. Too many recreational knots for you!"

The giant with the trident is nowhere to be seen.

Gilgamesh says, "Well. Are we charged?"

Molly shakes her head. "We just got one." She looks from face to face. "Not that I'm suggesting we hang around or anything."

Cyrus tries desperately to angle the sails so they can catch a scrap of wind but there is no moving air to be found. Even voice and other sounds seem muffled.

Gilgamesh says, "If we get moving, I can shadow-shift......"

The booming voice comes from every direction. "YOUR SHIP WILL DO NICELY. GO, MY CHILDREN. TAKE THE TRIBUTE."

"Um. I hate to break it to you, Tall and Grouchy, but you're NOT taking this ship," is said by Dinah, her voice calm and reasonable.

Gilgamesh notches another arrow. Or ballista bolt, depending on your view.

Molly drops lightly out of the rigging onto the deck. She hurries to the guns, grabbing up her crossbow from the deck along the way.

Lightning sparks out from various places along the wall of cloud. Every place on the water that it hits forms a roughly man-sized creature made of electricity. They move along the water making loud crackling sounds as they do so.

Molly takes a step backwards despite herself. "Boss," she says quietly, though her voice carries strongly through the silence. "I don't know if the guns are gonna work on them."

Gilgamesh frowns, ties another chain to the arrow. Moves towards the remaining uncharged gun.

Dinah is a bit wide eyed, for a brief moment. "No, Molly, I don't think they will," she says, her own voice carrying. She looks to Cyrus. "Suggestions?"

Cyrus has left the rigging behind and looks out over the water. He begins to speak and then looks to Gilgamesh, "No, but I think I see what he's thinking."

The lightning creatures are soon joined by beings made of dark cloud. Each of those is followed by a vortex of air that picks up sea water as it dances along the surface.

Cyrus looks up to the sky and shouts, "Your kids suck!"

Molly looks back and forth between the two men. "well I sure don't. Would you like to share? Or you two wanna handle this on your lonesome?"

Gilgamesh attaches the other end of the chain to the lightning rod on the uncharged cannon.
Gilgamesh says, "Well, you wanna charge your cannon or not?"

Cyrus unclips his crossbow and shrugs. He levels it and aims it at one of the cloud creatures. He fires and the bolt goes cleanly through it. "Figures," he says.

Molly Grins Hugely. "Oh, yes. Yea I do!"

Gilgamesh stands ground. Er, wood. And pulls back, lets fly at the nearest of the lightning creatures.

The arrow flies from Gil's bow and passes through the lightning man. Once the attached chain makes contact with the electricity, it goes taut and sparks travel up the metal. The lightning creature grows smaller as the lightning rod begins to glow.

Gilgamesh says, "THAT experiment worked......"

Cyrus shouts toward Gil. "Holy crap! You're a genius!"

Molly's eyes gleam, and a wide grin takes over her face. "Again!" She shouts gleefully.

Molly looks up at Gil. "Don't tell Haley, but right now I *love* you."

Gilgamesh mouths sideways, "Shoot the cloud beasties."
Gilgamesh preps another arrow. Checks the amount of wire. "Crap."

Molly moves to her first gun, saying, "Once that one reads full, follow behind me and recharge the ones I fire." She pauses at his exclamation. "Problem?" She aims at one of the water creatures.

Muttering to Molly, Gilgamesh's voice is singsong. "Don't know if I have enough wiiiire......."

Gilgamesh preps the wire on the cannon about to be shot.

Molly peers at Gil. "Over by the wheelhouse," She says, waving a hand dismissively. "I brought some extra on board to help with the rods." She continues to aim. "Send a deckhand." She pops her head up "You! Swabbie!" she shouts. "Fetch us that bundle of wire over by the Captain." she finishes aiming. "Fire when ready?" she asks.

Gilgamesh says, "Go for it before they do."

The various creatures continue to close in on The Ten of Swords.

Molly shouts, "Fire!" and sets of the cannon, peering over it eagerly. "This had better work!"

Gilgamesh pulls as soon as the cannon discharges, and fires the wire-tapped arrow at another electric monstrosity.

The crewman drops a large coil of wire at Gilgamesh's feet.

Lightning crackles and flows in two directions. The blast from the cannon reaches the cloud monster first and causes a loud BANG! along with a geyser of steam. There is no more cloud creature. The juice from the lightning monster is sucked into the cannon's charging rod.

Gilgamesh blinks. "I'm dreaming this. This can't be that ....I mean, yeah, circle of life and all, but this is too literal...." He preps another arrow.

Molly mumbles to Gil, "Just keep shooting. I'm going to run out of cannons long before we're back to full on them."

Molly and Gilgamesh fall into a rhythm which nicely decreases the number of lightning and cloud creatures but there are a lot of them and it's obvious that some of the things will reach the ship before they're all gone.

Gilgamesh thrums away.

A few cloud and lightning creatures reach the ship and begin climbing up the hull.

Molly shouts as she continues firing on the water beings, "A little help over here! We've got company! Anybody..."

Cyrus leaps toward the railing and says, "Hey, that's gonna leave a mark!" He grabs some of Molly's wire along the way and wraps it around a sheathed dagger which he tosses to Molly. "Get this onto the rod!" he shouts.

Molly gives a hairy-eyeball to Cyrus but uses the wire to bind the dagger to the rod.

Cyrus wraps the rest of the wire around another dagger which he then plunges into the railing right in the middle of a lightning beast. He jumps backward as if he had just thrust his hand into a being made entirely of electricity.

Sparks shoot up the wire and into the cannon near Molly.

Cyrus shakes his hand and walks backwards to the wheelhouse. "How long did Nyx say the water breathing was going to last? Next sunup?" He turns to Dinah. "I think I know how to get the wind back in our sails." He's grinning. It's a dangerous grin.

Molly checks the gauge. "Well *that* worked amazingly well! Move on, Gil. Next one." She grins at Cyrus. "No wonder the Boss likes you."

Gilgamesh preps two arrows, but on the same wire. Takes aim with two bolts on the string. Fires, sending a bolt each into one electricity creature and one mist creature. Flaps his hand in pain after firing.

Dinah looks at Cyrus like he's absolutely batshit insane and she loves him for it. "Aye. Sunup," she says with a nod. She starts pulling off her clothing, quickly. "What are you thinking, Stormcrow? Aside from me taking a swim?"

Cyrus says, "How *fast* can you swim?"
Cyrus grabs a coil of rope.

Molly unwinds the dagger and moves it to another rod. She pulls the dagger out of the railing and holds on to it in case another creature pops up close enough to use it. She bends to continue shooting at the mist creatures. "Are they about to do something incredibly stupid?" she asks Gil.

Gilgamesh says, "I don't know," as he preps more wire. "I am distinctly NOT looking at Dinah."

Molly peers over her shoulder. "Oh, my!" she says innocently. "Look at those thighs. Has she been working out?"

Gilgamesh says, "Monsters, Molly. Concentrate on the MONSTERS. Tease me after we're not dead."

Dinah considers. "I'm getting a might bit pissed off right now, so I'd say fairly fast," she decides after a moment. She is, beneath all her clothing, wearing a small set of scaled swimtrunks and a top that matches. It's almost modest. And yes, she's been working out.

Molly shrugs. "I might not have the chance later..."

Cyrus nods and tosses Dinah one end of the rope. He ties the other end to the starboard railing and says, "Ready when you are, Skipper."

Gilgamesh preps two more arrows. THRUMMMMmmmmmm. "Oh, crap!"
Gilgamesh sucks on his fingers.

Dinah salutes, and climbs up on one of the rails. The rope is wrapped around her wrist, and she takes a breath. "Maybe those whale friends of yours are about," she says over her shoulder, before swandiving into the sea.

Gilgamesh preps his last two arrows. "Not looking, not looking, not looking...."

Cyrus watches Dinah as she dives and then starts shouting. "Hey!" he says. "Yeah, I'm talkin' to you, you windy bastards! You couldn't blow out a birthday candle!"

Molly startles back from her gun as an electricity creature crawls up over the railing. She nearly stumbles, but catches herself and throws the wire-wrapped dagger at it, sucking most of it into her power reserves. A little washes back along the leading wire and jumps to her arm. She giggles, as she moves and her coat crackles and sparks with the motion. "Hey Gil!" she says proudly, " I just got my hair curled!" Then she giggles like a maniac and shoots off another cannon shot.

Gilgamesh says, "Make sure to get his name this time, you can't gossip about how good he was if you have to keep numbering them...."
Gilgamesh lets loose his last two bolts, one mist, one electric.

Dinah doesn't come up for air, and whatever she's doing is lost to the dark depths of the water. But the rope she's tied to keeps going into the water behind her.

Each of Gilgamesh's bolts strikes true and the second cannon now has a full charge.

Cyrus continues shouting at the wind creatures. He has moved on to vulgarities in other languages.

The vortices begin to converge on the same spot.

Dinah keeps swimming, swimming, swimming.

Gilgamesh lodges the bow in one of the many little nooks on a ship used for lodging things, reaches into his coat with his right hand and pulls out brass knuckles, already on his fist. A seal of some sort mars the smooth surface.

Cyrus watches the area that he believes Dinah to be in. The rope suddenly goes slack beside him.

Dinah breaks the surface, finally, and when she does, it's near that forming convergence. Her voice carries over the sea, loud and angry. "Look here, you bastards! Do you have any idea who the bloody hell I am?!? I'm -Discordia-." The blue of her eyes flashes, like lightning. "And you will bloody well listen to me, you little twits, and fill my damned sails." She hisses out a word, some obscure dialect of Minosian.

The wind creatures chase Dinah but she stays just ahead of them. She reaches the ship and is assisted on board by Cyrus and the two crewmen who haul her up via rope. Wind buffets the sails and the deck crew manage to wrestle them into a configuration that will send them back into the wall of storm.

Dinah says, "I'm not quite sure they liked that!" Like it wasn't obvious.
Molly elbows Gil. "That's my Captain, that is." Her eyes are bright with pride.

From the waters just ahead of the wall, a man-sized figure rises to the surface and strides toward the ship as if he were just going for a stroll. He carries a trident and points it at the ship. He begins growing.

Molly groans. "Oh, not HIM again!"

Gilgamesh says, "Oh, that's not good."

Dinah is soaking wet, of course. "Someone get us the bloody hell out of this place! I already gave you the winds!" She shakes her finger at the sails, as proof.

The storm god calls out a word that is composed of equal parts wind and thunder. Lightning crackles around his trident and his entire form begins to glow.

Gilgamesh strides down the port side, hops up on the railing. Only slips once.

Cyrus leaps up to the wheelhouse and shouts to Gil. "Am I going to that guy or away from?"

Molly gets busy disengaging all the lightning rods, worried that something Very Bad might happen.

Gilgamesh says, "Through is good."

Cyrus nods, "Righto!" He sets a collision course for Angry Deity.

Dinah looks at Gil and Cyrus like they're both crazy.

As they get closer, Gilgamesh ties a rope around his belt, then secures it to the railing. He crouches. When the pass close enough to the sea-god, he leaps up...landing on the arm holding the trident. He scampers up the straightened arm, heading for the head.

Cyrus almost forgets to keep sailing. He just stares at Gil.

Molly watches, her jaw dropping open. "You crazy mother..."

Dinah just...stares. Her mouth even opens a bit. "Holy hell, someone has to sleep with that man tonight if he pulls this off."

Gilgamesh reaches the god's shoulder and lays into him with a savage punch. The brass knuckles connect with the god who is laughing. The laughing stops abruptly and becomes a howl of pain. The god's form shudders and begins to melt as lightning from the trident courses up his arm. A winged creature forms from the electricity around the god and begins to rip him apart. Gilgamesh falls into the water with a resounding splash.

Cyrus shouts to one of the crewmen. "Haul him back in! Port side! Step lively!"

Molly shrieks "He just sucker-punched a freakin' GOD!" Her mouth works for a moment. "Hell, even *I'd* sleep with 'im!"

Gilgamesh is dead weight under the water right now, as the ship moves.

Dinah rushes over to the port side to be one of those to help get Gilgamesh up onto the deck. "Oh, bloody hell," she sighs, and then takes another dive to make sure the Karm doesn't drown.

The ship plunges back into the storm once Gil and Dinah are safely back on board. Compared to the meeting with the god, the trip back to the waters of Shu-Fen is uneventful. And the cannons are charged.

Gilgamesh says, "You have no idea," sputter, "how glad I am that this ship is new." Cough. "No barnacles."

Dinah asides, to one of the crew, "Take the wheel. I need this man to tear all of my clothes off." She grabs Cyrus by the collar of his shirt. It shouldn't take long. That bathing suit is rather lacking in the fabric department.

Cyrus says, "Um..." as he is dragged out of the wheelhouse.

Molly squints over at Gil. "I didn't actually mean what I said. Caught up in the moment, ya know. Don't get no ideas."

Gilgamesh sputters. "Didn't hear you."

Molly looks smug. "Good."

Dear Gideon - On The Road To Alhambra!

Tue, 08 Apr 2008 19:01:23 GMT

Written in a dark blue, pocket-sized, leatherbound notebook with an embossed dragon on the cover. It was found in a sharkskin pouch. The text has been written in more than one alphabet and has been heavily encrypted.

Dear Gideon,

The Alhambra trip went off without a hitch. There was a bit of menacing behavior from some fellows with big, curved swords but it turns out they speak the universal language of Gold and everything worked out fine. There were no hyphenated adversaries this time. The temple was completely devoid of llama-priests or alligator-monks or even model-actresses. It was weird.

I was hired (as usual) to ferry some people to Alhambra. It gave me a chance to put The Ten of Swords through her paces some more so that part was good. Being away from Dinah is even harder now that we're engaged. It's like that ring has magical powers. The returns to port are even better, however, so things nearly balance out.

Once we got to the temple, Addison, Ithunn, Theo, and Surayya traded stories and I listened. Well, I kind of spaced out in the middle of Addison's tale because I caught some writing on a far wall. I spent some time working on it and it's a map! In story form. Which is just about the best way to leave directions I've seen. Anyway, I've compared what's on that wall with Dinah's charts and we have our next destination.

Yes. I said 'our'. And 'we'. I've become swept up in Addison's latest madness in an attempt to 'show those pikers what the Houses can do' or something like that.

Also, we rode camels. Addison seemed to have some trouble with his but I made friends with mine. I call her Muffin. She likes long walks on the beach and...more long walks on the beach. And spitting.

Dear Gideon - Busy Week

Mon, 07 Apr 2008 18:32:10 GMT

Written in a dark blue, pocket-sized, leatherbound notebook with an embossed dragon on the cover. It was found in a sharkskin pouch. The text has been written in more than one alphabet and has been heavily encrypted.

Dear Gideon,

The past week has been busy and most of my activity has been on land, for a change. The only sailing I've done lately has been to take The Ten of Swords out for another run but this was just a patrol around Amber. She still handles like a dream. A good dream. Not the kind where you don't have pants on and everybody's laughing at you.

Wedding stuff is moving along. Godfrey agreed to perform the ceremony which also takes care of the 'where' part. Addison will be my best man which seems to be surprising some people. What? Friends can't almost punch each other?

The planning for this thing is kinda fun. Shut up.

I also talked to Nellie the same day I met with Addison and Godfrey. I'm glad we talked. She and I may be coming to an understanding on some business matters. Too soon to say.

However, meeting with these three people back-to-back-to-back meant kind of a lot of drinking. Especially the talk with Addison which went late into the night and killed a very expensive bottle of whiskey. I made it onto The Apple (with flowers, even!) somehow. My memory of the early-morning hours is pretty hazy but nobody seems to be angry at me so I guess everything worked out fine.

Dinah and I are going back to Minos to talk to her family and handle some other pre-wedding matters. She's the only member of that side of her family who likes me ~~much~~ at all. She's got a big family. This is gonna go well.

On the business side, I've got more offers than I can handle. Turns out not needing to use shadowpaths has its advantages.

There are trips to Montevalno, Alhambra, ~~Kitezh~~, and Cibola on the schedule.

Interesting times, Gideon.

P.S. Some clients will pay you even when you don't do the job. Hang around more with these people.

Dear Gideon - This Week's Been One Hell of a Month

Fri, 28 Mar 2008 03:51:02 GMT

Written in a dark blue, pocket-sized, leatherbound notebook with an embossed dragon on the cover. It was found in a sharkskin pouch. The text has been written in more than one alphabet and has been heavily encrypted.

Dear Gideon,

This week has been one long flight and crash after another. It ended up pretty well, though.

I've already gone on at length about the start of the week. Oh, wait. Those pages aren't in there anymore, are they? Wonder how that happened. Shut up.

But Dinah agreed to marry me. That turned this from the worst week of my life into the best one. That ring I bought a while back is now on her hand instead of in my pocket. How did I know what size to buy? I hear you ask. Or I would if you weren't dead. Well, if I was a Feldane I guess I could--

Anyway. If you're really careful, you can use a navigational compass like calipers and put it on someone's finger while she's sleeping. Then you lock in the setting and take it to the jeweler.

Shut up. It worked.

Dulcy knows. Caine knows. That still leaves a few people to inform. I don't suppose you could tell Dad, could you? No? All right.

Also, I've been asked to sail to pretty much every place I've ever heard of. At the same time. By a hundred different people. At least I'll have some decent company on a few of those trips.

Dear Gideon - Section Missing

Wed, 26 Mar 2008 23:30:32 GMT

Found in a dark blue, pocket-sized, leatherbound notebook with an embossed dragon on the cover.

[Several pages seem to have been violently ripped from this section. This is followed by a few blank pages containing stains consistent with blood.]

[LOG] In Which War is Discussed

Sun, 23 Mar 2008 01:04:21 GMT

Dramatis Personae: Eva and Cyrus
Setting: In front of the Mead Hall minutes after Dinah's arrest

Eva says "War often inspires worst in men who use trouble as cover for their vileness. But war also inspires best in men on other times."

Cyrus shrugs, "It's been my experience that war does nothing but kill men."

Eva smiles "It inspires hope. Desire to live. To help those in need."

Cyrus says, "So does rum."

Eva laughs, sincerely.

Eva nods "Well. Rum, too, kills people sometimes."

Cyrus smiles but it does not reach his eyes. "Good point. I'll stick with the rum, then. At least it tastes better than war."

Eva nods and bows "Fare well. I hope captain gets freed soon."

Cyrus nods, "She'd better. You be careful out there."

Eva grins "Always!" and with a woosh of the wind, nimble jadean is gone in the crowd like bird in a bamboo grove.

Dear Gideon - Stupid, Stupid Goat Creatures!

Wed, 19 Mar 2008 22:10:02 GMT

Written in a dark blue, pocket-sized, leatherbound notebook with an embossed dragon on the cover. It was found in a sharkskin pouch. The text has been written in more than one alphabet and has been heavily encrypted.

Dear Gideon,

I'm writing this from my quarters on The Coda. Yes, we're underway and I'm not driving. That should tell you how bad things are. I'm afraid to leave because

[several dozen lines of gibberish not consistent with code excised]

the great horned one who will

What the hell did I just write?

OK. That sucked. Here's a couple of lists:

Things I went to Cibola with

1. The Coda
2. Heulwen and Lucretia
3. My sanity (shut up. I did too have it)
4. The ability to use my voice

Things I came back from Cibola with

1. The Coda
2. A hold full of bugs (shut up. I run a clean ship)
3. Heulwen and Lucretia
4. Beatrice and Benedict
5. A profound desire to speak a certain name
6. An even more profound fear of speaking that name
7. About a thousand new questions for my sister

Now, once again, we have what looks like a good trade. I admit, it's better than the last one but some of the items are of questionable value. Also, note which items are missing from list #2.

The name I shouted back there is a Word of Power, Gideon. Not one of our words but it's got the same weight to it. At least it does in Cibola. A place I am never going back to. Cibola 2, Cyrus 0. I get it.

Heulwen, once again, handled herself well both at sea and on land. Turns out she's immune to drowning. Handy trick, that.

Supplemental -- Added two days later
Back in Amber. I can risk a whisper now but I still want to say The Name.

Dinah was waiting for me. Again. Love beats fear. I'm feeling much better, now. It's time to talk to that guy about that thing. I've been putting it off too long.

Benedict stopped by this morning. He got hit by something while we were there, too. He seems to be dealing with it better than I am. He's not a bad guy. Shared a drink with me and Dinah. Then we had something almost, but not quite, entirely unlike a conversation.

[LOG] What Happens in Cibloa Stays in Cibola

Tue, 18 Mar 2008 20:35:22 GMT

Setting: Cibola
Dramatis Personae: Beatrice, Benedict, Heulwen, Lucretia, and Cyrus

Beatrice's player logged and posted the whole scene. The following snippets are from the temple portion of the scene and were, for the most part, only experienced by Cyrus. Think of this as a Special Feature.

All references to whispering between Beatrice and Cyrus are making use of a bit of Chantris sorcery which allows them to send words on the wind to each other.

The goat creatures carry Cyrus deep into the jungle; when he awakes, he is in a large stone room, shirtless and bound to a slab of marble. Above him there is a large statue of an immense being, half-goat, half-woman, with yellow agate eyes and onyx skin. There are no windows, but torches burn in sconses upon the walls. From somewhere there is the low and constant drone of chanting.

Via Whisper to Beatrice: Cyrus's voice is muffled but the whisper comes through. It says, "Bea? I'm hurt but alive...Oh, just *great*. Another altar...

Cyrus tests the bonds as a matter of course more than as an expectation that they will give. He tries to piece together the chanting almost by reflex.

To Cyrus, Beatrice's voice comes when the breeze allows, "Can you tell us what is inside the stone structure waiting? How deep in you are?"

The bonds are straps of leather reinforced with copper wire twisted in and through and around like thorns. The chanting is rhythmic, and repeats itself frequently; it also seems to be getting closer. "Hail, Mother of Despair, She who walks upon cloven feet; hail!"

Cyrus cannot see all angles of the room equally. There are, however, at least two entry-points; one more or less past his feet, one to his right. The room is large enough to hold at least five hundred grown men. In addition to the statue, there are colourful mosaics on the wall, but they seem to blur and shift when he looks at them. They are scenes of unspeakable horror, and his head swims and aches the longer he looks.

To Beatrice, Cyrus whispers, "Big room...huge. I'm alone but there's chanting. I'm right in the middle and there's one...no, two exits. Maybe momre."

To Cyrus, Beatrice whispers, "Keep me informed if things change."

To Beatrice, Cyrus whispers, "still tied up..."

The chanting gets louder, and louder still. There is the sound of footsteps - many footsteps. Robed and masked figures flood into the chamber, but none approach the altar - until one does. The robe is slid off, revealing a nubile female form, skin pale as moonlight and tattooed with a dark script as if a living book that subtly changes meaning with every breast. She wears a mask of a goat's face and she approaches the slab, robe falling behind her. "Hail, chosen of She! I am She, and She moves through me, the thousand thousand yet to be born!"

To Beatrice, Cyrus whispers, "Footsteps coming...lots of company now...Uh, oh...High Priestess!"

The woman calls to the congregation as she pulls herself up onto the slab, staring intently down at Cyrus through the slits in her mask. "You who are chosen, be grateful, for you are spared the horrors that await the world! Do you give yourself to me?" Though it is a question, it has the ring of formula, and she does not appear to expect coherent reply.

In the distance comes the sound of high pipes in mad tunes.

Cyrus answers anyway. In fact, he uses the priestess's own language to do so. "Um...no? I mean, my girlfriend's gonna be real mad and you don't want to get on her bad side."

To Cyrus, Beatrice whispers, "Have encountered shoggoth-thing. On our way."

The woman rears back. "He speaks the sacred tongue!" she gasps. "Who are you, that you speak the holy tongue of Rea'lih?"

Cyrus stammers at first but recovers quickly enough to ask, "Who else could I be?" in as authoritative a tone as he can muster.

"The Nameless One!" It's wailed from the audience, and there's a frenzied murmur - the priestess holds up one hand in authoritative gesture. "If you are truly the Nameless One," she tells Cyrus sharply, "then you will know me; you will know the ancient words. Say my name, and claim your due!" The black letters ripple upon her skin invitingly. Like the mosaics, it hurts to look too long at them - and yet, they begin to grow distinguishable.

Cyrus keeps his eyes on the swirling runes as long as he is able. Straining to discern their meaning.

The priestess says, "Where the stones have been set up thou shalt call out to Rea'lih, and unto he that knoweth the signs and uttereth the words all earthly pleasures shall be granted. When the sun entereth the Sign of the Ram and the time of night is upon ye turn thy face to the North wind and read the verse aloud : Hail! Rea'lih! Bridge of He Who Must Not Be Spoken Of, Great Black Goat of the Woods, I call thee forth! Answer the cry of thy servant who knoweth the words of power! Rise up I say from thy slumbers and come forth with a thousand more! I make the signs, I speak the words that openeth the door! Come forth I say, I turn the Key, Now! walk the Earth once more!"

Cyrus summons every ounce of volume he can muster and uses a touch of Chantris sorcery as he shouts, "HALT! THE STARS ARE NOT YET RIGHT!" in the dialect of the cultists.

The priestess is still straddling Cyrus; she does pause, however. "The sun has entered the house of the Ram!" she protests. "She moves through me; the words are upon my skin. If you are He Who Must Not Be Named, then it is my duty... who are you!"

To Beatrice, Cyrus whispers, "Priestess...knife...knife!!"

To Cyrus, Beatrice's whisper is breathless, "Running...."

Cyrus looks around desperately for a word or a name to shout. Finally he looks once again to the priestess's skin and unfocuses his eyes, allowing it to speak to him.

Beatrice and Heulwen charge into a large chamber filled with robed cultists, easily one hundred of them, though the chamber is large enough for five hundred. They are masked, the women wearing masks to look like goat's heads, the men wearing faceless black masks. Murals upon the walls hurt the eyes with their bright colours, the scenes seeming to change and shift the more they are stared at. One woman is without robes; she straddles Cyrus, demanding something of him in strange words. Her skin is pale as the moon and strange black letters writhe upon her skin, across her naked breasts. Now she reaches for a dagger, lifting it high in both hands over her head as she demands something of Cyrus.

The tattoos 'speak' to Cyrus: The Nameless One takes She to wife; Rea'lih, wife of Hastyr. Say his name thrice, and he shall walk once more.

Cyrus strains against his bonds and fixes the priestess with a crazed glare. He shouts a single word. "Hastyr!" It seems to cause him pain and he gasps, falling back onto the slab. The sound of his head against the stone rings through the room. He inhales slowly and deeply as if to shout again.

"Ahhh!" The shout is led bythe priestess, and she lifts her hand to her head. The crowd goes wild. Not just wild, but really wild. This is rugby match, teams tied for hours, just scored the winning goal wild. It is just one shout; and then they go silent again. The knife drops from the woman's hand, and she places both hands on Cyrus' chest, remonstrating with him, imploring.

The priestess shouts, "Bring him to us! We beseech thee, call Him!" She bounces on Cyrus, less as if trying to arouse him and more as if in frenzied demand.
Heulwen appears to be ready to charge in and start fighting but she hesitates as Beatrice pulls out her bow waiting for an order that she might, under other circumstances, resent.

Beatrice warns Heulwen, "Get ready," under her breath as she readies and aims are bow. Aim. A whisper.

Beatrice whispers to Cyrus, "I have her in my sights. Fire?"

Cyrus whispers to Beatrice, "Yessss"

Beatrice fires.

Cyrus takes another ragged breath and shouts "Hastyr!" a second time. It comes out as a ragged bark.

A fighting, furious small mass of raging Rebman girl, Heulwen seems prepared to do her best to be bait launching into the room of followers in what could only be a bad decision. With a small knife blade in one hand and fists and sharply filed fingernails, she strike out at random at whomever gets into her path. She seems willing to take the beating that will follow. "Come get me!"

There is a scream from the priestess as an arrow buries itself between her shoulderblades. She falls forward from the force of it, on top of Cyrus.

Beatrice has her sword out and lets her bow go in one gesture, to fight her way in if she must.

The priestess shudders. "They have come for us. You must defend us," she whispers weakly. Her fingers claw at the clasps of the bonds holding Cyrus in place. "You must call Him... you must defend ... us. Summon Him, become Him, He Who Must Not Be Named... my husband..."

The priestess scrabbles at Cyrus' wrists, then slumps, falling to the side, off of the slab. The cultists are in a state of shock; they are unarmed, and unprepared for this. They are, however, at least prepared to try to defend themselves. Some try making a break for it; others try to defend the approach to the altar. There are about twenty between Beatrice and Heulwen and where Cyrus has been bound.

Heulwen continues with THE PLAN where THE PLAN is to be loud and violent and cause as much mass distruction and bloodshed as possible and take whatever beating follows from it.

Beatrice is not so much interested in cultists for cultists' sakes. What she is interested in is her cousin's position, and anything that gets in her way is going to feel her blade, feet or both. She fights, physical as before. Efficient. Blazingly so.

Cyrus rolls off the altar and falls to the floor. He attempts to stand but his legs give way and he collapses.

Cyrus uses his position on the floor to start cutting ankles and calves. He can feel the forbidden name welling up in his throat but he tries to keep his mouth clamped shut against it.

With their priestess dead, the majority of the cultists seem to find the desire to flee possessing them. However, there are still four faceless cultists focusing on Heulwen, shouting in an unintelligible language. Beatrice seems to have a knack for fighting her way through, but it helps that the cultists around Cyrus shriek and fall as tendons are hamstrung.

The priestess is not dead. Only almost. She grips Cyrus' hand. "My ... love," she breathes, blood dripping from the corner of her mouth. "Come to me. Kiss me once, ere I die..."

What's life without a few beatings? Heulwen charges the four cultists as if she were a whirling mass of blades, death and destruction which she is NOT. She gets knocked down but she get gets up again. Trying to keep them off her until she gets a chance to beat one down. Already redness and bruise patterns are starting where she has been knocked about by cultists.

Cyrus allows himself to be pulled towards the priestess. He brings his face close to hers and closes his eyes just as he tries to push his dagger into her throat.

Beatrice gracefully skirts the slab to find her cousin on the other side of it. "Cyrus," she breathes, grateful to find him alive on the other side of it. Keeping her sword arm ready, she bends to help him up with the off-arm.

The dagger goes in; she was clearly not expecting it. The mask falls off, and her face is revealed to be a twin to that of Dulcinea's in the dying light.

Cyrus lies sprawled against the priestess in what at first looks like a passionate embrace. He rolls to the side to reveal his dagger embedded to the hilt in her throat. His entire right arm is covered in blood.

Beatrice's eyes shine as she tries to help Cyrus up. "If you're quite done with your girlfriend there?" Her tone is fond, still strains of worry.

Continuing to take and deal out damange, Heulwen's white shirt is so damp with blood and sweat at this point it would be impossible to tell how much of it were her own. Her light hair while tied back in the scarf is damp with the spray of blood. She snarls and moves toward a cultist as if she were prepared to bite a piece of flesh out the creature. It seems she has found an outlet for her angry rebel girl frustrations.

The majority of the cultists by now have fled. There's one desperately trying to get away from Heulwen; if it could speak Thari, likely it would say 'get it off me, get it off!'

Cyrus grabs Beatrice's arm with his non-bloody hand and struggles to his feet. He remains silent. In fact, his jaw is clenched shut as if he's trying to keep something in.

Heulwen slashes at the one that may be trying to get away but leaves the cultist alive but brandishes the short bloody knife in the direction of the cultist in a manner suggesting 'bring it on'.

Beatrice drinks in Cyrus's demeanor as she helps him to his feet. The triumph at having him in one piece fades a touch in favor of deeper concern, but she turns to help him out. "Heulwen, you are a wonder."

The cultists have fled; the last one, bleeding and howling as he goes. The chamber is now empty, save for the three.

Cyrus leans on Beatrice. His strength returns slowly.

--------------------------------------------------------
OOC: Everything from this point matches Beatrice's log of the full scene. Many thanks to everyone who played in the scene and HUGE thanks and kudos to Lucretia for running it.

Dear Gideon - What I did in Montevalno

Mon, 10 Mar 2008 21:01:59 GMT

Written in a dark blue, pocket-sized, leatherbound notebook with an embossed dragon on the cover. It was found in a sharkskin pouch. The text has been written in more than one alphabet and has been heavily encrypted.

Dear Gideon,

I'm sorry I didn't write sooner but I'm just back from Montevalno. It was an eventful trip.

Things I went to Montevalno with

1. The Coda
2. Arabella
3. A price on my head
4. Several crates of spices, silks, and ores to be traded on my next trip to Begma.

Things I returned from Montevalno with

1. The Coda
2. Arabella
3. A price on my head
4. A Stowaway
5. A piece of a pier
6. Another price on my head
7. An upgrade from "Annoyed" to "Loathed" on the Princess Hate Scale.

Notice that I traded Item #4 from the first list for Items 4 - 7 from the second list. This is what we in the "trade biz" often refer to as a "good deal". Of course, it's only a good deal if you can get something for the newly-acquired items. I don't hold out much hope.

The stowaway turns out to be handy with a knife. She should fit in well with all the other women I know.

With regards to my previous entry: Being the one coming home is definitely better than being the one waiting but only when there's actually someone waiting. For the first time ever, someone was.

Dear Gideon - Things I've Learned

Tue, 04 Mar 2008 22:46:41 GMT

Written in a dark blue, pocket-sized, leatherbound notebook with an embossed dragon on the cover. It was found in a sharkskin pouch. The text has been written in more than one alphabet and has been heavily encrypted.

Dear Gideon,

I've heard it said that a day in which you learn nothing new is wasted. I think that's crap but if it's true, I have not been wasting my days at all, lately. Here's a few of them:

1. There is, in fact, a price that will get me to go back to Montevalno.
2. That price has nothing to do with money.
3. Running away from your problems only makes things worse. Who knew?
4. Serving two masters sucks. You need to get the total up to four or five to really make it interesting.
5. Shouting at nightmares doesn't keep them from coming back no matter how long our loud you do it. It does, however, earn you a raft of new nicknames from your crew.
6. The triple threat of extra work, shortened leave, and docked pay makes those who repeat the nicknames do so a lot more quietly.
7. Being the one coming home is better than being the one waiting.

Do you like your new book? I could trim the edges in gilt or silver. Shut up.

[OOC] Cyrus's Playlist

Fri, 29 Feb 2008 20:51:19 GMT

I have been inspired by Addison's player's post to work up a playlist of my own. These are in no particular order and are mostly chosen for the mood each one evokes. However, some of the lyrics fit Cyrus's situation perfectly.

I Alone - Live
Ring of Fire - Johnny Cash
Intruder - Peter Gabriel
In The Jailhouse Now - The Soggy Bottom Boys
Give The Po' Man A Break - Fatboy Slim
Weather With You - Crowded House
The Underdog - Spoon
Street Fighting Man - The Rolling Stones
Wild Bill Jones - Alison Krauss & Union Station
Everyday I Write the Book - Elvis Costello

Dear Gideon - Back In Amber

Fri, 29 Feb 2008 20:00:23 GMT

Written in a pocket-sized notebook found in a sharkskin pouch. The text has been written in more than one alphabet and has been encoded.

Dear Gideon,

I got back into Amber yesterday morning and got all the book supplies set up in my room (shut up). The manifests are filed, the logs have been submitted, the crew has been paid and the preparations for the funerals are underway. I still have three widow letters and one for a widower to finish. I hate that part. Over a century and it never gets easier.

The Coda's looking good. I gave Taine a raise for all he's been through lately and he just sort of stared at me.

I got some sleep on The Apple and then I just sort of stood around on deck trying not to get in the way. Dinah took pity on me and let me sail out of the cove. That single gesture on her part shows a level of trust I thought I'd never get from anyone.

Sleep last night was good except for the nightmare. You know the one where fictional characters form from the words of books and surround you and then cut you into tiny pieces? Everybody has that one, right? Anyway, Dinah didn't freak out or anything. That was, apparently, my job at the time.

More later as I get confirmation on a few rumors. Because I wouldn't want to spread unfounded gossip to my dead ancestor in my heavily-encrypted diary, would I?

And, no, I haven't forgotten about your upgrade. I'm working on it. I'm still looking for a picture of a dragon that's appropriately badass. You like blue, right?

Dear Gideon - Aboard The Golden Apple

Thu, 28 Feb 2008 16:23:19 GMT

Written in a pocket-sized notebook found in a sharkskin pouch. The text has been written in more than one alphabet and has been encoded.

Dear Gideon,

Dinah's back where she belongs. No, I don't mean with me. Even I'm not that cocky. Well, actually, I guess I am but in this case I mean that she's back on The Golden Apple. That's Dinah's ship; she's deadly and tough and beautiful. The boat's nice, too.

I'm writing this from the Apple's Captain's quarters because all three ships (Dinah's, Peril's, and mine) are in serious need of repair and Taine's getting kind of grumbly about all the damage (like it's my fault, somehow). I'm not helping here, either, because Dinah says I need to sleep. After that fight (and getting struck by lightning) I'm too keyed up to [illegible scribble not consistent with code]

Woah. Dozed off, there.

So, yeah. Lightning. That sucked.

We're headed back to Amber in the morning and then I've got to catch up on all the boring parts of the business. Once that's done I've got some shopping to do for my new hobby: Bookbinding.

Shut up. Seriously, quit laughing, you're going to benefit from this. You'll be my first project. I'll put all these notes into a nice, shiny, new book. But with dragons or swords or something on it. Something manly. Shut up.

OK. Sleep now. More when we reach port.

OOC: See this post for the log of the thrilling, blob-filled, lightning-charged, Apple-retrieval scene!

Dear Gideon - First Entry

Fri, 22 Feb 2008 01:48:26 GMT

Written in a pocket-sized notebook found in a sharkskin pouch. The text has been written in more than one alphabet and has been encoded.

Both Dulcy and Godfrey have advised me to keep a diary so, here goes.

~~Dear Diary,~~ This is stupid. I can't write to something called 'Diary'. No offense. I mean, I know how you books can get.

OK. I've got it. I'll pretend I'm writing to one of my ancestors. There was a guy named Gideon. He was a badass sailor, he built the first Chantris shipyard and he got some guys pissed off at him. He outlived and/or killed all those guys and took their lands. My kinda guy.

So.

Dear Gideon,

I've been studying. Don't look at me like that. I've got a good reason for it. I've been looking into Family History because ~~it turns out Dad was right~~ I really like memorizing long lists of dead people with no chins. More on that later. I've got bigger news:

I sang her the song. Yeah, the one I wrote when I was in that jail in Lyonesse. I haven't told her the whole story about that, yet. She liked the song, she liked the compass, and for some damn reason she likes me. Again.

She still does that thing with her eyes when she laughs. Man, I've got it bad.

Peril's in town, too. He makes the second person on my list of People I Can Trust who's showed up recently. That list is getting shorter.